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From the book: "Fullerton's First 100 Years" pg'a 184/185/186
Mrs. Harry (Sadie) Vogel's Story
I was born in 1895 in the little square house about 2 1/2 miles up the valley from Fullerton where I had come back to live in 1946 and still call home. My mother, I can't claim to know or remember except for pictures, for I was only five days old when she died. She had come up from Maryville, Missouri with her father's family. The mother and sisters rode the train while brothers rode her Indian pony and drove the livestock across "The Wide...
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From the book: "Fullerton's First 100 Years" pg'a 184/185/186
Mrs. Harry (Sadie) Vogel's Story
I was born in 1895 in the little square house about 2 1/2 miles up the valley from Fullerton where I had come back to live in 1946 and still call home. My mother, I can't claim to know or remember except for pictures, for I was only five days old when she died. She had come up from Maryville, Missouri with her father's family. The mother and sisters rode the train while brothers rode her Indian pony and drove the livestock across "The Wide Missouri River" on the ice. I recall the peculiar scar on her flank that my father showed me was the Indian brand. Eight years later he allowed me to ride "Old Baldy" to the country school until I was out of country schools, then she was put out to pasture until she died at the age of 33.
Speaking of early schools, not all had schoolhouses. I believe District 11 was held in the home a mile west of Vogel's for a time. Grandfather Scarlett gave the school grounds and church yard for as long as it was used for those purposes. His son, Tom lived farther west as also did the younger son, Clarence, a little farther on. So District 11 was organized.
West of us was District 56, which was built a month later and my mother taught September to Christmas there in 1894. Sarah Marcella Storch and Geo. Franklin Loucks were married June 4, 1894.
Winter heat was furnished through the stove pipe from the room below as was the custom. The stove pipe ran through the ceiling up for another five feet and then go right angled through a wall to take the chill off another room before entering the chimney. How's that for economy? Children weren't allowed to run around for they might get burned or knock the pipe down.
I liked to go to school. It had pretty wallpaper, the only school I recall having seen wallpaper. Lots were whitewashed and years later painted. We used Barnes Readers, Dowman's Reader in third grade, Barnes for the upper grades.
To get back to living - after Mother died my Dad and I lived with his parents and an adopted daughter, Dollie May Loucks, whose mother had died.
I loved to watch Grandpa Loucks churn with a barrel churn, large enough I'm sure to have put me into it. Certainly not a woman-size job. To use, several gallons of cream were put in, locked the lid on - then thumpety-thump, thumpety-thump at a steady rate until it sounded like it was ready to open. Then we could hear the buttermilk go swish after the cream had gathered in to little balls. I must have been a prime nuisance. Grandmother gathered the balls with a wooden butter paddle, poured off the buttermilk, then poured cold water into the churn. That rinsed the butter and made it easier to pick up with her wooden butter paddle and put it into her wooden butter bowl which was about two feet in diameter. Woe me if I showed up to watch with uncombed hair for a hair in the butter was the baddest thing imaginable. She combed the butter anyway just in case. Sometimes a cow's hair was found but mighty seldom. I liked fresh butter and Grandma wore a heavy thimble, once was enough for the little fingers getting too near, thank you.
I usually found a flower to visit and once a bee was busy there and I received its undivided attention. I went crying to Grandma. She took a leaf from three different fruit trees, bruised them with her cobblers hammer for a poultice on my finger and told me to run out and play. Sure enough it cured.
Women and Men often did their own shoe mending for the family. Mrs. Bertha Loucks had a last, a shoe shaped top on an iron post about a foot high and bought sole leather and tacks; cut the leather to shape it, soaked it a while to soften it and tacked it into place with brass brads. They felt a little clumsy at first but they were okay soon unless a brad had failed to clench properly and pierced a toe instead. Then it went back to the last or was pulled out with pincers or pliers.
Always I was read to in the evening as a little child to get quiet at bedtime. The book Little Bright Eyes is here with me, much worn but no pages gone. It was a gift from Grandma when I was three - three quarters of a century ago. I have had many since but none with so many good lessons to learn. Grandpa ordered The Youth's Companion for me when I was old enough to read it.
Monday evening I went to Grandpa to read the funnies and munch Jonathan apples. At home we sometimes had popcorn; if neighbors came in, there was often a batch of toffee made. I recall one family who had moved away asked us over for hot maple syrup over snow. Now nothing before or since has tasted so good as rolling up the chilled strings on a fork and getting my teeth stuck in it.
I think the prettiest fall picture is a flock of Blue Jays that lit suddenly in a young ash tree that was pure gold. I just heard of the battle of the Blue Jays for the first time. It seems Mr. Vogel had a young orchard bearing nicely. A neighbor, Mr. Scarlett, also had a young orchard and Jays were doing lots of damage. Twas back in black powder days. Neighbors saw a puff of smoke, heard the bang and saw the flock of Jays fly up from the other orchard. Then puff, bang! The Jays went back. I hear that went on until the last Blue Jay was killed.
Certainly better than the feuds we hear, of, wasn't it?
In school at District 56 were the Claridges - Ada, Frank and Myrtle. They lived on the Theodore Reimers ranch where Mike Uzendoski lives. Two families were there - Curries with Nettie and Chalmers. Where Hambleton's live now on the Eli Mangus farm with Roy, Ben, Bill, Gerald, and Lollie. At one time a family named McGuire lived at the ranch. I only remember Carl and Alice. Where Kotlarz live now was called the McCurr farm. Living there was the Simpson family, one boy, Rudolph, and sisters, Helen, who played the guitar, Carrie, my own age, and one older sister.
Altha Bake was my first teacher. She married Theo Reimers and lived in a house up on the road where the Zimmer family lives. I always adored her. Olive Bergen followed her and Olive and Charles P. Cunningham were married when I was seven. Merton, Lester, Gladys and Bruce came to school. We carried water for drinking from there. Two went together careful to use two of a size, we got more water that way. At one time Knipphals lived on the ranch and their daughter, Amanda, came to school far later than when I was there. They moved to the Penney place when that house was new and lived there until both of them died.
Ad or Adrien Douthit lived south of the road east of them and Ted and Leonard went to school at 56. Wes Adamson followed them with Edna, Pearl, Bessie and Shirley and I don't remember Tommy going to school there. Across the ditch and east on the north side I remember first the Cole family with Phil and Nettie in school and after them Mr. and Mrs. E. C. Dyer with their son, Paul. I believe Dyer's finally moved to town and the John McAfee family followed them and Gail, Beatrice, Mamie, Bessie and Ethel.
Different ones have lived on Grandpa Loucks farm but none with country school children. On east Ad Douthit moved and Beatty went to high school but "Buster" was younger. His name was Lewis but I never heard him called that!
On north lived a Norwegian bachelor, Chris Johnson, who had the George Sovereign Family live there and keep house and cook. Their daughters were Bertha (my 8th grade teacher), Bessie Ethel, and Elsie - the youngest who simply wrapped Chris around her little finger with her "fanny, Tris, Tanny". Ethel was older. They were in town district and she married James Avery Bell. Bertha married George Vaughn. Bess was Mrs. Charles Green. Where Cuba's live was the Pillsbury farm and the road leading west up the ridge was called Pillsbury Hill.
And then we come to Grandma Barheit's house where I spent many happy Saturday afternoons so Mrs. Loucks didn't have to bother with me. Mr. Barheit's name was John. Were you aware that the two hills in the west of town were Mt. Jehu and Mt. Royal? Ralph Barber was Mrs. Barheit's grandson. I believe where the CCC home is now was once the town cow pasture, from Main Street east.
Mr. Vogel said that in 1879 he could see nothing but a sea of prairie blue stem as far as the eye could reach. It was horse-high and the Indians could lie along their ponies and not be seen. There were no trees along the river and only one in the bend of the creek behind our house had escaped the frequent prairie fires that burned over thousands of acres. I was horrified to see the big hill blacking over as a fire got away from a neighbor and spread in our pasture.
One night when we were coming home from tending trout lines in the river we could see three-quarters of a mile where a sweet clover patch and a ravine were burning. It was a terrifying sight to me for it seemed to be going towards a neighbor's home. We raced home. Harry phoned. "No Thanks! We need no help; we burned that out on purpose". The old fire guard streaks were still visible at that time and I got all the thrill without the danger.
Our love was for big trees and hundreds of others were killed by the elm blight so it seemed terrible to see their whitened skeletons lying about the yards and where the shady places had been in the pastures.
Back when Nance County was made an Indian Reservation the Pawnees were allowed to pick as much land as a man could ride around in a day's time. They picked the best hunting grounds, of course, which may explain its odd shape.
There's an Indian Hill in the west end of the county where hundreds are buried and single graves still come to light as cow paths are washed out by hard rains. That was because the Sioux overran the Pawnee and killed all the women, old men and children. The warriors had left to gather fall fruit while other warriors went to meet the enemy. No Indians were here after Mr. Vogel came except those riding through to do hunting farther west.
Once Freddie, eight years older than little Harry, saw some coming and ran with Harry across the creek to hide in the sweet corn patch where they waited with held breath for they'd heard tales of Indian massacres; but the Indians went on peaceably at that time.
The creek, Colt Creek, was spring fed and running. Mr. Vogel dammed it up above the buildings and put a row boat in which gave many hours of pleasure to anyone with enough time to enjoy it.
In spring, wild roses, elkhorn plant, honey suckle plants, crocus' Indian head, Grandpa's whiskers, vine and wild hock caught the eye of the school child going slowly over the road to and from. Buffalo beans and wild sweet peas were lovely. Canterbury bells were on hand in the pastures for Memorial Day. Some smaller white bells also and some we called Indian paintbrush also the white stars of flowers on grass banks along the river and sand flowers developed their pretty paperlike blooms. They grew along the roads south of the Loup and were much liked for Decoration Day because they never seemed to wilt.
Mr. Julius Vogel, living on what we know as the Dinsdale Ranch, went out one spring day and got a box wagon load of white geese in a day so his wife might have a white feather bed and pillows. The geese were red with mites and not fit to eat but that was life in Nebraska at that time.
The Vogel Brothers would reminisce and laugh heartily but I thought I was too busy to listen. Perhaps Bertha and Helen can remember; they loved to listen to their Grandfather and Uncle.
I have been proud to say that I used all horse-drawn machines on our farm except for a check-row corn planter and lister, but I cultivated acres and acres of corn with a one-row riding cultivator. My dad, my grandpa and I could be heard singing the day long each in his own field. Usually hymns, but Dad put a bit of swing into it. He had enjoyed playing in home town groups to entertain so he knew a lot I didn't. Also he learned some while in the militia and Nebraska National Guard.
Harry asked if I would like to go hunting one winter day on the river. I guess he thought I should know how time flies hunting. We got up at 3:30. I put up lunch and made a pan of corn meal mush. We ate daintily licking around the edge while it was still warm and soon the pan was empty. Harry had the team to the spring wagon, metal boat on the hay and coffee and sandwiches down. We started trotting down the road. Pat had once gone down one track snarling at a traveler in the other which proved to be a big skunk homeward bound. Pat led the team on to the river without trouble.
We enjoyed the diamond sprinkled sky got to the river while it was still dark. Harry took his gun out to the blind on the ice. I roamed the bank with my camera, found a young Mallard drake with a broken wing which I carried under my arm until Harry was ready to go home and said I had better leave it where it was used to being and it was just doing nicely.
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