PREFACE
Lottie Walther Stammerjohn wrote these notes in longhand when she was about eighty years old. She made two copies, giving one to my sister Dorothy and one to me. They are her private recollections of things that she wanted us to know and remember. Written in pencil and unedited, they were never intended for publication. But I thought that her descendants would be able to appreciate the way that she saw her family and her life.
Mother was a very intelligent and capable person. She received a better education than the large majority of her generation of either sex. She had more education than my father or any of her immediate family and most of her friends. Yet, I was never aware of her pride in her accomplisment being flaunted before others. But I also feel that she felt that she could address and solve almost any problem that faced her. She formed and frequently expressed strong opinions on social and moral issues and sometimes on personal issues as well. But she also worked tirelessly for the best interests of her husband and children, her church and her community with love and caring support.
I have tried to preserve the flavor of Mother’s manuscript without subjecting you to the chore of deciphering smudged pencil script. I have tried to avoid the editor’s prerogative and have preserved her spelling, punctuation and style without the usual editorial disclaimers. I have also added the pictures for those of you who did not know Lottie as a younger woman. If you want a little more insight, that old adage about the apple falling close to the tree is appropriate. You will get a dim reflection of our mother and father, if you consider my sister Dorothy and me.
I hope you will enjoy these notes as much as I have.
LAMBERT W STAMMERJOHN
Allentown, Pennsylvania
November 27, 1989
LOTTIE WALTHER:
I have a letter written by my grandfather, Frederick Gundlach, Dec. 1849, addressed to Miss Sophie Roepe (later she became my grandmother) just St. Louis, Mo. - no street address, no postage stamp. In this letter, written in German, he explains that he had hoped to spend Christmas with her, but was quarantined in New Orleans, for no boats were allowed to leave for St. Louis because of the cholera epidemic there. That was the epidemic in which my father's father (Emi Lambert Walther) died in June, 1849. More letters from Frederick Gundlach and from his brother George when they left St. Louis for California to seek their fortune in 1851. My mother, Sophie Gundlach, was a baby at that time and her sister Anna was on the way. These letters are in German - very interesting - tell of their trip to California. One is on picture stationary showing a bad fire in Sacramento.
Grandpa Gundlach (Frederick Gundlach) was a tailor. Had a shop on Market St. somewhere between 4th and Seventh. That was where my mother (Sophie Gundlach) was born. He was a very young man when he died, leaving my grandmother (Sophie Roepe) with five small children. She opened or bought a grocery store at 23rd and Salisbury Sts. Her cousin, Rosa Stunkel, had a millinery shop across the street on Salisbury.
My father (Lambert Emile Walther) went to clerk in Grandma Gundlach's (Sophie Roepe) store. That's how he met my mother (Sophie Gundlach). She would not marry him until Edward Stremmel returned from Germany, for she had promised to wait until he came back. As soon as she knew he had returned (and had borrowed from my grandmother to make the trip) my parents eloped. They were married by a Squire Twillman - on Bellefontaine Road - near Parker Road. A Johnny Jones, who drove the carriage hired from Landvogt, said the rain that day was one of the worst he had ever been in. He would comment on it whenever he passed "4013" and found my father at the front gate. Later, Johnny Jones moved to Jonesboro, Mo., which town was named for him.
My father had a store on the east side of Broadway just a bit south of Penrose. It was a two story red brick. Here Lambert and Ida were born. Later my parents moved to a frame house on the east side of the 4000 block on North Broadway. It may have been on land that belonged to Papa's mother, but I am not sure of this. It was here that Olga was born. The next move was to "4013" after my Grandma Walther's death (Margaret Groh). Since Papa and his sister, Kate Hirschberg, were the only heirs, and since Grandma Walther's sister had a home on Broadway between Destrehan and Angebrodt, where Henry Hirschberg had his tannery, Papa got the improved property: "4013" and the red brick 4-family to the north of it, while his sister got all of the unimproved property: from the alley west to 9th St. and on Broadway from the red brick north to Foster's house. (This area was a junk yard the last time I saw it). The difference in value was estimated at $1500 which Papa had to pay his sister.
When Stremmel did not get my mother, he married her sister Emilie. Lottie Stremmel Augenete Kiedasch was their child. Later, my grandmother and the Stremmels lived in a duplex on the north side of Penrose just east of Blair.
Both of my grandmothers died before I was born. That's how it happened that I was born in "4013" in 1888 in the house my father was born in in 1849.
Our religious background was quite mixed. My father's father was Catholic, so my father was christened Catholic. Since his mother was left alone to rear him, she went back to her own church - Evangelical, and so he was confirmed Evangelical. His four children were christened Evangelical, that is as far as we continued in a similar church affiliation.
My mother's mother was Lutheran - from a family Roepe still firm in that faith in Concordia. During my lifetime, my parents did not attend any church. Olga and I attended Fourth Christian S. S. This was due to teh kindly attention a Mrs. Hopper, their daughters Ruth and Nannie gave Olga when she spent nine months in bed with a weight on her foot in an effort to strengthen and straighten her leg. When she was able to walk again, she and I started to Sunday School. I did not join the Christian Church until I was a senior at M.U. and then joined in Columbia. Ida and Olga joined no church and Lambert became a member of the Ethical Society.
Hearing loss comes from both sides of the family. Perhaps we had to blow our noses too often, due to the lack of understanding that it was catarrh or sinus. How often I heard, "Lottie, blow your nose!"
My mother died when she was 54. She was hard of hearing. Let me illustrate. When Gertrude was a baby, Lambert and Constance brought her to stay with us at "4013" while they went east. Upon their return they picked up their baby and belongings immediately, but did not come to tell us about their trip until later. At the supper table, Lambert was telling us where they had been and what they had seen. He said, "We had dinner at the Waldorf Astoria." Mamma from her end of the table spoke up, "The bottle is still here." I have been paid back fro laughing.
Wet walls at "4013" were a constant worry. No matter what was applied, dampness came through, marring the wall paper. Frequently, we had to have the water pumped out. It was not until about 1950 that city tests showed that it was spring water. Where the underground spring was we did not learn. I have found one old legal paper that mentions a creek through the property.
There was no inside stair at 4013 until after the tornado of about 1926. At that time, Ida went up the steps on the back porch to close the shutters and windows and Papa was downstairs. After that incident some carpenter finally worked out a scheme for the inside steps. These had to be narrow and steep to fit in with the structure of the hall and upstairs rooms.
The bathroom was put in about 1898. Furnace instead of stoves was installed later. Before the furnace, there was a base burner (hard coal) in the parlor with a drum and grate in the floor of the room above to supply heat. Our first telephone was installed while my mother's body lay in her coffin, Dec., 1905. The phone cost $1 per month or 5 cents for each outgoing call. If less than 20 calls per month we had to pay the difference. Calls made by tenants helped pay the bill.
My grandfather Emi Lambert Walter was buried in the orchard back of teh house (1849). Later his body had to be moved. Nothing remained, so the stone was put in the back yard of "4013" because the house had to be torn down to widen Broadway, the junk dealer who bought the property was interested in the grave stone. A printed article in the St. L. paper is in my box of clippings.
Papa sold his grocery store in the 4200 block of North Broadway, and went to work for a Mr. Heimers who was in the lumber business. After that Papa had his own horse and wagon to haul coal. Jake Stall drove for him. Papa weighed coal at a scale along the Wabash track east of the lumber yard. Later he went to work for Luke at the scales on Broadway - south of the lumber yard. After Billy Luke's death, Papa bought the business from Fred Luke. Later, Charley Lehr was in business with him after working for Papa for many years. Besides coal, they had city sprinkling contracts. Later, Charley bought out Papa.
At the scales on Broadway, Papa was bound and gagged. At another time he was hit on the head as he came home from work after dark. That time his wallet was taken. See newspaper clipping about this.
The land bought my my grandfather, sometimes mentioned as Lambert A. Walter, and sometimes as Emi Lamber Walter, extended from north to south along Bellefontaine Road (as Broadway was then called) from a point "about 3 miles north of the courthouse for about 200 ft. and from east to west from the Wabash track west to 11th St. Later 9th St. and the alley back of "4013" were cut thru.
I always heard the area from "4013" west to 11th St. called the orchard, but in my time it was all vacant lot - not a tree on it. West of 9th St. medicine shows and other tent shows were often held. Dr. Sayman, of Sayman Soap fame, had a show there every year.
Evidently my grandmother had to sell much of the land, the first section east of Broadway where the lumber yard is, then the part west of Ninth. The remainder was divided at her death between my father and his sister Kate Walther Koehler Hirschberg. Kate got all of the land west of the alley on 9th St. and about 100 ft. facing Broadway north of the 4 family red brick. Papa had to give her $1500 to balance the value of the estate (1887).
This is when Papa and Mamma moved to "4013." For many years the upstairs rooms were rented - sometimes to two families. I can recall only one family living there in the two south rooms, while we used the two north rooms and the little porch room, which we always called the "play" room. Olga's, Ida's and my furniture were in there. Downstairs, there was a frame "summer" kitchen south of the porch. As financial conditions improved we used the entire house.
With no inside stair it was often very cold, icy and rainy going upstairs to bed. Even unheated bedrooms seemed warm, and sleeping under a "feather bed" was wonderful until all of the feather slipped to the foot end of the bed.
Another feature of the bed was a pair of large square pillows, that were taken off at night (these pillows were filled with corn husks and very hard) and put back on the beds in the morning with fancy white shams as covers. Our pillows which were about 2 ft. square and about 1 ft. thick were covered with pink cambric. The open work shams let the pink peep through.
The house was always painted a light gray and the shutters were green. Shutters were closed in the morning to keep out the sun, but opened in the afternoon. From the upstairs windows we could see boats go up and down the Mississippi and we could see trains cross the Merchants bridge. Papa said as a very small boy he sometimes saw Indians in their canoes.
On the back porch was a grape vine which provided shade in the afternoon. everyone enjoyed sitting on the porch, where a huge iron bound chest stood. It was no doubt brought from Europe by some of my folk but I do not know by whom. In my day, we kept old newspapers and wallpapers in it. Everyone like to sit on it.
When Mamma died in 1905, it was still customary for the corpse to be "laid out" at home. So her body lay in the parlor. This was a very bad custom, for the mourners remembered the casket in a certain place for many, many years. Mamma was buried in a shirtwaist and skirt that she had worn. This was unusual for it was still the day of black shrouds and of crepes being on the front door. As a senior in high school, I had to wear a black band on my coat sleeve all winter, for my coat was brown - not black. Ida did not want me to attend any of the senior activities. Fortunately, ideas have changed since then. We and others understand that we can grieve as much in a red dress as in a black one. Mamma's was the first grave vault that most people had seen. Now it is a required part of interment.
Edgar Guest's "It Takes a Heap of Living in a House" is so well illustrated by "4013". I was born in that room in 1914. Mamma was not very well after I arrived, so it fell Ida's lot to care for me much of the time. Papa was the one who took me for walks on Sunday afternoon - usually east on Bremen Ave. to the stockyards, where we both enjoyed seeing the animals. Then down to the river bank and north along the levee to the water works, where I could see the pumps and the basins.
Each summer there was an all day boat excursion up the river to Elsah, Ill. On that trip the Chain of Rocks intake tower, the outh of the Missouri and beyond that the clearer water, the landing at Alton and then on up farther to the bluffs at Elsah. At noon and later in the afternoon we enjoyed our picnic dinner at a table on the boat. We always had a well filled basket. When I was a teenager I enjoyed going to the deck where the dance floor was and, of course, dancing. My mother said she would rather dance than eat, and so would I, even tho I was not a very good dancer.
Another outstanding outing was an all day trip to Brachman's in Columbia Bottom or to Schatzmeier's near Spanish Lake. Papa would hire a surrey from Landvogt, hitch up old Dolly and we would start out about sun up for a day in the country. We always took a beef roast with us for country folk thought it a treat. They had only chicken or pork, either fresh or smoked. It was always fun to slide down the straw stack - to watch them milk cows- the many things about a farm that were unusual to one from the city (about ten miles distant). Coal oil lanterns were hung on the surrey as we came back home, so others could see us.
My recollection of Easter is the basket Aunt Hirschberg brought to me every year on Easter Monday. It contained a plaster rabbit, a few pieces of candy and eggs - mottled brown and yellow. These were dyed with onion skins.
When Gertrude was born, Constance had too much milk. Perhaps breast pumps were unknown in 1899, so to dispose of the excess milk tiny pups, their eyes still closed, were used to suck. Fingers from kid gloves were put on their tiny paws to keep from scratching the breasts. These pups came from Hirschberg's. Seeing the pups was as much interest to me, an eleven year old, as my first niece.
I was a very shy, quiet child. When Aunt Emilie (Stremmel nee Gundlach) came to visit, she always remarked on it in my presence, so of course, I then shut up like a clam. I was named after her daughter Lottie at Aunt Emilie's request, offering to give my christening clothes a bribe?
My cousin Edmund (Gundlach) was three months older than I and an only child. My cousin Edna (Gundlach) was three months younger and an only child. Both of my uncles (Edmund and Alwin Gundlach) had good jobs and so Edmund (Eddie) and Edna had everything showered on them. This did not help my innate bashfulness.
Edna's birthday parties were high lights. Often it was a masquerade or dress up party. The tin type of me as Little Lord Fauntleroy shows one of my costumes. And there was always a fish pond! Edna's Aunt Anna had a Millinery shop, so provided doll hats for all the girl fishers.
Bashfulness continued to be a problem. I was too shy to break into groups etc. This was overcome to a great extent when I went to the University. I was on my own and had to make a place for myself among strangers in a strange environment. Even today, tho an octogenarian, I do not interrupt or break into conversations. True, loss of hearing makes me slower in responding, but I am still reserved and retiring. I prefer being with a few people rather than in a large group or crowd.
In High School (old Central High on Grand near Finney, which was destroyed in the tornado of 1927), I had some unusually special teachers. Howard Colwell, my first Latin teacher, was my inspiration for teaching Latin. Dr. J. Perry Worden, my first English teacher, contributed so much more than teaching what was required. For instance, he took our class to the World's Fair and we had an outing to Cliff Cave. I have two large pictures taken there (group). He was quite interested in my ability as a pupil and encouraged me in many ways - making special trips possible. For instance, he took Ida and me to a program at the Odeon and then to Faust's for refreshments. Going to Tony Faust's Restaurant was a real treat for both of us.
In Art, Frederick Oakes Sylvester was a real inspiration. He was an artist - many of his paintings were landscapes - the Bluffs near Elsah, Ill., for instance. I learned to understand and appreciate art under his guidance.
S. A. Douglas, Physics teacher, made the subject so interesting. We needed to use our “sixth sense” common sense - I had that so made good.
Going to M.U. was perhaps the most interesting part of my life - a new environment - new people, new ideas. Columbia 1906 to 1910 was not the place it is in 1970. Life centered about the Red Campus which at that time consisted of Academic Hall, Arts, Engineering - Switzler Hall, Geology, the President’s home - Chemistry and Law. The White Campus had just two buildings: Read Hall and Whitten Hall. On Sixth Street was Parker Hospital. The Student Nurses’ home was the old Campbell home on Sixth. The boy’s dormitories were Benton Hall and McAllister where their meals were served and where their dances were held.
Read Hall was the only dormitory for women and for only 28. The rest of the girls were either in sorority houses (KKG, PiPhi, Theta) or in private homes. I was fortunate in having a room in Prof. Garland Carr Broadhead’s home. His wife was Victoria Switzler, on Hill and Hudson, where the Eva Johnston Dormitory now stands. Mr. Switzler was Registrar.
I have already stated the size of the campus in this period. As I look back, writing this in 1970, I shall try to recall some features of the city. Two trains then operated. Coming from St. Louis, I could take the Katy, change at McBaine, and arrive at the Columbia station on Broadway, or I could take the Wabash, change at Centralia, and arrive at the station on Tenth St., near Walnut. Passenger service on the Wabash was continued until 1969. There were two transfer companies to haul your trunk: Hulett and Scurlock. Hulett’s number was “23” - Scurlock’s “72” - Both companies a operated horse drawn passenger bus, which was the only local public transportation.
Most streets were not paved. Sixth St. along the west side of the University had huge stepping stones, extending above ground about 10 inches. We had to hop these to avoid mud. Vehicles had to drive carefully between the stones. Many sidewalks were not paved. Conley from Fifth east had plank walks. One morning going from Broadhead’s to Academic (Jesse) Hall I lost my roommate’s watch. It fell between those long planks and I found it as I came back from class. The watch was on a fob, and tucked in my belt. I learned not to borrow.
The auditorium in Academic Hall was used for all convocations, concerts and commencements.
The 2nd floor, east and was for girls. Here was the gym, the racks for wraps, a parlor, the showers and toilets. A Mrs. Cunningham presided during the time I was at M.U.
Several business houses on Broadway are still there: Park’s which was then Fredendall’s, Neat’s (always a quality store) - Miller’s shoe store (Bier, Jackie Crane’s husband is now manager). I stayed at the Bier home (a girls’ boarding house) a few months when Mrs. Bier asked all of us to leave for this son was scheduled to arrive shortly. Knight’s Drug Store was then at 9th and Broadway - Barth’s Clothing, where it still sells men’s garments - Sykes (or Sikes) and Broadhead - men’s clothing - at 9th and Broadway where Greenspon’s now operate. Two banks - Exchange National and Boone County - were on Broadway. The one theatre was on Broadway at Hitt. An old church in the same area became a favorite hall for dances. Heiberger’s bakery was on Broadway - where Suzanne’s is now. Charley Heiberger was Uncle John Heiberger’s brother. They sold about the best candy in town. The Lucas brothers opened a book store and restaurant on 9th and Conley, N.W. corner. It competed with the co-op book store in the basement of Academic Hall.
All freshman boys were required to wear caps - color depended upon the department or college. About six weeks after school opened there was a freshman-sophomore rush. This took place in the evening at the lamp post in front of the old law building on the quad. Men of each class were lined up on opposite sides of the pole - at a signal they rushed toward the pole - with an awful crash. The class having the man to climb the pole and get the flag (soph-class flag) was the victor. If the freshmen won, they did not have to wear caps the rest of the year. It was a brutal affair - tore clothes, scratched, gouged flesh. I attended just one rush, for it was brutal.
After that things were calm on the campus until Engineers Week. As engineers put up decorations for St. Pat’s Day, either ags or lawyers tried to tear them down. St. Pat’s parade thru town, the exhibits in the building, and the arrival of St. Pat and the disappearance of the Blarney stone, and the dance were high lights for the entire university. I was fortunate in having dates to the St. Pat dance and also to the Military Ball - both big affairs.
The auto was almost unknown in Columbia. Few students could afford to hire horse and buggy. Walking was the fashion. Favorite walks - out Providence Road to Rollins Spring or west on Broadway to West Blvd, then back over Stewart Road, which was almost country after you crossed the bridge over the Katy tracks. Ashland Gravel and the Rocheport road were toll roads.
Most of the churches were in the downtown area: the Christian Church in its present location on Tenth and Walnut, the Baptist on Broadway near Stephens College, the Methodist on Broadway across from the Baptist, and the beautiful stone building at the corner of Broadway and Tenth where the Presbyterians worshipped. This was torn down recently to make way for another parking lot.
So many of the lovely old homes on Providence Rd. or Fifth Street have recently been torn down for many modern structures: the Broadhead home with its lovely grounds - and the more spacious grounds and homes of Rollins and Price and Stephens.
Most rooming houses for students were hideously ugly and much alike - a front porch attached to a plain square structure with four rooms on the first floor, four bed rooms and bath on the second, and usually two in the attic. Two students to the room. Room and board $5 to $5.50 per week.
On High School day, I had an appointment to meet Mr. M. A. O’Rear, superintendent of Boonville schools. It was a successful interview. I was asked to come to Boonville to meet the board members, prior to the next school board meeting. So early Friday, May 13, 1910, I boarded the Katy, changed to the main line at McBaine and then had my first glimpse of Boonville. I rode up to the school, which was located where Central School now stands, in Sam Holland’s horse drawn bus.
The old school building, which caught fire during one Christmas vacation and all records were burned, had the first six grades on the first floor, the seventh and eighth in the two south rooms on the second floor and the rest of the second floor was high school. The study hall-auditorium had the center section facing 6th St. Across the hall on the west side to the south was the room assigned to me for Latin and German classes - then Mr. O’Rear’s office - then Irene Glasser’s history room. The two north rooms were for math and science and one for Ruth Hitch’s English classes. All teachers had to keep study hall one hour.
The school board members were Dr. Mittlebach, R. W. Whitlow, Piggott, Johnson, Speed Stephens, and Dr. Frank Smiley. I was elected on Friday, May 13, at a salary of $65 per mo. (that was a plum in those days). Later it was raised to $70 - more than most of my classmates were paid.
With a few interludes - graduating from M U on June 9, 1910, etc. Papa and Olga came up for the exercises. Ida, Lambert and Constance and Gertrude had spent a weekend with me earlier, so could not make another trip. Families did not visit students often, and students seldom left Columbia from September to June, except for Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. Transportation was a problem.
My first two years in Boonville were spent at Mrs. Georgie DeForest’s at 927 Main St. It was a small frame house with no modern conveniences. Daisy Alkire, eighth grade teacher, had the front room. It had a duofold for her bed, and a wash stand behind a screen. It was in this room that we entertained our friends. My room was an end of the hall. It was just large enough for a bed, wash stand anch chair. It did have a nice sized clothes closet. My trunk had to stay in the hall. A little coal oil heater kept me from freezing, as did the feather beds piled over me. I had no table so had to study in Daisy’s room. Coal oil lamps furnished light. Mrs. Murphy was quite a distance down the back yard.
I stayed there two years - the second year the only teacher for Daisy was ill and had to leave. That did give me the use of the front room, where I could entertain without having sleeping equipment in it.
Before I tell about events, I shall mention the other places I stayed: about three months with Mr. and Mrs. Charlie Eldridge on Third St. where Kemper Gym now stands. Then I moved to 314 Center - to Mrs. Bradner’s. I stayed there until I decided to give up teaching for house keeping.
My life here as a teacher was not dull. Many of the teachers whose homes were not here thought there was “nothing to do” in Boonville. If you attend church there is always something to do. So I attended Sunday School and church. Bec Heiberger taught the class, later Mr. Drury Davis taught it, and Bec had it again after his death. My. O’Rear was not only school superintendent but also S. S. Supt.
Before my day in Boonville, a Miss Em Richards taught 8th grade. She was a member of the Christian Church and a very good friend of the Stammerjohn family. How I detested her until I met her twenty years later. I kept hearing things like this - “Will you dress a doll for the church bazaar? Miss Richards always dressed dolls so beautifully - crocheted jackets and caps, etc., etc.” “Miss Richards made delicious divinity.” Frankly I did not like being compared with someone I had never met.
About a month after I came to Boonville, Daisy Alkire and I went to the post office after school. The PO was then located in the building where Paul Darby now has his office. In the south half of the first floor, there was Western Union, and upstairs was one of the telephone offices (Dora worked there). At that time Boonville had two telephone companies. Ben (Stammerjohn) was at the window - sold Daisy some stamps and then, since he was ready to go off duty, asked if he might walk home with us. We took a long route via the park to 927 Main. Ben had had some dates with Daisy, but her “best beau” was Albert Haun. Sometimes the four of us double dated. Often we joined a group from the telephone office for cards. I think we played Rook.
Haller, father of John Haller who was in Dorothy’s class, took me to many dances at the Turner Hall. He did not like rivals, so dates there did not last into my second year of teaching. J. D. Fristoe, who was in my class at M. U. and came to Boonville to teach math, took me to school parties and to a dance or two at the Turner Hall. Edgar Nelson, an M. U. classmate, came to see me every time he came through Boonville. Russell Holloway, a Columbia “beau”, came over just once, I think. Frank Rooker, whom I dated in Columbia for about two years, came over for a weekend. He would leave on an early train Sunday evening, and he would come when post office hours were over. Often very little time would elapse between Frank’s leaving and Ben’s coming. Later, Ben and I became good friends of Frank and his wife. We visited in their home whenever we went east. I still write to Birdie. John Johns, who dated me during summer vacations, sometimes came to Boonville. But Ben was my steady dependable date for four years. There were very few places for entertainment - an occasional legitimate show at Thespian Hall - some very special program - such as Felice Lynne - and the first movie!! So we took long walks in the day time, played cards and often spent an evening reading aloud and discussing some book. Later after Ben moved his mother, father and Dora to the house he had built on the Trail in spring 1911, he bought a horse and buddy. The horse, Prince, served as a work horse on the 9 acres during the week, but was a “buggy” horse on Sunday. Times and customs were different then. After dating me for two years, seeing me at least twice a week he still called me “Miss Walther”. The Sunday evening before I went home for the summer in 1912, we were driving out in the Martinsville area, when Ben decided time and place were fitting for proposing. Just as he said, “Will you?”, Prince stopped in the middle of the farm! Was it pure horse sense and his method of warning Ben? Well, neither of us heeded his warning and we were married two years later. Ben set the date Sept 22 - his birthday, for he said he would remember the date that way.
Now what were the qualities that attracted me? First of all he was polite. He was the only one of the Stammerjohn children who stopped talking, when his mother talked and he was the only one who ever got up to give someone a chair. As Mr. Scholls expressed it after his death - “He was truly a gentle man”.
As a youngster my brother Lambert was my hero and my ideal. In my very early years I said I wanted to marry someone like Lambert - especially someone who did not smoke, chew, drink or swear. I found those qualities and many others in Ben.
While his folks lived with him out on the Trail, he had to walk into town every evening to take Dora home from work because she was afraid. Before we were married Henry got a job at the Training School and moved out there, so Ben’s mother, father and Dora moved into his house on Morgan St. where they lived until they moved into the one Dora bought on Spring St., the house west of Henry Holtman’s and two doors west of Mat and Ed.
Although Ben furnished practically everything for house upkeep, even in his own home he had to pay board and also the amount each one of the nine children contributed monthly to the support of their parents. Only the main floor of the house had been completed - the attic was unfinished and unheated. Ben’s father, mother and Dora got the finished rooms, and Ben, who owned the place, had to sleep in the unfinished cold attic!
Ed, who had a greenhouse back of the Stammerjohn home on Water St., lived in the home place for several years before and after he and Gladys were married the June before we were married. Ed was a very moody fellow - had to be on the front row or sulked. Because he did not agree with Mr. Weldon, preacher at the Christian Church, altho he and Gladys were both members there, he refused to be married by him. Unless he was patted on the back he would not take part at church. If he could direct the choir, sing a solo, or teach a class he was very pleasant. He was in a pleasant mood when he and Edwin carved the organ grill at church and when he made the pulpit furniture - very fine work and wonderful display. Ben on the other hand, for years when finances at the church were at low ebb went to church early every Sunday morning swept and cleaned the entire place before S. S. and for rebuilding after the fire, we were told that we were the most liberal contributors (but no plate to show for it) and when the educational wing was put up we gave the first $1000 anonymously and more than $2000 later. Still there was nothing with Ben’s name on it. That is why when the communion service was bought as a memorial, I insisted on a name plate for him. It was put on the rail behind the communion table. So many of the things Ben did for church and for other folk were things needed at the moment, and were repeat programs. Cleaning church was one, sweeping Conway’s walk when he swept ours, cutting their grass, and shoveling their snow.
He was the one his family called on to do this or to do that. About a month after we were married, when cool weather began and heat was needed, Grace called up, “Tell Ben to come over when he comes home from the office and set up my stove.” “Grace, he has not had time to put up our stove.” “Oh, I forgot he was married.”
Ben had bought several hogs to fatten for killing. I had no idea what had to be done, but Ben’s mother and father wanted to take charge. I do not recall who killed the hogs and cut them up. I know I helped cut up the fat, stir the lard, which was rendered in a large iron copper lined kettle, and fry sausage cakes which were put in quart and half gallon jars, covered with lard and stored for future use. The hams, shoulders and sides (or bacon) were salted and later smoked. As things were reaching a final stage I asked where the tenderloins and rib roast were and learned that all of that choice pork had been ground up for sausage! Needless to say, the following years we hired Mr. Deck - the butcher - to come out to kill our hogs and cut up the animals so we could have pork roasts, pork chops and tenderloin instead of so much sausage, spare ribs and backbone.
I had a final salary of $70 per mo. I had saved $265 after supplying sheets, towels, etc. and kitchen items (dishes, pots, pans etc.) and paying for my own clothes. This saving was used to pay for rugs, bed room and living room furniture.
Ben’s salary was $90 per mo. Out of this we had to pay $30 building and loan for the debt on the place, taxes, water, church pledge, insurance, etc. Ben’s mother was not too happy with his choice of wife. She thought a city girl would not be able to work. How hard I worked those first five years! Picked strawberries and delivered them for three quarts for 25 cents! Dug potatoes, sorted them, to be sold to Brockmeyers for 50 cents a bushel. Canned all the vegetables and fruits we needed. We had cherry, pear and apple trees. And milked three cows once a day. That much milk meant churning butter and making cheese, too. Since we live out so far, it was not easy to shop often, so I baked bread and coffee cake every Saturday. During World War I this was not too easy, for we had to use some potato and rice flour along with a minimum amount of wheat flour.
One of our recreations during the summer was Chautauqua - a tent program held on Kemper grounds. This brought many outstanding speakers and entertainers to Boonville. In the afternoon, I would wheel Dorothy (Stammerjohn) in her go cart, and hear that program. In the evening, Ben and I would go back. We had to get our money’s worth. In the winter, Kemper had a series of programs. I have forgotten the special name. We always attended that series.
Ben became a Mason before we were married and continued paying his dues for he liked the ideals of the organization, altho he did not like the trappings, etc. He received his 50 yr. pin, which I gave to Dorothy since Eddie had been a Mason. Ben seldom attended lodge meetings.
For many years he was a K. P. I joined the Pythian Sisters and held office for many years. This paid my dues. We both enjoyed the social activities of the K. P. lodge. When we had to cut down on expenses, Ben dropped K. P. and we gave up the Globe Democrat my home town paper. Both of these cuts I think were about the time we remodeled “603”.
When we lived out on the Trail, we had so many Sunday visitors. It was a nice walk from town, a place to rest and often get a meal. The 9 acres became too much for us to work. We sold it in 1920. Ben would not keep any of the furniture his mother had left there. I think Mildred Durr Wilcox got it as well as other antique pieces. She knew how to beg or hint. Grace, too, had a way of collecting, getting items she wanted.
When we sold we had no idea how hard it would be to find a place over in town, nearer the P. O. and also nearer Central School. There was almost nothing to rent and only two places to buy - both about the same price. This seemed the better buy, for it was close to church and town. It was quite run down - the west half of the brick had been painted yellow. The east side was one large room with door to front porch and one to back porch. Downstairs there was a bath room on the extreme east - but no bath.....(upstairs?)
The day we moved - March 1, 1920 - the Powell family moved out in the morning and we moved in in the afternoon. There was no time to clean the place after the Powells left. In the frame kitchen, where the Powells still had tow tubs of things on the floor, as I looked though the glass door separating dining room from kitchen I saw mice running everywhere and I have always been afraid of mice!
Ben was working evening hours that month and did not get home until 8 p.m. I think I was never more frightened in my life. The March wind was blowing, every door and window rattled and there were thirteen outside doors that I had to be sure were locked!
After a short time we felt by making some changes, we could rent part of the upstairs. We put in the present bath room and built some closets. For a while we rented the large east room and the room to the west above our dining room. Some of our renters were Edith Johnson and her husband (Isla’s sister). They were there fifteen months. Geo and Mary Hoefer were with us a....... Mr. & Mrs. Hy Duncan rented the rooms until they bought their home on Third St. The Hummels (Mrs. Alex van Ravenswaay’s family) had the entire upstairs for a while. Mr. and Mrs. Kinsey lived there more than a year.
When we knew the entire exterior had to be painted and found out how much that would cost every three or four years, we decided to do a complete remodeling. We used what we could of the outside walls and the frame east side, extended the wall southward and giving the entire house a uniform brick exterior. This gave the east side a complete apartment except for use of laundry room. The excavation under the east side was not made until some 20 to 25 yrs later, when that side had a laundry room. At that time we changed from a coal burning furnace to a gravity oil burner. And for me a Maytag wash machine - no more bending over a wash board! And Ben did not have to shovel coal and take out ashes. In 1934, we put in a converted gas burner. The huge old American Radiator furnace finally gave out in 1966 or 1967.
Sophie Gundlach
Lambert Walther
Benjamin Stammerjohn
Lottie Walther
Lottie Walther Stammerjohn wrote these notes in longhand when she was about eighty years old. She made two copies, giving one to my sister Dorothy and one to me. They are her private recollections of things that she wanted us to know and remember. Written in pencil and unedited, they were never intended for publication. But I thought that her descendants would be able to appreciate the way that she saw her family and her life.
Mother was a very intelligent and capable person. She received a better education than the large majority of her generation of either sex. She had more education than my father or any of her immediate family and most of her friends. Yet, I was never aware of her pride in her accomplisment being flaunted before others. But I also feel that she felt that she could address and solve almost any problem that faced her. She formed and frequently expressed strong opinions on social and moral issues and sometimes on personal issues as well. But she also worked tirelessly for the best interests of her husband and children, her church and her community with love and caring support.
I have tried to preserve the flavor of Mother’s manuscript without subjecting you to the chore of deciphering smudged pencil script. I have tried to avoid the editor’s prerogative and have preserved her spelling, punctuation and style without the usual editorial disclaimers. I have also added the pictures for those of you who did not know Lottie as a younger woman. If you want a little more insight, that old adage about the apple falling close to the tree is appropriate. You will get a dim reflection of our mother and father, if you consider my sister Dorothy and me.
I hope you will enjoy these notes as much as I have.
LAMBERT W STAMMERJOHN
Allentown, Pennsylvania
November 27, 1989
LOTTIE WALTHER:
I have a letter written by my grandfather, Frederick Gundlach, Dec. 1849, addressed to Miss Sophie Roepe (later she became my grandmother) just St. Louis, Mo. - no street address, no postage stamp. In this letter, written in German, he explains that he had hoped to spend Christmas with her, but was quarantined in New Orleans, for no boats were allowed to leave for St. Louis because of the cholera epidemic there. That was the epidemic in which my father's father (Emi Lambert Walther) died in June, 1849. More letters from Frederick Gundlach and from his brother George when they left St. Louis for California to seek their fortune in 1851. My mother, Sophie Gundlach, was a baby at that time and her sister Anna was on the way. These letters are in German - very interesting - tell of their trip to California. One is on picture stationary showing a bad fire in Sacramento.
Grandpa Gundlach (Frederick Gundlach) was a tailor. Had a shop on Market St. somewhere between 4th and Seventh. That was where my mother (Sophie Gundlach) was born. He was a very young man when he died, leaving my grandmother (Sophie Roepe) with five small children. She opened or bought a grocery store at 23rd and Salisbury Sts. Her cousin, Rosa Stunkel, had a millinery shop across the street on Salisbury.
My father (Lambert Emile Walther) went to clerk in Grandma Gundlach's (Sophie Roepe) store. That's how he met my mother (Sophie Gundlach). She would not marry him until Edward Stremmel returned from Germany, for she had promised to wait until he came back. As soon as she knew he had returned (and had borrowed from my grandmother to make the trip) my parents eloped. They were married by a Squire Twillman - on Bellefontaine Road - near Parker Road. A Johnny Jones, who drove the carriage hired from Landvogt, said the rain that day was one of the worst he had ever been in. He would comment on it whenever he passed "4013" and found my father at the front gate. Later, Johnny Jones moved to Jonesboro, Mo., which town was named for him.
My father had a store on the east side of Broadway just a bit south of Penrose. It was a two story red brick. Here Lambert and Ida were born. Later my parents moved to a frame house on the east side of the 4000 block on North Broadway. It may have been on land that belonged to Papa's mother, but I am not sure of this. It was here that Olga was born. The next move was to "4013" after my Grandma Walther's death (Margaret Groh). Since Papa and his sister, Kate Hirschberg, were the only heirs, and since Grandma Walther's sister had a home on Broadway between Destrehan and Angebrodt, where Henry Hirschberg had his tannery, Papa got the improved property: "4013" and the red brick 4-family to the north of it, while his sister got all of the unimproved property: from the alley west to 9th St. and on Broadway from the red brick north to Foster's house. (This area was a junk yard the last time I saw it). The difference in value was estimated at $1500 which Papa had to pay his sister.
When Stremmel did not get my mother, he married her sister Emilie. Lottie Stremmel Augenete Kiedasch was their child. Later, my grandmother and the Stremmels lived in a duplex on the north side of Penrose just east of Blair.
Both of my grandmothers died before I was born. That's how it happened that I was born in "4013" in 1888 in the house my father was born in in 1849.
Our religious background was quite mixed. My father's father was Catholic, so my father was christened Catholic. Since his mother was left alone to rear him, she went back to her own church - Evangelical, and so he was confirmed Evangelical. His four children were christened Evangelical, that is as far as we continued in a similar church affiliation.
My mother's mother was Lutheran - from a family Roepe still firm in that faith in Concordia. During my lifetime, my parents did not attend any church. Olga and I attended Fourth Christian S. S. This was due to teh kindly attention a Mrs. Hopper, their daughters Ruth and Nannie gave Olga when she spent nine months in bed with a weight on her foot in an effort to strengthen and straighten her leg. When she was able to walk again, she and I started to Sunday School. I did not join the Christian Church until I was a senior at M.U. and then joined in Columbia. Ida and Olga joined no church and Lambert became a member of the Ethical Society.
Hearing loss comes from both sides of the family. Perhaps we had to blow our noses too often, due to the lack of understanding that it was catarrh or sinus. How often I heard, "Lottie, blow your nose!"
My mother died when she was 54. She was hard of hearing. Let me illustrate. When Gertrude was a baby, Lambert and Constance brought her to stay with us at "4013" while they went east. Upon their return they picked up their baby and belongings immediately, but did not come to tell us about their trip until later. At the supper table, Lambert was telling us where they had been and what they had seen. He said, "We had dinner at the Waldorf Astoria." Mamma from her end of the table spoke up, "The bottle is still here." I have been paid back fro laughing.
Wet walls at "4013" were a constant worry. No matter what was applied, dampness came through, marring the wall paper. Frequently, we had to have the water pumped out. It was not until about 1950 that city tests showed that it was spring water. Where the underground spring was we did not learn. I have found one old legal paper that mentions a creek through the property.
There was no inside stair at 4013 until after the tornado of about 1926. At that time, Ida went up the steps on the back porch to close the shutters and windows and Papa was downstairs. After that incident some carpenter finally worked out a scheme for the inside steps. These had to be narrow and steep to fit in with the structure of the hall and upstairs rooms.
The bathroom was put in about 1898. Furnace instead of stoves was installed later. Before the furnace, there was a base burner (hard coal) in the parlor with a drum and grate in the floor of the room above to supply heat. Our first telephone was installed while my mother's body lay in her coffin, Dec., 1905. The phone cost $1 per month or 5 cents for each outgoing call. If less than 20 calls per month we had to pay the difference. Calls made by tenants helped pay the bill.
My grandfather Emi Lambert Walter was buried in the orchard back of teh house (1849). Later his body had to be moved. Nothing remained, so the stone was put in the back yard of "4013" because the house had to be torn down to widen Broadway, the junk dealer who bought the property was interested in the grave stone. A printed article in the St. L. paper is in my box of clippings.
Papa sold his grocery store in the 4200 block of North Broadway, and went to work for a Mr. Heimers who was in the lumber business. After that Papa had his own horse and wagon to haul coal. Jake Stall drove for him. Papa weighed coal at a scale along the Wabash track east of the lumber yard. Later he went to work for Luke at the scales on Broadway - south of the lumber yard. After Billy Luke's death, Papa bought the business from Fred Luke. Later, Charley Lehr was in business with him after working for Papa for many years. Besides coal, they had city sprinkling contracts. Later, Charley bought out Papa.
At the scales on Broadway, Papa was bound and gagged. At another time he was hit on the head as he came home from work after dark. That time his wallet was taken. See newspaper clipping about this.
The land bought my my grandfather, sometimes mentioned as Lambert A. Walter, and sometimes as Emi Lamber Walter, extended from north to south along Bellefontaine Road (as Broadway was then called) from a point "about 3 miles north of the courthouse for about 200 ft. and from east to west from the Wabash track west to 11th St. Later 9th St. and the alley back of "4013" were cut thru.
I always heard the area from "4013" west to 11th St. called the orchard, but in my time it was all vacant lot - not a tree on it. West of 9th St. medicine shows and other tent shows were often held. Dr. Sayman, of Sayman Soap fame, had a show there every year.
Evidently my grandmother had to sell much of the land, the first section east of Broadway where the lumber yard is, then the part west of Ninth. The remainder was divided at her death between my father and his sister Kate Walther Koehler Hirschberg. Kate got all of the land west of the alley on 9th St. and about 100 ft. facing Broadway north of the 4 family red brick. Papa had to give her $1500 to balance the value of the estate (1887).
This is when Papa and Mamma moved to "4013." For many years the upstairs rooms were rented - sometimes to two families. I can recall only one family living there in the two south rooms, while we used the two north rooms and the little porch room, which we always called the "play" room. Olga's, Ida's and my furniture were in there. Downstairs, there was a frame "summer" kitchen south of the porch. As financial conditions improved we used the entire house.
With no inside stair it was often very cold, icy and rainy going upstairs to bed. Even unheated bedrooms seemed warm, and sleeping under a "feather bed" was wonderful until all of the feather slipped to the foot end of the bed.
Another feature of the bed was a pair of large square pillows, that were taken off at night (these pillows were filled with corn husks and very hard) and put back on the beds in the morning with fancy white shams as covers. Our pillows which were about 2 ft. square and about 1 ft. thick were covered with pink cambric. The open work shams let the pink peep through.
The house was always painted a light gray and the shutters were green. Shutters were closed in the morning to keep out the sun, but opened in the afternoon. From the upstairs windows we could see boats go up and down the Mississippi and we could see trains cross the Merchants bridge. Papa said as a very small boy he sometimes saw Indians in their canoes.
On the back porch was a grape vine which provided shade in the afternoon. everyone enjoyed sitting on the porch, where a huge iron bound chest stood. It was no doubt brought from Europe by some of my folk but I do not know by whom. In my day, we kept old newspapers and wallpapers in it. Everyone like to sit on it.
When Mamma died in 1905, it was still customary for the corpse to be "laid out" at home. So her body lay in the parlor. This was a very bad custom, for the mourners remembered the casket in a certain place for many, many years. Mamma was buried in a shirtwaist and skirt that she had worn. This was unusual for it was still the day of black shrouds and of crepes being on the front door. As a senior in high school, I had to wear a black band on my coat sleeve all winter, for my coat was brown - not black. Ida did not want me to attend any of the senior activities. Fortunately, ideas have changed since then. We and others understand that we can grieve as much in a red dress as in a black one. Mamma's was the first grave vault that most people had seen. Now it is a required part of interment.
Edgar Guest's "It Takes a Heap of Living in a House" is so well illustrated by "4013". I was born in that room in 1914. Mamma was not very well after I arrived, so it fell Ida's lot to care for me much of the time. Papa was the one who took me for walks on Sunday afternoon - usually east on Bremen Ave. to the stockyards, where we both enjoyed seeing the animals. Then down to the river bank and north along the levee to the water works, where I could see the pumps and the basins.
Each summer there was an all day boat excursion up the river to Elsah, Ill. On that trip the Chain of Rocks intake tower, the outh of the Missouri and beyond that the clearer water, the landing at Alton and then on up farther to the bluffs at Elsah. At noon and later in the afternoon we enjoyed our picnic dinner at a table on the boat. We always had a well filled basket. When I was a teenager I enjoyed going to the deck where the dance floor was and, of course, dancing. My mother said she would rather dance than eat, and so would I, even tho I was not a very good dancer.
Another outstanding outing was an all day trip to Brachman's in Columbia Bottom or to Schatzmeier's near Spanish Lake. Papa would hire a surrey from Landvogt, hitch up old Dolly and we would start out about sun up for a day in the country. We always took a beef roast with us for country folk thought it a treat. They had only chicken or pork, either fresh or smoked. It was always fun to slide down the straw stack - to watch them milk cows- the many things about a farm that were unusual to one from the city (about ten miles distant). Coal oil lanterns were hung on the surrey as we came back home, so others could see us.
My recollection of Easter is the basket Aunt Hirschberg brought to me every year on Easter Monday. It contained a plaster rabbit, a few pieces of candy and eggs - mottled brown and yellow. These were dyed with onion skins.
When Gertrude was born, Constance had too much milk. Perhaps breast pumps were unknown in 1899, so to dispose of the excess milk tiny pups, their eyes still closed, were used to suck. Fingers from kid gloves were put on their tiny paws to keep from scratching the breasts. These pups came from Hirschberg's. Seeing the pups was as much interest to me, an eleven year old, as my first niece.
I was a very shy, quiet child. When Aunt Emilie (Stremmel nee Gundlach) came to visit, she always remarked on it in my presence, so of course, I then shut up like a clam. I was named after her daughter Lottie at Aunt Emilie's request, offering to give my christening clothes a bribe?
My cousin Edmund (Gundlach) was three months older than I and an only child. My cousin Edna (Gundlach) was three months younger and an only child. Both of my uncles (Edmund and Alwin Gundlach) had good jobs and so Edmund (Eddie) and Edna had everything showered on them. This did not help my innate bashfulness.
Edna's birthday parties were high lights. Often it was a masquerade or dress up party. The tin type of me as Little Lord Fauntleroy shows one of my costumes. And there was always a fish pond! Edna's Aunt Anna had a Millinery shop, so provided doll hats for all the girl fishers.
Bashfulness continued to be a problem. I was too shy to break into groups etc. This was overcome to a great extent when I went to the University. I was on my own and had to make a place for myself among strangers in a strange environment. Even today, tho an octogenarian, I do not interrupt or break into conversations. True, loss of hearing makes me slower in responding, but I am still reserved and retiring. I prefer being with a few people rather than in a large group or crowd.
In High School (old Central High on Grand near Finney, which was destroyed in the tornado of 1927), I had some unusually special teachers. Howard Colwell, my first Latin teacher, was my inspiration for teaching Latin. Dr. J. Perry Worden, my first English teacher, contributed so much more than teaching what was required. For instance, he took our class to the World's Fair and we had an outing to Cliff Cave. I have two large pictures taken there (group). He was quite interested in my ability as a pupil and encouraged me in many ways - making special trips possible. For instance, he took Ida and me to a program at the Odeon and then to Faust's for refreshments. Going to Tony Faust's Restaurant was a real treat for both of us.
In Art, Frederick Oakes Sylvester was a real inspiration. He was an artist - many of his paintings were landscapes - the Bluffs near Elsah, Ill., for instance. I learned to understand and appreciate art under his guidance.
S. A. Douglas, Physics teacher, made the subject so interesting. We needed to use our “sixth sense” common sense - I had that so made good.
Going to M.U. was perhaps the most interesting part of my life - a new environment - new people, new ideas. Columbia 1906 to 1910 was not the place it is in 1970. Life centered about the Red Campus which at that time consisted of Academic Hall, Arts, Engineering - Switzler Hall, Geology, the President’s home - Chemistry and Law. The White Campus had just two buildings: Read Hall and Whitten Hall. On Sixth Street was Parker Hospital. The Student Nurses’ home was the old Campbell home on Sixth. The boy’s dormitories were Benton Hall and McAllister where their meals were served and where their dances were held.
Read Hall was the only dormitory for women and for only 28. The rest of the girls were either in sorority houses (KKG, PiPhi, Theta) or in private homes. I was fortunate in having a room in Prof. Garland Carr Broadhead’s home. His wife was Victoria Switzler, on Hill and Hudson, where the Eva Johnston Dormitory now stands. Mr. Switzler was Registrar.
I have already stated the size of the campus in this period. As I look back, writing this in 1970, I shall try to recall some features of the city. Two trains then operated. Coming from St. Louis, I could take the Katy, change at McBaine, and arrive at the Columbia station on Broadway, or I could take the Wabash, change at Centralia, and arrive at the station on Tenth St., near Walnut. Passenger service on the Wabash was continued until 1969. There were two transfer companies to haul your trunk: Hulett and Scurlock. Hulett’s number was “23” - Scurlock’s “72” - Both companies a operated horse drawn passenger bus, which was the only local public transportation.
Most streets were not paved. Sixth St. along the west side of the University had huge stepping stones, extending above ground about 10 inches. We had to hop these to avoid mud. Vehicles had to drive carefully between the stones. Many sidewalks were not paved. Conley from Fifth east had plank walks. One morning going from Broadhead’s to Academic (Jesse) Hall I lost my roommate’s watch. It fell between those long planks and I found it as I came back from class. The watch was on a fob, and tucked in my belt. I learned not to borrow.
The auditorium in Academic Hall was used for all convocations, concerts and commencements.
The 2nd floor, east and was for girls. Here was the gym, the racks for wraps, a parlor, the showers and toilets. A Mrs. Cunningham presided during the time I was at M.U.
Several business houses on Broadway are still there: Park’s which was then Fredendall’s, Neat’s (always a quality store) - Miller’s shoe store (Bier, Jackie Crane’s husband is now manager). I stayed at the Bier home (a girls’ boarding house) a few months when Mrs. Bier asked all of us to leave for this son was scheduled to arrive shortly. Knight’s Drug Store was then at 9th and Broadway - Barth’s Clothing, where it still sells men’s garments - Sykes (or Sikes) and Broadhead - men’s clothing - at 9th and Broadway where Greenspon’s now operate. Two banks - Exchange National and Boone County - were on Broadway. The one theatre was on Broadway at Hitt. An old church in the same area became a favorite hall for dances. Heiberger’s bakery was on Broadway - where Suzanne’s is now. Charley Heiberger was Uncle John Heiberger’s brother. They sold about the best candy in town. The Lucas brothers opened a book store and restaurant on 9th and Conley, N.W. corner. It competed with the co-op book store in the basement of Academic Hall.
All freshman boys were required to wear caps - color depended upon the department or college. About six weeks after school opened there was a freshman-sophomore rush. This took place in the evening at the lamp post in front of the old law building on the quad. Men of each class were lined up on opposite sides of the pole - at a signal they rushed toward the pole - with an awful crash. The class having the man to climb the pole and get the flag (soph-class flag) was the victor. If the freshmen won, they did not have to wear caps the rest of the year. It was a brutal affair - tore clothes, scratched, gouged flesh. I attended just one rush, for it was brutal.
After that things were calm on the campus until Engineers Week. As engineers put up decorations for St. Pat’s Day, either ags or lawyers tried to tear them down. St. Pat’s parade thru town, the exhibits in the building, and the arrival of St. Pat and the disappearance of the Blarney stone, and the dance were high lights for the entire university. I was fortunate in having dates to the St. Pat dance and also to the Military Ball - both big affairs.
The auto was almost unknown in Columbia. Few students could afford to hire horse and buggy. Walking was the fashion. Favorite walks - out Providence Road to Rollins Spring or west on Broadway to West Blvd, then back over Stewart Road, which was almost country after you crossed the bridge over the Katy tracks. Ashland Gravel and the Rocheport road were toll roads.
Most of the churches were in the downtown area: the Christian Church in its present location on Tenth and Walnut, the Baptist on Broadway near Stephens College, the Methodist on Broadway across from the Baptist, and the beautiful stone building at the corner of Broadway and Tenth where the Presbyterians worshipped. This was torn down recently to make way for another parking lot.
So many of the lovely old homes on Providence Rd. or Fifth Street have recently been torn down for many modern structures: the Broadhead home with its lovely grounds - and the more spacious grounds and homes of Rollins and Price and Stephens.
Most rooming houses for students were hideously ugly and much alike - a front porch attached to a plain square structure with four rooms on the first floor, four bed rooms and bath on the second, and usually two in the attic. Two students to the room. Room and board $5 to $5.50 per week.
On High School day, I had an appointment to meet Mr. M. A. O’Rear, superintendent of Boonville schools. It was a successful interview. I was asked to come to Boonville to meet the board members, prior to the next school board meeting. So early Friday, May 13, 1910, I boarded the Katy, changed to the main line at McBaine and then had my first glimpse of Boonville. I rode up to the school, which was located where Central School now stands, in Sam Holland’s horse drawn bus.
The old school building, which caught fire during one Christmas vacation and all records were burned, had the first six grades on the first floor, the seventh and eighth in the two south rooms on the second floor and the rest of the second floor was high school. The study hall-auditorium had the center section facing 6th St. Across the hall on the west side to the south was the room assigned to me for Latin and German classes - then Mr. O’Rear’s office - then Irene Glasser’s history room. The two north rooms were for math and science and one for Ruth Hitch’s English classes. All teachers had to keep study hall one hour.
The school board members were Dr. Mittlebach, R. W. Whitlow, Piggott, Johnson, Speed Stephens, and Dr. Frank Smiley. I was elected on Friday, May 13, at a salary of $65 per mo. (that was a plum in those days). Later it was raised to $70 - more than most of my classmates were paid.
With a few interludes - graduating from M U on June 9, 1910, etc. Papa and Olga came up for the exercises. Ida, Lambert and Constance and Gertrude had spent a weekend with me earlier, so could not make another trip. Families did not visit students often, and students seldom left Columbia from September to June, except for Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. Transportation was a problem.
My first two years in Boonville were spent at Mrs. Georgie DeForest’s at 927 Main St. It was a small frame house with no modern conveniences. Daisy Alkire, eighth grade teacher, had the front room. It had a duofold for her bed, and a wash stand behind a screen. It was in this room that we entertained our friends. My room was an end of the hall. It was just large enough for a bed, wash stand anch chair. It did have a nice sized clothes closet. My trunk had to stay in the hall. A little coal oil heater kept me from freezing, as did the feather beds piled over me. I had no table so had to study in Daisy’s room. Coal oil lamps furnished light. Mrs. Murphy was quite a distance down the back yard.
I stayed there two years - the second year the only teacher for Daisy was ill and had to leave. That did give me the use of the front room, where I could entertain without having sleeping equipment in it.
Before I tell about events, I shall mention the other places I stayed: about three months with Mr. and Mrs. Charlie Eldridge on Third St. where Kemper Gym now stands. Then I moved to 314 Center - to Mrs. Bradner’s. I stayed there until I decided to give up teaching for house keeping.
My life here as a teacher was not dull. Many of the teachers whose homes were not here thought there was “nothing to do” in Boonville. If you attend church there is always something to do. So I attended Sunday School and church. Bec Heiberger taught the class, later Mr. Drury Davis taught it, and Bec had it again after his death. My. O’Rear was not only school superintendent but also S. S. Supt.
Before my day in Boonville, a Miss Em Richards taught 8th grade. She was a member of the Christian Church and a very good friend of the Stammerjohn family. How I detested her until I met her twenty years later. I kept hearing things like this - “Will you dress a doll for the church bazaar? Miss Richards always dressed dolls so beautifully - crocheted jackets and caps, etc., etc.” “Miss Richards made delicious divinity.” Frankly I did not like being compared with someone I had never met.
About a month after I came to Boonville, Daisy Alkire and I went to the post office after school. The PO was then located in the building where Paul Darby now has his office. In the south half of the first floor, there was Western Union, and upstairs was one of the telephone offices (Dora worked there). At that time Boonville had two telephone companies. Ben (Stammerjohn) was at the window - sold Daisy some stamps and then, since he was ready to go off duty, asked if he might walk home with us. We took a long route via the park to 927 Main. Ben had had some dates with Daisy, but her “best beau” was Albert Haun. Sometimes the four of us double dated. Often we joined a group from the telephone office for cards. I think we played Rook.
Haller, father of John Haller who was in Dorothy’s class, took me to many dances at the Turner Hall. He did not like rivals, so dates there did not last into my second year of teaching. J. D. Fristoe, who was in my class at M. U. and came to Boonville to teach math, took me to school parties and to a dance or two at the Turner Hall. Edgar Nelson, an M. U. classmate, came to see me every time he came through Boonville. Russell Holloway, a Columbia “beau”, came over just once, I think. Frank Rooker, whom I dated in Columbia for about two years, came over for a weekend. He would leave on an early train Sunday evening, and he would come when post office hours were over. Often very little time would elapse between Frank’s leaving and Ben’s coming. Later, Ben and I became good friends of Frank and his wife. We visited in their home whenever we went east. I still write to Birdie. John Johns, who dated me during summer vacations, sometimes came to Boonville. But Ben was my steady dependable date for four years. There were very few places for entertainment - an occasional legitimate show at Thespian Hall - some very special program - such as Felice Lynne - and the first movie!! So we took long walks in the day time, played cards and often spent an evening reading aloud and discussing some book. Later after Ben moved his mother, father and Dora to the house he had built on the Trail in spring 1911, he bought a horse and buddy. The horse, Prince, served as a work horse on the 9 acres during the week, but was a “buggy” horse on Sunday. Times and customs were different then. After dating me for two years, seeing me at least twice a week he still called me “Miss Walther”. The Sunday evening before I went home for the summer in 1912, we were driving out in the Martinsville area, when Ben decided time and place were fitting for proposing. Just as he said, “Will you?”, Prince stopped in the middle of the farm! Was it pure horse sense and his method of warning Ben? Well, neither of us heeded his warning and we were married two years later. Ben set the date Sept 22 - his birthday, for he said he would remember the date that way.
Now what were the qualities that attracted me? First of all he was polite. He was the only one of the Stammerjohn children who stopped talking, when his mother talked and he was the only one who ever got up to give someone a chair. As Mr. Scholls expressed it after his death - “He was truly a gentle man”.
As a youngster my brother Lambert was my hero and my ideal. In my very early years I said I wanted to marry someone like Lambert - especially someone who did not smoke, chew, drink or swear. I found those qualities and many others in Ben.
While his folks lived with him out on the Trail, he had to walk into town every evening to take Dora home from work because she was afraid. Before we were married Henry got a job at the Training School and moved out there, so Ben’s mother, father and Dora moved into his house on Morgan St. where they lived until they moved into the one Dora bought on Spring St., the house west of Henry Holtman’s and two doors west of Mat and Ed.
Although Ben furnished practically everything for house upkeep, even in his own home he had to pay board and also the amount each one of the nine children contributed monthly to the support of their parents. Only the main floor of the house had been completed - the attic was unfinished and unheated. Ben’s father, mother and Dora got the finished rooms, and Ben, who owned the place, had to sleep in the unfinished cold attic!
Ed, who had a greenhouse back of the Stammerjohn home on Water St., lived in the home place for several years before and after he and Gladys were married the June before we were married. Ed was a very moody fellow - had to be on the front row or sulked. Because he did not agree with Mr. Weldon, preacher at the Christian Church, altho he and Gladys were both members there, he refused to be married by him. Unless he was patted on the back he would not take part at church. If he could direct the choir, sing a solo, or teach a class he was very pleasant. He was in a pleasant mood when he and Edwin carved the organ grill at church and when he made the pulpit furniture - very fine work and wonderful display. Ben on the other hand, for years when finances at the church were at low ebb went to church early every Sunday morning swept and cleaned the entire place before S. S. and for rebuilding after the fire, we were told that we were the most liberal contributors (but no plate to show for it) and when the educational wing was put up we gave the first $1000 anonymously and more than $2000 later. Still there was nothing with Ben’s name on it. That is why when the communion service was bought as a memorial, I insisted on a name plate for him. It was put on the rail behind the communion table. So many of the things Ben did for church and for other folk were things needed at the moment, and were repeat programs. Cleaning church was one, sweeping Conway’s walk when he swept ours, cutting their grass, and shoveling their snow.
He was the one his family called on to do this or to do that. About a month after we were married, when cool weather began and heat was needed, Grace called up, “Tell Ben to come over when he comes home from the office and set up my stove.” “Grace, he has not had time to put up our stove.” “Oh, I forgot he was married.”
Ben had bought several hogs to fatten for killing. I had no idea what had to be done, but Ben’s mother and father wanted to take charge. I do not recall who killed the hogs and cut them up. I know I helped cut up the fat, stir the lard, which was rendered in a large iron copper lined kettle, and fry sausage cakes which were put in quart and half gallon jars, covered with lard and stored for future use. The hams, shoulders and sides (or bacon) were salted and later smoked. As things were reaching a final stage I asked where the tenderloins and rib roast were and learned that all of that choice pork had been ground up for sausage! Needless to say, the following years we hired Mr. Deck - the butcher - to come out to kill our hogs and cut up the animals so we could have pork roasts, pork chops and tenderloin instead of so much sausage, spare ribs and backbone.
I had a final salary of $70 per mo. I had saved $265 after supplying sheets, towels, etc. and kitchen items (dishes, pots, pans etc.) and paying for my own clothes. This saving was used to pay for rugs, bed room and living room furniture.
Ben’s salary was $90 per mo. Out of this we had to pay $30 building and loan for the debt on the place, taxes, water, church pledge, insurance, etc. Ben’s mother was not too happy with his choice of wife. She thought a city girl would not be able to work. How hard I worked those first five years! Picked strawberries and delivered them for three quarts for 25 cents! Dug potatoes, sorted them, to be sold to Brockmeyers for 50 cents a bushel. Canned all the vegetables and fruits we needed. We had cherry, pear and apple trees. And milked three cows once a day. That much milk meant churning butter and making cheese, too. Since we live out so far, it was not easy to shop often, so I baked bread and coffee cake every Saturday. During World War I this was not too easy, for we had to use some potato and rice flour along with a minimum amount of wheat flour.
One of our recreations during the summer was Chautauqua - a tent program held on Kemper grounds. This brought many outstanding speakers and entertainers to Boonville. In the afternoon, I would wheel Dorothy (Stammerjohn) in her go cart, and hear that program. In the evening, Ben and I would go back. We had to get our money’s worth. In the winter, Kemper had a series of programs. I have forgotten the special name. We always attended that series.
Ben became a Mason before we were married and continued paying his dues for he liked the ideals of the organization, altho he did not like the trappings, etc. He received his 50 yr. pin, which I gave to Dorothy since Eddie had been a Mason. Ben seldom attended lodge meetings.
For many years he was a K. P. I joined the Pythian Sisters and held office for many years. This paid my dues. We both enjoyed the social activities of the K. P. lodge. When we had to cut down on expenses, Ben dropped K. P. and we gave up the Globe Democrat my home town paper. Both of these cuts I think were about the time we remodeled “603”.
When we lived out on the Trail, we had so many Sunday visitors. It was a nice walk from town, a place to rest and often get a meal. The 9 acres became too much for us to work. We sold it in 1920. Ben would not keep any of the furniture his mother had left there. I think Mildred Durr Wilcox got it as well as other antique pieces. She knew how to beg or hint. Grace, too, had a way of collecting, getting items she wanted.
When we sold we had no idea how hard it would be to find a place over in town, nearer the P. O. and also nearer Central School. There was almost nothing to rent and only two places to buy - both about the same price. This seemed the better buy, for it was close to church and town. It was quite run down - the west half of the brick had been painted yellow. The east side was one large room with door to front porch and one to back porch. Downstairs there was a bath room on the extreme east - but no bath.....(upstairs?)
The day we moved - March 1, 1920 - the Powell family moved out in the morning and we moved in in the afternoon. There was no time to clean the place after the Powells left. In the frame kitchen, where the Powells still had tow tubs of things on the floor, as I looked though the glass door separating dining room from kitchen I saw mice running everywhere and I have always been afraid of mice!
Ben was working evening hours that month and did not get home until 8 p.m. I think I was never more frightened in my life. The March wind was blowing, every door and window rattled and there were thirteen outside doors that I had to be sure were locked!
After a short time we felt by making some changes, we could rent part of the upstairs. We put in the present bath room and built some closets. For a while we rented the large east room and the room to the west above our dining room. Some of our renters were Edith Johnson and her husband (Isla’s sister). They were there fifteen months. Geo and Mary Hoefer were with us a....... Mr. & Mrs. Hy Duncan rented the rooms until they bought their home on Third St. The Hummels (Mrs. Alex van Ravenswaay’s family) had the entire upstairs for a while. Mr. and Mrs. Kinsey lived there more than a year.
When we knew the entire exterior had to be painted and found out how much that would cost every three or four years, we decided to do a complete remodeling. We used what we could of the outside walls and the frame east side, extended the wall southward and giving the entire house a uniform brick exterior. This gave the east side a complete apartment except for use of laundry room. The excavation under the east side was not made until some 20 to 25 yrs later, when that side had a laundry room. At that time we changed from a coal burning furnace to a gravity oil burner. And for me a Maytag wash machine - no more bending over a wash board! And Ben did not have to shovel coal and take out ashes. In 1934, we put in a converted gas burner. The huge old American Radiator furnace finally gave out in 1966 or 1967.
Sophie Gundlach
Lambert Walther
Benjamin Stammerjohn
Lottie Walther
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