tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74872409222074999002024-02-06T22:56:52.535-06:00History ConnectionKarenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-49850660914714879262022-04-19T18:14:00.001-05:002022-04-19T18:14:08.362-05:00Wyoming, Illinois 1914 Commencement<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYSu38ga3xQ9DFGriudxIe5UGyayL6LRX4XgRNCZbGEfR33cUVBr2GvJeUlzAmeXzv2f_GD01SAe4EZY5vA4a-oKfzUhMPgj80XGupWcui9JvGHKeYOCEPNs5ZYwDTDM7bEWwZq0oavSjHeH2W_RAlc3PYx1EJfw4dkj_Hil35ekQ7AA8Ed2JWxmQm-Q/s3407/IMG_2988.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3407" data-original-width="1968" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYSu38ga3xQ9DFGriudxIe5UGyayL6LRX4XgRNCZbGEfR33cUVBr2GvJeUlzAmeXzv2f_GD01SAe4EZY5vA4a-oKfzUhMPgj80XGupWcui9JvGHKeYOCEPNs5ZYwDTDM7bEWwZq0oavSjHeH2W_RAlc3PYx1EJfw4dkj_Hil35ekQ7AA8Ed2JWxmQm-Q/w231-h400/IMG_2988.JPG" width="231" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqqUx0o--Giezo70impntCehogZjffuFGF81wl0DfX0ysNcj9mQhf3UiZMKdGG4l7qtKUXUAq8e2iaBipnVlEfh6rsxSs1yBCcP0WxxkOVRVNfAsvppIofcYYnSkZZSsFVJD5DfGYJ_zOOud6w8jL2qN8_kqpc9LTHbBt3l-f36A3s4Hj4yEikewrF6Q/s3229/IMG_2990.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2544" data-original-width="3229" height="504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqqUx0o--Giezo70impntCehogZjffuFGF81wl0DfX0ysNcj9mQhf3UiZMKdGG4l7qtKUXUAq8e2iaBipnVlEfh6rsxSs1yBCcP0WxxkOVRVNfAsvppIofcYYnSkZZSsFVJD5DfGYJ_zOOud6w8jL2qN8_kqpc9LTHbBt3l-f36A3s4Hj4yEikewrF6Q/w640-h504/IMG_2990.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"He is all fault who hath no fault at all"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">(Photograph left to right)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Cyrus S. Ranck</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Leman H. Scott</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Earle Miller</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Frank P. Strattan</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Armorel M. Upperman</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Harriett I. Sheets</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pearl E. Snow</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Ernest E. Arganbright</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Rose J. Holmes</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Leonora Ethel Neu</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">John S. Wead</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Cecilia M. Kinsella</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Florence M. Rakestraw</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">James Leroy Shullaw</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Adelaide R. Colgan</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Florence M. Cox</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">President: Florence M. Rakestraw</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Vice President: Leroy Shullaw</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sec. & Treas. - Cecilia M. Kinsella</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Colors - Old Gold and Azure Blue</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Flower - American Beauty Rose</div><div><br /></div></div>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-77362514705215308412018-09-05T14:32:00.000-05:002018-09-05T14:32:17.358-05:00The Cistern From Hell<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Few things terrified me as a kid like the thought of the cistern out at the farm. We used to love to go out there with Grandpa and search around the concrete foundation where the house once stood, before it was burnt to a cinder by a fateful bolt of lightning. We'd look for remnants of Uncle Don's melted marble collection or whatever other treasures might have been thrown from the burning house in an effort to save what they could. But every step around that concrete foundation was made cautiously, after an over-abundance of careful looking, lest we fall in the dreaded cistern.</div>
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Grandma, besides being small in stature, was outnumbered by us so she'd frequently tell us "little white lies" to help enforce the rules - except with the cistern - besides being true to a certain degree, she went out of her way to tell us what would happen if we didn't heed her stern warnings. "Don't get too close, or you'll fall in!" "The ground around the cistern is soft and it'll suck you right in!" "You'll be stuck in a small little dark space with nothing but water!" and the worst - "We might not be able to get you out!" It's still hard to even think of all the things she told us about the cistern without a little panic setting in. I didn't even know what a cistern was, but I didn't care. I wanted no part of it. It was a hole right down to hell itself, as far as I was concerned.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1-Ukv530r6nZbGQJRM3-FnIfDWgk2q8fn1VFBJ40A51DYuS_OQddT7IUbw7nHRUxc4P8Pxnnu3VMWOu6L_pO0aNH3HzZgeQppT04hSz4LEsSIBg2VpbvKjFkXqIV36BuHgsMuTjBbdoGI/s1600/04_VirtaBettyJuneDorothy_TeddyCistern_25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="1012" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1-Ukv530r6nZbGQJRM3-FnIfDWgk2q8fn1VFBJ40A51DYuS_OQddT7IUbw7nHRUxc4P8Pxnnu3VMWOu6L_pO0aNH3HzZgeQppT04hSz4LEsSIBg2VpbvKjFkXqIV36BuHgsMuTjBbdoGI/s320/04_VirtaBettyJuneDorothy_TeddyCistern_25.jpg" title="" width="320" /></a></div>
A few years ago, I was looking at an old photo album with my mother and we ran across this photo - and she said, "There's my grandma holding my sister, there's Dorothy, there's me, there's Teddy the dog, and the cistern..." My blood ran cold and my heart rate skyrocketed. I had not thought about the cistern since I was about 10 years old. I was horrified at how close they were all standing to it! And how near it was to the house! And the dirt - the soft dirt around it! And no one seems to be terrified! <br />
<br />
Once I settled down, I fully understood why Grandma said what she said. My first thought was, "I wonder what it looks like under that board!?" Which is probably why someone put a heavy rock on it and started telling tall tales. Love ya, Grandma, and I miss you every single day.<br />
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<br />Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-35636944181486996932018-05-16T11:43:00.001-05:002018-05-16T12:28:34.791-05:00Sunnyside School - Readin', 'Ritin', and Romance<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZYAhXf6NpkqtZScHbtmkhu6L9nJw09oZxBZ9MI1L-dyqpeXP_vbfbW-RMWoqAQGa1a1Fqjw5MKbGjzvYZU9vZPd2-m64TFpCVPfH-Jo24yadjkzKWSoaMwO4ihdApfRIe8z05YfDlXSHZ/s1600/SunnysideSchool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="515" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZYAhXf6NpkqtZScHbtmkhu6L9nJw09oZxBZ9MI1L-dyqpeXP_vbfbW-RMWoqAQGa1a1Fqjw5MKbGjzvYZU9vZPd2-m64TFpCVPfH-Jo24yadjkzKWSoaMwO4ihdApfRIe8z05YfDlXSHZ/s320/SunnysideSchool.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunnyside School, about 1920</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Little
Sunnyside School.<sup>1</sup> If it wasn’t
for that little rural schoolhouse, I wouldn’t be here. And if you’re one of my cousins, you wouldn’t
be here either. It was where my grandparents, Bill and Lillian
Knutz, met and fell in love - and the rest is history. Not only did Bill and Lillian (and their
siblings) attend here, but their children did as well. It was right here, in this little schoolhouse, here where Bill
and Lillian “laid claim to each other” in the 3<sup>rd</sup> grade, according
to Bill.</span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT2hxNEUb6U2l3ns7n0Mmr1zviQjGsPO_MnLw9-FlAiGfRSSqPqDgvGS9GWCgePCwlAnWGmYg2UiaIwN8rfm3ZAHpHJ24lh1cTUcSNOZBBMJhotMeo4aUvEj4nO9istMgcZ6ScF2mLXbh6/s1600/Aerial_1997a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="646" data-original-width="1084" height="379" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT2hxNEUb6U2l3ns7n0Mmr1zviQjGsPO_MnLw9-FlAiGfRSSqPqDgvGS9GWCgePCwlAnWGmYg2UiaIwN8rfm3ZAHpHJ24lh1cTUcSNOZBBMJhotMeo4aUvEj4nO9istMgcZ6ScF2mLXbh6/s640/Aerial_1997a.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">The white X at the top of the map shows
the location of Sunnyside School; the turquoise X below sits just to the left
of the Christensen farm; the yellow X is just above the Will Knutz farm; the
pink X is just above the farm where Bill and Lillian Knutz raised their family
20 years later.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When Bill and his brother Howard
went to school, they went past the Christensen farm. One morning, Bill and Howard, in their
horse-drawn buggy, ran into Lillian and Raymond Christensen, also in a horse-drawn
buggy. A race ensued, but unfortunately,
the wheels of the two buggies became entangled and locked together. Needless to say, the next day (and every day
thereafter), Bill and Howard could be seen riding a single horse to
school. The same thing held true for
Lillian and Ray. But down the road a
distance from the Christensen farm, out of sight of everyone else, they would
do a switch; Ray and Howard would end up on one horse, and Bill and Lillian on
the other.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNQeu76h9CW-l5JEpcsQ72xnDQhV6DfF6xm3OsS-gPCEbrM_I-4UntYk3X6D85ifFkXfOQbMNfTSLoXAyPUt5riIsMOOpUKXIk4d2QsS5nvGZU-MMa4riAEi5tnEejCSI7u4Asnsdbi7Pu/s1600/Clipboard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="608" data-original-width="1600" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNQeu76h9CW-l5JEpcsQ72xnDQhV6DfF6xm3OsS-gPCEbrM_I-4UntYk3X6D85ifFkXfOQbMNfTSLoXAyPUt5riIsMOOpUKXIk4d2QsS5nvGZU-MMa4riAEi5tnEejCSI7u4Asnsdbi7Pu/s640/Clipboard.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Interior of Sunnyside School, 1997</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">On one occasion, when
the kids were in third grade, Bill got sick and missed a few days of
school. The teacher asked Lillian to sit
next to him and show him the lesson.
Bill said, “I got a feeling all through my body, like I wanted to put my
arm around her waist and give her a hug.”
That pretty much sealed the deal.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlaa82eWcHC0JAKoSXyONmYDxgcNXwvaNpJDkaBqciW_l2a-B8iOOf4NnJzSR4VCzhpmAghhyphenhyphen6I8CaPs1HiOo_VhyphenhyphenZW3nV_PqMcDPR-C0_DYFheRk5T671_8RpB8NtvEgLjvCmnRi5dWHY/s1600/Sunnyside+Students.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="327" data-original-width="375" height="347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlaa82eWcHC0JAKoSXyONmYDxgcNXwvaNpJDkaBqciW_l2a-B8iOOf4NnJzSR4VCzhpmAghhyphenhyphen6I8CaPs1HiOo_VhyphenhyphenZW3nV_PqMcDPR-C0_DYFheRk5T671_8RpB8NtvEgLjvCmnRi5dWHY/s400/Sunnyside+Students.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lillian is the dark haired girl at the end of the row, and Bill is 3 kids to the left.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Years later, Bill and Lillian purchased a farm just one mile east of
where Bill’s family had lived. Their
children also attended Sunnyside school.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC_u20pEbP_p8ZKegH2YO0gFDkrHFlwCjFXozph2wY9byx2ZztWbYnEiPCJuT-OwT0zY2Joo0kCU-8o8PwVXIixW8bE9GV3Y0Q2tN5vUxrI2D6IRR7HFbmwlMSf0AkWhodD8lajBV9JXyh/s1600/ClydeTwnSchool2a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="298" data-original-width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC_u20pEbP_p8ZKegH2YO0gFDkrHFlwCjFXozph2wY9byx2ZztWbYnEiPCJuT-OwT0zY2Joo0kCU-8o8PwVXIixW8bE9GV3Y0Q2tN5vUxrI2D6IRR7HFbmwlMSf0AkWhodD8lajBV9JXyh/s1600/ClydeTwnSchool2a.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The whole student body in the Young Citizens' League Parade - <br />
four of the five students were from the same family. <br />
From left, Teacher Mrs. Tanger, Betty Knutz, Wilma Knutz,<br />
Billy Knutz, Don Knutz, and other unknown girl.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After the kids were grown, P. C. and Ella Christensen sold the farm to
Paul Meyer and moved to California. By
this time, the school had been known more widely as the Meyer School. When the school was no longer used, it was
purchased, presumably by Paul Meyer, and moved to that property, where we saw
it in 1997.</span><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnNg6F_1O36slGeE4AjOGK6DgKLa0EEN_zkk7_-49yGTMWToP_kFBb_-oS7f3CpOajEDKNIBhxTsDbruol2EqbGiR2ZdF_3J2RtJkhRJn8sJVOGqVcVbVorCSMI-2ciVh1-AdYR5Cvt40b/s1600/Sunnyside1997.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="573" data-original-width="809" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnNg6F_1O36slGeE4AjOGK6DgKLa0EEN_zkk7_-49yGTMWToP_kFBb_-oS7f3CpOajEDKNIBhxTsDbruol2EqbGiR2ZdF_3J2RtJkhRJn8sJVOGqVcVbVorCSMI-2ciVh1-AdYR5Cvt40b/s400/Sunnyside1997.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">**********</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: AppleSDGothicNeo-Regular, "lucida grande", tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif, "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol", NotoColorEmoji, EmojiSymbols, Symbola, Noto, "Android Emoji", AndroidEmoji, "Arial Unicode MS", "Zapf Dingbats", AppleColorEmoji, "Apple Color Emoji"; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">©Karen Seeman, 2018. For personal use only. Do not republish or post elsewhere without permission.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: AppleSDGothicNeo-Regular, "lucida grande", tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif, "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol", NotoColorEmoji, EmojiSymbols, Symbola, Noto, "Android Emoji", AndroidEmoji, "Arial Unicode MS", "Zapf Dingbats", AppleColorEmoji, "Apple Color Emoji"; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><sup><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">1</span></sup><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">This school was also known as Meyer School and was
located in Clyde Township, not to be confused with another rural school known
as Sunnyside, in neighboring Dearborn Township.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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Sources:<o:p></o:p></div>
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Personal Photos<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Google Earth<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Interviews with Bill and Lillian Knutz<o:p></o:p></div>
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Interviews with Betty Hammer<o:p></o:p></div>
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A People’s History of Beadle County, SD, 1986<o:p></o:p></div>
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A Place-Name Study of Beadle County, South Dakota (Leta May Janes),
1929<o:p></o:p></div>
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Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-70958697664363208782018-05-11T11:33:00.000-05:002018-05-11T11:36:41.150-05:00The Bill Knutz Orchestra and the Barn Dances of the 1930s<br />
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In the 1930s and 1940s, with dust in the fields, worries galore,
rebuilding what was lost, and war, It was a time to put your worries
aside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a time to socialize with
your neighbors, tip a few, kick up your heels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There was no shortage of these dances on the prairie, and on any given
weekend one could have their pick of where to go and what band to enjoy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ladies often were admitted free, while the
gentlemen might have to pay 25 to 30 cents to get in.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkzLEAXVRVTL6z2vaqnrLZlxigTz2PAnSvM0OVui3jHTMElbNGX2cIpaIABrceEJYrF1HDDvJ2lIXExn2ZmUJVI42DtOHiFq5Hw92z462VsY3kcWxQa1Ojxn8ULNLE0x-FYacnNahbX7qA/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkzLEAXVRVTL6z2vaqnrLZlxigTz2PAnSvM0OVui3jHTMElbNGX2cIpaIABrceEJYrF1HDDvJ2lIXExn2ZmUJVI42DtOHiFq5Hw92z462VsY3kcWxQa1Ojxn8ULNLE0x-FYacnNahbX7qA/s320/1.jpg" width="224" /></a></div>
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Among the popular local bands in and around Huron, South Dakota were
such groups as the Golden Pheasants; White’s Red Jackets; the Rhythm Ramblers;
Doyle and His Old-Timers; the Sod Busters, and the Bill Knutz Orchestra, in
whom I have a vested interest. While
these bands did sometimes play in larger venues, such as the Band Box east of
Huron, they frequently booked their jobs in the barns of their neighbors. Henry Meyer, who lived north of Wessington,
Ed Langbehn, near Wolsey, Bill Schwartz, west of Huron, and Albert Baum,
southeast of Huron, were frequent hosts of these weekend escapes. </div>
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I’m not sure when my grandfather, Bill Knutz (pictured at left), first became interested
in being a musician.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a young man,
he farmed himself out (pun intended) as a hired man, and did some traveling
around the midwest during harvest time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He lived frugally, and when the season was over, he treated himself to a saxophone
he’d found in a pawn shop in Nebraska, as well as a ring for his favorite
girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both the saxophone and the girl ended up being
“keepers.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a self-taught sax player, and eventually formed his first band, “Bill Knutz and His Harmonians”,
including his future brothers-in-law Ray Christensen playing the fiddle and
trumpet; Clarence Christensen playing the clarinet and Bill’s brothers Howard
playing the bass fiddle, and Richard on the drums. Bill’s mother, Virta, kept
track of their bookings.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirnRVhrwLZbn1p2_gVg8zZFm251Vv1WnAyyVp7ocseFDJ3Tk8zROrXbuVRYnXqXQwYLhRsTZ_sUx7gQlYp4JaIEaDScxUOkP_5uXfk3j6IbJll0gYbrKgUu06vxSW4-d1E1qCTJKRE0sAO/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="209" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirnRVhrwLZbn1p2_gVg8zZFm251Vv1WnAyyVp7ocseFDJ3Tk8zROrXbuVRYnXqXQwYLhRsTZ_sUx7gQlYp4JaIEaDScxUOkP_5uXfk3j6IbJll0gYbrKgUu06vxSW4-d1E1qCTJKRE0sAO/s320/2.jpg" width="139" /></a></div>
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The Harmonians were rearranged to form the Bill Knutz Orchestra, when
the band leader discovered his girlfriend was also a mean piano player, and a
good-looking girl in the band never hurt business… Unfortunately, it was not so easy where the
drummer was concerned, and he had to settle for a fellow without much rhythm,
who liked to keep a bottle by his drums for an occasional “swig”. When the drummer would speed up or lag behind
with the tempo, fortunately all Bill had to do was wander back to the drum set
and blow the sax into the poor man’s ear until he was back on pace. Realistically, none of these people were
professional musicians, just working folks with a day job, most of them
dirt-poor farmers looking to make a few extra bucks for groceries and have a
little fun in the process.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhUp8VOTmsZ_GoWwKIQTsHpu8EZ4A7C8O9j8VsuzIT-ZCdy64NzcXiMssxGP94qq8oP2IypBGzmtJqQ0ojFCYXqnZ5_cXhF6qLqMcbFP4U4kSzaUuytuxr7qb9AUr_jl8Tb2Sj7gYSCr6D/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="148" data-original-width="329" height="143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhUp8VOTmsZ_GoWwKIQTsHpu8EZ4A7C8O9j8VsuzIT-ZCdy64NzcXiMssxGP94qq8oP2IypBGzmtJqQ0ojFCYXqnZ5_cXhF6qLqMcbFP4U4kSzaUuytuxr7qb9AUr_jl8Tb2Sj7gYSCr6D/s320/3.jpg" width="320" /></a>Both my mother and my mother-in-law grew up on South Dakota barn
dances, and described similar situations throughout the 1930s and 1940s. Large crowds, comprised of whole families,
would attend these outings, and often it was here that youngsters learned to
dance. Sonny Baum taught both his
daughter and my mother a three-person dance called the Butterfly Dance;
similarly, my mother-in-law, a lifelong dance fanatic, would dance with her father,
Casper Kluthe, when he wasn't busy on stage with his accordion. The smell of hay, the noise, the applause,
the rowdy activity, with the younger children curled up and sleeping blissfully
in any available corner, all while the band rocked out “Swingtime In The
Rockies” and oldies like “Little Brown Jug.”
“I’ll never forget those dances in our barn,” my mother-in-law said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmIl3POa3gNEvlySi1-L1JCX7IYU4XBFtnN5K9z-lkCRsqLa_7yp96CLSmJ-j1mk2p8ujOMuoK4xjf90UZja-CRXCkXbQ4fZM13oZTPypJUrP4ghrP0av7SIkA5ZIgtv1uvW3hH2FgJ57P/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="298" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmIl3POa3gNEvlySi1-L1JCX7IYU4XBFtnN5K9z-lkCRsqLa_7yp96CLSmJ-j1mk2p8ujOMuoK4xjf90UZja-CRXCkXbQ4fZM13oZTPypJUrP4ghrP0av7SIkA5ZIgtv1uvW3hH2FgJ57P/s1600/4.jpg" /></a>The Bill Knutz Orchestra, after a nearly 20-year run, eventually dwindled to just the two main
members, Bill and his favorite pianist, and an occasional granddaughter (moi)
warming the piano bench next to her grandmother, learning the chords to such
favorites as “Hang Down Your Head, Tom Dooley,” while the the more talented of
the duo played the melody. The leader
of the band always tooted along on his sax.
I was blessed to be a late part (although a very small and unofficial part) of their
orchestra. I’d love to have seen them in
their heyday, and experienced the excitement of one of their dustbowl-era barn
dances.</div>
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<br />Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-52660892328948620712017-09-13T14:11:00.000-05:002017-09-13T14:11:05.228-05:00Dr. Carl Seemann's certificate to practice medicine in the State of South Dakota<br />
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<br />Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-51190085874954208372017-09-06T14:06:00.000-05:002017-09-06T14:06:01.607-05:00Marriage Announcement for Dr. Carl Seeman and Martha Apel, 1901<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
From the Marriage Announcement of Dr. Carl Seeman and Martha Apel</div>
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Mr. and Mrs. Charles Apel announce the marriage of their daughter, Martha Elizabeth, to Doctor Carl A. Seeman, Thursday, June twenty-seventh, ninetten hundred and one, Dubuque, Iowa</div>
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At Home after July 26th, Freeport, Illinois</div>
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<br />Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-58232525964385909072017-08-30T14:14:00.000-05:002017-08-30T15:41:53.744-05:00An Unexpected Value to Newspaper Research<div>
I love to do casual newspaper research with my morning coffee, and most of the time I don't find anything particularly interesting. This time, however, my casual research turned into a serious, hard-core data hunt.</div>
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I was hoping for an obituary for Dr. F. A. Seemann, and uncle in my husband's family who was born in Iowa, and practiced medicine in Dubuque and Sioux City before moving to California to finish out his career. I didn't find that obituary, but imagine my surprise when I saw newspaper advertisements for Dr. Seemann's practice - in Detroit, Michigan!</div>
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The newspapers were dated 1903 and 1904, which was a little curious as I thought I had a fairly accurate and detailed timeline for his life. But upon checking my database closer, I discovered a two-year hole in that timeline, between his appearance in a directory in Dubuque, Iowa in 1903 and his appearance in the Iowa State Census in Sioux City in 1905. </div>
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These advertisements provide us not only with the knowledge that he was in Detroit, and a specific location for his office, but also a new time and place in which to do more research. The ads themselves are highly entertaining, and bordering on outrageous.<br />
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Look for a few of them in a future post.</div>
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Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-70087063625329543132017-08-29T13:19:00.000-05:002017-08-29T14:18:13.160-05:00Michael Joyce - Is the Fog Beginning to Clear?Is this the Declaration of Intent of our hard-to-find ancestor Michael Joyce?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUBW1xzA0G0S5bxfAXMk9WCvETH06dzvUhjewVx28zNmwKe-gJ32ubykOnZfWdQYpDU_tBby2vmUzGoEa-jWZ4CGGyVEIaV-2fnijDiYvnl90emDfEiUzE86oDgCCCTTKUKsmQYMjrRc7i/s1600/Michael+Joyce+Naturalization.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1307" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUBW1xzA0G0S5bxfAXMk9WCvETH06dzvUhjewVx28zNmwKe-gJ32ubykOnZfWdQYpDU_tBby2vmUzGoEa-jWZ4CGGyVEIaV-2fnijDiYvnl90emDfEiUzE86oDgCCCTTKUKsmQYMjrRc7i/s640/Michael+Joyce+Naturalization.jpg" width="522" /></a></div>
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This Michael Joyce lives in Clinton, Massachusetts, district of ???, and was born in the County of Galway, Ireland in the month of October, 1830, and is 22 years old. He arrived at New York in the District of New York on or about the 13th day of April, 1849. The date of the Declaration is September 13, 1852, and has his signature.<br />
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I have been trying to find definite information on our Michael's life for years. Several years ago, I wrote a <a href="http://ancestorsoup.blogspot.com/2014/03/52-ancestors-10michael-joyce-man-who.html" target="_blank">post </a>outlining some of the difficulties I've had. Various sources and documents have birth years ranging from 1829 to 1831, mostly 1830. Some say his birthday is September 29, others October 2.<br />
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I have had the same sort of luck with trying to pin down exactly when and where he entered the country. His obituary says 1848, but census records say 1846 and 1849. The first documentation I have of him in the United States is in the 1850 census.<br />
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Then, along comes this Declaration of Intent. Attaining citizenship was a two-part process, the first being Declaration of Intent papers, and Final Papers, or the "Naturalization Petition." Law requires five years of residency before citizenship would be granted. I should point out that citizenship was not required, and the process could be started without being completed. Michael's census records do indicate that he was a naturalized citizen.<br />
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The Michael Joyce in this document states that he was born in October 1830, but unfortunately does not specify a particular day in October. So far, this makes him a good candidate to be our Michael Joyce.<br />
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This document states he came to the United States in April of 1849. This, also, is consistent with one of the censuses of our Michael. <br />
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This Declaration of Intent was done in 1852, and the declarant lived in Clinton, Massachusetts. Our Michael lived in Clinton, Massachusetts in 1852. The Massachusetts State Census shows only one Michael Joyce in Clinton in 1855, and that was ours.<br />
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There isn't anything here that provides absolute iron-clad proof that this our Michael, but the circumstantial evidence is good. I believe this is probably our Michael Joyce. <br />
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With that, some caution. The Michael Joyce in this Declaration entered the country at New York. There is another Michael Joyce who entered the country at Boston a little more than a month later, on May 26, 1849. He was 20 years old (b. abt 1829), and was a passenger on the ship "Kate." His previous residence was Liverpool (England), which would probably rule him out as our Michael. I have no information on where this Michael ultimately went, if he settled in Massachusetts or if it was simply where he entered the country.<br />
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I have a signature of Michael Joyce from his will, dated August of 1914. I compared it to the signature on the Declaration. However, the signature on the will is extremely shaky, and the will was signed just 6 weeks before his death; the signatures of the 85 year old Michael Joyce and the 22 year old Michael Joyce don't have any striking similarities.<br />
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With this date of entry to the United States, I hoped to find a passenger list. As I discovered, in 1849 when a passenger ship docked at the U.S., the passengers simply left the ship and began new lives, no "processing" or anything. So... that ends that.<br />
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Now, the focus is to "flesh out" more information on the Michael Joyce family's years in Clinton, and to search for a Naturalization Petition, if one exists. The family left the area ca. 1855-1857, and his five year residency requirement would have been completed about 1854, so there was ample time to complete the process. Whether or not he actually did, I don't know.<br />
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Hopefully the next breakthrough won't take as long...<br />
<br />Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-33984507155340029842017-08-13T19:45:00.001-05:002017-08-13T19:46:42.451-05:00We Spat the SpitWe finally decided to take the plunge and do DNA testing. I was initially untrusting of the whole thing, but decided this may be the only way we're able to make any breakthroughs in the Joyce family research. <br />
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We waited for the tests to go on sale, and they finally did - $69, down from $99. Today, the spit has been spat and they'll go back to Ancestry in tomorrow's mail. Then comes 6-8 weeks of waiting patiently (not). As I mentioned, we are most interested in hubby's Joyce line, hoping to make contact with a distant cousin descended from one of his great-great grandfather's siblings. As for me, my most intense interest right now is to see how Ancestry's DNA algorithms handle double cousins. My double cousin Shane has already been tested, and since we should have more genetics in common than typical first cousins, but not quite as much as siblings, it will be interesting to see how this is interpreted.<br />
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In the last six months, I've been reading stories of DNA surprises. I'm not expecting anything to pop up from these tests, but then again, most of the people who got surprises probably weren't either. At any rate, it's interesting. I will post updates here.Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-33942960895309345602017-03-09T19:26:00.001-06:002017-03-09T19:26:33.067-06:00Father James JoyceI learned many new things about Father Jim while transcribing this newspaper article from 1988. The specific origin of the article is unknown. One of the things I found interesting was that he was inspired by Father MacConnachie, whom Joyce family members will recognize as the priest to the Joyce family on the plains of South Dakota in the early days. You can read more about Father MacConnachie on my companion blog, Ancestor Soup, <a href="http://ancestorsoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/non-related-ancestor.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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BRANDON PASTOR, FATHER JOYCE, HONORED BY FRIENDS AND FAMILY ON 40<sup>TH</sup>
ANNIVERSARY<o:p></o:p></div>
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By Randal Hunhoff<o:p></o:p></div>
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Brandon – When Father
Jim Joyce was sent to Risen Savior Catholic Church in Brandon in 1986, he must
have been confounded by the new surroundings.
Risen Savior is a new church, built in 1981, and usually where Father
Joyce is sent, a building follows close behind.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Last Sunday,
Father Joyce celebrated his 40<sup>th</sup> anniversary in the priesthood; he
was ordained by Bishop William O. Brady on March 13, 1948. Rise Savior parishioners celebrated with
Father Joyce and members of his family, including a brother and sister who
traveled from California to be with him.
Bishop Paul Dudley of the Sioux Falls Diocese and retired Bishop Lambert
Hoch also attended.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Father Joyce, a
Redfield native, has been instrumental in supervising several major building
projects completed in the Sioux Falls Diocese in the last three decades.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He worked closely
with architect Howard Perez when O’Gorman High School was built in 1960-61 and
helped design the school.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In the fall of
1964, when Roncalli High School was built, he was there, and remained as
superintendent of the school until 1967 and the first class graduated.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And when Holy
Spirit Parish in Mitchell built a new church in 1976, he was the pastor who led
them in the project during the money-tight years of the mid-70’s.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He now serves on
the Diocesan building commission, and will help with planning of the new parish
in Sioux Falls.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But it is teaching
that Father Joyce recalls most fondly.
He taught science and math at Sacred Heart Junior High in Aberdeen,
medical ethics at the McKennan Nursing School, religion at O’Gorman, sociology
at Heelan, and many subjects while teaching 13 year[s] at Holy Spirit Grade
School in Mitchell.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Father Joyce
attended St. Bernard’s Seminary in Sioux Falls for two years, and graduated
from St. Paul’s Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota in 1948, with majors in
English, Latin, history and religion. He
earned an M.A. in Educational Administration from St Thomas College in St. Paul
in 1958. He credits Father George
MacConnach[i]e, the parish priest in Redfield when he was growing up, with
instilling in him an early interest in the priesthood.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Father Joyce is
not thinking of retirement and said he is happy to work at whatever job the
Bishop gives him. Anyway, as Father
Howard Carroll told him in the reception line: “The first 40 years are the
hardest, it’s all downhill from here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Father Joyce’s
first assignment was as an assistant pastor to Father Thomas Flood at
Vermillion in 1948. He was also in charge of the Newman Club at the University.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In 1949, he
transferred to Sacred Heart Parish in Aberdeen, where he stayed for six years,
and was chaplain at the Newman Club at Northern State.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He was secretary
to Bishop Brady and then Bishop Lambert Hoch from 1955-57, while also serving
as chaplain to McKennan Hospital and teaching at the nursing school there.<o:p></o:p></div>
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From 1958-61, he
helped build O’Gorman High School and taught there, and also served as chaplain
to the state penitentiary, “one of the most fascinating assignments I’ve had,”
he says. He also taught for a year at
Heelan in Sioux City.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He was pastor of
Millette, near Aberdeen, serving two missions in Chelsea and Athol, at the same
time helping to plan Roncalli High School.
He was superintendent of the school for three years, 1964-67.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He served as
pastor at St. Agatha’s in Howard for a year, and then spent 13 years at Holyl
Spirit Parish in Mitchell, as pastor, teaching and planning a new church.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In 1980 he was
sent to St. Wilfred Parish in Woonsocket where he stayed four years. He spent part of a year at St. Nicholas
Parish in Tea, and then became Chancellor of the Diocese from 1984-87. <o:p></o:p></div>
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He is currently
serving as pastor at Risen Savior parish in Brandon.<o:p></o:p></div>
Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-17897230872047224572017-01-06T16:46:00.001-06:002017-01-06T16:46:43.910-06:00A Perfect Storm<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2wXbqcd8sixGm1xcxOmsxtMgWEjcamufmAKMJU5AcYL0PmE5KS_3Dq5h8Mo3SVxXXysE3vtdwCcy4gpOA_4tfu59sNZ1FVJ70VV6kZsMbu026F_VkXII9MRmDWel7Tzyf0nlW8nOFa14v/s1600/EdHittle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2wXbqcd8sixGm1xcxOmsxtMgWEjcamufmAKMJU5AcYL0PmE5KS_3Dq5h8Mo3SVxXXysE3vtdwCcy4gpOA_4tfu59sNZ1FVJ70VV6kZsMbu026F_VkXII9MRmDWel7Tzyf0nlW8nOFa14v/s1600/EdHittle.jpg" /></a> [Note: The Conductor of Train #412 was my great-great uncle, E. E. Hittle of Huron, South Dakota. He was married to Maude Graves, sister of my great-grandmother Elvirta Knutz, and at this time lived in Huron, South Dakota. As far as I know, he walked away from the crash without injuries.<br />
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Webster defines the term “Perfect Storm” as a critical or disastrous situation created by a powerful concurrence of factors. And that is precisely what culminated on the morning of Sunday, April 25, 1937, when Chicago and North Western passenger Train #412 plowed into the rear of Train #504 just west of De Smet, South Dakota, killing one and injuring several others.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It was described as a “freakish late-April storm” that rolled into the area on Saturday, April 24, bringing strong north winds of 60-65 mph. Only an inch of snow was deposited in the city of Huron, but massive drifts high enough to cover the fence line could be found east of Huron between Iroquois and De Smet. Highway 14 was quickly impassable, with dozens of cars stalled and abandoned near Manchester, as their inhabitants made their way into town to catch the eastbound train to their destinations.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFHU0LoBruZiFXEPMPp0BvfCvEwB8zN1M69vf-31ETIXLfzYrRmAvwCQqQg1Iflk-ALrL9N_4vODnv5Jvx7BW8AnIhf2d5zAYlymioMmkFRVOVuY3AlLx0qiGXOgSX2P5qJDOcHy6VYBHu/s1600/Map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFHU0LoBruZiFXEPMPp0BvfCvEwB8zN1M69vf-31ETIXLfzYrRmAvwCQqQg1Iflk-ALrL9N_4vODnv5Jvx7BW8AnIhf2d5zAYlymioMmkFRVOVuY3AlLx0qiGXOgSX2P5qJDOcHy6VYBHu/s640/Map.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Map of pertinent area in eastern South Dakota, courtesy of Google Maps.</td></tr>
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Late Saturday evening, Train #504 left the depot at Huron for its eastward run, hauling a passenger car plus five other cars, with a gas-electric motor coach that was hitching a ride, or “deadheading,” to Tracy, Minnesota, at the end. All was uneventful but for a few small drifts until they were within three miles of De Smet, when the train met its match in snow and became stalled. Conductor Arthur Howard, of Huron, and his Engineman Mr. Key, thought the train might have a better chance without the deadheading motor coach, so it was detached and they attempted to thrust the train through the deep snow, but this effort was unsuccessful. The crew then attempted to get the detached motor car back to Manchester to summon help, but the high winds and heavy snow only allowed about 50 feet of movement before it, too, was stuck. Engineman Key sent out the flagman to the rear of the train, and they made the decision to have Conductor Howard try to walk the three miles to De Smet for help and to notify the proper people of the stall.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Flagman Mr. McIntyre sprang into action to minimize a very dangerous situation. This area of track was single-rail; trains were operated on a timetable, with train “orders” and a manual block-signal system during the day. During other times, “time spacing rules” were in effect to prevent accidents. Flagman McIntyre situated a red fusee (very similar to a flare) about 500 feet behind the train, and continued walking until he found another clear spot on the rail on which to put torpedoes to alert any oncoming trains. Continuing, he put another two torpedoes down about 1/4 mile from the train, then went back to the train to warm up. He went out a second time, this time 3/4 mile from the train. Overnight, he made several trips back and forth, standing guard to get the attention of any approaching train, and returning to his train when his eyes and face were covered with the freezing heavy snow. In the early morning hours, he and baggage man Fred Behrens, of Tracy, decided to try to get to a nearby farm house in hopes of being able to contact the depots in Huron and De Smet to let them know of their predicament, and bring back some food for the passengers, despite their conductor already being on the way to summon help. In his absence, Flagman McIntyre enlisted Baggageman Venard to take his place as flagman. Although Venard’s 16-hour “tour of duty” would soon be expiring, McIntyre did not consider it of importance during an emergency situation, and departed with Behrens. They were ultimately not successful in locating the farmhouse, and leaving Behrends behind, McIntyre proceeded to De Smet. </div>
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Meanwhile, Venard acted as flagman, but informed Conductor William Innes, who was in charge of the deadheaded motor car, that his 16 hours were nearly up, expiring at 7:40 a.m. According to Venard, Innes replied that he would take over the flagging duties at that time. When 7:40 rolled around, Venard came back to the train, and made a sign to Conductor Innes, who nodded back. Venard took this as a sign that Innes would take over, and he proceeded to the mail/baggage car and went to sleep.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sharing responsibility with Innes for the deadheaded motor coach was Engineman Frank Carpenter, also of Tracy. He and Conductor Innes alternated going to the engine for coal. Carpenter was preparing for his turn and Innes went to the passenger compartment of the motor car, located at the rear, apparently having no knowledge that there was no longer anyone at all acting as flagman.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij2OOK5OOhawCiUn9i3kKgRoiols0JuCFp9SYtSA3OKc5SqHmw43SnWa8X2rKB8RV7giHKZdSPq8fcHfAzkcZWTab6e21BzUz3g7LSFA40niKmidO5BPQHJsZa33dY2lACwiswDAMgezf9/s1600/depot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij2OOK5OOhawCiUn9i3kKgRoiols0JuCFp9SYtSA3OKc5SqHmw43SnWa8X2rKB8RV7giHKZdSPq8fcHfAzkcZWTab6e21BzUz3g7LSFA40niKmidO5BPQHJsZa33dY2lACwiswDAMgezf9/s640/depot.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Depot and Rail Yard of the Chicago and North Western Railroad at Huron</td></tr>
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Meanwhile, at the Huron Depot, the crew of passenger Train #412 was preparing for its run. Dispatcher Kelley came on duty at 6:30 a.m., and discussed the situation with the night shift dispatcher, who informed him that all communication east of Huron was down. However, he had no reason to believe that the previous nights’ train, #504, had not been successful in reaching its destination. As Dispatcher Kelley was preparing to issue orders for the outgoing train, he was distracted by a train patron inquiring about shipping animals, and he inadvertently issued the conductor a clearance card reading “block clear” rather than issuing a caution order. <o:p></o:p></div>
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At 8:18 a.m., Conductor Hittle and crew left the depot 13 minutes behind schedule. Engineman J. C. Shephard noted the severity of the storm, but the visibility was at least good enough to see the front of the engine, and the train had no trouble attaining its regular speed. But all that changed as they went through Manchester; the snow on the tracks caused the train to lose speed, and Fireman Hoffman expected a stall, but Engineman Shephard was able to use more steam to get the speed back up and keep the train moving. Their speed was up to about 20 mph, but visibility was so poor that the front of the engine was now a blur in the blizzard conditions. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> In De Smet, Train #504 Conductor Howard discovered that communication lines were down in the whole area. He knew he would not be able to contact the depot in Huron, but was at least hoping to contact someone in Iroquois to warn of the stall. He stayed in De Smet until 5 a.m., then headed back toward his train, but discovered the drifts had become 2-3’ deep and was forced to return to De Smet. He was surprised shortly after that when his Flagman McIntyre showed up at the De Smet depot. When Howard inquired who was doing the flagging, he was told that Venard was handling it. They were in the train station when the mail clerk came over and told them that the unthinkable had happened.</span></div>
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There was nothing the crew of Train #412 could have done to stop the crash. They heard no torpedoes, and saw neither fusees nor a flagman. After the accident, Train #412’s Flagman Shanahan went to the rear of the train to flag, and found an unexploded torpedo about a half mile behind the train – his train had slid right over it.<sup>1</sup> He walked the 6 miles back to Manchester, and his face became covered with ice in the nearly 3 hours it took to get there.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The deadheading motor car with Conductor Innes and Engineman Carpenter was the first to be hit, and it was hit hard. Made of steel, it was crushed like a piece of aluminum foil, “telescoping” it. Conductor Innes was in the rear part of car, and was critically injured. Engineman Carpenter, in the front part of the car, sustained a broken nose, numerous head lacerations, and bruises. After the motor car was hit, it propelled into the main train, partially derailing it and causing minor injuries among the passengers. Had the motor coach not been detached, the situation would have been much more serious than it already was.</div>
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A plea was immediately made in the passenger car for anyone with any medical skill to help. A young Huron College student, Paul Besselievre of Pierre, was traveling to Irwin, South Dakota to preach a Sunday sermon, and his scouting experience gave him some basic first aid skills. A nurse, Miss Beulah Vostad of Rapid City, was also aboard. Nurse Vostad attended to the more seriously injured Condcutor Innes while Besselievre cleaned and dressed Engineman Carpenter’s wounds, stating that the hardest part was keeping Mr. Carpenter still – he was compelled to go to the main train to see what he could do to be of service, despite his wounds and dazed condition. Unfortunately there was not much that could be done for Condcutor Innes other than an injection of morphine to ease his pain. He was talking coherently Sunday night, but took a turn for the worse and passed away the following day.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This was the Perfect Storm of conditions – snow, wind, lack of visibility, downed phone lines, and a number of critical human decisions that went wrong. The investigation questioned why the flagman would leave his job, which was paramount to the safety of everyone on the train, to duplicate the efforts of his conductor. His replacement went “off-duty” in an emergency situation. The next replacement apparently did not know he was expected to act as flagman in addition to what he was already doing. In a moment of distraction, the depot clerk did not caution the outgoing crew of a potential problem down the line. These were all factors that came together resulting in a large amount of damage and most importantly, the loss of Conductor William Innes’ life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><sup>1</sup>Pg. 63 of Accident Bulletin, Issues 63-82, by United States Federal Railroad Administration, Office of Safety.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> “When a train is stopped by an accident, obstruction, or from other cause, the flagman must immediately go back with stop signals to stop any train moving in the same direction. At a point one-third of a mile from the rear of his train, he must place one torpedo on the rail; he must then continue to go back at least one-half of a mile from the rear of his train, and place two torpedoes on the rail, 60 feet apart (two rail lengths), when he may return to a point one-third of a mile from the rear of his train, and he must remain there until recalled by the whistle of his engine; but if a passenger train is due within 10 minutes, he must remain until it arrives. When he comes in he will remove the torpedo nearest to the train, but the two torpedoes must be left on the rail as a caution signal to any following train. At night he will also leave a green fuse burning on the track. If there is not a clear view for one-fourth mile to rear of train, the train must start before calling in the flagman, and move ahead at a speed of not less than 4 miles per hour until it reaches a point where the view is unobstructed for one-fourth mile in its rear.”</span></div>
Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-79275768186490155082017-01-02T12:50:00.001-06:002017-01-02T20:27:33.418-06:00The 1880 Agricultural Schedule Sheds Light on William Graves<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Years ago, I found digital copies of the 1880 Agricultural Schedule for my direct-line ancestors, William Graves and Lawson Lair in Peoria County, Illinois.<sup>1</sup> The headings of the schedules were impossible to read, and I wasn’t terribly sure how valuable any of the information would be, so I stashed them to deal with later. Yesterday I decided to put the effort into seeing exactly what was on those schedules.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1SVjBYlF1fsfKjTbIh4ObuqWdabt2AFuzViWuevUYcc3g-9zmJtp8x95JRYKXsGxU8h9Wvpmp4jGjNOkrAD3h3cuCKVkr7eFNSrUSEsCfwb_1uAbwaA3hVDI-thre57QZrcMZYcHFi8v0/s1600/Bill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1SVjBYlF1fsfKjTbIh4ObuqWdabt2AFuzViWuevUYcc3g-9zmJtp8x95JRYKXsGxU8h9Wvpmp4jGjNOkrAD3h3cuCKVkr7eFNSrUSEsCfwb_1uAbwaA3hVDI-thre57QZrcMZYcHFi8v0/s200/Bill.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William Graves</td></tr>
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I was able to find a document online with information on the agricultural schedule and blank forms for several years<sup>2</sup>; then began the work of going back and forth between the blank form and the schedule until I had extracted the information. I repeated the process on the second schedule I’d downloaded for Lawson Lair – but discovered that William Graves was also listed on that schedule as well! Princeville Township only had one William Graves during that time period, so I assumed he had a second farm somewhere in the township. I was aware that William, through thrift and hard work, had given each of his children (including his daughters) their own 80 acre farm when they became adults. I began looking at plat maps for various years, and looking at neighbors both on the plat maps and on the agriculture schedules to determine which schedule entry pertained to which of the farms he owned.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As it turns out, one schedule entry notes that William does not own this particular farm, but is leasing it for a share of the profits produced. Looking at the other entries on the schedule and comparing them to neighbors listed on the plat maps for 1873 and 1896, I was able to determine the farm was located in Section 4 of Princeville Township, land that William owned in 1873 and his daughter Sarah A. Cox owned in 1896. Sarah was married to Charles Cox in 1874, and may have been given that farm at that time, or at least prior to 1880.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBjV21I_NCN42YeppGnjPS3F9NrovjWcRtq6EoAWV_Rmgbpe4LJS8QvRwPspv4w7c59bvFZD3yYL8SwzyGjjeqkU-_j2oiHZLm5B9elmw9gG0PE_Z_0BBqIXPJYMQQ2RD5dGfPgNuLSutH/s1600/1873.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBjV21I_NCN42YeppGnjPS3F9NrovjWcRtq6EoAWV_Rmgbpe4LJS8QvRwPspv4w7c59bvFZD3yYL8SwzyGjjeqkU-_j2oiHZLm5B9elmw9gG0PE_Z_0BBqIXPJYMQQ2RD5dGfPgNuLSutH/s640/1873.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1873 Plat map of Princeville Township, Peoria County, Illinois. The red "X" in the upper left corner shows the location of land that would later belong to William's daughter Sarah; the green "X" toward the center shows the location of William's farm, with land he'd later give to Tom and Oscar; across the road, denoted by the purple "X" is the land that would later belong to Austin.</td></tr>
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The second entry is a bit harder to explain. Again, looking at those around him both on the schedule and on the various plat maps, this farm appears to be his personal farm. William had purchased land that was clustered around his primary farm in the western half of section 2 and the eastern half of section 3. On the earlier 1873 plat map, the section 2 land had been divided into two farms – one owned by his daughter, Martha Cox, and the other in his name. Later that land would go to his son, Austin, who was just 3 at the time this map was created. Across the road, in section 3, he owned a 240 acre farm, which would by 1896 have been divided into thirds – 80 acres for his son Oscar, 80 acres for his son Tom, and 80 acres for himself. But this does not explain the findings on the 1880 agriculture schedule – William’s farm was described as 80 acres. Twins Austin and Oscar would have been just 10 at the time of the schedule, and Tom would have been 18. It is conceivable that Tom had gotten his farm by 1880, but unlikely that Austin and Oscar’s would have been in their names. Perhaps these 240 acres of unaccounted-for land was rented out and appears on the schedule under the renter’s name. Thus, William’s second appearance on the schedule with 80 acres of land would make sense.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXHFHbLPQd1PlLJR41-PugUCJvxmGDfYySussGci_fxTY-YNPKdUsdZv-yHEIzT76M1nwDoVSTkc1IX9CVGz82OtwYqfKbklaxB56_NNzShgUyPhXIYzqOEGnECoU0Bt6x0a2JKsTj_jKR/s1600/2003TomGravesLand1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXHFHbLPQd1PlLJR41-PugUCJvxmGDfYySussGci_fxTY-YNPKdUsdZv-yHEIzT76M1nwDoVSTkc1IX9CVGz82OtwYqfKbklaxB56_NNzShgUyPhXIYzqOEGnECoU0Bt6x0a2JKsTj_jKR/s320/2003TomGravesLand1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William Graves' land, photo taken about 2007 by author.</td></tr>
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Regarding the specifics of William’s farming, he tilled 79 of the 80 acres on Sarah’s farm, but only 30 of his own, keeping the remainder as meadow or pasture. Each farm produced about $700 for the year in profits. He kept horses, pigs, and chickens at both places, but also kept cattle on his own farm – 2 cows for milking and 16 others to sell or slaughter. Butter was produced on his home farm – 150 pounds in 1879. </div>
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Crops grown on both farms include Indian corn, oats, and Irish potatoes (as opposed to sweet potatoes). 100 bushels of apples were sold from the orchard on Sarah’s land, and 125 gallons of molasses were produced from there as well.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Besides an interesting snapshot of what a typical workday for William may have looked like, finding these two entries on the agriculture schedule really forced me to take a good look at William’s land ownership and how his land acquisitions were divided among his children, and when that may have occurred.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I have one question I wish I could ask William’s wife: Who really churned all that butter??<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><sup>1 </sup>Both these men were great-grandfathers of Bill Knutz Jr. William Graves’ son Tom married Lawson Lair’s daughter Nettie, and they were Bill’s grandparents.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<sup>2</sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">https://www.census.gov/history/pdf/agcensusschedules.pdf</span>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-29139177893148866282016-08-13T12:16:00.002-05:002016-08-13T12:16:45.381-05:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT_dbOqTtnO21L-NTB_1dm-S8Lknrw6NbOhMJJtkCmIpJbtYuEV8DY1MyqAVzRWegqf_BfmWWNLLtRHtkilnEuEdJYEHwn2VT5tDL8HYe_4V9BCPT-lwT2y9CZi2shdG86elFVitFxIfJW/s1600/IMG_0782-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT_dbOqTtnO21L-NTB_1dm-S8Lknrw6NbOhMJJtkCmIpJbtYuEV8DY1MyqAVzRWegqf_BfmWWNLLtRHtkilnEuEdJYEHwn2VT5tDL8HYe_4V9BCPT-lwT2y9CZi2shdG86elFVitFxIfJW/s200/IMG_0782-2.jpg" width="183" /></a><br />
"It's your turn." "Okay ... OW!!!! Let's play checkers instead!"<br />
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And so went our games of Carroms at our grandparents' house. Most of the time when Grandpa would play a game with us, it involved the Carrom board, either playing our own version of the game on one side of the board, or flipping it over and using the other side for a game of checkers. We never did know the real rules for Carroms but instead would play it like billiards, only on a board. The little pool cues that came with the set disappeared long before we started playing with it (or did Grandma decide the last thing she needed was three wild children running around with little sticks?) so we'd "snip" the carroms with our fingers into the little net pockets. The first game usually wasn't bad, but after that our fingernails really, really hurt.</div>
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I never thought about where the carrom board came from, only that it was always there, and still is (somewhere). Last week, while cleaning out a closet full of games, I found a rusted coffee can filled with the old wooden carroms, and I started wondering how this relic made its way into our family. A few days later, I was going through family photos and there it was, in the background of several photos from Christmas of 1958! It was perched under the Christmas tree, all pretty and new, just waiting for someone to try it out. And later, apparently someone did - my aunt June and her boyfriend (and future husband), Everett, were playing a game of checkers on it in one photo (I wonder if Grandma took the sticks away from them, too...)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTGo3OnmPOnzCt7xBaV_MIt3SgPSs41tv_PYVA-LG3DbN_fob9bMiSiReZAkJsjR1iZWAG-Zzh8PbD9K8LXjU4QVRVTGVfIsRBYwuFHY86H3gfYj81kasrp-jzcH2im2cES2sAXouxiNoh/s1600/12_Dec_001_EverettChristmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTGo3OnmPOnzCt7xBaV_MIt3SgPSs41tv_PYVA-LG3DbN_fob9bMiSiReZAkJsjR1iZWAG-Zzh8PbD9K8LXjU4QVRVTGVfIsRBYwuFHY86H3gfYj81kasrp-jzcH2im2cES2sAXouxiNoh/s320/12_Dec_001_EverettChristmas.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas, 1958. If you peek behind Everett, under the Christmas tree, you can see the Carrom board in all its sparkly newness.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV9ZIzPnHukKwSpG0X3DXwsh2TS9YblVRlSg0SP79URBXiQsZ-2xXycYVZHgTPr7hBhEUANIkjRQFY5e-i9DIkN8vkApQVyCvlGqV7izhCjPJ-_iIE6vOW053s6nj19MZ9MkQRR5SaNJxw/s1600/12_Dec_118_JuneEvGames.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV9ZIzPnHukKwSpG0X3DXwsh2TS9YblVRlSg0SP79URBXiQsZ-2xXycYVZHgTPr7hBhEUANIkjRQFY5e-i9DIkN8vkApQVyCvlGqV7izhCjPJ-_iIE6vOW053s6nj19MZ9MkQRR5SaNJxw/s320/12_Dec_118_JuneEvGames.jpg" width="315" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">June and Everett checking out the new game.</td></tr>
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I will have to remember to drag out the Carrom board when my granddaughters are visiting, just to see how long they put up with "snipping" those hard little carroms around the board. I'm guessing just once.<br />
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<br />Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-60352167806584440752016-08-03T14:54:00.000-05:002016-08-03T14:54:04.840-05:00Shower Honors Miss Judy Syring<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyARy5KOuFbKLPujD_RFWXIImEaqyzqmuomBKWoVysb0D5ZWdVyKRbqInevkAMebXtW6HJ3YXPh-9T7LAr4lj4k7Xc6xQ9PUDv-SngC3Ny6rB9Ki2Yt7iNZtQpKLxmmlY26HRMnwiqOEEM/s1600/WeddingShower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyARy5KOuFbKLPujD_RFWXIImEaqyzqmuomBKWoVysb0D5ZWdVyKRbqInevkAMebXtW6HJ3YXPh-9T7LAr4lj4k7Xc6xQ9PUDv-SngC3Ny6rB9Ki2Yt7iNZtQpKLxmmlY26HRMnwiqOEEM/s400/WeddingShower.jpg" width="286" /></a></div>
<br />Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-58244516940531771662016-07-27T13:47:00.000-05:002016-07-27T13:47:01.096-05:00Pheasants Raised on Miller Farm Are Displayed at Washington Zoo<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Huron Daily Plainsman (Huron, SD)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sunday, May 26, 1968<o:p></o:p></div>
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Page 15<o:p></o:p></div>
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[Caption 1]: The Raising of Pheasants is
a project of the Seeman Pheasant Farm, which is located at the northwest edge
of Miller. The farm is operated by Mrs.
Mary Yost and owned by her two sons, Jerry Yost, of rural Miller, and Jack
Seeman, of Willmar, Minnesota. The
majority of the pheasants are sold for “the dinner table,” although last year
500 were purchased by Pheasants Unlimited, Inc., of Sioux Falls, to stock Hand
County.<o:p></o:p></div>
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[Caption 2]: Pheasants raised on the Seeman
farm at Miller are a cross between a ringneck and a monogolian. The eggs (shown at top) are not nested, but
instead lay in the open, requiring 24 ½ days to hatch. Once the egg is hatched, it takes another 16
weeks before the chicks (shown at bottom) are full grown.<o:p></o:p></div>
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PHEASANTS RAISED ON MILLER FARM ARE
DISPLAYED AT WASHINGTON ZOO<o:p></o:p></div>
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Miller
– A Miller woman who has been raising pheasants for the past six years says
when she first started “I didn’t know anything about this business.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Mrs.
Mary Yost, who manages the Seeman Pheasant Farm located at the northwest edge
of the city, said she’s in the pheasant business “for profit” and last summer
sold 500 ringnecks to Pheasants Unlimited, Inc., of Sioux Falls.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“The
birds which were purchased by Pheasants Unlimited were used to bolster the
pheasant population in Hand County,” she said, “and we anticipate they will do
the same again this year.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The
farm is owned by Mrs. Yost’s two sons, Jerry Yost, of rural Miller, and Jack
Seeman, of Willmar, Minn.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“When
we first started this business I didn’t know anything about raising pheasants,”
Mrs. Yost said, “but have learned from experience.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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But,
this business has gained in popularity and in 1965 received national
recognition when the State Game, Fish and Parks Department acquired six of Mrs.
Yost’s pheasants and gave them to Sen. Karl E. Mundt, R-S.D., for display at
the Washington zoo.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The
request for the birds came after Sen. Mundt had visited the zoo and found only
one ring-necked pheasant displayed – and that one looked like a “scrawny
rooster.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The
South Dakota senator immediately contacted the State Game Department and
requested “six healthy species” of the state’s official bird to be placed in
the zoo.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Upon
receipt of the birds, it was first announced that they had been “trapped in the
wild,” but this was quickly straightened out and proper credit given to the
Seeman farm.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Mrs.
Yost said she is faced with numerous problems – topped by the fact that
pheasants are cannibalistic.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Only
about 50 per cent of the hatched eggs live and we can’t put two hatches
together – otherwise the older birds will eat the young ones,” she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The
eggs lay out in the open since the pheasants don’t nest and it’s necessary to
check the pens frequently and collect the eggs before they are eaten by the
birds, she added.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“The
wild pheasant hen usually does nest – finding a good hiding place for her eggs,”
Mrs. Yost said. There are approximately
400 eggs in each hatch, with a total of five hatches counted last year. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Other
problems are cats and horned owls “who are constantly a threat to the young
pheasants, although Mrs. Yost said she has had little trouble with hawks or
skunks.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“It
takes about 24 ½ days for an egg to hatch and 16 weeks before the bird is full
grown,” she said, adding: “We clip one of the chick’s wings at birth to keep
them from flying away. If we didn’t we’d
have to put a roof on the pens.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The
pheasants raised on the Seeman farm are a cross between the ringneck and
mongolian pheasant, she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When
asked if the drop in the state’s pheasant population has bolstered her
business, Mrs. Yost replied: “We sold more pheasants last year than we did a
year ago, but I don’t think this had anything to do with it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Pheasants
which are raised on a farm such as this are much tastier eating than the wild
ones,” she said – a fact which has probably played a major role in the recent
success of the farm. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-29388012616207295122016-07-20T12:58:00.000-05:002016-07-20T12:58:00.150-05:00Miller Woman Keeps Watchful Eye On Domestic Pheasant Flock<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Huron Daily Plainsman (Huron, South Dakota)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sunday, December 11, 1966<o:p></o:p></div>
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Caption [photo very poor]:
Pheasant caretaker Mrs. Mary Yost, of Miller, feeding her flock of
pheasants which are raised in captivity.
A bird from the flock was presented by Sen. Karl Mundt to the Washington
Zoo and is thriving there as a center of attraction in his new captivity.<o:p></o:p></div>
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MILLER WOMAN KEEPS WATCHFUL EYE ON DOMESTIC PHEASANT FLOCK<o:p></o:p></div>
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Miller – Raising pheasants
is the professional concern of the game biologists, but just a hobby “to keep
busy with” for Mrs. Mary Yost, of Miller.<o:p></o:p></div>
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While the
biologists seek ways to increase the pheasant population in the native habitat,
Mrs. Yost is concerned with the bird population on the Pheasant Farm, started
eight years ago as a hobby by her sons Jack Seeman, now of Willmar, Minn., and
Jerry Yost, a plumber here in Miller.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“The boys started
raising birds to see if it could be done,” Mrs. Yost related last week while
babysitting with her grandchildren. “Because
Jack has moved away and Jerry is busy during the day, I keep watch over the
flock for something to do.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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And raising
pheasants in captivity requires a heap of watching at times, too, she added,
pulling a grandchild away from a “no-no” in the kitchen.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The task starts in
the fall with the selection of the breeding hens and cocks. This year the Yosts decided to keep 65 hens
for next year’s production. Then in the
spring, the birds are penned (one cock with six or nine hens) and the watch
starts.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Pheasants are
cannibalistic.” Mrs. Yost
explained. “In pens, the hens don’t
nest, so you have to pick up the eggs right away or the hens will eat them.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Each hen will lay
between 50 and 60 eggs, Mrs. Yost said, compared with game birds which hatches
12 to 15 eggs in her nest. About half
the eggs hatch, she continued. The eggs
are hatched in an incubator, purchased from Claude (Bud) Ebert, who raised
pheasants as a hobby when he lived in Huron.
The eggs hatch in about 23 days and then the chicks are placed in
brooders for six weeks.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When they are
ready to be moved into the 75-by-125-foot pens, the right wings are clipped (“So
they can’t fly away on me,” Mrs. Yost said) and the commercial feed ration is
changed to a growing mash with wheat screenings added.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“You can’t mix the
broods in the pens,” she commented, “or they will kill each other.” Thus the chicks raised in the brooder batch
are penned together as young birds.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The feed ration is
varied during the summer to bring the birds to the proper weight (a dressed
weight of three to four pounds) and then just before the start of the pheasant
hunting season, Mrs. Yost puts a finishing feed in the trought [sic] to “top
off” the tender birds. Then she starts
dressing and freezing the birds for her son’s fall trade.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“For some reason,
the business comes during the season, mostly hunters,” she said. “Few hunters this year, little business. It varies with the game population.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The hunters are
not buying birds to claim they bagged one, she explained. Often the buyers have their limit which will
be given to friends to dress and cook while the hunter takes home a domestic
pheasant, more tender, cleaned, frozen and without broken bones or shot for his
wife to serve, Mrs. Yost said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Oh, sometimes a
hunter will ask me to kill one for him to take home as a hunter’s bag,” she
said, “but frozen pheasants aren’t part of the limit.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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In the years of
raising pheasants, the family has found nature to be a hazard and that even
domestic pheasants can be victims of predators.
One year a windstorm about wiped out the flock and cats prey on the
young chicks while dogs are a threat to the bigger birds, Mrs. Yost related.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“And I have one
bird whose wings weren’t clipped, she said.
“She flies from the pen whenever I come out, then returns to eat. I think my birds finishing feed in the
through to [sic] their wings weren’t clipped, but this one likes the security
of the pen.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-60166567654336970662016-07-06T10:40:00.000-05:002017-08-30T14:14:53.880-05:00Jack Seeman - Spearfish Basketball<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
From the Queen City Mail, Spearfish, SD issue of April 6, 1939.</div>
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They may have been on the bad side of a trouncing, but knowing Jack Seeman, he played his heart out.</div>
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<br />Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-78600755342789975072016-06-29T10:12:00.000-05:002016-06-29T10:12:06.411-05:00Robert Seeman named to United Cerebral Palsy of South Dakota boardAberdeen American News (Aberdeen, SD)<br />
Friday, Sept. 10, 1965, Pg. 3<br />
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It's no surprise that Robert Seeman was named to the board of this organization; no doubt this was something close to his heart. But putting this in perspective, he took on this role while he was fighting for his own life. He died from cancer just 13 months later.<br />
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<br />Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-39511790678713842692016-06-22T20:49:00.002-05:002016-06-22T20:49:49.553-05:00Jule Kake and other Recipes of Lisa HammerI remember fattigmann and riskrem, and will try making both of these again, for sure! I was glad to see these recipes reprinted in an old newspaper article written on Grandma Lisa and her Norwegian delicacies!<br />
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The Daily Plainsman (Huron, South Dakota)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sunday, Dec. 25, 1966<o:p></o:p></div>
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Page 16<o:p></o:p></div>
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FUN WITH FOOD<o:p></o:p></div>
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Jule Kake is Christmas Tradition<o:p></o:p></div>
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By Gertrude Lampe<o:p></o:p></div>
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Plainsman’s Women’s Editor<o:p></o:p></div>
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It is not
Christmas without Jule Kake (Christmas Cake), fattigmann (poor men), lefse,
krumkaker and sandbakkels to Mr. and Mrs. Adolph Hammer Sr., 942 Dakota Ave.
S. Some 30 members of their family were
together Christmas Eve to enjoy these traditional Norwegian foods.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Mrs. Hammer had
tins and bread boxes full of the goodies in preparation for the annual
supper. Her recipe for Jule Kake is for
one loaf, but she made four times that much as she knows how well the family
likes it. Lefse, too, she makes by the
dozen. This she freezes and sells during
the fall and winter.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Even though Mrs.
Hammer is busy every day as chief housekeeper at the Hickory House Motor Inn,
she finds time to do plenty of baking, gardening and canning.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A native of
Trondelag, Norway, Mrs. Hammer taught grade school in Norway 39 years before
coming to Huron 14 years ago when she married Mr. Hammer. She has done some interesting Christmas
embroidery, particularly a red wool flannel cloth embroidered in white.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Mrs. Hammer’s
recipes for Jule Kake and fattigmann are as follows:<o:p></o:p></div>
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JULE KAKE (Christmas Cake)<o:p></o:p></div>
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1 C. lukewarm milk<o:p></o:p></div>
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1/2 C. sugar<o:p></o:p></div>
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1/3 t. salt<o:p></o:p></div>
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1/2 t. cardamom (ground)<o:p></o:p></div>
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1 cake yeast<o:p></o:p></div>
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1 egg<o:p></o:p></div>
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2 T. soft butter<o:p></o:p></div>
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3 1/4 C. flour<o:p></o:p></div>
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3 1/3 C. chopped citron<o:p></o:p></div>
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1/2 C. raisins<o:p></o:p></div>
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Mix together milk,
sugar, salt and cardamom. Mix in yeast
and stir until dissolved. Then add egg
and shortening, and finally flour and fruit.
Knead well and let rise twice.
Make a round loaf and place in a greased layer cake pan or loaf bread
pan. Cover and let rise until
double. Bake in a 350 degree oven until
brown, about 30 minutes. If you wish you
can glaze before baking with a slightly beaten egg yolk, it adds to the
appearance. If you make it in a loaf pan
it will have to bake longer.<o:p></o:p></div>
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FATTIGMANN (Poor Men)<o:p></o:p></div>
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6 egg yolks<o:p></o:p></div>
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6 T. sugar<o:p></o:p></div>
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6 T. whipping cream<o:p></o:p></div>
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3 T. melted butter<o:p></o:p></div>
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1 1/2 T. brandy or cognac<o:p></o:p></div>
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1 1/2 t. cardamom (ground)<o:p></o:p></div>
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3 egg whites<o:p></o:p></div>
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Flour enough to
make a light dough suitable for rolling out.
(This varies because of the size of eggs and will require
experimentation.) Beat egg yolks and
sugar until white. Beat cream stiff,
fold into egg yolks and sugar, add cardamom, melted butter, brandy and stiffly
beaten egg whites, then add flour. Cool
in refrigerator overnight, then roll as thinly as possible and cut with pastry
wheel in diamond shaped pieces about 5 inches from point to point.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Cut one inch slit
directly in the middle of each diamond to pull the “tail” through. Fry in deep fat until a very delicate-tinged
brown. Be sure the fat is warm enough so
it will take only a few minutes on each side.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Mrs. Hammer’s
favorite dessert is Riskrem or rice cream, served for weddings and parties in
Norway. Although the recipe calls for a
raspberry sauce, she says cranberry juice thickened is the best topping by far.<o:p></o:p></div>
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RISKREM<o:p></o:p></div>
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(Rice Cream)<o:p></o:p></div>
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3 cups rich milk<o:p></o:p></div>
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1/3 cup rice<o:p></o:p></div>
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Cook until rice is
very well cooked and pudding-like. Add
1/2 cup sugar and 1 t. vanilla, then let stand until cool.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Beat 1 pt.
whipping cream, then soak 1 pkg. plain gelatin in a little cold water. Then add 1/4 cup boiling water, then fold in
cream and lastly boiled rice. Finely
ground almonds may also be added. A
whole almond meat may be put in the middle of the pudding and whoever gets it
is supposed to have good luck, according to the Norwegian custom.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Stir occasionally
while cooling, so rice won’t settle, then let stand until set and serve with
cranberry sauce. (-?--) cranberry juice
thickened slightly with cornstarch and sweetened to taste makes a good
sauce. It should be runny not too thick.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-34800987839793245832016-06-22T14:48:00.004-05:002016-06-22T14:49:18.986-05:00Jerry Yost, Football Article<br />
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<br />Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-10076740901749903792016-06-22T10:02:00.000-05:002017-08-30T14:15:27.112-05:00Bob Seeman's Lovely ComplexionBob must have had a lovely complexion! Below is a poem written by a Spearfish High School student, and printed in the Queen City Mail (Spearfish, SD) on May 26, 1938.<br />
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Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-87156273506509383262016-04-16T03:00:00.000-05:002016-04-17T21:40:50.753-05:00A Snapshot of the Casper Kluthe Family in 1940<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3iC_pSSvrRehxNysQAVf2YpDpFh0YqwQ7zt0a4twb-bFD6c7785-6KQ-Lpb-F10OScrRxoedcLunQsuUNN6qXUVrbszqq_TYrPYxUd69MuLOX3jYbfVgRkpmKpJcmSReLHqUGzib1Fvuv/s1600/KluthesPorch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3iC_pSSvrRehxNysQAVf2YpDpFh0YqwQ7zt0a4twb-bFD6c7785-6KQ-Lpb-F10OScrRxoedcLunQsuUNN6qXUVrbszqq_TYrPYxUd69MuLOX3jYbfVgRkpmKpJcmSReLHqUGzib1Fvuv/s320/KluthesPorch.jpg" width="235" /></a></div>
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This photo appears to have been from ~1938 or so.</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">From the 1940 census, Miller (2nd ward), Hand co., South Dakota</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Home rented for $13 monthly</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Head of Household: Kluthe, Casper J. (informant), 51, married, education: finished 8th grade, b. Nebraska, employed for pay (but does not list an occupation), worked 8 hours the previous week, worked all 52 weeks in 1939, earning $216. He has income from other sources.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Jennie, wife, 47, education: finished 7th grade, b. South Dakota, not employed for pay, has income from other sources</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Louise, daughter, 21, single, education: completed 4th year in high school, b. SD, employed for pay, worked 48 hours the previous week, occupation is stenographer for the Co. Highway office, worked all 52 weeks in 1939, earning $600. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Edwin, son, 16, single, attended school, completed 1st year of high school, b. SD, not employed for pay, but is employed at public emergency work, occupation is janitor for NVA school aid, did not work or earn money in 1939.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Magdalen, daughter, 12, single, attended school, completed 6th grade, b. SD, </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Lechtenberg, Claire, lodger, 20, single, education: completed 4th year in high school, b. SD, employed for pay, worked 48 hours the prior week, occupation is Clerk for AAA office, worked 49 weeks in 1939, earning $775. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">[click image below to enlarge]</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzV7libHYZi2peZ5E4y-YCAhIP8RyMBRBpOjxhD8j8_bEoQUGSO2NGgyWsSCrn191PSiLoPOdVKkOJGjnxSSpBb4zRwRgp14DIm_s-38rjW7SOAcswIB29JyFsy1G-QsWZV8UZ-1NONMi2/s1600/1940Census.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzV7libHYZi2peZ5E4y-YCAhIP8RyMBRBpOjxhD8j8_bEoQUGSO2NGgyWsSCrn191PSiLoPOdVKkOJGjnxSSpBb4zRwRgp14DIm_s-38rjW7SOAcswIB29JyFsy1G-QsWZV8UZ-1NONMi2/s640/1940Census.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-24898799450382262692016-04-13T20:42:00.001-05:002016-04-13T20:42:55.163-05:00New Documents Paint More Detailed PictureThe year was 1939. Mary Yost had just become a widow - for the second time. This time, she had six minor children to care for, ranging in age from 2 to 17.<br />
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While searching for other documents, I ran across two pertaining to Mary's first year after the death of her husband James Yost - a Social Security claim and the 1940 census. Together, these documents paint a picture of the difficult financial circumstances of the family.<br />
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James Yost died in June of 1939, and Mary, who listed her occupation as "seamstress" was out of work after about October of that year. What the family did for income was unknown, but her son Robert, 17, had worked 6 weeks as a farm laborer. <br />
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In January of 1940, the Social Security Administration began making regularly monthly payments.* Mary filed a claim the following month, so at least they had some money coming in. How long she was unemployed is unknown, but she was still looking for work when the census was enumerated in April. <br />
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I always assumed that their situation was difficult, but seeing the information from these two documents combined drives home in more detail just how challenging her situation was. <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*https://www.ssa.gov/history/hfaq.html</span>Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-4072832991281215512016-04-03T09:58:00.000-05:002016-04-07T03:44:56.455-05:00The WigAunt June Hammer loved wigs - I remember visiting her in Phoenix and she and my mom would try on the different ones she had. It got to the point where a strange looking woman would walk into the room and I'd have no idea at first who it was! When Aunt June and her family came back to South Dakota for a visit, she brought her blond wig, and we all had fun with it ~<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEqmKI5XzsQeClar7xQIYx5VUSxldPktQPOaMzbQfsx3k8ytgHUJa6oiN-cR7O8f1p7Gs9dHm6J13tP-qnrdBXcLtosBsia0vf8EYq9h2XHfUqek24CBxm8lKwy3o9t_v4i3V5aSHL47zU/s1600/wig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEqmKI5XzsQeClar7xQIYx5VUSxldPktQPOaMzbQfsx3k8ytgHUJa6oiN-cR7O8f1p7Gs9dHm6J13tP-qnrdBXcLtosBsia0vf8EYq9h2XHfUqek24CBxm8lKwy3o9t_v4i3V5aSHL47zU/s640/wig.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Three Generations of Blonds</div>
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Lillian - Betty - Karen</div>
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Ironically, the only one who doesn't have her picture in the wig is Aunt June!</div>
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<br />Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487240922207499900.post-11862063171384096612016-02-07T13:05:00.000-06:002016-02-07T13:05:01.903-06:00Bill Knutz and His Orchestra<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzM_jirOVNLKc2q0NI-rcbQ6d-5sAlISjPnUlg1c5YL9hYGUMWK8E0xOxrikgNO50209gvXs76lYMlrr5pjnA8XXbX_IdPSY9zk50HNUYeEqCMxRNGWccQTj9hazJYRXl1NX6Kd1sWJR2P/s1600/bill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="548" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzM_jirOVNLKc2q0NI-rcbQ6d-5sAlISjPnUlg1c5YL9hYGUMWK8E0xOxrikgNO50209gvXs76lYMlrr5pjnA8XXbX_IdPSY9zk50HNUYeEqCMxRNGWccQTj9hazJYRXl1NX6Kd1sWJR2P/s640/bill.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> Bill Knutz and his bands supplied the Beadle County, South Dakota
area with dance music for more than 20 years. The first band, “Bill Knutz
and His Harmonians,” was documented as early as the summer of 1934</span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7487240922207499900#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">[1]</span></span></span></a>, and consisted of Bill
playing saxophone, his brothers Howard on bass fiddle and Richard on drums,
Raymond Christensen on fiddle and trumpet, and Ray’s beautiful sister Lillian,
on piano. Lillian would eventually
become Bill’s wife. Ray and Lillian’s
brother Clarence, who played clarinet, joined them as well sometimes as well. Bill’s mother, Elvirta Knutz, would handle
their calendar for them.<br /><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1zU2ElSsecvOMx2kK-CJX4FM1scuOApfzFOI1pknlaAz97t6Ex7mfleGAhrfzsjl68RsL1dKLSnGMO3x3fwCJRdQFpJucwgT2Or3NBTrUSfV6wmyt7QfWh1WBnQr0sihKgTqbUM8ZLJuv/s1600/Music_Bill_Sax.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1zU2ElSsecvOMx2kK-CJX4FM1scuOApfzFOI1pknlaAz97t6Ex7mfleGAhrfzsjl68RsL1dKLSnGMO3x3fwCJRdQFpJucwgT2Or3NBTrUSfV6wmyt7QfWh1WBnQr0sihKgTqbUM8ZLJuv/s320/Music_Bill_Sax.jpg" width="217" /></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"> Howard and Richard Knutz both eventually
left for the west coast, and Raymond went off to college, so Bill reformed the
band around himself and Lillian, with various other local musicians. The new band was
called “Bill Knutz and His Orchestra,” and they continued to play at barn
dances as well as regular venues.<span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7487240922207499900#_ftn2" title="">[2]</a><br /></span></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7487240922207499900#_ftn2" title=""><!--[endif]--></a></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"> His daughter, Betty, described the
dances: “Most barn dances were usually quite
crowded! Depending on the popularity of
the bands, but most of them took turns at different places each week. The crowds were ordinarily quite sizable
since most everyone did bring their kids, baby sitters and grandparents. Everybody came! Teenagers came with their parents to learn to
dance. Other kids depending on their
ages brought their toys, pillows, etc., whatever they wanted to play with. And then they found a corner to fall asleep
in! Some of those little guys were
pretty good dancers, too!”<span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7487240922207499900#_ftn3" title="">[3]</a> </span></span></span></span><span style="line-height: 18.4px;">During the years of the Great Depression, barn dances were affordable ways to have some fun.</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7487240922207499900#_ftn3" title=""><!--[endif]--></a></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"> Occasionally, younger members of the
family would get a chance to showcase their own musical talents. Bill’s younger sister Dorothy, and his
daughters Betty and June would sometimes join the band to sing.<span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7487240922207499900#_ftn4" title="">[4]</a><br /></span></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7487240922207499900#_ftn4" title=""><!--[endif]--></a></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"> Nearly 120 tunes are among the several set lists played by the
band. When, exactly, Bill Knutz and His Orchestra
stopped playing isn’t clear, but one of the songs on that list was from 1953,
making their run at least 20 years.<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7487240922207499900#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
See newspaper ad at top left, from the ad for the dance at Honrath’s barn, from
the Daily Plainsman (Huron, South Dakota) 16 August 1934, pg. 5<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7487240922207499900#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
The newspaper ad for Albert Baum’s barn dance was from the Daily Plainsman of
17 June 1937. The ad for the VFW Club
was from the Daily Plainsman of 31 Dec 1948, pg. 5.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7487240922207499900#_ftnref3" name="_ftn3" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Interview with Bill and Lillian’s daughter Betty, about 2002.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7487240922207499900#_ftnref4" name="_ftn4" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">[4]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
Betty also noted that her sister June played Hawaiian guitar and sang second soprano, while Betty had a Spanish guitar and sang Alto. Bill’s sister Dorothy sang soprano. The three girls would get together and
practice songs.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Karenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711776825293238093noreply@blogger.com0