The following deaths are taken from the 4 Jan. 1881 issue of the St. Louis Globe-Democrat.  These are NOT a continuation of my on-going posts on 'The Noted Dead,' but are new information.

Again, please note that I do NOT have any further information on these names, unless the person is a family member of mine.

 

Yesterday's Mortality

 

The following deaths were reported to the Board of Health yesterday (3 Jan. 1881.)

 

Rose McGintey, aged 73 years, at 1124 North Fourteenth street, of old age.

 

Nicholas Pahl, aged 50 years, at 803 South Second street, of cholera morbus.

 

George Jenkins, aged 42 years, at 3238 North Tenth street, accidently shot.

 

Bartley Riley, aged 30 years, at Sisters' Hospital, of meningitis.

 

Robert Pratt,  aged 38 years, at 1254 Collins, of bowel disease.

 

Lizzie Finnegan, aged 60 years, at 2305 Division street, of apoplexy.

 

Louisa Beggs, aged 21 months, at 2727 Eliott av., of pneumonia.

 

Bernhard H. Rahmeir, aged 66 years, at 2609 North Fourteenth street, of paralysis.

 

Henry Lindner, aged 32 years, at 1607 Cass av., paralysis.

 

Wm. Hippe, aged 35 years, at 3313 North Thirteenth street, of fever.

 

Hanora Geraghty, aged 82 years, at 921 North Twenty-first street, of old age.

 

Thomas Michaels, aged 58 years, at 1016 North Tenth street, of consumption.

 

E.H. Docter, aged 59 years, at Ninth and Exchange, congestion of the brain.

 

 

Here's hoping someone might find that elusive ancestor!

 

Madehlinne

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Continuing a partial listing of deaths in St. Louis in 1880....

 

April

April 2. Rev. Louis Padberg, aged 23, at 3901 Jefferson avenue, of pneumonia.

April 6. George R. Taylor, one of the wealthiest and best-known citizens of St. Louis, at his residence, No. 1804 Lucas place, of cerebral congestion, in his 61st year.

April 17. Robert L. Jones, aged 64 years, of pneumonia.  Mr. Jones was an old citizen and a member of the first House of Degelates.

April 22. Edward Nugent and H. J. Redemeier, dislocation of cerebral vertebrae.

April 22. Barlett Barber, a colored man, born in Virginia, living on Belgrade avenue, of gangrene of the leg, at the advanced age of 102 years.

April 27. Christian Gebhard, aged 85, at 2616 Carondelet avenue.

 

May

May 2. Eberhard Anheuser, founder and principal proprietor of Anheuser's Brewery; death caused by effects of a surgical operation at Eighth and Pestalozzi; deceased was 75 years of age.

May 9. James G. Barry, aged 80, at 1340 Chouteau avenue.

May 18. Emma Chase, a noted courtesan, at St. John's Hospital.

May 18. John D. S. Ferrier, the first colored lawyer of St. Louis, aged 26.

May 22. Sister Mary O'Callaghan, of the Convent of Scred Heart, aged 36.

May 27. Caleb Bury, of pneumonia, aged 42.

 

To be continued....

 

Madehlinne

 

 

 

 

 

 

Continuing a partial list of deaths in St. Louis in 1880....

 

February

 

February 18.  Wm. Hay, aged 77, after several years of chronic rheumatism, at Cook and Prairie avenue.

February 19.  John Rumsey, aged 66, at 2928 Olive.

February 22.  Mrs. Lee A. Robinson, aged 89.

February 27.  Peter Haas, aged 68, at 908 Park avenue.

February 28.  Magdalena Fath, aged 87, at 3531 Chestnut.

 

March

 

March 10.  John Forsythe, aged 70, at 2614 Thomas street.

March 14.  John B. Ganter, aged 70, at 2742 Geyer avenue.

March 18.  Dr. Thomas Scott, aged 60, at 2029 Eugenia, of inanition.

March 20.  Joseph K. Bent, age 63, at 3131 Chestnut street, heart disease.

March 23.  Marcus Stewart, age 93, at 423 North Seventh street.

 

To be continued...

 

Madehlinne

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is a photo from St. Louis Then and Now, of the Old Rock House at Chestnut and Main (First) Streets.

 

The picture, which was taken in 1940 during the sweeping waterfront clearing, shows the stone building which dated from before 1816.

 

Spanish fur trader Manuel Lisa built the house as a warehouse for his badger, buffalo, and beaver pelts.  St. Louis was, of course, an early fur-trading settlement to which those "Mountain Men" of yore brought their furs to sell.  [For those of you who are unfamiliar with fur trading days, think  "Jeremiah Johnson," the film with Robert Redford, and you have an idea of what that time period was like.]

 

This simple structure served as a warehouse until the 1880's, when the style-clashing mansard roof was added, perhaps to cover an additional story or attic.  After that, the building became a saloon, where notable African-American musicians like W. C. Handy, frequently played. 

 

The nature of the business is advertised and is legible along the side of the building.  If you look carefully through the struts of the railroad bridge which blocks part of the view, you can read advertisements for "Music Enterprises"  and "Liquor" painted on the inside of the upper story windows.  Faintly readable also is the painted sign for "Hyde Park Beer," spanning a side door to the saloon.

 

If you look closely, you can also see the old cobblestone street running along the side of the building.  Teamsters--men driving horse-drawn wagons for delivery or hauling--guided their wagons passed the saloon on their way to warehouses further up the street.  The wagons would have rumbled by loudly, with the horses'  hooves clip-clopping on the rough surface of the cobbles.

 

The Old Rock House was slated for demolition when this picture was taken in the 40's.

 

Madehlinne

 

 

The following list of deaths was first published in the St. Louis Globe-Democrat on Friday, 31 December 1880. Sometimes the cause of death is listed and, remember, there was no privacy in 1880 and the newspaper listed the unvarnished truth.

BUT this is by NO means a complete list. However, I have no OTHER information on the people whose names are on the list, so please don't ask for more. This is all I have--unless it is someone who is in my family.

Enjoy!

 

Madehlinne

 

"From the grim burial permit record of the Clerk of the Board of Health is gleaned by careful perusal the names of the more noted of over 7,000 citizens of St. Louis who have passed away:

January 1. Christian Koch, aged 80, died at Pine and Quincy.

January 3. Nicholas Schaffer, aged 65, at 2120 Morgan, of heart disease...

Lewis B. Beach, Circuit Attorney, aged 32, at 2120 Clark avenue, of caronic peritonitis.

January 4. James C. Moody, at the age of 63, once very wealthy and a Judge of the Circuit Court; he died at the City Hosptial, an object of charity, of senile debility.

January 13. Margaretta Werger, an old citizen, aged 91, at 3159 Linn.

January 18. Wm. C. Taylor, a old and once very wealthy citizen, at the age of 59. He was seized with spasms, the result of alcoholism, while in a saloon, and died at the City Hospital.

January 24. Samuel Fenby, a respected merchant, aged 70, of hear disease, at 2810 Locust."

 

MORE TO COME....

 

Young shooting diagram

This story is a transcription of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch article describing the death of Samuel J. Etienne Young, my 3rd great-great uncle. The news article, on the front page across four columns which also included a three-column drawing of the site of the shooting, appeared in the Monday evening edition, 5 April 1909.

MOHRLE TOLD OF YOUNG'S THREATS TO DESTROY HIM

PRINCIPALS IN YOUNG KILLING AND DIAGRAM SHOWING WHERE THEY STOOD WHILE SHOOTING

Constable Killed in Fight at Gate to Wagon Yard

WERE FORMER FRIENDS

Slayer had Announced Determination for Vote for Republicans

A break with his former gang, following Fred Mohrle's announcement that he would vote the Republican ticket Tuesday, is believed by the police to have brought about the shooting of Samuel J. Young, a Constable in Justice O'Halloran's Court, by Fred Morhle, at Mohrle's Coal Yard, 822 North Twenty-first street, at 2:30 p.m. Sunday.

Mohrle and eight witnesses were arrested by the police. They all maintained a stubborn silence Monday, just as those involved always do when there is a difficulty, or even a murder "in the gang."

Morhle made a statement to the police after his arrest Sunday, but since then has only grinned and kept silence when asked about the shooting.

He told police friends had warned him that Young had threatened to kill him before election day so that he could not go to the polls. He also said that Young fired the first shot, after calling him a vile name.

Several witnsses also made statements to the police immediately after trhe shooting. Then, they, too, became silent and now refuse to discuss the matter any further with anyone.

Young's death has brought to light the fact that his real name was Etienne. He was born of French parents, at Cahokia, Ill., but was taken into the care of his grandmother, Mrs. Emily Young of 1000 North Third street, when a small boy.

He came to be known in the neighborhood as "Sammy Young," and the name clung to him. Mrs. Josephine Faragher of 2322 Divison Street, his aunt, is authority for this statment.

Young was a Democrat. Mohrle has been of the same political party since he became of age. The two men had been friends for years.

Two Friends with Young

A game of quoits, played with horseshoes, was going on in Mohrle's coal yard. The gate was locked. Young, Thomas O'Brien of 1104 Carr street, and Joseph Byrnes of 2129 Lucas avenue passed through a gangway to a side gate of the coal yard, kicked on the gate and asked for a bottle of beer. The shooting followed.

Accounts of the shooting obtained by the police are at variance. Mohrle maintains he shot in self-defense after he had been fired upon. Others say he was the aggressor.

O'Brien and Byrnes ran out at the first shot. Young staggered to the street after the fusillade. He fell on the sidewalk and remained as he had fallen until a dispensary ambulance and the police arrived. He was dead and the body was taken to the morgue.

At the Morgue $58.03, a diamond stud, a diamond ring, a gold watch with a diamond in the charm and other jewelry were taken from Young's clothes.

Statement by Mohrle

Morhle's statement, made before he adopted the silence policy, was:

"Three days ago [1 April] some one told me that Young said I would not go to the polls on election day. That he would kill before that day. About 2:30 today Young and three or four men came up to my gate and demanded admittance. I told him he could not come in and he then went around to the side gate and tried to pull it down.

"I told him again he could not come in and Young poked a blue steel gun over the fence, and said, 'You yellow -----,' at the same time firing a shot. I then pulled my own gun and began shooting. I don't know how many shots I fired."

Morhle said he could notremember the names of the persons who had told him of Young's threats. He could have to "find out," he said.

The news of Young's death spread quickly. It was reported at the joint Republican meeting of the Fifteenth and Sixteenth wards, held at the Fraternal Hall, Eleventh and Franklin avenue. Chairman Gabriel Roth said:

"I have some news for you. I have just heard that Sam Young has been shot at Twenty-first and Franklin. There will be no more riots at the polls in the Fifteenth Ward."

A cheer followed this announcement.

The police are holding Morhle, William Wright of 2006 Franklin avenue, Thomas Furiong of 2013 Franklin avenue, James Connell of 2415 O'Fallon street, Carter Dyer of 312 North Eighteenth street and Cargis Timmons of 2029 Franklin avenue, all of whom were in the coal yard, and O'Brien and Byrnes, who were with Young outside the gate.

Morhle is charged with firing five shots and Wright is said to have fired three others.Young's revolver, which was found under his body on the sidewalk, contained an empty cartridge.

The police believe that Wright was involved in the break in the gang which followed the announcement of Norhle's intentions with regard to his ballot. Wright told the police that he and Norhle went together to the Republican meeting at the Coliseum Saturday night.

Floyd A. Elliott of 912 North Eighteenth street, who was in the coal yard, said to the police:

"Mohrle and Wright were sitting in chairs watching the horseshoe game. Young and the men with him kicked on the gate and called for a bottle of beer. Morhle told them to get away, then he went into a shed with Wright and both of them got revolvers. Mohrle fired the first shot."

O'Brien and Byrnes told the police that when they got i the neighborhood of Morhle's coal yard Young suggested that they stop there for a bottle of beer. They asked a young man they met in the gangway leading to the yard if they could get the beer from Morhle. They say he replied, "Yes, go back and kick on that gate." They did that and Mohrle told them to go away.

Young tiptoed and looked through a slit at the top of the gate, saying, "What's the matter, Yellow," they asserted, and the shots were fired from within.

Saw Mohrle With Weapon

Michael Walsh of 1520 North Spring avenue, who was in the nighborhood to visit friends, said that he passed into the hallway just as O'Brien and Byrnes ran out. He said that several bullets struck along the hallway, one striking dust from the bricks which got into his eyes. He fell to the ground to let the missiles pass over him. After Young staggered out, Walsh says, he saw Morhle run into the gangway carrying a revolver.

All the prisoners but Mohrle are at the Carr Street Police Station. Morhle is at the Dayton Street Station. The bullet-riddled gate is also held as evidence by the Carr street police, as are three revolvers found, one under Young's body and two in a shed in the coal yard.

Revolver experts on the police force say that the holes in the gate indicate that the shots were fired from a distance aof about three feet. The holes also indicate that they were all made by bullets of the same caliber. Wright and Morhle had pistols of different sizes.

Justice O'Halloran, in whose court Young was a Constable, said Monday that he did not think there was any political feud between Young and Morhle or that politics had anything to do with the shooting.

He said Young had told him that he was taking only a general interest in the election, that he had opposed Gazzolo's nomination for the House of Delegates and that he was not taking any active part in the support of any candidate.

[Information in brackets gathered painstakingly by Madehlinne]

"In compiling this record of the old Presbyterian families of Williamsburg (PA) and vicinity, I find several Pioneer Families whose names do not appear upon our church roll....The first of these old Pioneer families to settle in this vicinity was JOHN BELL, an Englishman [He actually may have been a Scot or Scots-Irish.], born 1733.

"He was either an enlisted or impressed Sailor in the English Navy. He was forced to serve as cabin boy for some time, {sic. but when} finally his ship sailed up the James River in Virginia, he and four companions "borrowed" a boat and rowed ashore and disappeared in the forest. From there, he found his way to Nova Scotia, where he met, fell in love with, and married a MISS ELIZABETH HUNTER, [b.c. 1740-1750, Ayrshire or Renfrewshire] a Scottish lassie of Ayrshire, Scotland....

"For love of adventure, willfullness, or through persecution [Perhaps it was an arranged marriage to which she objected?], ELIZABETH HUNTER had left Scotland without the knowledge or consent of her family [This was either a brave-crazy or purely stubborn-foolish thing to do, considering the social climate and political unrest of Scotland in the 1750's.]. She had been in service to some grand folks in Scotland [Did she indenture herself to escape home? I've been unable to find a record of such, but I may not be looking in the right place. Or had she been "hired out" by her parents with a large family to support to make ends meet?] This family (for whom Elizabeth worked) was going on a trip to the West Indies or South America and she accompanied them.

"They touched at Nova Scotia and there, for some unknown reason, left her, refused to or at the very least did not pay her passage money [for the cross-Atlantic voyage. Elizabeth was sold by the Captain of the ship [to pay for the trip], and her time was bought by an old gentleman who treated her very kindly.

[This makes me believe she was indeed indentured when the tale mentions "time." Persons who could not afford to pay for their voyage across the Atlantic did, on some occasions, indenture or apprentice themselves for terms of 3, 4, or as many as 7 years' service to a patron who would pay for their trip.]

"All that was required of her was to wait upon him [the old gentleman], entertain him with Scottish ballads and songs and darn his silk stockings. [Perhaps this is true, but I suspect Elizabeth may have had a few more duties--like cleaning house or cooking--than mentioned by her descendants who wrote this article from which I am quoting.]

"These events occurred between 1760-66 (about the close of the French & Indian War). [I have searched high and low for proof of this story, but I've actually found very little to support it. I did find a mention in Quebec's Poor Records for a JOHN BELL, for whom the "chimney was swept" c. 1760's.]

"The next we hear of this adventurous couple, they and the little daughter have settled in Canoe Valley near Shaffersville, [PA] 1770. Here, in the unbroken wilderness on the old Kittanning Indian Trail, they have taken out a patent for 150 acres of Virgin Land, built a cabin, cleared a fine farm, and raised a family of 4 children.

"John Bell--according to his granddaughter--was a 'jolly old sailor, fond of his yarns and jokes, also very fond of trading, but not much given to hard work.' [Poor Elizabeth! IMHO, she married at best a man who was ill-suited to support her and the children and who may have let her do all the hard work.] He died 15 March 1815 at Bellsmills [Blair Country, PA].

"Elizabeth Hunter Bell was a woman of no average abilities. She was noted for energy, usefulness and uprightness of character. [Of course she was!--consider her husband.] One of her neighbors was heard to say she well remembered hearing folks tell how "Grannie Bell" sat at her spining wheel, with her open Bible on her lap and her baby in a hollow-log cradle nearby.

"She was a true daughter of the Old Hunter Family of Ayrshire and lived up to the family tradition and their Motto, "I accomplish the course." She died 13 May 1813."

There is a Post-Script to this tale:

"The only relatives Elizabeth Hunter ever saw after she ran away from home were her three nephews: SAMUEL, DAVID GILMORE and JAMES HUNTER. These three brothers came to this country early in the nineteenth century and settled near Frankstown [Blair County, PA]. One of these brothers, DAVID GILMORE HUNTER, became the grandfather of SARAH ELIZABETH (SALLY) DYSART, 'The Angel of the Civil War.'"

Ah, but that's another story....


Madehlinne

I was born and raised in the City, so I'm a city-girl at heart, but I will always remember my grandparents' weekend place we called "The Country House."

When I was small, I remember feeling like it took forever to drive out of the city, chugging along the four-lane highway crowded with cars moving no faster than 30 miles an hour. After what was an interminable time to a youngster, we finally reached Pacific, a truly small town, where we would take a different road.

My grandfather, or Grampy as we called him, would drive carefully up and down, up and down, up and down the hilly two-lane road. (To this day, I'm still sick if I must travel a very crooked road.) My grandmother--Granny--in the front seat sat half-turned to keep an eye on the 3 of us in the back seat. My brother, sister and myself always used to fight for the window seat, so we could gaze out at the view: the green fields, the farms, barns, livestock: horses! pigs! mules! chickens! and o'course, my favorite: moo-cows! {Aww right--I wuz 3--what did I know?}

We drove along, singing our favorite nursery rhymes, singing music from my grandparents' era [which is why I know the words to songs that were written long afore I was born], and trying to catch "Cloud Babies" when we reached the top of the hill. Never heard of "Cloud Babies?" Imaginary, invisible friends/companions, o'course. We rode excitedly, watching for our turn-off, onto a dusty one-track-down-the-middle gravel road. I don't ever remember my Grampy driving fast but when we got to the gravel road, he drove even slower.

We rounded a corner {aye, it was a 90-degree corner}, drove slowly on the dirt road that followed the river below. The sun just sparkled on the green water you could barely see through the leafy branches of trees running down the steep bank all the way down to the water. Sometimes, the tree branches would brush along the side of the car and the three of us children would try the impossible: all crowd over to the opposite side of the car--to keep from falling in the river, naturally! The road made another 90-degree bend and there it was!

The Bridge! {Put your feet up, don't wanna get 'em wet!} It was an old iron span, floored with thick wooden planks that clicked and clacked as the car tires rolled over the joints. It creaked and groaned as we inched our way across it. I nearly held my breath until the car finally eased its way down the ramp and off onto the valley side, down the incline, weeeee...look, more moo-cows! mooo...

Then we finally reached Catawissa, a teeny village of just a few houses, the farm store, and the church on the hill leading out of town into the wider countryside. This leg of the trip was shorter and it wasn't long before we turned into a private road that led past the Kolbers' farm house (Wave at Daisy!) around a hillock, down a sloping lane.

The Kolbers' farm stretched along the road on one side, but on the other were several small cottages (mostly, one main room, a miniscule bathroom and a tiny bedroom). Just beyond the cottages' back doors lay the cliff overlooking the river. (Stay away from the edge!!)

Here we are! Grampy climbed out of the car, unlocked the metal gate, and swung it back out of the way so he could drive the car up the small bank to the flat parking area under the cedar trees.

We all jumped out and ran around yelling at the top of our lungs. Free! Free! First one to catch a lizard wins! We scrambled over to the rock terrace cut and fitted into the slope of the hill to form a gradually declining curve. Part of the rock wall created a steep step or a bench with a back to lean against, depending on your view.

We hunted lizards that used to sun themselves on the warm rock--and caught them, sometimes! Chased butterflies and moths across the lawn all the way down to the terraced garden. Walked through the garden to see if any tomatoes were ripe, is that a cucumber I see?, thumped the watermelon to check it, picked a few patty-pan squashes to fry, looked at the corn...and just breathed in the fresh air!

The Country House itself was actually constructed of 2 World War II surplus Quonset huts my grandfather purchased and then joined together. You opened the double screen doors and unlocked the heavy, wide door. Inside it was just one big room for cooking/eating/entertaining. At your right hand was a small built-in bookcase that partitioned off an small entryway and along the left-hand wall was a doorway, one step up to the second level of the house: the large bedroom.

Right in front of you was this enormous breakfast bar with tall metal stools: all hand-crafted by my grandfather, a sheet-metal worker for all his life. Don't think "sheet" as in aluminum foil or even metal that is now used to make furnace ducts here--this was no flimsy metal. This was rigid half-inch solid polished steel bent and curved into a semi-circle. The top was fitted with a red leather padded roll to lean against or slouch on if you preferred and the bar surface was rock-hard wood darkened with age. On the back side of the bar was a built-in stainless steel counter fitted with a sink for washing dishes/rinsing the vegetables from the garden. (Lord, how I'd love to have that bar now! Though how I'd get it down the basement stairs would be a miracle.)

My Granny had a 1920's model stove--the kind I've only seen recently for sale as a "vintage" piece--and an equally old refrigerator with a round coil unit on its top. A large, round green-painted table and chairs occupied the center of the room. Here we ate our meals--and played board games: Parchisi, Chinese marbles, Scrabble; played card games: Crazy 8's, gin rummy, Michigan rummy; or played dominoes. It was quiet and peaceful after dark. You could hear frogs croaking, owls hooting way up in the trees, squirrels rustling, the occasional thump as a June bug flew into screen. You could see fireflies dancing in the night, blinking, blinking...

The House had electricity for lights, but there was no furnace--just wood stoves: one huge rectangle beast in the living room and a pot-bellied stove in the bedroom. You could listen to the radio--a large console model from the 1940's that sat on tall legs--but there was no television. No telephone. Who needed those things?

But the one thing the County House had was windows: a huge picture window facing the down-hill slope of the land, where you could watch butterflies and birds from the comfort of the old, overstuffed couch; a set of four casement windows you could crank wide open and sit on the full-length cedar window seat that opened for storage of fat pillows and soft blankets and sheets; long panes of glass in the old front door; a narrower set of casement windows set in the wall behind the front door; and even a small window over the old kitchen stove set high in the wall. In the bedroom were several more sets of casement windows: one facing the front of the house; a pair in the wall opposite the door and another window on the side of the house facing the river. And if you opened all the windows--well, generally there was a breeze. The only place that didn't have a window was the bathroom. Okay, it was really a half-bath--no tub, no shower--there was actually no running water in the house!

No water? Hah! Grampy rigged up enormous rain barrels on platforms outside the back door--all built on stilts above a precipitously steep cliff that fell to the river behind the house. Rainwater was stored in the barrels and dispensed through a gravity-fed system into the sink in the bar and into the stool and hand sink {zink, as Granny sometimes said} in the bathroom. You couldn't drink the rainwater though--you could wash with it and wash the dishes with it but only if you heated it first or, if you brought it to boiling on the stove, you could cook with it.

Grampy would bring this huge green-glass 5-gallon water jug from the city, carry it inside on his shoulder, remove the cork, and turn it upside down into a scrolled metal stand he had made for just that bottle. You just put your cup under the spigot and turned it on like a faucet. If you picture a modern water cooler that glugs and bubbles whenever water is dispensed, then you almost have the image of that old water bottle.

If we were lucky enough, Grampy would take us fishing with him in the old flat-bottomed jon boat. And if you were really good, you got to go along when Grampy baited the trotlines after dark.

We would drive slowly further down the hill, past the last two cottages, and turn the car or sometimes the old 53 Chevy truck onto a wide flat jutting out into the river. Then carrying the minnow bucket, Grampy would lead the way to the dock.

[You actually could climb up the cliff a little further along the riverbank at this point, scrambling up a narrow track that zig-zagged in its ascent. Grampy had set a few flat stones along the path to help in the climb and there were a few saplings you had to grab here and there to make your way up the middle stretch of cliff that was nearly vertical. I climbed that cliff more than once, always with Grampy right behind me, but it was still much easier just to walk up or down the road and look for "pretty" rocks in the brown gravel beneath your feet.]

We'd get in the boat, push off from the dock, and Grampy would start the motor and we'd put-put out to some magical spot only he knew how to find in the dark. I don't know how he did it--he could find his trotline marker, jugs and floats even on moonless summer nights. We could hear voices bounce off the water, snatches of song from somebody's radio as we passed by. Pretty soon, Grampy would throttle back and finally cut the motor and we'd just drift with the current until he reached out for a stick that stood up out of the water and halted our drift.

He'd reach down under the black water and pull up the end of the trotline and drift his way down the line, from hook to hook, baiting them all. I don't remember now what we talked about but we did--about fish, definitely, the weather, whatever grandparents discuss with their grandchildren. Then he'd start up the motor and we'd make out way back to the dock, tie up the boat, and drive up the hill.

It would be about bedtime then. We'd all change into our jammies and brush our teeth and climb into the bunkbeds--again Army surplus bunks. When my brother and I were very young--before my sister came along--my Granny would tuck both of us in on the lower bunk. I slept at one end, my brother at the other--and we'd frequently have "kicking" fights until we got too sleepy to do even that. Granny would literally pin us into the bed with over-sized safety pins that fastened the sheet and coverlet to the mattress. After my sister was old enough to come out to the Country House, she and I shared the top bunk. And just like on the bottom, Granny pinned us into bed, me at one end, my sister at the other.

Sigh--boy, was I one lucky girl! I'd give anything to go back for a little while and relive those times again. But "time and tide wait for no man...."

We sold the Country House after my grandfather developed Alzheimer's in his later years. Grampy passed on in '86, Granny in '93. Sometime during the last two years, the Country House burned down. There's nothing left standing except for the two chimneys.

I can't go back, save in my mind--and I will always have my memories.

Madehlinne

Céud Milé Failté! 100,000 Welcomes! [in Gaelic].

 

St. Louis is my hometown and, although I no longer live there, I come back periodlically for family visits and a taste of home--crullers, gooey-butter cake, Ted Drewe's!

 

I am a teacher and former journalist and I've been researching my family history for more than 25 years.  In the process, I have collected a lot of information not only on my family but also about the St. Louis in which they lived.

 

I will be posting periodically, depending upon my time schedule.  Watch this space for new developments!

 

Madehlinne