"I was born October 26, 1910. My father Nick H. Mueller lived in Pierz with my mother, Caroline [Dengel], and Marcus, who was my older brother. My father was a saloon keeper, something my mother did not appreciate because our living quarters were immediately behind the saloon. My mother thought that this was not the ideal place to bring up two sons.
With his savings and the money earned from the saloon, my father paid $5000 for a farm of 120 acres one mile south of the village of Buckman. My mother was not happy until we moved to the farm when I was five years old. My father had been in a partnership with his brother, Peter Mueller, in Royalton before he set up his own business in Pierz. Brother Marcus (Mark, as he was commonly known) had been born in Royalton in 1908.
The one and only incident I remember from living in Pierz was an accident. I was climbing on some beer barrels in the storage room when I fell and hit my right eye on the edge of a barrel. This inflicted a cut, the scar of which is still visible today. I remember being apprehensive about this cut, as I tearfully asked my parents if the eye would have to come out. They assured me that it would heal.
Our move to the farm: The trip to the farm was a 7- mile trip, and it was made in two parts, one being my father and brother in a horse-drawn wagon loaded with furniture and household necessities, the other was my mother and me following in a horse-drawn buggy. Tops and Doll pulled the wagon; Duke pulled our buggy. The only casualty of the trip was our dog Prince, a small tannish-brown terrier who was following our “parade.” Prince was attacked by a large dog and mauled badly, and he had to be destroyed.
Arriving at the Nick H. Mueller farm, the first building was the blacksmith shop which stood at the roadside. The shop was to become the garage for our Model-T Ford which father purchased a year later. The farmyard was dominated by a large frame house painted yellow. The house had four bedrooms. One of the first of many improvements to be made on the farm was to paint the buildings. The house was painted white with green trim; the barn and other buildings were painted red with white trim. The granary was a log granary and was the first of the buildings to be replaced. The next change was the remodeling of the barn, which had huge doors on the east and west sides so that a loaded hay rack on a wagon could be driven through the barn and unloaded into the haymow.
The biggest rebuilding project was the house in 1921. The two large bedrooms upstairs were made into three bedrooms; closets were added to all bedrooms; the stairway was moved from the middle of the house (making a larger kitchen); an addition was built for the stairways (upstairs and down to the cellar) and for the pantry; and a new entryway was built.
From the farm we could easily see the village of Buckman, the ‘town’ as it was called by all in the area. About 150 people lived in town; farms surrounded the town, scattered in no special pattern. The country roads were one mile apart, thus dividing the land into sections, each containing 640 acres. The roads were either north/south or east/west; few were surfaced, and those few were graveled. All other roads were dirt. In a way, the story of my life begins in the fall of 1916, my first school year.
Our family worshiped at St. Michael’s Roman Catholic Church in Buckman. One Sunday afternoon, after vespers at the church, the parents with school-age children gathered for registration at the school, which was affiliated with the church. Next to St. Michael’s, the school (a yellow brick building) was the largest building in town, with four large rooms and one smaller room used at times for a library and at other times for one or two high school classes that were taught there.
In Room #1 I met Sister M. Marina O.S.B., who was to be my teacher for the next two years (grades 1 and 2). When she introduced me to Sister Marina, my mother called Sister’s attention to my mis-shaped right ear, which had always been an embarrassment to me. Sister put me at ease by remarking that she liked little boys who had crooked ears. Such little boys were much better students; they always paid attention in class and often were smarter than others. Sister Marina became my friend for life. I cannot ever forget my first teacher, even after my mother had introduced me as her “baby.” My brother Mark, who was two and a half years older than I, had taken his first year of school in Pierz, and went to third grade one room ahead of me in school. Mark and I were never in the same room in school.
My two years in Room #1 passed uneventfully. I well remember the cards that introduced us to the alphabet, letter by letter, until we had met them all, A to Z. A little anecdote or story from the teacher fixed each letter firmly in our minds. In a similar way we learned all the numerals. Since all students were of German parentage, our classes were taught in German. The transition to English came gradually, and it is not now possible to say in which grade that happened. Textbooks were in English, except catechism, which was in two languages..."
Looks like grandson needs the computer 😛
See ya later!
Around 1953 or so, Uncle Tader and Aunt Millie realized that their youngest, Jimmy, had a tough time breathing. He was diagnosed with asthma, and the doc suggested they try moving to a drier climate.
These pics were taken after that move. Uncle T was hired by a wheat farmer near Denton, Montana, w-a-a-a-y out on the prairie. There was a creek on the property, but there were also rattle snakes and probably bears and wolves. (We watched the Lone Ranger, after all). We visited once, and it was scary. We didn't see any varmints, but we might have.
Well, it looks like "sending em to Marlys" is one solution 😊 This mostly tickles me. I just got my scanner working again, so it's kind of a sign, and the packs of photos (mainly from Judy, Shirley and now Sue R) are waiting to be shared here. I suppose, when I'm REALLY old, the actual pictures can be donated to the Weyerhaeuser Museum in LF, but in the meantime, I can publish em here, and you can copy em to your computer to show your kids to settle disputes about when Tony and Lizzie Hesch lived by the green schoolhouse.
Grandpa's sister Mary Hesch and her husband Joe Peterson.
Thanks, Sue!
In a fun exchange of emails with cousin Jerry this week, I was reminded about how much Uncle Leo enjoyed a bump now and then. His drink of choice was muscatel wine, and evidently it was more than "now and then". Jerry said that when he and his dad were cleaning out farm buildings before the auction, they found only empty bottles, much to Uncle Eddies chagrin. Still makes me chuckle: “Son of a bitch they're all empty”.
The bazaar is a homecoming day for friends and relatives who've moved away or lost touch somehow. This year was no different--and it made the Little Falls newspaper again, too. 
