52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History - Cars

Saturn would always take your picture in front of your new car!

My first car was some kind of Subaru 4-door that my mom and step-dad got for me to learn to drive in.  Their cars were manual transmission and they thought it would be easier to learn to drive in an automatic.  They were most likely right!  I drove the car for several years until one winter I was driving home from college in Millersville, Pennsylvania to Greentown and the car broke down.  Dashboard lights going on and no power at all.  Luckily, I was able to coast over to the side of the road without incident.  It was cold and there was a nasty snow storm going on.

My poor baby after a flat tire

I was fortunate that my car chose to break down less than 1/4-mile from a State Police station.  I walked to the station and called for a ride then went back to my car.  The officers tried to get me to stay at the station, but I was a stubborn idiot of a young lady and I felt awkward sitting in a police station being talked to by these guys I didn't know for who knows how many hours until family arrived.  So I apparently would prefer to freeze my buns off in my car, packed full of "stuff" from my dorm room.  The police did stop by occasionally to check on my safety.  In retrospect I was very grateful for that.  Anything could have happened to me.  So as it turned out the problem was a minor one.  Fuel filter I think, but we didn't know that until my step-dad's son "took it off our hands" and fixed it. 

My next car was a "hand-me-down" from my step-dad.  He was getting a new Honda Accord, so he gave me his old one.  It was a manual transmission, but I had already learned to drive a stick (much more fun!).  I know how lucky I was to have had these cars given to me!  I also expect that they preferred not to drive me 3 hours each way to college and back with all that "stuff" college kids bring with them.  Not to mention that I was living in the Poconos with my mom and step-dad and NOTHING is within walking distance.  I had to drive 45 minutes each way to my summer job...NOT and exaggeration either!  I wouldn't have been able to have that job, had I not had a car to get to it!

I joined the Army and no longer had a car.  I got to my first duty station which was in San Antonio and was faced with an unpleasant reality.  My barracks were about 10 miles from the place I was working.  Seriously...lived on one base and worked on another.  Not convenient for a new Soldier with little money and no car.  I suppose you were supposed to mooch rides off other people.  I did that for a little while, but every once in awhile you'd end up on a swing shift where you weren't working with your regular coworkers.  So I bit the bullet and bought a car.  I consider this car to be my first car (no offense, Mom and Jim!) because it's the first car I bought with my own money.  It was a Saturn SC2.  I believe it was a 1999 give or take a year.

I loved the car.  I went to Saturn because they didn't haggle.  It was one price, take it or leave it and since I didn't have anyone with me to strike up a deal with any other car dealership, I took the no haggle route.  The car was a good one though.  It was greenish-blue, 2 doors with 2 bucket seats up front and 2 in the back.  I thought it was super cool because the seat belts would automatically engage when you shut the door and started the car up...well, you still had to buckle the lap belt, but I just thought it was so "spaceman"!

The car was rather low to the ground, when I was pregnant with my first son, it was a challenge getting in and out of.  My husband used to joke that he'd have to grease me up to get me out eventually!  We had it for about a year after Benjamin was born.  The back seats weren't the best for a baby seat since they were buckets, but we could accommodate the small snap-in, rear-facing seat we had.  When Ben got too big and we had to turn the seat around the car just didn't work for us anymore.  I was so sad selling it, but I would have been sadder selling my son! ;)

Wednesday's Child - Rudolph Boegel

"St. Kilian Boy Killed While Out Hunting (Dec 7, 1924 - hand-dated)

The home of Mr. and Mrs. John Boegel, a farmer residing about a mile and a half east of St. Kilian, was thrown into extreme sorrow, last Sunday night, December 7th, 1924, when their sixteen-year-old son Rudolph was almost instantly killed, while out hunting skunks in company with his brother Clarence, aged 19, Leonard Schmitt, aged 16, and Peter Dieringer, aged 15.  The latter three are neighbors of the deceased.  The accident happened at about 11 o'clock Sunday night, in the old M.E. church located on County Trunk F in the town of Ashford, the church has been deserted for about twenty years and is falling into ruin.  The four boys had torn up a section of the floor of the church when the dog which accompanied them ran across the gun which had been laid on the floor, and knocked it into the hole.  It was discharged by the fall, according to the story given out by the boys, and the full charge entered Rudolph's body just below the heart, and took an upward course toward his right shoulder, inflicting a wound about an inch in diameter and about seven inches long, killing him almost instantly.  Just how the gun could be discharged from the fall will probably remain a mystery, as the boys stated when questioned by Coroner Joseph E. Murray of Fond du Lac, who arrived on the scene at about 12:30 a.m. that the hammer had not been cocked.

Besides his grief stricken parents, deceased leaves to mourn his sudden and untimely death, two brothers Clarence and Roman, and one sister Leona, all at home.

Rudolph, who was born on March 31, 1909, was well liked by his companions, among whom he was a leader.  He was a bright and faithful young lad and very active.  His tragic death came as a great shock to his many friends, who join in extending heartfelt sympathy to the surviving relatives in this their hour of deep affliction.  The funeral was held on Wednesday morning at 10 o'clock with services in the St. Kilian Catholic church.  Rev. J. B. Reichel officiated.  Interment was made in the adjoining cemetery.

The pall bearers were:  Reinhold Ottmar and Raymond Bonlender, Roman Kuehl, Arnold and Roman Boegel.  Many relatives from Milwaukee, New Fane, Kewaskum, Theresa, LeRoy, Lomira, Ashford and Campbellsport attended the funeral."

NOTE: Under Pallbearers "Roman Kuehl" should be "Romand Kuehl".  He would later marry Rudolph's sister, Leona.

News clippings were passed on to me by my mother-in-law, Dolores Cayemberg nee Kuehl.  It is unknown, which newspaper the clipping was from, but it is most likely from a newspaper in Brown or Fond du Lac county.  The clippings were collected by her mother Leona Kuehl nee Boegel.)

Tuesday's Tall Tales! - On the run from the Czar

Tabor, Czechoslovakia at the end of the 19th century

My maiden name is Tabor.  From what I've encountered, this is said to be a Czech surname, but my Tabor ancestors aren't from the former Czechoslovakia, so why were they called "Tabor"?  Time for some tall tales, courtesy of my dad......

My great-grandpa, Adam Tabor, and his brother were on the run from the Russian Czar.  They were caught cutting down and selling trees that were the czar's so they fled to the United States.  They didn't take the direct route.  Apparently, they feared the czar's men would be able to catch them more easily if they took a direct route, so instead they traipsed around Europe for a bit and found themselves in a town named Tabor in what used to be Czechoslovakia ("B" on the map).

Now why did they pick this city's name for their own.  Well, I'm told that it was a rough, bad-ass town and they fancied the comparison with themselves, so Tabors they became.  My dad says that they eventually went through Germany and then on to England before heading over to the US and eventually settling down in Scranton, Pennsylvania.  Quite the journey.


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What are the nuggets of truth in this rather tall sounding tale?  It's hard to tell.  My great aunt, Lillian Ruminski nee Tabor, is the only surviving child of the above-mentioned Adam and his wife Jadwiga.  I've only had the privilege of sitting down with my Aunt Lillian once in the past 10 years.  My father was there and let's just say that he polluted the pool more than a little.  I asked him before driving to visit to please not answer questions for her.  The answers needed to be from her and unprompted or his tales and memories could influence her answers.  Sadly, my father rarely does anything he's asked, but I gotta love him.  Unfortunately, his need to interfere could mean that I'll never know the truth.  What Aunt Lillian did manage to tell me, was that her father didn't like to talk about his past.

Adam and Jadwiga are the couple on the left.

So now what I actually know about my great-grandfather...

Adam was born between 1874 and 1885 in Russia (this later became Lithuania in later censuses as borders changed, which is helpful at narrowing down his region since Russia is rather large!).  He arrived in America between 1884 and 1890 and became a citizen in 1896.  He married Jadwiga Paszkawicz on April 2, 1902.  They had four children, Aldona, Clarence (my grandpa), Adam Jr, and Lillian.  He passes away in 1958.  He ran a shop in Scranton and joined the Polish National Catholic Church because (according to Aunt Lillian) the majority of the people that patronized his store belonged to that church.

I've never been able to find that "brother" of his.  The only thing I have is a picture of Adam and Jadwiga with another couple and children.  I've been told that the other gentleman is his brother, but no name is given and really just hearsay. I haven't been able to find his passenger record or naturalization papers, but I'm working on it.

Should we disregard these tall tales that our colorful family members pass on?  No.  They could hold that little piece of truth that can break through a brick wall or two.  If nothing else they're entertaining when taken with a tablespoon of salt!

The Villers Saga - Guilty Verdict Article Found

The Bismarck Daily Tribune, 18JAN1898

So it didn't take too terribly long to find it once my internet stopped fighting me (it does that almost instantly when my husband gets on a plane to go on a business trip).  I imagine that it didn't come up in the Ancestry.com search because of the clarity of the article.  I knew from the other articles that he was sentenced during the January session so that narrowed my search down.  The last article I found before the sentencing was announced on him was on January 13th so I started on the 14th and found it on the 18th.

"Villers Guilty

Jury in the Trial of the Prisoner Villers at Jamestown Finds Him Guilty of Murder.

Punishment is Fixed by the Jury At Imprisonment in the Penitentiary for Life.

Stay of Proceedings is Granted Until February 1, When a New Trial Will be Asked.

Found Guilty.

The jury in the case of Martin J. Villers, on trial for the murder of August Tromer, today returned a verdict of guilty of murder in the first degree and fixed his punishment at imprisonment for life.  A stay of proceedings was granted to February 1, and a new trial will probably be asked.

The trial of the case was completed yesterday afternoon, and the jury went out this morning after having heard the arguments of counsel.  The verdict in the case was not unexpected, as the circumstantial evidence against the man was strong, and his record probably told against him.  The case has been one of the most peculiar in the history of the state in that the prisoner was serving a sentence of ten years in the pen when the evidence of the murder of the man whom the jury decides to have been his victim, was discovered and he was then removed from the pen to be tried for the greater crime.  It was peculiar also that Villers was serving a sentence for a murderous assault on the wife of his victim when the body of her husband was discovered and he was put on trial for murder.

The trial of the Villers murder case was concluded in court at Jamestown yesterday afternoon, and the attorneys made their addresses to the jury.  The case has been tried rapidly, and little time has been wasted.  The Jamestown Alert says on the demeanor of the prisoner on the witness stand:

On the cross-examination Villers made a fine witness.  His answers were ready, sharp and crisp and often times he had to wait for Attorney Guthrie to conclude his question before he could ejaculate a denial.  Questions requiring a simple yes or no for an answer, either one of which would have compromised the witness, were answered promptly, but evasively and in such a manner as to throw from him an imputation of wrong doing.  Throughout the five hours he was on the witness stand the prisoner sat quietly in his chair and only once did he show great excitement.

When Attorney Guthrie asked the witness if he remembered the burning of a hog pen in this city the night of Nov. 5th, when Mr. Villers was here, also that he was seen by Mrs. Cooper standing in front of the engine house when the fire alarm was turned in, the prisoner straightened in his seat, became greatly excited, the blood rushed to his face and he grasped the arms of the chair a little harder.  When charged with the death of Peter Sterling, who is supposed to have worked for Mr. Villers that fall and with having thrown the body into Josiah Pierson's pig pen after having robbed the body of a large roll of money which Sterling was seen to have late that night and then set fire to the structure burning to body with the hogs, the witness kept his head, and only raising his voice a little emphatically denied all knowledge of the affair.  He said he did not know of the fire until the next morning, he didn't "know the man" and bracing himself seemed to defy the state to prove him guilty of the crime.

When asked where he had been for the last three years the witness stated, "I was in Valley City, here, at LaMoure and Bismarck and back again."  This made the audience laugh and the judge rapped for order.  The witness said he had been thirty-two months in Bismarck when he was "working for the warden of the state penitentiary."

I've got to say that after transcribing this article I'm stunned.  I didn't read it before transcribing.  I didn't really think that there would be anything new, but to accuse him of another murder during cross-examination.  I've heard nothing about the murder of Peter Sterling, although you can bet I'll be looking into it.  Was the prosecution just trying to throw him off?  Most certainly.  What gets me though is the fire regarding the disposal of the body of Josiah Pierson.  It's a similar m.o. to what he was found guilty of doing with Mrs. Tromer...but she lived.

Oh, well, all that's left is to transcribe the court documents.  They are (for the most part) more difficult to read, but you can be sure I'll be setting on them in the near future.  I was hoping to find something to tell me why Villers would have done something like this, if he did at all, but it just seems like the more I look, the more I find additional questions.  Gotta love family history...even if you don't love some of the things the people in it did!

Sunday's Obituary - Martin F. Rosbeck

"Martin F. Rosbeck (hand-dated Feb. 4 - 1973)

Martin F. Rosbeck, 81, of 313 Third Ave., West Bend, a retired farmer, died Sunday at St. Joseph's Hospital, West Bend.  He was born Jan. 16, 1892, at St. Kilian, a son of George and Margaret Thelen Rosbeck.  He married Theresa Kiefer at St. Theresa Catholic Church, Theresa, on May 8, 1923.

After the marriage they lived in Milwaukee for 15 years, then moved to St. Kilian where they farmed for 22 years and finally moved to West Bend in 1961.  Mr. Rosbeck was a member of World War I Barracks 2617.

Surviving are his widow; four children, Mrs. William Brill of Menomonee Falls, Robert of Theresa and Ralph and Norbert both of West Bend; 26 grandchildren and a great-grandchild.

Mr. Rosbeck was preceded in death by two sons, Greg, in infancy and Raymond John, who died in the Korean Conflict.

Funeral services will be held at 10 a.m. Wednesday at Miller's Funeral Home, Kewaskum and at 10:30a.m. at St. Kilian Church at St. Kilian.  The Rev. Elroy Pesch, OSF, will officiate and burial will be in the parish cemetery.

Family and friends may call after 4 p.m. Tuesday at the funeral home.

Newspaper clippings were passed on to me by my mother-in-law, Dolores Cayemberg nee Kuehl.  They were collected by her mother, Leona Kuehl nee Boegel.  Unknown which Wisconsin paper they were clipped, but most likely from the Brown and/or Fond du Lac county areas.

To Do List: Request military records for Martin.  Have a ton of these obits that I've only recently scanned and haven't thoroughly read, so I discovered Martin was a WWI vet when transcribing this.  So cool.

Funeral Card Friday - Maria Beisbier

I just love the German funeral cards I have!  I particularly love it when funeral cards (of any language) when they have pictures on them.  I do get a giggle out of the stern look on her face.  It's commonplace to smile when getting your picture taken today, but apparently not always!  Or perhaps she wasn't very happy in general, although I'd hate to think that.

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy and History - Winter

Don't worry..I'm not eating yellow snow (1974-ish)

I grew up in a small-ish city in northeastern Pennsylvania called Hazleton.  I've got great memories of the city and growing up in it.  Today though the crime's up and the city's down.  It's an old coal mining town and looks like a city that once had seen better days.  I loved the school system.  I loved the fact that we had sidewalks (silly me I thought sidewalks were everywhere until I joined the Army and moved away!).  And I loved the fact that we had four seasons.

I didn't realize how much I loved the four seasons until I joined the Army as well.  I lived in California, Texas and Hawaii when I served.  Needless to say Honolulu, San Antonio, and Monterey don't see much snow!  But we're talking winter here, so best to get on with it...

I have great memories of looking out the front window of the house with the snow-covered roads (before the plows would get there and the snow would turn black).  Watching the cars driving by slowly on the fresh snow was so peaceful.  It's like the world became quieter and everything just seemed more relaxed.  We had a mock-orange tree in the backyard.  Now I say "tree" but mock-orange really aren't supposed to get THAT big.  It was a "bush" gone wild.  My dad had a peat-moss/compost heap right next to the mock-orange and I'm sure that the decades of those extra nutrients seeping into it helped to create this monster bush!  During the winter the snow we would get was generally wet.  Not that dry powdery stuff.  This was heavy and great for snowballs...although crap for shoveling.  When we'd get a good heavy snow the mock-orange would get so weighed down that it's branches would bend over and touch the ground.  The result was our own personal igloo!  Seriously...it looked like we had a giant igloo in the backyard when it happened, and we would find a way in and use it as our own personal fort!  I'm amazed that tree lived through all that!

Snow never bothered me.  In fact, when it would snow, my spirits would rise.  I didn't mind shoveling at all.  My dad would complain incessantly about shoveling and the snow plows plowing him back in.  It never bothered me.  Not when I was a kid and not later when I was driving.  I love helping other people and when it would snow we'd try to shovel out some of the elderly people that lived near us as well.  I remember one time (and it is a nice memory) of my younger sister and I helping our father shovel his car out when someone got stuck trying to go up the side-street by our house and getting stuck.  It was uphill, which pretty much describes Hazleton to begin with, and he got stuck.  Spinning tires and no traction.  Having been stuck in slush down by my college and having had two strangers soak themselves to push me out always stayed with me so my sister and I went over to help him get up the hill.

It had to have looked silly.  Two teenage, petite girls walking over and offering to give his car a push.  My dad tried to stop us before walking over.  Telling us that we wouldn't be able to help, but we didn't care.  When other people see you helping, chances are someone else will stop by and help out too.  And someone did....my dad finally put down his shovel and helped us push him out of the snow.  Then we all went silently back to our own shoveling.  Things like that make you feel good inside though and I like to think that it may have turned his grumpy "I hate snow" off for five minutes.

My maternal grandparents were teachers, but pretty much everyone before them were coal miners or married to coal miners.  Knowing this now, I think of how the winter must have been a difficult time for them.  Walking to work had to have been freezing.  At least the mines were a constant temperature throughout the year so they could get a warm up...when they weren't worried about a subsidence, I suppose!

It does give you pause to think about how things were so much harder years ago, yet we still find something to complain about.  I suppose we always will.  I suppose that in 100 years our descendants will look back and think about how hard we had it!