Peshtigo - Recording the Survivors' Tales

The following is a transcription from a special centennial edition of the Peshtigo Times newspaper commemorating the Great Peshtigo Fire.  It was published in 1971 and passed on to me by my husband's family.

"Survivors Tell Of The Horrors During Dreadful Fire

Peshtigo Times Interviews Tell Of Survivors Narrow Brushes With Death

(Editor's Note:  The PESHTIGO TIMES has spent many years compiling a list of survivors, recording their experience during the fire and its effect on their later lives.  The story below is a compilation of many accounts the survivors told TIMES reporters.  Some of these people lived their entire lives in the Peshtigo area, others who moved have relatives in the area.

The largest complied [sic] list of survivors was available in 1951 just prior to the dedication of the historical marker.  At that time 44 survivors, (most in their 80s) had been located and several of them came to the ceremony.  As time passed, fewer new survivors were discovered and known survivors died.  Now, 100 years after the catastrophe, one survivor remains. Mrs. Augusta Bruce, of Stevens Point, Wis., not only lived through one of the worst disasters in the nation, but lived to reach 102 on August 4, 1971.  Several of the stories of known survivors which were published in the TIMES throughout the years are compiled and retold here.)

Memories of the crimson night of Oct. 8, 1871 did not fade despite the many years and events which passed between that night and the survivors retirement years.

The survivors, whose accounts are recorded below, were only children at the time of the fire and their memories are dependent largely on stories told to them by their parents.  For many families it was a turning point in their lives -- all property destroyed, sickness, poverty were the rewards for withstanding the night of horror.  Some could not bear to return to the area but others built new homes on the site of their first home.  Many were members of immigrant families who had come to America to homestead, seeking milk and honey.  They were pioneers and thus used to hardships so when this one came they faced it.

'Wake up!  The end of the world is coming!' the late Mrs. Amelia 'Stoney' Desrochers recalled her mother shouting.  The fire reached their home about 9 p.m. Sunday, Oct. 8, 1871.  She was five at the time of the fire.

'There had been fires all along.  The men had been fighting them.  One night a terrible wind storm came, the sky got very red.' she continued.  Then recalling her mother's prediction of the end of the world she said, 'A lot of people perished because they thought it was the end of the world.  They got tired of fighting the fire and gave up.'

But not her family.

'Mother got us up.  I put my shoes on but forgot my stockings.  When we went out the wind was blowing the sand so hard that it punched my limbs.  people told us to go to the river.  A man at the bridge ordered us to get aboard a flat-bottomed barge on the river.'

'On the way down the river, the boat caught fire on top and many jumped out and drowned.  Looking out the boat's window, I remember telling mother 'Look It's snowing fire three miles out in the bay.'

'On our way back after the fire died down we passed a place where there were many dead people laid out on blankets by the river bank.  Beside them was a little baby crying.  I'll never forget that.'

The late Mrs. Desrochers lived her entire life in the Peshtigo area.  She and another survivor Wesley Duket spent their last years int he Eklund Convalescent Home and occassionally [sic] met to reminisce.

WESLEY DUKET

He lived in the Sugar Bush five miles from Harmony Corners 'When balls of fire started coming down from the sky.' he said.

'My mother and father took us to the spring and wrapped us in wet quilts.  My sister saved the sewing machine by wrapping it up, too.  We had a team of oxen; one of them stayed at the spring with us and the other strayed away and burned.  We had a shed of colts and you could hear them thrashing as they burned.  My brother wanted to open the shed door but my sister was afraid he'd burn to death, too.'

'I'll never forget the next morning.  My mother and father were (temporarily) blind.  I went to see Mrs. Reinhart, our neighbor and I found her dead.  I liked her a lot and that really hurt me.  Her shawl had not completely burned and I took the corner that was left and kept it with me for many years.' said Duket.

MRS. ANNA IVERSON

She was only nine days old the day of the fire.  She was born in Peshtigo on Sept. 29, 1871, the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Lars Korstad.

Her father came from Norway in 1864 and worked to save money for his wife's passage.  She joined him three years later and they moved to Peshtigo.

Anna, the couples first child, was born at night while Lars was at work.  Their home was a one room shanty with a sawdust floor.  Sawdust was also the foundation for bedding.  Her father was a millwright for Odgen & Gardner lumber camps and mills.

The were fortunate enough to reach the river when the fire struck.

'We sat on a raft covered with a feather bed, my mother holding me and my father spilling water over the three of us as fast as he could so our clothing would not catch fire.  But mothers clothing burned nearly off her back.

'Help came from the south and even from Europe.  Each family was given $50 and free passage to any point in the U.S.  Father thought of going to California, but he chose LaCrosse.'

MRS. CARRIE HOPPE

She was four months old at the time of the fire.  She lived with her parents and 18 month old brother on a farm six miles from Peshtigo.  Ezra Jackson, her father, was bed ridden with scarlet fever and her uncle was on the farm to help out.

'When the fire came my father was too sick to run for it and he stayed in bed until the house caught on fire and he had to run.' she recalled.

'My uncle took my brother and hurried out of the house.  My mother wrapped me in a baby blanket and told my dad to come with us.  He said we should go out onto the plowed field and hope that the fire would not reach us.'

'My uncle carried my brother with him, somewhere we didn't know. But my mother took my father's advice and hurried into the field.'

'Mother and I were saved although mother told me that my blanket caught on fire about 45 times and that she beat it out with her hands.'

'After the farm house caught on fire my father left his bed and hurried to the field to join us.'

'We were saved but my uncle and brother were lost.  My father found one of my brother's shoes and some ashes.  Most of the ashes had been blown away, but we know they were dead.' she said.

Though their farmhouse and cattle were destroyed her father rebuilt at the same site.  She lived there until she was married and moved to Green Bay.

CHARLES E. 'DADRITE' WRIGHT

'Dadrite' was eleven at the time of the fire, and lived in a fishing settlement, Thomaston, along the Oconto Bay Shore.  He did Nov. 17, 1957 in Dunbar at the age of 97.

'I used to come up to Peshtigo every day for the mail,' he recalled.  'I'd sail our boat to the Harbor and take the morning train up to Peshtigo, then get back home before dark.'

'It was dry, oh it was dry.  We could see the flames of Peshtigo rising above the glow of other fires that night.  It was a terrible sight.  The flames came mighty close to our home, by [sic] didn't set it afire.  My uncle lost all his buildings and the loss drove him out of his mind.'

'It was two or three days before we could get into Peshtigo after the fire -- and what a sight I remember seeing that one home standing on the east side where Bill Dolan lives now, and nothing else.  It was just being built, and only the studdings were there.'

Dadrite told of the harrowing incidents in the Harmony area, which he learned of shortly after the fire.

'Sam Woodward's experience was a tragic one.  They could see the fire coming and told their two little children to sit right by the yard fence, then ran to the road with some keepsakes.  The next morning they found the little ones still sitting there.  They must have suffocated in the terrible heat.'

Another incident Dadrite remembered illustrates the pains taken to identify the burned remains.

'A skeleton was found out near Jerral Boom, and a silver watch lay near it.  It was marked by T. A. Hay, a jeweler.  They traced Hay until he was found, and checked his watch repair records to finally identify the skeleton,' he said.

Each person experienced a slightly different series of events during the fire but for all it was a time of horror.

Grocery prices have really skyrocked [sic] since 1871.  Prices recorded in Peshtigo on July 7 of that year showed that butter was 15 cents a pound, ham, 14 cents per pound, and beans $2 per bushel."

I found it very interesting that at the end of the article they threw in information about the cost of food.  It just seemed completely out of place, but still a good reference.

The stories from this horrible night can be grim as well as inspiring.  I wish more had been published in this commemorative edition of the Peshtigo Times, but you can be sure that when I get back to Wisconsin I'll be looking through old editions trying to find other stories.  They should be passed on!

The Worst Fire in American History was Not in Chicago

Peshtigo Fire by Mel Kishner

"Peshtigo Fire" and "Aftermath" were used with kind permission from the Wisconsin Historical Society.  Thank you!

(This is a repost from March 2011 about the Peshtigo Fire to commemorate it's 141st anniversary and to remember all those that were killed, injured and displaced by the fire.  As I did in 2012 I intend to dedicate this week's posts to the Peshtigo Fire.  My first post and last posts will be reposts from previous years, but posts that are significant to this event and my family and worth sharing again.)

Now those history buffs out there may be a bit surprised or even incredulous at what I'm about to say, but the worst fire in US history, which occurred the evening of October 8th, 1871 was not the Great Chicago Fire.  There was another fire that occurred on that date...and while everyone was out to rescue Chicago, Wisconsin burned.

The Peshtigo Fire has often been described as a tornado or cyclone of fire.  There was no out-running it and when it struck it did so with little warning.  That year was dry and there had been numerous fires that were man-made and naturally occurring.  So what made October 8th so devastating?  We hear on the news and/or the Weather Channel (I'm a weather geek at heart) about California fires and how devastating it would be if the infamous "Santa Ana Winds" were to strike at a time when fires burned there.  I live near Colorado Springs and we've had two devastating fires in the past two years that were driven out of control by winds and a lack of rain. Well, Wisconsin was hit by tremendous winds the night of October 8th, 1871 due to a low pressure system moving into the area, not quite the duration of Santa Ana winds, but the comparison is apt and this was the exact circumstance that was needed to result in this terrible disaster.

Each one of us have seen storms move in.  It's hot outside and then the winds pick up as the frontal system moves through with colder weather, and usually thunderstorms and rain.  The winds can be severe depending on the rest of the weather conditions.  But what happens when you blow on a pile of smoldering ash?  Fire.  Fire needs oxygen to grow, spread, feed.  The winds took those smoldering piles left throughout the region and blew hard.  The fire that sprang from the ashes whirled around in the air like a tornado and fed on the dry, brittle trees all around.  The fires spread with such intense heat and rapidity that there were times that buildings burst into flames as did clothing on many people as they ran through the streets toward the one possible avenue of salvation...the Peshtigo River.

If you turned your back for a moment, if you paused for a moment, if you went back for one little thing, all could be lost.  This scenario was a reality for my husband's ancestors that night.

The Martin Joseph Villers family was struck by the fire in the small city of Rosiere, WI.  Martin, his wife, Octavia, his daughter, Florence, and a boy that was living with them by the name of Joseph LaCrosse, prepared to flee.  Florence was in a basket and her parents turned to retrieve something from the house.  That brief moment was all it took for the fire to separate them and their little girl.

Aftermath of the Peshtigo Fire 1871

The 14 year old orphan that was living with them, Joseph, was near Florence when the fire separated them from the Villers.  He grabbed the baby and climbed into a well.  He held her that night as the flames raged above them.  I can only imagine the prayers he must have offered up to heaven during those terrifying hours.  The next morning, he clambered out of that well with Florence and wandered in search of the Villers and other survivors. Family legend tells us that he came across a cow that was partially burned, but survived the fire (most likely the cow had been in a river or somehow sheltered from the flames at some point).  He drew milk into his hand and fed Florence.

Family lore had told of Florence and Joseph hiding in the well for 3 days, but as I've come to research the Peshtigo Fire (all areas affected by it) it became clear to me that this could not have been the case as the fire raged for hours...not days.  Perhaps the "three days" that people referred to was the time they were separated from the Villers.  It's the best theory I have so far.  As it turned out Martin Joseph and Octavia survived.  How badly everyone was burned from the fire is unknown...but they survived.

Their prayers were undoubtedly answered...everyone that made it to rivers and various shelters did not necessarily survive.  In cities that had rivers it only meant that they now had to fight the currents and had to continue to submerse themselves in the water or throw it on themselves as the fire jumped the rivers only to continue scorching the other side and well beyond.  Jumping into a well was no guarantee of survival either.  There were stories of people that sought safety in wells only to be baked alive.  This family was watched over that night and every person's survival was a miracle.

The fire became known as the Great Peshtigo Fire.  There are varying accounts among scholars as to the total acres scorched by this monstrous fire.  Regardless of how they quantify the destruction of land, the fire was named after the town of Peshtigo (a boomtown at the time due to logging) because it was the hardest hit.  It was not the only city/area hit, in fact it is only a small portion of what burned that night, but the city was decimated. In all 1,152 people are known to have died in the fire and an additional 350 were believed dead, but not confirmed.

The fire is listed on several lists as one of the greatest American natural disasters/fires.  One item of interest was that on many of the "lists" I found, the Chicago fire, while more famous, was not even mentioned.  The Great Chicago Fire is talked about in history classes throughout the United States, while almost nothing is mentioned about the Great Peshtigo Fire that started at almost the same time and took many more lives and burned much more land.

Memorial Brick at Lambeau Field

To honor the young boy that saved Florence Cayemberg nee Villers' life, her descendants paid for a memorial stone to be placed in the walkway outside Lambeau Field.  Due to the courage of Joseph LaCrosse there are now over 500 descendants of Florence and her husband Eli Cayemberg!  Without the courage of Joseph LaCrosse, I wouldn't have my husband or two beautiful boys.

There are several excellent books out on the Peshtigo Fire:

Firestorm at Peshtigo: A Town, Its People, and the Deadliest Fire in American History by Denise Gess and William Lutz

Peshtigo by Bill Bergstrom (a historical fiction that gave me chills and made me cry more than once!)

The Great Peshtigo Fire: An Eyewitness Account (Wisconsin) by Reverend Peter Pernin (a survivor of the fire that gave his account of the tragedy)

Ghosts of the Fireground : Echoes of the Great Peshtigo Fire and the Calling of a Wildland Firefighter by Peter Leschak (I just ordered this one and look forward to reading it)

Tombstone Tuesday - Kelsey Kathryn Rowden

I transcribed an obituary for Kelsey Kathryn Rowden back in March.  When I had transcribed the obituary for my great Aunt Lillian I noticed Kelsey's obituary.  It's always so desperately sad when a child dies and I had to share her obituary.

I created a memorial on FindAGrave for Kelsey shortly after that post and requested a picture of her tombstone be taken by a volunteer.  Recently I received an email letting me know that a photo was posted and the volunteer, Maribel Rivera, kindly gave me permission to share her photos of Kelsey's grave.

What surprised me when I saw the photo was that there was no permanent marker for Kelsey.  I wonder if something happened to the original marker or perhaps there was none.

In the second picture you can see an older temporary funeral home marker which would lead me to believe that no permanent marker was ever placed, yet there are flowers left behind for Kelsey.  Her first name is spelled incorrectly on the new temporary marker too...or is it wrong in the clipping I transcribed?

The dates are wrong as well.  Her obituary has her being born on March 9, 1976 and passing on May 3rd.  There seems to be a lot wrong with this new temporary marker.  It makes me lean toward the name being misspelled by the funeral home here rather than in the obituary.

Either way, I'm delighted that she is being remembered, but each time I see a grave without a proper marker I wish that I could do something about it.  I wish they weren't so incredibly expensive so that cost, at least, wouldn't be an issue for family wishing to place one.  Who knows the reasons.

Remembering September 11th

Tribute in Light (please take time to view the description and acknowledgement below)*

Today is a day of remembrance, not a day of celebration.  I don't celebrate Pearl Harbor Day.  I remember the tragedy of the day.  Some could argue that we celebrate who we are as Americans today because the terrorists that struck on this day 12 years ago didn't win.  They didn't destroy us.  I don't see this day that way though.  I see a day when life changed and when our innocence was shattered.  I see a turning point in my life as a mother, wife and Soldier.  I would see fellow Soldiers deploy and some never come home.  I see a day where our country was altered drastically and suffered a collective loss.  Who did not pray that just one more survivor would be pulled from the Towers or the Pentagon? Just one more.  That just one survivor would be found among the wreckage in Pennsylvania.  Just one. We lost so many innocent people that day.  There were so many brave acts of courage as well.  I want to remember them, because they should still be with us, but were taken too soon by senseless acts of stupidity and intolerance.  Let us never forget.

(This is a repost from 2011, but is worth sharing again)

September 11th, 2001.  The day the world seemed like it was coming to an end.  Where were you?  Where was I...

I was a Staff Sergeant in the Army.  Stationed with the 25th Infantry Division (L), 125 Military Intelligence Battalion.  We were in the field.  Training exercises.  It's what we did.  My husband was playing single dad with our almost 8 month old son while I played Soldier and got dirty for the week.  At least that was the plan.

The evening of September 10th (Monday) my squad and I got in our vehicles and went out to our site.  It was my first time as a squad leader.  I'll admit I was nervous.  I always wanted to impress.  To show people that I was good at what I did.  It didn't start out well.  It was dark and we were having difficulty finding the site we were supposed to set up at.  It took awhile, but we eventually got there and set up.

I jumped into the back of our "system" after it was set up.  I then proceeded to block all news and music stations that I could find.  Our job was to "Find the Enemy" and I didn't want people distracted and not looking for OPFOR (Opposing Forces).  We were a squad of 4, Newsom, Cash, Jefferson and me.  Newsom was my Assistant Squad Leader and he took first shift.  Jefferson took guard shift.  Cash and I racked out in the back of the chase vehicle (the vehicle that follows our system with all the gear in the back).

Around 4:30am I was woken up by Newsom.  He told me, "Two planes crashed into the World Trade Center and there were fears that other planes may have been hijacked."

I sat up straight and just looked at where his voice came from in the dark.  "What?" I said as I processed the information, although I really didn't need it repeated.  Then I asked, "Did you report it to the TOC (Tactical  Operations Center)?"

"No"

"Do it."  Newsom left and got on the radio.  I got on my cell phone.  I called my husband.  He had already been called by his oldest sister and his unit.  He was watching the news.  It was bad.  There was a lot of confusion in the news.  He was getting our son ready for day care and was taking him in as soon as it opened.  He was needed at work.  It was going to be a long day.  I told him I loved them both and needed to go.  I had to call my aunt and uncle that were living in Hawaii.  My Uncle Jeff's family was from New York.

I called and Uncle Jeff answered.  I could tell I just woke them.  "Turn on your T.V.," I said, "Two planes crashed into the World Trade Center and more may have been hijacked.  We're under attack."  He said he had to go and hung up.  I understood.  He needed to make sure his family was safe.

I got out of the vehicle and went to the system where Newsom was still listening.  I asked him what the TOC said.  He replied that they claimed it was all a part of the exercise.  When that happened however, Cushman, a team leader from one of the other dismounted teams, popped up on the radio with the reply, "Bullshit!" and explained that they intercepted it too and it was a news station reporting.  They were now reporting that another plane hit the Pentagon.  Then one went down somewhere in Pennsylvania.  My home state.  How many more?  That's all I could think of.

Eventually the TOC pulled their heads out of their asses and realized that this was real.  Another platoon member who was back at the TOC had brought a portable T.V. with him.  He was from New York.  Fiorelli was his name.  A good ol' Italian boy from the city.  He turned the portable on just in time to see the first Tower collapse.  I can't imagine what that was like for him.

All four of us were standing in or around our system.  There was no one pulling security.  We just weren't "playing Army" anymore.

"It's bin Laden," I stated.  Something that wouldn't be repeated on the news until later.  Most people in MI knew who Osama bin Laden was, even if we weren't "active" in the intel field. It was no secret that he hated America.  It was no secret that he would do anything within his power to strike at America if given the opportunity.  I had no doubt that it was him.  There was no reply to my statement.  There was none needed.  I guess we all already knew it was probably right.  Knowing doesn't make anything better.

Pentagon Flag **

One of the guys (I can't remember which one) asked me, "What's going to happen?"

"We're going to be pulled back in."  I don't know how I knew that.  Maybe it was because I wanted it to happen.  I needed it to happen.  I wanted to get home to my husband and son.  I was terrified that a military day care would be targeted.  He didn't care who he attacked.  Unrealistic fear?  There are no unrealistic fears to a parent.

I continued, "There are too many people that need to find out how their families are.  I can't imagine them keeping us out here much longer." And then there was the unspoken fact that we were now at war.  Attacked at home and would be needed to defend our home.  We didn't know how bad this was going to get, but we knew everything was about to change.

There was only one set of headphones for the system.  Only one person could listen at at a time, and we all wanted to be that person.  We did take turns and whoever had the headset would relay any new information to the rest of us.  Eventually my Platoon Sergeant, Stege, came out to the site to see how we were doing.  He told us to break down because we'd be going back in.  No surprise there.  It took several hours before we made it back to the company area.

Our company was in a quad.  Four buildings facing inward.  That's just pretty much how the majority of Schofield Barracks was set up.  When we returned to the quad it was surrounded by triple-strand concertina wire with a guard at each entry point checking IDs.  The entire post was like this.  Not only was the post at 100% ID check, vehicle inspections (complete with looking under each vehicle for bombs), but once you got on post you had to show ID to get into your quad.  If anyone doubted that this was serious, that ended any doubts.

I got home later that evening.  Talked to family back home and held mine.  We watched the TV until I don't know how late.  My husband worked one of those "active" intel jobs.  I knew he knew stuff.  And I knew he couldn't tell me.  I accepted that.  I understood.  I wouldn't ask.  Didn't really need to.  I mean, how bad is bad?  It already was.

My uncle's family was safe.  My family was safe.  Why then did it seem like none of us were safe and that we all had lost someone dear to us?  Was this how it felt after our innocence was taken at Pearl Harbor?  I was certain it must have been.

I was a Soldier.  I knew we were now at war.  We all knew it.  There was no cheering.  No stupid smack-talk about going out and killing bin Laden.  We all wanted him.  We all wanted to go, but this was an indescribable moment and there was no juvenile posturing like you see today.  No one prays for peace more than the Soldier that has to fight the war and lose their brothers and sisters in arms.

Looking back I find it amazing at how calm and incredibly somber we were.  There were no tears shed from my squad.  It didn't even occur to me to cry.  We were in shock.  Perhaps if we had seen rather than heard what was happening there would have been tears.  There certainly were many since.  There will continue to be many in the years to come.  Osama bin Laden is dead.  It damn well took us long enough...but you know what?  It doesn't lessen the pain.

Members of my unit experienced what I can only describe as Divine Intervention on September 11th, although we would not hear of it until later.  My former Platoon Leader, CPT Meyer, had left the military and was working at the World Trade Center. He was one of those insanely hard-core-ranger-tabbed-dudes that would walk 10 miles with a broken leg because it was "nothing big."  He'd never go to sick call.  He'd be in a hospital only if forced.  He wasn't at the World Trade Center on September 11th....he was in the hospital.  He was sick and his family made him go.

Writing this post was extremely difficult as I'm sure it was for many who have written posts for today.  I didn't see the original footage of the attacks with the newscasters talking when it first happened.  By the time I got out of the field all I saw were the sanitized images.  The footage of the images without any human reaction.  Just analysis.  I've seen the original footage since then.  There is something about seeing the video and hearing their reactions that is just so gut-wrenching.  It makes it feel as though it just happened.

The website I watched this video on is a page at the National Archives called "Understanding 9/11".  The video is toward the bottom of the page and they list a chronology and description of the footage you'll watch.  There are broadcasts from Mexico, Japan, Russia, Iraq and Britain as well as the U.S.  A unique international perspective, and you really don't need to understand the different languages.

I'm a disabled veteran of the United States Army, and I'm a hippie-chick to boot.  Crazy combination.  Crazy chick.  Hippie chick or not...I can't listen to Darryl Worley's, "Have You Forgotten?" without tearing up.  Some scars don't heal that easily, and these scars dug at our country deep.  It truly felt like the world was coming to an end that day.

Acknowledgements

(Pictures obtained via the U.S. Air Force Official Website)  

*Tribute in Light - The "Tribute in Light" memorial is in remembrance of the events of Sept. 11, 2001. The two towers of light are composed of two banks of high wattage spotlights that point straight up from a lot next to Ground Zero. This photo was taken from Liberty State Park, N.J., Sept. 11, the five-year anniversary of 9/11. (U.S. Air Force photo/Denise Gould)

**Pentagon Flag - WASHINGTON -- Military members rendered honors as fire and rescue workers unfurled a huge American flag over the side of the Pentagon during rescue and recovery work following the Sept. 11 terrorist attack. The attack came at approximately 9:40 a.m. as a hijacked commercial airliner, originating from Washington, D.C.'s Dulles International Airport, was flown into the southern side of the building facing Virginia Highway 27. (U.S. Navy photo by Michael W. Pendergrass )

Information presented on AF.mil is considered public information and may be distributed or copied. Use of appropriate byline/photo/image credits is requested. 

Chronology of 9/11

[Please note that times do vary by source]

8:01 am - American Airlines Flt 11 takes off from Boston heading to Los Angeles.  There were 92 people on board.

8:14 am - United Airlines Flt 175 takes off from Boston heading to Los Angeles.  There were 65 people on board.

8:21 am - American Airlines Flt 77 takes off from Washington D.C. heading to Los Angeles.  There were 64 people on board.

8:41 am - United Airlines Flt 93 takes off from Newark heading to San Francisco.  There were 40 people on board.

8:46 am - Flt 11 crashes into the North Tower of the World Trade Center

9:03 am - Flt 175 crashes into the South Tower of the World Trade Center

9:40 am - Flt 77 crashes into the Pentagon

9:59 am - The South Tower of the World Trade Center collapses

10:07 am - Flt 93 crashes into a field in Shanksburg, Pennsylvania

10:15 am - Portion of the Pentagon collapses.  Approximately 200 people died in and around the Pentagon.

10:28 am - The North Tower of the World Trade Center collapses

4:00 pm - CNN reports that their are indications that Osama bin Laden is responsible for the attacks.

5:25 pm - Number 7 World Trade Center collapses

8:30 pm - President Bush addresses the nation

Labor Day - Labor in Our Family Trees

Coal miners  - Pennsylvania (Luzerne or Carbon County, Pennsylvania)

This is a repost from last Labor Day, but one that I think is worth remembering each year.  I hope you enjoy it.

Be thankful we live today.  The term "labor" certainly isn't what it used to be.  I come from coal miners and teachers.  My husband from farmers mostly, but also cheese makers, woodworkers, and my father-in-law was a truck driver.

To be a coal miner...well, I don't really like thinking about it too much.  Always wondering if your husband and sons come home that night?  If they came home, would they be broken and able to continue working?  I can't imagine sending my young sons off to work in the coal mines, but that's what my ancestors did.  Boys went to work in the mines as soon as they were able.  Girls helped mom raise the babies and do the housework (which was a LOT harder than today).  They had gardens and chickens in their yards to help feed their families.  They made their own clothes and had few tech-gadgets to make their lives easier.

Feeding her birds

I know my ancestors worked hard and hoped that some day their children wouldn't have to work in the mines. Around the turn of the century that started to happen and my grandparents and great aunts and uncles more often became teachers.

One room schoolhouses.  Teaching all grade levels at once, but eventually schools changed and became more what I remember as a child and teenager.  Teaching though is still a thankless job more often than not.  Where would we be without our teachers?  I get emails and comments about my grandfather and what a wonderful teacher  and role model he was (and strict).  I have obituaries that show how much my great aunt achieved in her lifetime and how respected she was (you can read about her here).

My father-in-law, like many truck drivers today spent the week driving and would come home on the weekends to see his family.  His wife took care of their 5 children while he was away.  Sacrifice and a strong and loving family.  He worked for Schneider United.  The "United" meant it was unionized.  Schneider busted that union by hiring new truck drivers that would work for a little more money up front, no pensions and diminished benefits.  They didn't fire the unionized drivers, they merely waited for them to retire.  Now Schneider National stands in its place.  Same company...less security for the drivers and their families.  My father-in-law was able to retire comfortably and when he passed my mother-in-law was able to receive his pension and continue to live well.

As for the farmers in our family, well I can only imagine how difficult working on a farm must have been.  I am so not a morning person and I can only imagine having to rise early to tend the crops and animals.

Feeding the chickens

My ancestors (and yours as well, if they held many of these occupations) had something that helped them make ends meet.  Helped them fight for better working conditions and to keep their children out of the dangerous mines.  Had someone to speak for them so they weren't driving truck longer than was safe for them and others on the road.  Someone that made sure that the teachers got the benefits they deserved for the hard work that they did...they had unions.

Labor Day hardly means what it once did.  What it must have meant to our ancestors.  Our ancestors that just wanted an honest day's wage for an honest day's labor.  To be able to live in dignity and raise their families from what was frequently an impoverished and brutally hard life.  Labor Unions fought for:

-Overtime pay

-A tolerable length for the work week and workday

-Minimum wage

-Paid vacation and sick days

-Safety standards

-Child Labor Laws

-Health benefits

-Retirement security

-Unemployment compensation

You would not have had Labor Day if there had not been unions.  Unions pushed for a day to celebrate America's laborers.  States passed laws marking the holiday, but it wasn't until August 28, 1893 that Labor Day became a National holiday.

Schoolhouse from an old family album

The word "union" and "unionized" seems to be the equivalent of a swear word today, but why?  Some unions were corrupt, but it's up to the members to fix that.  Not up to the employers and politicians to bust the unions that help keep our union workers safe and earning a decent wage.

I would not dishonor my ancestors to disparage what is a wonderful part of our American history.  The Labor Union and Labor Day will always be connected.  Even if people sometimes refuse to acknowledge the connection.  Our ancestors changed this country so that their children and grandchildren would be able to live a better life than they did.  Not a life of sloth as many wrongfully think of unionized labor, but an honest day's wage.  An honest day's work.

Today I celebrate Labor Day and my ancestors that helped make working in America better for everyone.  I will keep their hard work and intentions alive and I thank them for their sacrifices so that my life was better than theirs.  May we always be a country that values it's workers.

Family Recipe Friday - Fish and Chips

From Parade (date unknown)

OK...my mom didn't make the chips...at least not as far as I can remember.  While I was home this summer I was looking through mom's recipe books and we talked food.  She made her beer batter dipped fish and showed me the clipping that she had originally gotten the recipe from.  I hated fish when I was a kid.  Always afraid of finding a bone and just all-around not enjoying it much.  The only fish I would eat was this recipe and tuna.  My mom would always use her fingers to feel for bones so I knew eating her fish would be a bone-free experience...thanks, mom!

I've posted about this recipe before, but now that I have a copy of the clipping I wanted to share the whole thing (including its origins).

"From London With Love
by Beth Merriman
Parade Food Editor

Our British cousins have discovered the joys of hot dogs and hamburgers.  American tourists have returned from London with equal enthusiasm for fish and chips.  We think a kitchen party featuring this fare would be a hit with everyone.

To make the 'cornets,' as the English call the newspaper cornucopias in which they serve the fish and chips, we found it amusing to use comic strip pages.  Line them with aluminum foil, roll into cones and secure with transparent tape or staples.  With a little practice you'll discover the right size for individual portions.  Stuff a little paper toweling into the bottom of each before putting in the hot fish and chips.

Serve hot malt vinegar from a sprinkle bottle, salt and - to please American palates - catchup.  Beer for adults, root beer for the younger crowd, fun for everyone.

2 packages (about 12 ounces each) frozen fish fillets
or
1-1/2 pounds fresh fish fillets*
2 eggs, separated
1/2 cup beer
1/4 cup milk
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon seasoned salt
1/4 teaspoon seasoned pepper
1 bag (2 pounds) frozen french fried potatoes

*Any firm white fish, such as sole, flounder, haddock, cod, whiting, etc

Partially defrost fillets so they can be separated.  Cut into pieces about 3" x 1-1/2".  Place on paper towels to dry.  Beat egg yolks until thick and light.  Blend in beer, milk, flour and seasonings.  Mix until smooth.  Beat egg whites stiff but not dry; fold in.  Pat fillets dry.  Dip into batter, a few pieces at a time; lift out and drain slightly with fork or slotted spoon.

Fry in deep fat heated to 375 degrees for two to three minutes, or until golden brown and puffed.  Drain on absorbent paper.  Meanwhile heat french fried potatoes as directed on package.  Serve fish and french fries together in 'cornets,' as described above.

Makes six servings.

From Parade' test kitchen"

Hmmm...I don't think I'd use staples to secure anything that my food was going in.  Perhaps that's just me.  I don't remember mom making the "cornets" either, but it's not too surprising because such a detail would have gone completely unappreciated by my dad and us kids.  I'm familiar with seasoned salt (I use Lawry's all the time, but I think mom just used regular salt), but I'm not so much familiar with seasoned pepper.  Not really a crisis or anything.  Use what you prefer and they'll be just as yummy!

I found the references to food sharing between Americans and the Brits insulting amusing.  Seriously, if the only thing we get from such an ancient culture is fish and chips, and the only thing we have to offer are hot dogs and hamburgers we're definitely missing out!  And using the funnies for the "cornets"?  Puh-leez.  Cute idea?  Yes, but hardly a requirement.

I've matured since then and really enjoy fish.  I can only hope that my kids learn to enjoy things that they don't appreciate now.

And I hope the next time you get a craving for some good fish, you'll give this recipe a try.

Wedding Wednesday - 50 Years for Eli and Florence

Gosh I really need to find the original clipping and get a better scan...or fix this one, but that's not going to happen tonight.  Two days with little to no sleep.  I hoped that that turning in early last night without a post would result in sleep, but it didn't.  Not wanting to skip another evening I thought I'd share this clipping of Eli and Florence Cayemberg nee Villers.

Published in the Green Bay Press Gazette (date unknown, but would have been around April 1936)

"Flintville Couple Wed 50 Years

(Special to Press-Gazette)

FLINTVILLE, Wis. - Large wedding cakes were presented to Mr. and Mrse. (sic) Eli Cayemberg at their home here Sunday, where they celebrated their Golden Wedding anniversary.  The couple who were married in St. Hubert church, Rosiere, April 24, 1886, celebrated the 50th anniversary of the marriage Sunday with a family reunion. (Unk) children and their families were present."

Eli and Florence Cayemberg is the couple that is celebrated annually at the Cayemberg family reunion held in Green Bay, Wisconsin.  All the descendants of these two are invited to attend.  When I first started genealogy I thought that the reason this couple was celebrated was perhaps because they were the first Cayembergs to arrive in America.  This was not the case though.  Eli was born in Wisconsin.  The son of Philippe and Catherine Cayemberg nee Doneux (so many various surname spellings that I won't even touch on here!) and sibling to Regine, Joseph, Gustav Joseph, Cedonie, and Geferson.  They were the couple celebrated at the annual family reunion merely because it was their children that wanted to celebrate them.  Silly amateur me reading more into it early on.  Ya live, ya learn!

Now having written that, I'm about to get inundated with comments and emails telling me that the names for Philippe and Catherine's children are wrong, or someone was missed, or...or...or...

So let me just head all that off at the pass and say, "Don't."  Unless you're willing to share your research (and it's proper research, not guesswork and/or something divined from the most recent communique with the dead), then please just don't.  You see the Cayemberg family tree that is celebrated annually is only the descendants of Eli and Florence.  Eli's siblings, parents, grandparents, etc are MIA...and those are the people I want to discover.  Those are the unknowns and isn't that what we need to do?  Go back (and sideways) and figure these things out!

My research certainly needs tweaking.  I'm still looking to confirm all of the children of Philippe and Catherine (Eli is already confirmed), but it's a goal.  I've had people tell me that these children are wrong, or need to be combined (is Joseph and Gustav Joseph the same person?), but until there is some proof a genealogist has to go with where the available document are pointing.  I may find something that will change this part of my family tree.  I may find something that confirms it.  I may find nothing.  But it takes more than just taking someone's "word for it" to amend the research I've begun.  Documents please!

Gosh.  I get bitchy when I'm tired.  Night all!