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Friday, August 24, 2012

Barn Building, 1911 Style

By Delores Miller
When the Lembke family came from Germany in 1883 they settled on a 120 acre farm in Section 21 of the Township of Dupont.  $350. mortgage payable to Horton Cottrell. Located on what is now known as Long Lake Road.  In their German homeland, they were peasants working for rich absentee landowners. Emigrant tickets were provided by relatives already in America.  In Germany  houses and barns were built together.  The cow herds provided heat for the adjoining house.
Neighbors in Dupont  were Pockat, Kussman, Schmidt, Knaack, Arndt,  Maas, Bork, Krueger, Durkey families  and others.  This was the Lake Michael School District.  Were longtime members of Trinity West Dupont Lutheran Church.  Many family members rest in the adjoining cemetery awaiting kingdom come.  Milk cans were hauled by horse and buggy or sleigh to the Green Valley Cheese Factory, just down the road a bit.
In Dupont  when they came,  there were no buildings.  Only a wild land of forests, trees had to be cut and land cleared.  Along with working the ground, rocks and boulders surfaced with the spring frost, to be hauled off the fields in a contraption called a 'stone boat'.  Hilly land useful for sledding in the snowy Wisconsin winters.
Because trees were plentiful, the logs were used to build primitive houses and barns.  These lasted for 20 years. 
By 1911, one hundred years ago,  Wilhelm (Bill) Lembke 1869-1953, his wife Hannah (nee Schade) 1871-1919,  had six  young children Arthur 1896-1942, Charles 1894-1893, Martha Piotraschke 1897-1928, Esther Genskow 1903-1983, Hilda Wangelin 1904-1981, and Clara Pranke 1900-1921.   Hannah died of dropsy, Art was killed in an automobile accident, leaving seven young children,  Martha died of gall bladder surgery complications, leaving 3 young children, and Clara died in childbirth.  How sad for Bill Lembke to lose half his family, yet he remained upbeat and happy.    Wilhelm Lembke died one October night in 1953 after husking corn all day.  He was 84.
In 1911  Bill and Hannah had been married for nineteen years and  they  felt it time to build a wood frame and stone wall barn.  A century ago.
Picking a location for the barn was important, west of the house to provide a wind break.  A rise of the ground for drainage.  Surrounding pasture land and room for crops, hay, corn, oats, wheat.  Building barb wire fences. Most barns were timber framed, post and beam forming  strong structures to withstand storms and heavy loads of animal feed.  100 years later it is still upright  to withstand the storms of life and other calamities.
The Lembke children were assigned to gathering these rocks.   Types of rocks were granite, a course grain, light color,  basalt, the heavy black dense rock, and quartzite or sandstone.  Stone mason crews  (who were paid a dollar a day) were hired to build a ten foot high  rock wall, two feet deep,  two and a half feet in the ground and seven and a half feet exposed.  The barn  measured about  36x80 feet with windows and doors on three sides.  Meaning there was about 272 feet total  of stone walls.  If each stone measures about a foot square it would take over four thousand stones to build the walls two rocks deep.   (Carl Much calculations.)  Weighing about 30 pounds apiece this comes to many tons of rocks.     Two or three doors, plus 14 or so windows would reduce the square footage. The Good Lord in his wisdom provided these rocks to Wisconsin farmers to build stone walls for their barns.  Mixed with mortar, sand, gravel and water to bind the rocks together.  Stones had to be split so a flat surface was on the outside  making a smooth wall.  Neat.  Stone masons were proud of their work, arranging the rocks by color, red, black, brown and gray.   It took six to eight weeks to build a stone wall. No one builds barns like this anymore.  Only in our memories the lore and legends of barn building.  No one lives there anymore.
The Good Lord also provided trees, to be hacked down, cut into lumber for the barn.  Tamarack, elm, hemlock.   Wood and lumber had to be dried at least a year, as green wood split, warped and shrank. Another crew of carpenters, specialty barn builders came to frame the barn.  A huge beam was placed on top of the stone wall, notches for floor joists, 24 inches apart, next floor boards. and the skeleton and roof beams, Neighbors wandered  in  to provide bull work on an exchange basis.  Women cooked huge meals for the hungry hard-working men and boys.  They too, in the early years of the twentieth century built their own barns.  With their own many rocks and trees.  The Good Lord blessed early farmers with stones, rocks and boulders and each spring a new crop sprung up with the frost.  And even now in 2011, the rocks are shoved to the surface each spring by the frost.
Beams, rigid rafters, a supporting structure of post and beam,  oak wood pegged.  All hand tools, no electricity no hydraulic lifts or other labor saving innovations..    Oak pegs held timbers together.  Drilled with a hand devise.   Pike poles used to push, lift and pull the skeleton of new barn.  Only the skilled carpenter climbers were allowed to work on the upper parts of the barn.  Square nails were used to connect the   one inch rough boards  to the frame work.    Two versions of roofs were available, and it was the skill and inclination of the barn builder to choose. The gable and gambrel or hip.   The Lembke barn was the gable type. Steep roofs in Wisconsin were necessary to shed snow and rain water.  Eave troughs were attached to the overhanging roof, to ease water away from the foundation.
Red cedar shingles were used to cover the roof.  Also provided by the Good Lord from the swamp.  Some were machine sawed with a primitive gasoline engine, others were hand sliced with an axe called an adz or froe.  Labor intensive.  But a good cedar shingle roof would last for thirty years.   This was replaced at one point by a crimped tin roof, which rusted.   Ventilators pulled moisture from the barn to the outside.  While most farmers eventually painted their bars red or white, the Lembke barn was left to weather the elements into a neutral grey.
More rocks and boulders were gathered to make a ramp or hill into the upstairs of the barn, so wagon loads of feed could be hauled right into the barn.  Bundles of oats and wheat were stored on the barn floor for thrashing.  Chutes and stairs connected to the bottom floor.  Straw stack outside over rough boards provided cover for pigs and young cattle.
This era of advancement in dairy farming would greatly increase efficiency and production.  Bill Lembke knew this and it was why he built his big dairy barn.  Stalls and stanchions for twenty cows, a bull pen, calf pens, horse stalls.  A gutter for manure collection.    A metal track attached to the ceiling and a carrier bucket could haul manure outside into a pile or in a spreader to haul on the fields. 
Upstairs in the barn, another steel track was attached to the peak of the roof.  This labor saving device was  invented and made possible the storage of large quantities of hay.  Hay was cut, either with a scythe or an early McCormick mower pulled by horses, forked on a wagon, or a loader, hauled to the barn.  Huge pronged forks clumped a bunch of hay, ropes pulled, with the aid of a horse, up and into the barn.  A mechanism  tripped and the hay whooshed into a pile in a particular mow.  No matter which conveniences were invented, dairy farming in those early years were still labor intensive.  Damp or wet hay, would cause heat, and combustion and fires resulted.  Bill Lembke was careful and never had that problem.  The barn was immune from lightning strikes or tornadoes.
Probably a barn dance was held to celebrate the new barn.  Daughters weddings were held at the farm.  Photographs survive from those happy occasions.
Another storage structure for feed, was a silo.   The Lembkes first had a glazed  clay tile brown silo built which had a hollow space in the middle so the corn silage did not freeze. A concrete silo was added  and in later years these were replaced by a  Madison Stave Silo.  Corn was chopped and blown into this silo to be used for cattle feed.
Even though a lake was a short distance away, a well was dug, and a windmill built on top, providing water for the barn and house.  A very labor saving device.    Other outbuildings were a piggery, coop for the chickens, ducks and geese. corn cribs, granary, outhouse,  woodshed, smoke house, carriage or car shed.
Around this time, too, it became apparent that a wood frame house needed to replace the two-story log house.  Rocks were again gathered for a basement, two story frame house with a pressed metal siding and cedar shingles.  This home held many happy memories.  Age and deterioration took its toll, and was dismantled and now the site of grain storage bins.
Two lakes to the west of the farm were called Lembke and Long Lakes.  Good fishing, winter and summer.  In 1956 Chas. and Clara Lembke deeded to Waupaca  County a parcel of land for Public Access along the shore of Lembke Lake.  The family enjoyed fishing and brought home many meals for the table.
The Lembkes and their  heirs, the Piotraschke  family farmed this land for 117 years until 2000 when it was sold to Kevin and Lori Watchman.  One hundred years ago this barn was built and still standing strong. 
A testament to hope, this 1911 barn of my Great Uncle Bill Lembke who held me on his lap and called me his little 'girlie'.
Information and opinions furnished by June Erdmann and Barb Sawall, great granddaughters of Bill and Hannah Lembke, and Russell Miller, Historian.
copyright 2011, Delores and Russell Miller

Friday, August 17, 2012

Worst Opening Sentence Competition

Editors

08/13/2012

The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest 2012 is the latest in an annual series of competitions to find the worst-possible opening sentence to a novel.

Entries are divided into categories, with a single overall winner. This year's champion was judged to be Cathy Bryant of Manchester, UK, who came up with this disgustingly unforgettable line:

    As he told her that he loved her she gazed into his eyes, wondering, as she noted the infestation of eyelash mites, the tiny deodicids burrowing into his follicles to eat the greasy sebum therein, each female laying up to 25 eggs in a single follicle, causing inflammation, whether the eyes are truly the windows of the soul; and, if so, his soul needed regrouting.

The competition's creator, Professor Scott Rice (aka the Grand Panjandrum) gave this zinger his own special commendation:

    As an ornithologist, George was fascinated by the fact that urine and feces mix in birds’ rectums to form a unified, homogeneous slurry that is expelled through defecation, although eying Greta's face, and sensing the reaction of the congregation, he immediately realized he should have used a different analogy to describe their relationship in his wedding vows. — David Pepper, Hermosa Beach, CA

Continue at:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/08/13/bulwer-lytton-2012-cathy-bryant_n_1773672.html






Friday, August 10, 2012

African Trip - 1976


by June T. Bassemir
                                                     

In 1976, it was my pleasure to visit my daughter, Diane who was serving in the Peace Corps, in a country called Central African Republic.  In order to preserve some of my treasured memories. I wrote about them when I returned.  It was quite an adventure for me in many ways, as I had just begun to emerge from my cocoon as a wife and mother, to a woman willing to explore and see the world with different eyes, and to trust that all would be well wherever I would go.  My dear husband loved me enough to let me go, knowing I would come back and report on our daughter’s experiences.  Here is the story of my trip.  (Some names familiar at the time may be dated now.)

     Central African Republic is a small country right in the heart of Africa, 6 degrees above the equator and north of Zaire.  The trip was a two phase one with the first seven hours to Paris and then another seven hours to CAR.  Before I left NY, my oldest brother Roger, was one of those that came to the airport to see me off.  Being well traveled he felt it his duty to give his little sister some advice and the benefit of his experience.   “Now June,” he said, “When you get to Paris, you should enlist the help of the airport people in getting a room so that you can take a rest before the next flight to Africa”.  And this I did, walking with my luggage in tow to a pension near the airport.  I did not speak French but the owners had a heads up from the nice lady at the airport who told them I was on the way.  I was always good at the game of Charades which stood me in good stead as I explained in that “language” that I wanted to be awakened at two o’clock.  “Tick - tock. tick - tock” ….”burr…burr” (imitating a telephone ring)…and then I held up two fingers.  “Oui, Oui, Madame”, the gracious French lady said and led me up three flights of stairs to my room.  With each floor the carpet in the hallway showed significant signs of wear.  Nevertheless, we finally reached the room and she flew open the door to reveal a red covered double bed, its footboard barely missing the open door.  It looked comfortable enough and when the lady left I began to undress.  Next to the bed was a porcelain toilet….or so I thought.  (Remember I had not done much traveling nor was I a woman of the world.)  The bathroom was down the hall.  I tried to take a nap but I lay there wondering if the French lady and her husband, who also witnessed my request, really understood my directions about waking me up at two o’clock.  I am not normally the nervous type but the plane trip to Africa only left France twice a week and if I missed my  flight that day, I would have had to wait 2 days before the next flight.  That would have been a disaster of monumental proportions.   This worry, of course would not go away so within forty five minutes, I dressed and headed downstairs to the lobby.  Perplexed, the owners tried to understand why I had come down and so I had to play Charades again….”burr burr….No No”.  Undoubtedly, my action reinforced their opinion of “those crazy Americans.”  Nevertheless I whiled away the time by walking around the streets.  Not far away from the pension I found a small pastry shop where I spent lots of money on the most delicious pastries I have ever tasted…. then and now.

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Wednesday, August 1, 2012

GROWING UP WITH HORSES ON THE FARM



Louie and Lester Ratzburg with dog Scotty and team Barney and Colonel head for woods.

by Harold Ratzburg

    I was thinking the other day about how lucky kids are today in being assigned their first chores around the house to help out their parents.  Probably that amounts to taking out the garbage or something like that.  Us farm kids when I was a kid had it a little different than that.

    My career as a farm kid started back in the 1930's.  I was born in 1929 --(yeah, I know, that makes me an old geezer of 83 now)--and my farm chores began with horses, when Dad gave me the job of watering them while he and the hired man did the milking. 
    
   That section of the barn where the horse stalls were located did not have water running to it from a water tank in the hay barn above like it did in the cow stall part, so twice a day someone had to untie them from their stalls and lead them to a water tank.  In the winter the tank was in the cow barn where Dad cooled the milk after milking the cows, and in the summer, I took them outside to drink from the tank in the barn yard.

    What with present day regulations from the government, I think that my Dad would have been in violation of some child labor law to have this little kid, about eight or 9 years old, leading these two big plow horses around in the barn or out side to the water tank.  They were big----but gentle ----horses and I never felt afraid of them.  I had to learn how to tie the special knot that Dad used to tie them to the manger.

    Their names were "Barney" and "Colonel" and they were big old plow horses.  At that time in my life with a kid's imagination, I was determined to make my living as a cowboy someday so in my kid's imagination, they were cowboy ponies.  I would sit on top of Barney in the stall, (because he was the gentlest), and pretend that I was out on the range, herding them longhorns on a trail drive to Abilene or Dodge City. 

    One time I put a piece of leather belt around Barney's body to make an imaginary saddle, and forgot to take it off when I finished playing and I sure caught heck for that the next day because the belt had slipped to where it was really tight and constricting around the horses body. )

    Somewhere along 9 or 10, I was given the chore of feeding the horses by forking the hay into the mangers. This was in addition to feeding and watering the chickens by hauling the feed and water up the hill in buckets to feed them and fill their water can fountains.  As I remember, I didn't really mind, because I felt kind of proud that Dad would trust me with such an important job----feeding the horses, NOT the chickens,---- that was a hard job, and I was less than an ambitious kid as most kids are.

    The next move up my farm corporate ladder of success, because I had grown bigger and stronger, was to the position of cleaning the horse barn.----meaning of course----removing the horse "manure".  (Notice here that I didn't use the word "shit" cause this is a family type newspaper)  Anyway, this job meant forking or shoveling the manure into a wheelbarrow,(home made by my Grandpa) with a narrow iron wheel, and pushing it out to dump on a pile in the barnyard by the straw stack.  That narrow iron wheel made it difficult to push in the soft barnyard and on the pile. so we always had to put a board out there to run that wheel on so it wouldn't sink into the soft stuff.  Doesn't that sound like fun?

    Dad used the job of cleaning the horse barn to teach me a valuable life's lesson----with out him saying a word.  It was a job that I tended to keep putting off till tomorrow.  I remember that one time I kept procrastinating and putting the job off from day to day, and the hind legs of the horses kept getting higher and higher than their front legs.  Dad never said a word, until it finally occurred to me, all by myself, that I had better clean the horse barn.  What a BIG job it was then and what a pain in the neck.  (You will notice that I did not say pain in the "ass", cause this is a family type newspaper)  But I did get the job done and I never let my procrastination cause such a build up again.  The lesson learned for a lifetime was to do things now, and not keep putting them off.

    At that time most all the heavy pulling work on the farm was done by the horses.  Dad did have an old 1926 Fordson tractor with steel wheels but as I remember, it was used mostly for powering a pulley which powered the fire wood sawing rig and the silo filler.

   The old Fordson was banned on Co. Hwy G going past our farm after the County paved the road sometime in the 1930's.  The steel cleats on the wheels would have torn up the new blacktop roadway, so traveling with it on the road was a no-no.  That left the horses to pull anything that needed hauling to or from distant fields along the road.

    The horses pulled the plow, the drag, the hay wagon, the cultivator, the mower, the stone boat, and the manure spreader in the summertime and a big sled in the winter time when the snow was too deep for wheeled equipment.  That meant that all the manure from the cows and horses would be loaded on the sled and hauled out to a field and unloaded by hand onto a pile.  It also meant that come springtime, that pile of crap needed to be loaded into the manure spreader by hand to spread on the fields for fertilizer.  I missed most of the fun of that job cause I was just too little and by the time I was big enough to really fork that manure, we got the Ford-Ferguson rubber tired tractor - in 1942.  The new tractor could handle most everything, even the manure spreader in the snow.

    I've got to brag a little in that I think I got pretty good at handling a team of horses by the time the new tractor came along.  I started by watering the team in the barn, then by driving them to pull the rope that operated the system that unloaded a load of hay into the haymow with the use of the hay fork that stuck in the pile of hay on the wagon and pulled it up into the hay mow by a system of pulleys and a track under the roof of the barn. (sounds pretty complicated, doesn't it?  It really wasn't, but it is hard to explain on paper.)

    I was also a pretty good teamster when it came to handling the horses pulling a wagon or the big sled in the winter.

    In the summer the team was used to pull a wagon to haul hay or pick up the grain bundles to haul to the threshing machine, with all the loading being did by muscle power of my Dad and hired man or the threshing crew that came along with the threshing machine.  (The threshing machine was pulled and powered by a big steel wheeled, wood fired, steam engine, which chugged down the road at a very slow speed.  It was fascinating and impressive to a little kid my age.)

    In the winter, the team and the big sled would haul manure when necessary and wood branches and logs from the woods on the hill.  The branches were piled near the house area, and later cut up for firewood by a wood sawing crew with the old saw rig and then hauled to the woodshed.  From the woodshed, the firewood got to the porch and into the house by kid-power and the use of a hand pulled sled.

    The logs acted like a cash crop when Dad sold them off to a saw mill which then sent a truck to haul them away.

    And so Folks, such was this little kids life on the farm powered by horses.

    All in all----I think it was good.to be a kid when I was a kid.  I wonder what the kids of today are going to think of their childhood 70 and 80 years from now.  Hopefully I will look down from ABOVE----not up from BELOW----and be able to check them out to see how they are doing.


copyright 2012, Harold Ratzburg