Andersonville National Historic Site…remembering

Letter from Fitzgerald, Georgia (May 31, 1919)

Golden New Era

Golden, Illinois

June 12, 1919

 

Dear Editor:

I thought the readers of the Golden New Era might enjoy a few items from the Southland.

As yesterday was Decoration Day , I had contemplated for sometime to spend the day at Andersonville where one of the national cemeteries is located.  I with a number of others were disappointed last year in not getting to go.  The G. A. R. Post of Fitzgerald for the past number of years has chartered a train to make a trip from Fitzgerald to Andersonville and return.   But last year the government needed all trains to carry soldiers and supplies for the war.  (Great War…WWI)

We left Fitzgerald at 7 o’clock a.m. and arrived in Andersonville in a down pour of rain which was very distressing and unnecessary for the ladies wearing white shoes as there was an abundance of red clay to be encountered in the trip from the station to the cemetery and old stockade where so many noble men of the North are sleeping the years away.

The cemetery comprises 30 acres and is a beautiful place.  It is enclosed with a brick wall 5 feet high.  A nice brick building situated at the main entrance where the superintendent who has charge of the ground resides.  I made a hurried examination of the grounds between showers.  If there are any old soldiers in or around Golden, (Illinois) imagine a squad of 50 or more coming up that steep hill from Providence Spring and the rain pouring down they can imagine the picture.  In the cemetery there are buried 13,728 of the boys who wore the blue.  There are several fine monuments erected by some of the states.  I will give names of the states that erected them:  Illinois, New York, Indiana, Iowa, New Jersey, Connecticut, Maine, Pennsylvania, and Minnesota and are located in different parts of the cemetery.  The following are placed on the old prison grounds:  Wisconsin, Michigan, Ohio, Rhode Island, and Tennessee.

I also viewed the monument erected by the Daughters of the Confederacy to captain Wirz erected in the principal street of Andersonville, which caused quite a sensation lately in the South.  Three of the soldier boys from Camp Gordon took a joy ride over to Andersonville and gave the monument a coat of paint using the German national colors.  One of the boys has since been caught and given three months of hard labor at half pay, the other two are supposed to be on their way to the far west.

For fear my letter is getting too long I will close by giving you the inscription on the side of the Wirz Monument.  (Signature absent)

“When time shall have softened passion and prejudice.  When reason shall have stripped the mask from misrepresentation.  Then Justice holding evenly Her scales will require much of past censure and praise to change places.”  Jeff Davis

The following are CorinthRose publications focused upon “Decoration Day.”

• Poppin’ Peonies…a Cemetery Banquet
• In Honor Of…a Pictorial
• A Monumental Family Project
• Names and Memories

As I continue to delve into these turn-of-the-century Golden New Era newspaper articles, my learning curve and future travel destinations increases.  The Andersonville National Historic Site less than seven hours away and definitely a doable excursion into Civil War history.  For me, it is yet another heroic story written in blood for my freedom as an American citizen.  (image below from the FDR National Monument in Washington DC)

Visit http://www.corinthrose.com for images of yet another story written in blood…Shiloh National Military Battlefield, Tennessee.

 

 

Miracle of Children

Golden New Era

Golden, Illinois

June 12, 1919

 

Mother’s Day 1919 was celebrated on May 11…almost 94 years ago.  When I read the 1919 Golden New Era article below, I knew it must be shared.  As a mother of two married children and six grandchildren, this poignant article tugged at my heart.  Written immediately following the Great War (WWI), I couldn’t help but empathize with the author’s deep-seated emotions, soaring expectations, and his gentle warning to parents.  Some of the author’s insights and parallels may seem a bit strange in our frantic society, but remember he was writing from an agrarian setting.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the women in our family and my personal life.

The wonder, aye the miracle of children, our own children, seldom impresses us because this is a busy little world, and pork chops are 50 cents a pound these days.

And baby’s shoes cost more than mother’s did four years ago.

But sometimes the worthy parent will catch a gleam in his offspring’s eye, a quirkish twist to the nether lip; a glint, a high light, a sudden flash, and he knows that there’s a bit of light that never was on land or sea.

Before we stamp, rather stomp, on the soft wax of childhood the hard impressions of mortality, before we channel the seas of infamy and drive them between the cliffs of iron convention, there are sweeps and surgings and whispers of infinity there that we barely hear the murmur of, but that just be very, very vivid to the child.

What strangers are these that come in a night to our door and abide with us through the years, and go out to a man’s work, and yet are never wholly of us?

Children, souls in flesh, visitors from eternity, stopping with accidental hosts for a season!

Aye the miracle of it occasionally hits us hard, and for the moment we vaguely glimpse the mightiness of eternal life, wrapped in its little round dimpled bale of mortality.

And then baby opens his mouth a yard and bellows for his bottle, and we get busy and forget all about his ethereal qualities.

But be sure that our children bear in the veins, as in their heart of hearts, as much alien blood and alien thought that far outreaches the parents’ brief span of life and experience, as the bit of a spotted  pig, in the otherwise white litter, proves that in him in reversion to distant great, great granddaddy, who was a big black brute of a wild fellow.

As well boast of having comprehended the thought of eternity, world without end, amen:  as pride yourself on knowing your eldest.

“Her children rise up and bless her…”  Proverbs 31:28

If you would like to read how our daughter “rose up to call her mother blessed” over 25 years ago, read this 1987 Letter   (The letter has been left in its entirety so that you might “get the gist” of what it was like for my immediate family in 1987)

My husband and I are so very blessed.

Interested in knowing more about the newspaper Golden New Era; Golden, Illinois; or Ostfriesens in Adams County, Illinois?  Click on the following:

A Window to the Past, part 1

A Window to the Past, part 2

A Window to the Past, part 3

Mission San Xavier del Bac Visited

“The White Dove of the Desert” founded in 1692—built 1783.  One of the best preserved and most exquisite old Spanish Missions in the Southwest.  Established in 1692 by Father Kino—a pioneering Christian missionary and co-founder of the Society of Jesus (Jesuit Order)—it stands in the center of a Tohono O’odham (formerly Papago) settlement along the banks of the Santa Cruz River, 9 miles south of Tucson.  The Mission is also known as the “place where the water appears,” as there were once natural springs in the area.  Catholic services are held here regularly for the native Tohono O’odham people, who are the direct descendants of those for whom the mission was conceived. (post cards)

Note: I felt the following architectural history important with this publication.  However, the majority of details are beyond my understanding as you will probably agree.  On the other hand, my images may illustrate to some degree the complexity and lavishness of this magnificent structure.   Extremely difficult photography inside the Mission.

Outside, San Xavier has a white, Moorish-inspired design, elegant and simple, with an ornately decorated entrance.  Constructed of low-fire clay brick, stone, and lime mortar, the entire structure is roofed with masonry vaults, making it unique among Spanish Colonial buildings within United States borders.  The architect, Ignacio Gaona, is credited with building another church in Caborca, Sonora Mexico.

Little is known about the people who decorated the interior.  The artwork was probably commissioned by Fr. Velderrain’s successor and most likely created by artist from Queretero in New Spain (now Mexico).  The sculpture was created in workshops and carried by donkey through the Pimeria Alta (southern Arizona today) to its destination, the Mission.  Craftsmen created gessoes clothing once the sculpture was in place.

The church contains numerous references to the Franciscan cord both on the façade and throughout the church.

The shell, a symbol of pilgrimage after the patron saint of Spain, Santiago or James the Greater, is replicated all through the structure in window treatments, the sanctuary, the facade, and other details within the interior.

The Baroque architecture style features playful dramatic elements such as theatrical curtain display, faux doors, marbling, and over all sense of balance.  The interior is richly decorated with ornaments showing a mixture of New Spain and Native American artistic motifs.  The floor plan of the church resembles the classic Latin cross.  The main aisle is separated from the sanctuary by the transept or cross aisle, with chapels at either end.  The dome above the transept is 52 feet high supported by arches and squinches.  At least three different artists painted the artwork inside the church.  It is considered by many to be the finest example of Spanish mission architecture in the United States. (http://www.sanxaviermission.org/)

Higher Altar

The area behind the high altar was originally a dazzling gilded color.  However, it has been subdued by the passing of the years.  Most of the paintings are original although some have lost their luster.  The two lion-like images on either side of the communion rail represent the “Lions of Castile,” a tribute to the reigning family in Spain during the 1780’s and 1790’s.  Because of the beautiful interior art, the Mission has been referred to as the Sistine Chapel of the United States.  (post card)

Mission San Xavier del Bac—a National Historic Landmark.  In the Tucson area, don’t miss this visit to the past.

Additional Mission San Xavier del Bac images can be seen at www.corinthrose.com under Travel.  Tucson and Gates Pass, Arizona gallery can also be found under Travel.

Postscript:  Back in January of this year I posted that my publications would be more focused on family history-genealogy.  A Florida friend immediately emailed to encourage me not to forget about my photography and to occasionally post images from our travels.

Consequently, that’s what this blog post was all about.  Thanks for dropping by.

Making his own History

Carpenters.  Skilled individuals whose expertise gained only through years of trial and error.  The lingering smell of ripped wood, echoes of buzzing saws and whirring drill bits, or even the snapping plumb bob harmonize and create a melodic symphony for the wood craftsman.

It’s with these and many other tools of the trade, the carpenter creates his masterpieces.  Creations vary from rough cut to fine detailing, depending the desired end result.

The bottom inscription beneath each hope chest in the photograph reads:  Crafted by Grandpa Meints, 2012.  Our 16-year old daughter being the first recipient of her father’s fine craftsmanship in 1989, now each of her three daughter’s also a beneficiary.

Carpentry heritage travels across centuries to a small village along Germany’s North Sea for my husband.  Having immigrated in 1864-65, ancestors Christian J. Meints and sons—farmers and skilled carpenters—were called in 1880 from Adams County (Golden), Illinois to build the first Zion Lutheran Church in Gage County, Nebraska.

Don’s father, also a master carpenter in the 60s built new homes and was lead carpenter for the construction of Holy Cross Lutheran and Our Savior’s Lutheran churches in southeast Nebraska.  Churches my husband hasn’t built.  However, he’s quite familiar with slinging a hammer, calculating corners, hefting rafters overhead, shingling a roof, and he’s even been known to leave a trail of sawdust on his way into the house.

Let’s take a brief look now at how Don made his own carpentry history from 2003-2012, the years he re-entered the world of wood.

2003-2004

Three-generation Garage and Bonus Room Project, Little Rock, Arkansas

2006

Three-generation Front Porch Project, Little Rock, Arkansas

2009 

Dream Shop Project, Corinth, Mississippi

2012

Hope Chest Project, Corinth, Mississippi

The Little Rock bonus room houses the office of Meinco, Inc.

Don’s shop is now air-conditioned, contains mostly lawn equipment, and stores lawn materials and equipment on my plant benches.

If you would like to view a complete portfolio of the 2012 Hope Chest Project, click above on Cheryl’s Digital Photography…under This N’ That.

Taking the carpenter’s lead from his father, you might be interested in viewing The House that Don Built 

Thanks for dropping by.

Christ is Risen!

Mark 16:1-6  “And looking up, they saw that the stone had been rolled away, although it was extremely large.  And entering the tomb, they saw a young man sitting at the right, wearing a white robe; and they were amazed.

And when the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome, bought spices that they might come and anoint Him.  And very early on the first day of the week, they came to the tomb when the sun had risen.  And they were saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance of the tomb?”

And he said to them, “Do not be amazed; you are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who has been crucified.  He is risen; He is not here; behold, there is the place where they laid him.”

Arise! For He is risen today;

And shine, for He is glorified!

Put on thy beautiful array,

And keep perpetual Eastertide.

 

“Springs in the Valley” by Cowman.  A little lad was gazing intently at the picture in the art store window; the store was displaying a notable picture of the crucifixion.  A gentleman approached, stopped, and looked.  The boy, seeing his interest, said; “That’s Jesus.”  The man made no reply, and the lad continued:  “Them’s Roman soldiers.”

And, after a moment:  “They killed Him.”

“Where did you learn that?” asked the man.

“In the Mission Sunday school,” was the reply.

The man turned and walked thoughtfully away.  He had not gone far when he heard a youthful voice calling:  “Say, Mister,” and quickly the little street lad caught up with him.  “Say, Mister,” he repeated, “I want to tell you that He rose again.”

That message, which was nearly forgotten by the boy, is the message which has been coming down through the ages.  It is the Easter message—the story of the eternal triumph of life over death; the promise and pledge of man’s immortality.

The grave to Him was not a terminus!

This is the day of glad tidings!  Go quickly, and tell the message!

“He is risen!”  Hallelujah!  Christ is risen!  Hades could not hold Him!  Corruption could not devour Him!  “I am He that liveth and was dead; and, behold, I am alive forevermore, Amen; and have the keys of death and Hades.”  Blessed be God!  Jesus lives to die no more!  Go quickly, and tell everywhere the glad news!

And I think the Shining Ones marvel much

As they gaze from the world above,

To see how slowly we spread the news

Of that Sacrifice of love.

 

There is, to my mind, a natural sequence in one of the accounts of that first Easter morning, as beautiful as it is suggestive.  It is the story of the women who hastened to the sepulcher, and it says:  “They came unto the sepulcher at the rising of the sun.”

The glory of Easter morn is the sacrificial red of the morning sky!

He reigneth!

He reigneth, but let us never forget that it is from the throne on Golgotha!

A Window to the Past, part 3

Historical background:

The Colony at Golden, Adams County, Illinois  (earlier known as  “New East Friesland”)

According to the witness of authoritative people, the Colony of “New East Friesland” stands in the first rank in seniority, stature, and East Friesen ways; a place where the East Friesen dialect has been maintained as purely as possible in the family circle and in other mutual associations.  It lies in the northeastern corner of Adams County, whose county seat is Quincy, some 140 miles from St. Louis, Missouri on the Mississippi River.

The prairie is level, however, rolling enough so as to make tilling unnecessary.  Golden lies on the watershed, where Bear Creek conveys the waters to the Mississippi, while the Missouri and Crooked Creeks to the east deliver it into the Illinois River.

Even though the pioneer life was difficult, yet these Friesens were satisfied and looked into the future where the possibility of independence, prosperity, and comfort beckoned to them as is could not have done in East Friesland.  (The East Friesens in America  written by Pastor George Schnucker (1917), translated by Pastor Kenneth DeWall (1986)

FRONT PAGE NEWS

Do you remember Hinrich’s 1850 emigrant sailing adventure in A Window to the Past, part 2?  If not, you might want to re-read.

Now let’s listen to Hinrich’s son, Harm H. Franzen, recall early “New East Friesland” history, present-day Golden, Illinois.

Golden New Era 

Golden, Illinois

Thursday, August 29, 1929

Groves & Mockmore, Publishers

 

EARLY HISTORY OF INTEREST (part 1)

Given by Harm H. Franzen at Old Settler Meet

Dear people of this audience:

As I have the honor of being one of the first and oldest settlers of this part of the country, it seems appropriate and in place for me to give you a talk and history of this neighborhood and also of myself.  In the first place, I am past 81 years of age and am a full-blooded German.  I was born in Germany and was brought over the Atlantic by my parents on a sailboat.  It took us 13 weeks, and we landed at New Orleans January 11, 1850.  At this time, I was only one year and 7 months old.  There were ten in our party, and all were relatives of mine.  Nine took the steam boat to St. Louis.  My mother’s half sister fell in love with a young man on the boat, and she returned to Germany with him.

We finally reached St. Louis, where we stopped off for a few weeks.  Then my father and grandfather again took the boat for Quincy as they were told that there was good and cheap land near the city.  It happened to be in the month of February, and they got but a short distance when they were stopped by ice and frozen fast in the middle of the Mississippi.  And as father was a young man, he got into trouble with the deck hands, who threatened to kill him.  The start of this trouble was caused by whiskey.  The deck hands who had to stay aboard the boat soon got lonesome, and in order to make the time pass more quickly, they agreed to take a drink.  They were trying to raise money enough to purchase the stuff, but father and grandfather would not chip in because they could not afford it.  They drank the first batch, and they again called for more money.  In order to save his life, father looked for a hiding place, and as there happened to be an unused steam boiler on the boat, he crawled under the fireplace and ash pit.  Here he was safe as nobody expected to find him there, and his father-in-law (my grandfather) gave him food and water there.  It continued to be cold, so they waited until the ice got strong enough to hold them over, and then they walked to the Illinois side, and as it happened, where the Bluffs touched the water.  So they started on foot for Quincy, crawling up and on the bluffs, and as the ground was covered with snow and ice, they had a hard time getting there.  They were  completely worn out when they reached Quincy.  They were told that there was good land about 30 miles northeast of there, about where Clayton now stands.  On the way, they learned of two German families living about <illegible> miles northwest of Clayton and finally reached their destination. Of these two German families were John Buss and Gerd Franken and their families.

Father at once saw that this was a fertile country, although it was completely unsettled.  It was but a wild prairie and had been a wagon track, let alone a graveled road, and the grass and sunflowers grew higher than our heads.  He was at once decided that this was going to be our future home, and father returned back to St. Louis (leaving grandfather here) to get the balance for family.  When all was ready to begin a start, father had only ten dollars left in his pockets, and God only knew how they got a start, but as he was a blacksmith, he soon got it going, and in just a short while they bought 100 acres of land at $1.25 an acre.

What made this possible? More than we could even tell, this happened before I could say anything.  This was a time we had no automobile to ride over the whole United States, which was to fool away our money, our valuable time, and lose all in our business.  They only had buggies or surries to ride in.  We are glad to own an old wagon that was pulled by ox, or an ox and cows.    They were glad if they had chairs with hickory to sit on, but then they were .

When it comes to dwelling houses, they had nothing but log cabins.  The very first of this kind had a roof of clap-boards in place of singles.  They were homemade, split from blocks of clear wood.  In place of nails, they used a wedge for each board as each row of boards or shingles were held down by a pole and wedges driven in over each shingle.  It had no sheeting underneath, but the shingles rested on poles.  The walls were made of logs and the space between the logs was filled with yellow clay.  In place of windows, a piece of mud was left out.  The door had wooden hinges and latches.  The house had no floor, but just the earth.  The fireplace and chimney were made of sod.  This of course, was the most crude and ancient form of cabin and most of them were better made, and as time went on they kept improving and finally gave way to the frame house.

Harm H. Franzen

Golden New Era

Golden, Illinois

Thursday, September 12, 1929

 

SOME BITS OF EARLY HISTORY (part 2)

Harm H. Franzen concludes His Pioneer story

Now as my talk is getting too long, I will try to shorten it, although I should like to tell a lot more.  My father was the first coal digger and also coal hauler, and he discovered the coal fields north of here.  He took the coal to Quincy.  It took four days to a load, one day to dig and three to haul it to Quincy.  This also caused him to be the first storekeeper in that locality, as one time he failed to dispose of his coal, but he traded it for groceries.  This gave him a start, and he stayed with it and finally got a regular store.  This store room is still in existence.

The next most important thing for this German settlement was a mill as up to that time all the grist had to be taken to Birmingham, a village about 30 miles east of here.  It was located at Crooked Creek and was run by water power.  They charged by taking a toll.  Then my Uncle Henry R. Emminga bought a piece of timberland, which was covered with the finest of oak trees.  These trees furnished all the heavy framework for the windmill, which still stands but is fast going to wreck.  This mill was certainly the greatest blessing in this part of the country and made Mr. Emminga.  Almost fifty-eight years ago, I married my most beloved and dearest wife, Margaret, and we moved to the state of Iowa, where we lived for about three years, but as the weather was too cold for me in my affliction, we moved back to Golden, which was then called Keokuk Junction.  Here I learned the tinner’s trade and finally got the first real Hard, Stoves, and Furniture Store, and I finally became an undertaker.  I have surely buried over 1000 persons, with Phillip Miller as my partner.  Thirty-seven years ago, I invented my famous Lightning Seed Sower, of which I have made nearly one-half million and is still the best little seeder in use.

We have now sold our complete business to Wm. M. Gronewold, who is now carrying on the business as we did before.  As I had nothing to do then, we made a trip to California last winter and returned April 16.  (author’s note:  this California trip may be a future post…would you like to read about it?)

In the beginning of my speech, I mentioned the auto and its detrimental effects but this does not mean that I am opposed to it.  Oh, no not all, and this will prove it as I have had 5 autos and besides have driven another one.  We still have a 26 model Ford Sedan, which is in fine running order, and I dare say that I think I have made more miles with my auto than any man of my age or anyone else in this neighborhood.

With this I bring my speech to a close.  I hope you have been able to understand my words as you see I am handicapped.  I thank you for your very kind attention, and I hope we will all meet here again next year.

I do heartily wish you all prosperity, and I remain

Yours very truly,

Harm H. Franzen

*  If you would like to read more about Harm H. Franzen, click 2013 Franzen, Harm H.

*Also, if you desire to read more Golden, Illinois early history, click 2013 Robbins, J. H.

*And if you want to travel from years ago to two weeks ago, go to www.corinthrose.com to view recent Las Vegas and other Southwest images…under travel.  I really wonder what Harm H. Franzen would have said about Vegas!

Thanks for dropping by.

 

 

 

 

A Window into the Past, part 2

Historical background:

Who are the Frisians?

In the United States, the terms “Frisian” and “Friesland” are almost entirely unknown, except to those of Frisian ancestry.  Although many thousands of Frisian immigrants settled in the United States, their neighbors have considered them to be Germans or Dutch, and being quiet, reticent, and often clannish folk, most Frisians have not talked openly (except among themselves) about their heritage or the land of their origin.

Even some fairly comprehensive histories of Germany fail to mention the Frisians.  The reason is that Frisia was a small area isolated on the coast of the North Sea.  It was never powerful and never a conqueror, although often oppressed.  They were often unknown to the world, overlooked by historians, and many times forgotten by their American descendants.

In the nineteenth century, Ostfriesland was a poor and overpopulated land.  As families grew, it was almost impossible for a farmer to acquire enough additional land to employ his sons.  Therefore, the sons of such a family were forced to become day laborers or “colonists,” who were settlers on land newly reclaimed from the North Sea or on moorland from which the usual layer of peat had to be removed.

Word of the attractions of the United States soon spread throughout Ostfriesland.  Making a decision to emigrate was never easy.  Abandoning the known, no matter how unsatisfactory, for the unknown.  The fact that the early East Frisian (Ostfriesland) emigrants were willing to make such a decision speaks volumes about the depths of their despair and the intensity of their desire to create a better life and future for their families.

And so, despite their doubts and fears, East Frisians began to resolve that we will go to a new land.  (We Will go to a New Land by Robert Behrens)

FRONT PAGE NEWS

Imagine the year is 1850, and you are sailing on the Atlantic’s big dancing waves to the promised land in a sailboat.  The following two-part letter could have been written by any immigrant.  Read now the personal account of Frisian, Hinrich H. Franzen.

Golden New Era

Golden, Illinois

Thursday, March 4, 1920

W. J. Wible, Publisher

 

ON THE OCEAN 75 DAYS

Date at Golden.  Jan. 11, 1920

Seventy years ago today the parents and grandparents of our townsman, Harm H. Franzen, then one year and seven months old, landed in New Orleans, having emigrated from Ost Friesland, Germany.  Their joy ride over the dancing waves of the Atlantic, their speed record across, and the arrival in New Orleans are described in a letter which the father of the writer of these lines wrote and sent back to home folks in Germany as soon as he set foot on the shores of America.  Later in some mysterious way, this letter came back to this country, and the writer obtained it from Mr. J. J. Emminga for publication in the New Era.  Originally, it was written in the German language of course, and on account of the lines being faded and torn, it was a bit difficult to study and translate it so that none of the original meaning might be changed or lost.

The letter reads as follows:

New Orleans, Jan. 11, 1850

Dear brother-in-law and wife and all friends and acquaintances:

To begin with let this letter bring you most cordial greetings from us all.  Perhaps you have been expecting a letter from us for a long time, but on account of the long voyage we were unable to write to you sooner.  We were long in making the trip across and suffered many hardships.  Not an hour later than the time when I mailed my first lines to you, the sea sickness laid its hold on me.  One after another of our party became subject to it, with the exception of father and John (Flesner, Sr.)   We suffered from headaches, dizziness, and serious nausea.  Those eating most, suffered most.  Later father became ill, too, but his sea sickness was of a different form, consisting of constipation and dizziness, but without nausea.  But John remained almost free from it all.  The other passengers suffered, too, almost without an exception.

We had not even recovered from our sea sickness when a storm arose.  This was on November 4th at 3 a.m., when we had just reached the coast of England.  The storm blew in direct opposition to our course, and we drifted back into the North Sea.  (The reader will bear in mind that the author of this letter was not traveling on a giant ocean liner of from 500-900 feet in length with several steam turbines of 20,000 horse power each to plow her unerringly through the towering waves, but it was just an old–fashioned sailboat, which the wind and the waves aimlessly tossed about at times—writer’s note).

This storm took three days to spend its force.  After that we enjoyed six days of fair weather with a calm sea.  Then another storm of three days duration caught us and again the wind blew against our course.  Thus we drifted hither and thither in the North Sea until November 16th, when a strong breeze, favorable to our course, filled our sails and drove us into the English Channel.  But we had not proceeded very far when the wind turned against us another time and, instead of sailing through the channel in two days, we spent four in doing so.  We now reached the Spanish Sea (Bay of Biscay) and all went well for awhile.  In four hours, we sailed a distance of 9 German nautical miles (about 10 miles).  But our progress was soon hampered again.  After two days of favorable weather, the waves went wild again.  It was now the 23rd of November.  As usual, the storm lasted three days.  It was followed by a sudden stillness.  After a few hours, we noticed thousands of fish leaping out of the water, cut half circles in the air and disappear beneath the water’s surface again.  We were told by the ship’s crew that this queer fish maneuver meant another storm.  After two days it came.  Fortunately, it lasted only a few hours…to be continued

Golden New Era

Golden, Illinois

Thursday, March 11, 1920

W. J. Wible, Publisher

 

ON THE OCEAN 75 DAYS

But to our great disappointment, a dead calm now followed.  We were on high seas, but our ship lay as quiet as though at anchor.  Not until the 15th of December did a favorable breeze bring us any nearer to our destination.  We were all utterly discouraged.  But now we had at least one thing in our favor, and that was fair and balmy weather.  During the first days of December, it was so warm that our summer clothes felt quite uncomfortable.  In the forenoon of the 21st day of December, a thunderstorm passed over us, and then a strong breeze sprung up which to our great joy carried us westward for 10 days.  The 29th of December brought us within sight of the Island of Haiti, and the 30th we reached Cuba.  But now another quiet period set in which lasted until January 5th, 1850, when a fresh breeze carried us forward past C. San Antonio, the extreme west end of Cuba.  At last we neared our landing place, New Orleans.  On the 10th of January, we were met by a steamer which towed us into port.

During this entire voyage, taking up 2 and 1/2 months of time, we saw no living being besides those on board, except sea mews, a few whales, and thousands upon thousands of flying fish, about the size of a herring, the latter being very numerous along the shores of Cuba.

We docked at New Orleans at 2 p.m., January 11, 1850.  Our joy was indescribable.  We had enough to eat while on board ship, but we were heartily tired of ship life and the food we received there.  Amid shouting, cheers, and laughter we went ashore.

Even though our voyage was long and tiresome, still we all were thankful for being in the best of health since the beginning of December, when we recovered from the sea sickness, and we sincerely hope that you, too, are all well.  We are not a little surprised at the well-being and courage of our aged mother.  She is stronger now than she was at home.

Herewith I shall close, because the fleas are making too much use of their chance to get a “square meal” while I sit still.  These “bloodhounds” did the most of all to take the pleasure out of our trip.  Remember us to all friends and acquaintances, and by all means to my father and mother, brother and sister.  You will not be able to write to us, not knowing our whereabouts.  We may write again after 9 or 10 weeks, for we have yet 1200 or 1400 miles to go.

With best wishes I am and remain,

Your true friend, brother-in-law, brother and son,

(signed)  Hinrich H. Franzen and his mother-in-law.

A further look into the Franzen family in two weeks:  Hinrich’s son, Harm H. Franzen (the small child in this letter) recounts early Golden, Illinois history in A Window to the Past, part 3.

Note:  Images from my 2005 and 2010 trips to Ostfriesland, Germany can be found here under Travel