Schedule a reunion and they will come. A Govert reunion. No one would miss this reunion. No one. Not Howard Jacobs. Not Charles and Zee Laflin. Not Mitch and Nikla Kulisich. Not Forrester and Louise West. Not Nick Lale. Not the Giese sisters or the Hafner brothers. Not Smokey Joe. Not Gus Toble. Not Theodore Vogt or his brother, Ernest. Not Evaline West or her sisters, Alice Mae or Shirley Jean. Not Marie Kulisich.
No one would miss this reunion. Not Govert Van der Boom. Not his wife, Emma. Not his sons, Virgil, Gordon, or Roger. If a reunion could roust the founding family of Govert from the grave, why would other Goverites hesitate to break a path back to Govert, South Dakota, back to the beginning?
No one would want to miss this reunion ... a reunion where every man, woman, and child bearing allegiance to Govert, South Dakota, would gather to share the stories of their lives.
Schedule a reunion and they will come.
They appeared over the horizon from every direction, these former neighbors. From North Dakota by way of Buffalo and Reva, crossing the Slim Buttes. From the west, leaving sunny homes where they retreated in retirement after years of buffeting by the icy Harding County wind. From the south, joining other reunion travelers northward by way of Rapid City and Belle Fourche and Newell. From eastern states they came, crossing the Missouri River to reach the prairie lands rolling away from the western bank.
They came hunched over from days astride the back of a horse, or bumping along in buckboards, rattling in carts, cruising in the relative comfort of a Model T or a Model A. They came perched on tractors and harvesters, roaring on motorcycles, cruising on bikes, and and peddling tricycles, little legs pumping hard. And some arrived footsore. But no one was going to miss this reunion.
Charles Laflin's wagon came into sight first, Govert newspaperman and booster, eager to gather again those he once rallied into community. Just then appeared Mitch and Nikla Kulisich in their Chevy, wheels flattening the prairie grass, small particles of soil rising behind them as dust. Forrester and Louise West pulled up alongside in their '39 Ford pickup truck. Gustav Toble, eating the dust of the Ford and Chevy, while raising his own, watched for familiar landmarks over the backs of the mule team straining against the weight of the wagon, the wheels turning, turning, over the prairie grasses, returning Gus to the place that gladdened and saddened his heart, toward the town that gave him a place to be during the Depression years.
Look! Do you see Howard Jacobs who, together with Govert Van der Boom, founded the prairie crossroads town of Govert? He's there - look - over there to the west - his buggy rolling sedately toward the Govert Store, Laura Belle sitting elegantly at Howard's side on the leather seat.
A 9-year-old Howard Jensen appears riding bareback, his lips pressed together insistently, his mouth watering at the thought of the chocolate and caramel candy bar he would buy on his father's account at the Govert Store.
The Hafners arrive as they did in 1913 from the east, in two covered wagons, trailing a herd of cattle and a herd of sorrel horses with startling blonde manes. Ollie Nelson, on horseback, joined his friends Peter and William as the three maneuver the herds forward toward Govert. Peter's wife, Clara, and Clara's sister, Lora Giese, reins in hand, pointed the teams and wagons toward Govert, eager to return to the place they raised their families.
And there's Dina Olthoff, looking uncomfortable sitting astride a white horse, still wearing the heavy Dutch dress she safeguarded on the ocean voyage from Holland, a dress better worn sidesaddle. Peter Rosenthal rides the black horse beside Dina ... Petrus ...the reason Dientjie made the journey to New York by ship, and then west to South Dakota by train.
Schoolmarm Dixie Blomberg sits lightly, trusting her horse to pick his way across the prairie, Dixie's eyes skimming the prairie grasses for the hint of purple of the prairie lilies. The schoolchildren abandon their game of tag, tearing across the gumbo flat, shirts and skirts flapping. Miss Blomberg! Miss Blomberg! Dixie pauses, surprised to see the small up-tilted ovals, eager, full of smiles and dirt smudges, the children, her children, clustering around her, drawing her back into their lives.
The matronly figure of a woman in a floral-patterned house dress, apron askew in the breeze, walks briskly from east of the Govert Store. As the distance closes, the Van der Boom boys run out to greet their aunt, Lydia Gee, and to get a better look at the two deep-green watermelons their cousins, Melvin and Russell, lug to the reunion feast. That this was not the season for harvesting watermelon gives them no cause for concern.
Schedule a reunion and they will come.
They come from the years leading up to 1909, when open range ranchers, and squatters, and then homesteaders claimed the prairie. They come from the 1910's and the 1920's when Govert was full of hope, and growth still seemed possible. They come from the '30s and 40's when only the very hardy dared to remain on the prairie. And they come from the 1960s when Elizabeth Marty May, now a member of the South Dakota House of Representatives, was a schoolgirl at the Govert School. The Brinks are there. Howard Jensen's son, Doug, is there. Everyone is at Govert for the reunion.
These are the homesteaders, the farmers, the ranchers who made their lives in and near Govert Township. These are the farm hands who stayed for a season or two, like Cornelius Kraatzenbrink ... and the families who left before the census taker ever knocked at their door, like the Putmans. These are the men, women, and children who felt the embrace of the Govert community.
As familiar faces and forms streamed over the horizon, Govert Van der Boom fidgets in the doorway of the Govert Store bestowing his bright smile on the earliest arrivals, favoring the children with the twinkle in his eye. Next door in the residence, Govert's wife, Emma, eager and impatient, cheeks red, stirs the pots and casts a nervous peek into the oven of the hot woodstove ... pausing now, one hand on her hip, straightening, to ease the ache in her back. She slides the roast out of the oven and the table trembles when the pan falls into line with the ham and the pies. A waft of earthy rich coffee from the big pot on the stove floats out the window overlooking the Slim Buttes.
Eunice Jensen's frosted layered white cake ... with the filling of ground raisins and nuts baked into a custard ... bounced on her knees as Hugo pulls on the steering wheel in a futile attempt to avoid the ruts deeply engraved into the dirt road passing in front of the Govert Store. Louise West's dozens upon dozens of oatmeal cookies bulged in the re-purposed cloth flour bags, a bounty proudly carried by Evaline and Alice Mae and Shirley Jean. Nikla Kulisich carried a brilliant strudio, her offering for special gatherings. Dina Rosenthal brought salmon croquettes. And someone brewed up a pot of oysters and milk into a bona fide oyster stew.
Others brought sandwiches layered on fat slabs of richly buttered, freshly made bread. They brought hot potato salad, cold potato salad, cabbage salad, chicken salad, deviled eggs, meat and vegetable casseroles of every description, and dishes with the exotic appeal of Croatian, Dutch, German, Belgian, Scotch, and English influences. Everyone brought a bowl mounded high, a heavily laden platter, a sloshing pot to add to the feast, because that is what they expected of themselves and their neighbors. That was the way they socialized in the years gone by when Govert was their home. That same community sharing, personal responsibility, and self-sufficiency remain the tradition in Harding County, honored ever more by the passing of the years. The joy of the potluck dinner lives on.
I wouldn't miss this reunion, not for anything. Would you? Heaven on earth is the opportunity to ask the questions you never thought to ask while you still could ask them.
Schedule a reunion and they will come. Follow this link to call the roll.
Listening to the wind blowing through the prairie grass. Kate
[Written with gratitude to SD Representative Elizabeth Marty May, SD Representative Sam Marty, Myrna Giannonatti, Howard Jensen, Patricia Dreesen, Frank Goodell, Marie Kulisich, the West sisters, to everyone who shared their family stories of Govert, South Dakota, with me over the years.
If you would like to return to the list of invitees in the future, you will find "Govert Roll Call" on the right hand panel of the blog itself at ThruPrairieGrass.blogspot.com.]
Showing posts with label Jacobs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jacobs. Show all posts
Thursday, May 21, 2015
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Alas! Govert is Blowing in the Wind ...
Seventy-one years after the last issue of the Govert Advance was published, re-constructing Govert, South Dakota, is more a matter of words and memories, than a matter of boards and nails.
In the late 1940s, Govert Van der Boom pulled down the last of the planks from what was once the Govert Store where, for nearly 20 years he stood proudly behind the counter serving the Govert community. With the planking stacked in the back of his truck, Govert toted his load south to Newell, South Dakota; or maybe his sons did this for him. And there the wood sat behind the offices of the Newell Implement Company until Govert Van der Boom was motivated to create something else, and he built an addition to the rear of his implement business.
What thoughts went through Govert Van der Boom's mind as the townsite was restored to the level of the prairie grass? Govert always spoke with fondness about the prairie town named after him, and we can be confident that, as the town was disassembled, Govert gave in to a yearning for what once was. This is where he tended the store and the post office, where he visited with his neighbors, where he and his Emma raised three boys from babies to walking, talking, reasoning boys and young men.
Govert Van der Boom must have reflected on the church services that united the community, on all the newcomers he pointed toward the best land in the township and how he and Emma helped them settle into the community. Too many memories ... the PTA meetings, receiving postal deliveries and sorting mail for neighbors to pick up at the store ... all the trips to Newell and Belle Fourche to provision the store, and trips to Buffalo to take care of legal matters at the county seat. He must have smiled at the memory of reading the Govert Advance every Thursday, a practice he continued in Newell until that very last issue was published in 1943.
Govert must have remembered all the changes, beginning when he and Howard Jacobs claimed homesteads in 1909, continuing through the years of building up a town, a community, until the time when nothing was left. All that modernization, all that change. He might remember when he added the windmill to the well, or when the telephone was strung under Mr. Laflin's guidance. Without Mr. Laflin's experience in the telephone business before arriving in the township, Goverites might never have had a telephone connection with each other or with the outside. Those were heady times.
I expect my grandfather stood on his townsite the last time, just like I did my first time, turning a slow circle from the Slim Buttes on the north, toward Sheep Mountain to the east, south to the breaks, over the open prairie to the west ... and then, Granddad and I, together, completed our circle back to the Slim Buttes. The Slim Buttes would have been what lifted Emma's eyes from the dishes in the kitchen sink.
The first time I made that slow motion survey of the horizon from my grandfather's homestead, I knew to sigh ... even though I was still quite unconscious of why I was sighing. When my grandfather stood there on his land, he must have sighed for remembering. I sighed because I had no memories, which may have been the greater loss.
Not many people remain on that corner of the prairie today. You might be surprised any of the families held tight to the land. But land pulls people, and that land in Govert township claimed the allegiance of many families. Some people left because it was time. Others never shook off that connection to the land and to their piece of the prairie; they couldn't leave. The descendants of Charles Laflin, the editor of the Govert Advance are there; including the Brinks. The Martys are still there, the Jensens, the Donohues. The Lales still own land there.
Perhaps, because Govert is now a memory, words have become our best tools. Still, tangible "shards" of memory in the form of "artifacts" prove to the doubting that this town of Govert existed in time and space. For that reason, I'm adding a page to this blog to catalog Govert artifacts. You can access this page on the right panel of the blog under "PAGES". The Govert Archive page will change from time to time, so you might want to check back ... from time to time.
Words are a great tool, but what you can see and touch adds another dimension to the story.
Listening to the wind blowing through the prairie grass. Kate
In the late 1940s, Govert Van der Boom pulled down the last of the planks from what was once the Govert Store where, for nearly 20 years he stood proudly behind the counter serving the Govert community. With the planking stacked in the back of his truck, Govert toted his load south to Newell, South Dakota; or maybe his sons did this for him. And there the wood sat behind the offices of the Newell Implement Company until Govert Van der Boom was motivated to create something else, and he built an addition to the rear of his implement business.
What thoughts went through Govert Van der Boom's mind as the townsite was restored to the level of the prairie grass? Govert always spoke with fondness about the prairie town named after him, and we can be confident that, as the town was disassembled, Govert gave in to a yearning for what once was. This is where he tended the store and the post office, where he visited with his neighbors, where he and his Emma raised three boys from babies to walking, talking, reasoning boys and young men.
Govert Van der Boom must have reflected on the church services that united the community, on all the newcomers he pointed toward the best land in the township and how he and Emma helped them settle into the community. Too many memories ... the PTA meetings, receiving postal deliveries and sorting mail for neighbors to pick up at the store ... all the trips to Newell and Belle Fourche to provision the store, and trips to Buffalo to take care of legal matters at the county seat. He must have smiled at the memory of reading the Govert Advance every Thursday, a practice he continued in Newell until that very last issue was published in 1943.
Govert must have remembered all the changes, beginning when he and Howard Jacobs claimed homesteads in 1909, continuing through the years of building up a town, a community, until the time when nothing was left. All that modernization, all that change. He might remember when he added the windmill to the well, or when the telephone was strung under Mr. Laflin's guidance. Without Mr. Laflin's experience in the telephone business before arriving in the township, Goverites might never have had a telephone connection with each other or with the outside. Those were heady times.
I expect my grandfather stood on his townsite the last time, just like I did my first time, turning a slow circle from the Slim Buttes on the north, toward Sheep Mountain to the east, south to the breaks, over the open prairie to the west ... and then, Granddad and I, together, completed our circle back to the Slim Buttes. The Slim Buttes would have been what lifted Emma's eyes from the dishes in the kitchen sink.
The first time I made that slow motion survey of the horizon from my grandfather's homestead, I knew to sigh ... even though I was still quite unconscious of why I was sighing. When my grandfather stood there on his land, he must have sighed for remembering. I sighed because I had no memories, which may have been the greater loss.
Not many people remain on that corner of the prairie today. You might be surprised any of the families held tight to the land. But land pulls people, and that land in Govert township claimed the allegiance of many families. Some people left because it was time. Others never shook off that connection to the land and to their piece of the prairie; they couldn't leave. The descendants of Charles Laflin, the editor of the Govert Advance are there; including the Brinks. The Martys are still there, the Jensens, the Donohues. The Lales still own land there.
Perhaps, because Govert is now a memory, words have become our best tools. Still, tangible "shards" of memory in the form of "artifacts" prove to the doubting that this town of Govert existed in time and space. For that reason, I'm adding a page to this blog to catalog Govert artifacts. You can access this page on the right panel of the blog under "PAGES". The Govert Archive page will change from time to time, so you might want to check back ... from time to time.
Words are a great tool, but what you can see and touch adds another dimension to the story.
Listening to the wind blowing through the prairie grass. Kate
Thursday, December 19, 2013
"Vrolijk Kerstfeest!" - Merry Christmas from Govert, South Dakota!
"Merry Christmas" from Kate VanderBoom in Colorado and "Vrolijk Kerstfeest" from Hans van der Boom* of Hoogvliet, The Netherlands! This blog posting is a collaboration between cousins, Hans and Kate.
Govert Van der Boom wasn't always a big fish living in the small pond of Govert, South Dakota. He wasn't always the founder of a town, the owner of the mercantile, the land locator, the postmaster, the notary, the U.S. Commissioner, civic booster, and sales representative for International Harvester, husband to Emma, father to Virgil, Gordon, and Roger. He wasn't always the man after whom a town and a newspaper were named. Once, back in 1909, Govert filed a claim on 160 acres of prairie land, just like every other homesteader in Harding County, South Dakota.
After filing a claim to enter his homestead in August 1909, Govert remained in Govert, South Dakota, the town named after him, for a total of 19 Christmases. Govert and his partner, Howard Jacobs, were not alone in the 36 square miles of the township but, in 1909, they might as well have been. Only 12 other men and one woman had been known to make homestead entry in the township since 1903, and most of them were long gone by 1909.
Those first three Christmases in Harding County may have been shared with other homesteaders. Otherwise the bachelor partners would have returned to the homes of their parents, where their families gathered, Govert Van der Boom to Platte, South Dakota, and Howard Jacobs to Wessington Springs. Govert spent his fourth Christmas as a homesteader with his new wife, Emma, a homesteader in Butte County just south of the county line from Govert township; they were married 3 November 1912.
Govert Van der Boom's Christmas tradition was Dutch. Born in Holland, Govert came to America at the age of seven and grew up in his big Dutch family of 10, in Platte, South Dakota. The van der Booms attended the Platte Dutch Reformed Church and, together with the other Dutch families in Platte, perpetuated Dutch customs and traditions, and the Dutch language. Govert Van der Boom never lost his Dutch accent.
This man who never lost his Dutch accent thought in two languages. For those Christmases shared with his American-born wife and his new friends on the prairie ... while everyone around him was singing "Silent night, Holy night, all is calm, all is bright" ... the Dutch words must have filled his memory and curled around his tongue. The words Govert Van der Boom hummed to himself followed the same tune ... Stille nacht, Heilige nacht.
Stille nacht, Heilige nacht,
Davids zoon lang verwacht.
Die miljoenen eens zaligen zal,
Wordt geboren in Bethlehems stal.
Hij, der schepselen heer,
Hij, der schepselen heer.
Although "Silent Night" long ago became one of the common songs that bound early settlers regardless of their faith, in a way similar to "Amazing Grace", neither song appeared in the Dutch Psalmbook. My cousin, Hans van der Boom, knows about these things because he is an historian, heart, mind and soul, and he is Dutch-born. Hans tells us that in the practice of their faith, our Dutch ancestors ... yours, too, if you have Dutch ancestry ... were strict and righteous, and they professed their faith in a deep and intense way.
All of our immigrants brought their traditions and customs ... and their music ... with them aboard the ship. With the dilution of tradition through the passing generations in America, sometimes we forget this. Hans will help us remember the Dutch Christmas music the van der Booms brought to America.
The remainder of this blog posting is in the words of Hans van der Boom. Here's Hans:
All of our immigrants brought their traditions and customs ... and their music ... with them aboard the ship. With the dilution of tradition through the passing generations in America, sometimes we forget this. Hans will help us remember the Dutch Christmas music the van der Booms brought to America.
The remainder of this blog posting is in the words of Hans van der Boom. Here's Hans:
"Silent Night" seems to be considered an appropriate song for the stricter religions, which surprised me a little [writes Hans]. I thought the song to be much younger, but the English translation seems to date from 1863, and the original lyric is from 1818.
The Dutch Psalmbook contains only the 150 approved Psalms. The real stuff in our ancestors' psalm books that pertains to Christmas and can be sung are the Psalms; those that pertain to Christmas are Psalm 89, 98, 111 and 118. Traditionally the psalms were not accompanied by an organ or other musical instrument. Govert Van der Boom's Dutch ancestors would have been led by a "voorzanger", a pre-singer who first sang the hymn as example.
A psalm considered "christmasy" is "Ere zij God" (Honour unto God). This is a simple song, based on the Bible book of Luke 2:1-20, in which the Christmas story is told.
Ere zij God
Ere zij God
In de hoge, in de hoge, in de hoge
Vrede op aarde, vrede op aarde
In de mensen een welbehagen.
Ere zij God in de hoge
Ere zij God in de hoge
Vrede op aarde, vrede op aarde
Vrede op aarde, vrede op aarde
In de mensen, in de mensen een welbehagen
In de mensen een welbehagen, een welbehagen
Ere zij God
Ere zij God
In de hoge, in de hoge, in de hoge
Vrede op aarde, vrede op aarde
In de mensen een welbehagen.
Amen, amen.
Glory to God! (2X) In the highest! (3X)
Peace on the earth, peace on the earth to the people who have God's favor.
Glory to God in the highest! (2X) Peace on the earth. (4X)
To the people, to the people who have God's favor.
To the people who have God's favor, who have God's favor!
Glory to God! Glory to God! In the highest! In the highest! In the highest!
Peace on the earth, peace on the earth to the people who have God's favor.
Amen, amen.
I've read that the words to "Ere zij God" come straight from the Bible, the angels' "song" in Luke 2. A popular Dutch carol, it's also very popular in Christian Reformed churches in Canada where it's often used as the closing song of Christmas day services. Another, rather archaic, one is "Komt allen tezamen" (Adeste Fideles), originally a mid-18th century Catholic song with the English text, "Oh Come All Ye Faithful", introduced in 1841 by Frederick Oakely.
Another with a Catholic origin, although our ancestors probably didn't know that, is: "De herdertjes lagen bij nachte". I think this is typically Dutch, and probably dates from the 17th century.
De herdertjes lagen bij nachte
Zij lagen bij nacht in het veld
Zij hielden vol trouwe de wachte
Zij hadden hun schaapjes geteld
Daar hoorden zij 'd engelen zingen
Hun liederen vloeiend en klaar
De herders naar Bethlehem gingen
't liep tegen het nieuwe jaar
There seems to be an English translation (which follows), but it is set to another melody. Wouldn't that have been fun? People from different countries essentially singing the same song but getting totally confused because the music is different! The English version is 17th century, too, appearing in print the first time in Brady's Psalter in 1702.
While shepherds watched their flocks by night,
All seated on the ground,
The angel of the Lord came down,
And glory shone around,
And glory shone around.
Probably the oldest one is "Nu zijt wellekome", even more archaic than the rest and dating from Medieval time, probably the 14th or 15th century (Gregorian), but with the oldest known music version dating from the 16th century. Kyrieleis means "Have Mercy Oh Lord".
Nu zijt wellekome Jesu, lieve Heer,
Gij komt van alzo hoge, van alzo veer.
Nu zijt wellekome van de hoge hemel neer.
Hier al in dit aardrijk zijt Gij gezien nooit meer.
Jesus, You are welcome here with us today.
You came to earth from heaven on Christmas day.
Jesus, You are welcome now to stay with us again.
In our sinful hearts, give us mercy, come and reign.
Kyrieleis.
What Hans tells us about traditional Dutch Christmas music also explains why Govert Van der Boom carried to Harding County the intensity of the faith of his Dutch parents who came to America, the faith of his Dutch grandparents who remained in Holland. In a country of immigrants, Govert's neighbors would understand if he did hum the words to himself in Dutch ... "Stille nacht, Heilige nacht ..." remembering what he could of his grandparents and life in the Old Country.
Listening to the wind blowing through the prairie grass. Kate
[*You may wonder at the many spellings of the family name. Historically "van der Boom" is correct. Because Govert chose to Americanize his name as an adult, "Van der Boom" is now also correct. Because Govert's son Roger decided to further Americanize his family name, "VanderBoom" is correct. Those who choose to spell their name "Vander Boom" or "Vanderboom" are also correct. This blog is written with gratitude to Hans van der Boom, for his insight, his knowledge, and his interest in his American cousins.]
What Hans tells us about traditional Dutch Christmas music also explains why Govert Van der Boom carried to Harding County the intensity of the faith of his Dutch parents who came to America, the faith of his Dutch grandparents who remained in Holland. In a country of immigrants, Govert's neighbors would understand if he did hum the words to himself in Dutch ... "Stille nacht, Heilige nacht ..." remembering what he could of his grandparents and life in the Old Country.
Listening to the wind blowing through the prairie grass. Kate
[*You may wonder at the many spellings of the family name. Historically "van der Boom" is correct. Because Govert chose to Americanize his name as an adult, "Van der Boom" is now also correct. Because Govert's son Roger decided to further Americanize his family name, "VanderBoom" is correct. Those who choose to spell their name "Vander Boom" or "Vanderboom" are also correct. This blog is written with gratitude to Hans van der Boom, for his insight, his knowledge, and his interest in his American cousins.]
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