MANITOWOC COUNTY PERSONAL SKETCHES
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JOHN SCHUETTE This is a bio. sketch from "History of Manitowoc County Wisconsin", by Dr. L. Falge, 1911-1912, v.2, p.506-507. John Schuette, president of the Manitowoc Savings Bank and of the Manitowoc Electric Light Company, and one of the very prominent men of the city of Manitowoc, has been closely identified with its business interests for a long period of years, and has served his community in various high public offices. He is a native of Oldenburg, Germany, and was born September 25, 1837, a son of John and Katherine (Schade) Schuette, who came from that country to the United States in 1848, the father opening a grocery store during the following year and operating it until his death. There were seven children in the family of John and Katherine Schuette, namely: Gesine, who is the widow of Gus Bloquelle, residing in Manitowoc; Henry, deceased, who was a partner with John in the grocery business; John; Martha, the widow of Eugene Alter; and Fred, August and George, merchants of Manitowoc. After the death of their father, John and Henry Schuette took over the grocery business, but in 1884 John Schuette sold his interest to his younger brothers to organize the Manitowoc Savings Bank, buying the building on the corner of Eighth and Jay streets, the building having been erected in 1857 and formerly used as a bank. The institution was organized under the state laws with a capitalization of fifty thousand dollars, the first officers being John Schuette, president; C. E. Esterbrook, vice president; Joseph Staehle, cashier. The present officers are: John Schuette, president; Louis Schuette, vice president; Ed Schuette, cashier; Henry Detzen, assistant cashier. In 1868 Mr. Schuette built the second flour mill in Manitowoc, and this he is still conducting, its output being two hundred barrels daily, and during that year and the year previous he had the government contract for the building of the harbor at Manitowoc. In 1889 he organized the electric light company, of which he is still president, Ed Schuette being secretary and treasurer. He has various other business interests and is a stockholder in the Eastern Wisconsin Trustee Company. He has served as alderman, and for five terms was elected to the office of mayor of Manitowoc, and during 1875 and 1876 was a member of the state senate. He is a member of the National and State Bankers Associations, and is widely known in financial circles of the state. In 1867 Mr. Schuette was united in marriage with Rosa Stauss, who came to Manitowoc with her parents in 1855, and she died in 1904, having been the mother of five children; Louis and Edwin, associated with their father in the banking business; Gesine, who resides at home with her parents; Lillie, who married Dr. Walker, of Menominee, Michigan; and Rosa, the wife of Dr. Babcock, of Milwaukee. Mr. Schuette's career has been a long and varied one, but in every walk of life he has proven himself a man of the strictest integrity and highest ability. He has the confidence and esteem of his fellow townsmen in a degree that can only be won by a life of the most extreme probity, while his personal traits of character have won him a wide circle of warm personal friends. ******** ADDRESS BY MR. JOHN SCHUETTE He Tells of Early Times and the Growth of Our City. Below we give in full the interesting address of John Schuette, delivered before the Historical Society last Friday Evening: MY SUBJECT As our pioneers are fast passing away, and soon none will be left to tell of the early days of our city's growth, it occurred to me that if I have anything to relate which may add to our history it is high time that I say it. The subject selected was the public spirit of our people in the development and growth of our village, and, later, city, from its earliest times to the present day. When I had finished the article I was disappointed to see that it required but a brief time, was to barren, not sufficiently pleasing nor entertaining for an evening's discourse, and I speculated how I could enlarge and improve it. To launch into a general history of Manitowoc, which has been so ably written by Mr. R.G. Plumb, would be repetition and plagiarism. Then I was tempted to draw on my imagination, to lengthen out by subject by twining a flow here, winding a leaf there,a nd in other ways giving it more life and sunshine, and thereby bringing more warmth in my field of recollections. But after a little reflection I was reminded that history does not allow imagination or fiction to enter it, that the cold facts must be strictly adhered to. Again I was at my wits' end how to get a little more entertaining material into my subject without violating the accepted rule. While thus waiting for something to turn up to help me out of my predicament Dr. Thwaites came to my rescue. While here, giving us instructions what course should be pursued by a historical society, he advised that the older members should write down their personal recollections of earlier days, why and how they came here, etc., all of which would form a part of our history. Now I felt relieved; here I had an unlimited field to explore, nothing easier than to speak of things happening under your own eyes; and most pleasing, too, when the many years have borne you a bountiful harvest and happiness. As to relate my whole life's history would take many evenings, I will confine my remarks to the time the Schuette family departed from Germany and arrived at Manitowoc, which will embrace a period of less than one year. As the family has been closely identified and interested in our city's welfare from near its beginning it is known to many. Yet there are but few, and even my own children, who know but little of what I am now going to relate. So you will allow me, before entering on my main subject, to relate our family's journey and the noteworthy incidents connected therewith, why, how, when and from where it came. Revolution of 1848 In the spring of 1848 the spirit of discontent hovered over all the German states, threatening serious results. Freedom and equality were the slogans. The revolutionary spirit was wafted from the southern states to the northern, among them the grand duchy of Oldenburg, where our family lived, and where I was born. The actual warfare lasted only forty-eight hours, after the leaders were put to flight. Among the leading spirits were Schurz, Kinkel, Sigel, Becker, all of whom took refuge in the United States, with many others of less renown owing to which the years of 1848 and 1849 brought our shores a larger number of this class of immigrants than ever before or after. At this same time Prussia was at war with Denmark. The soldiers marched through our village with fife and drum, prancing cavalry, rattling artillery, flags waving, bands playing; oh, what an exhilarating scene, what a treat for the boys. I was at that time 11 years of age, and enjoyed the spectacle immensely. My mother, however, cried and when my father inquired the reason, she answered: "That which gives the boys the greatest enjoyment is to me the greatest grief. I hoped that I had nearly passed a mother's anxiety for her children's growth, but this reminds me of more to come, when in a few years our four growing boys, one after another, will be taken away by order of the duke and march like these, perhaps to death; then there will be worry to the end of my days." How a mother worries for her children's sake, Ho sorrow oft doth cause her heart to break, The care of offspring constant on her mind Is something touching, heavenly sublime. And when reminded by the sight of war That its horrors may her child befall, So tense, so o'erpowering are the fears Which well may force a loving mother's tears. My father in his younger days had followed the sea, had seen nearly every part of the globe, had lived at Charleston, S.C., where he had a grocery, then went to Norfolk, Va., where he also had a grocery and owned a schooner. This embraced the years from 1818 to 1830, when he left again for Oldenburg, married, and in the nature of things, in a German family, was blessed with a large family. He must always have longed to go back to America, because when he saw my mother in tears the die was cast, which was disclosed by his ready consolation of mother, when he said: "Now, my dear don't you worry about our boys; they will never serve a duke or potentate; we will take them to a land where the battles for freedom have already been fought out, where it really exists, where war is remote, where there are opportunities for young men; in brief, to a land where milk and honey flows." Preparation for Departure. In the early spring of 1848 everything was offered for sale and preparation made for our departure. In the few months intervening my older brother and I were sent to and English teacher, a Mr. Albrecht, to acquire the rudiments of the English language. Our teacher, who had never been out of Germany, taught us the pronunciation of words with a strong accent. My brother often after laughed at a little incident which happened while we were taking our English lessons, and our teacher admonished me for not having the lessons assigned to me prepared. I explained to him in a most serious manner: "Now, Herr Albrecht, don't you think this is asking too much of a boy of 11 years, who must go to the public school from 9 to 12 in the morning and from 1 to 4 o'clock in the afternoon, and again from 4:30 to 6 o'clock to your school, and then go through at home with the public lessons and yours too?" He laughed right out, and admitted that I was about right. Later on I will give you a sample of my English as I learned it in Germany, and of its benefit in America. Before the final hour of departure had arrived our school companions exchanged with us, as was customary then, a little memento, a verse expressive of good wishes for our future welfare, eternal friendship, etc., which I have retained to the present day. There is only one of these sentimental friends living, a Mr. Carl Roewekamp, who was our neighbor and schoolmate, and two years my senior. He was treasurer of the grand duchy of Oldenburg for many years and pensioned a few years ago on his 70th birthday. He then visited his two sons at Oshkosh, and also was my guest for about a week. We, of course, enjoyed each other's company, revived our boyhood days with the greatest pleasure. I was curious to know how a person felt after being relegated from an active to a retired life. As I had always looked with dread towards such approaching period, which I imagined to be about the same as locking myself in and waiting, waiting for the final summons, I asked him: "Well, how do you enjoy retired life? Don't you feel sad and lonesome?" "Why, no; I enjoy it immensely, immensely. I never had a better time in my life; feel peaceful and content." "Am glad to hear you say so; you must be a millionaire." "Oh, no," he replied. "I am only comfortably fixed, have not much of the world's goods. "Not much of the world's goods." What do you care about the goods, which you could not consume or utilize if you had them all, as long as you have all you want, and are happy and content, which is the real wealth, more than millions in dollars without it." Yes, he agreed that in this sense he was a millionaire. "Now, let me bring to your view again the little memento you gave me on our departure, fifty-six years ago and see whether your endeared sentiments have become true. He is yours!" He looked at it at first in silence, deeply affected, and then said: "So this I wrote fifty-six years ago," and was especially pleased by its neat penmanship. The Germans are noted for their good penmanship, which they acquire by utilizing the time wasted by the Americans in spelling lessons. Now, let us read it: Die Gottbeit fuehre deine Jugend Selbst auf den steilen Pfad der Tugend I'mstrable dich mit ?arem Licht; Sie lass dich in den Lauf von Jahren Der Weisheit stilles Licht erfahren Verlass dich auch im Alter nicht July 1st 1848 Dein Freund Carl Roewekamp Freely translated, this reads as follows: May God's wise illumined ways Lead you in your youthful days Into the righteous path; And if you follow His wise course Twill ever be to you a source O pleasure to the last. "Quite appropriate," he remarked, "did you follow it, and if so, did you enjoy the result?" I replied, "I thought I did." Now, here is one from another friend, dated July 2, 1848: Your future be happy and merry No grief may sadden your heart; May fortune be your companion And not sorrow, after we part And one other, dated June 25, 1848: The most beautiful flower must wither, Even if nursed by your own hand Nothing on this earth's eternal Except one friendship's holy band. This last one, we agreed, turned out meaningless, because in all these fifty-six years it had not reminded us to exchange even a single line. I must now go back fifty-six years, to tell about our preparation for our journey. In order, I suppose, to lighten our leave-taking my father painted America in the most gorgeous colors. Among other things he said that partridges could be shot from the veranda. Just then an improved crossbow gun appeared on the market, with mahogany shaft and a bow of steel instead of wood; of course I must have one, especially as it would be serviceable in a country where game was plenty. The chest in which this was packed I guarded with the utmost care. We lost one trunk in which were my father's seamanship certificate and charts, which he very much regretted, but what interested me more, my cross-bow gun chest was safe. The Final Hour of Departure. On the 17th day of July, 1848, the final hour of leaving our old home had arrived. The neighbors and friends were on hand to say a last farewell; tears flowed in profusion. In those days any one leaving for America was considered as about to pass into eternity, never to meet again on this earth. Our parting was not of such pathetic nature, because we left no near kindred behind, but in many cases where an only son, or all the children left their aged parents, a parting scene was sad and heart-rending. In our young hearts we even could not understand why tears should flow, and gloried in the thought and expectation of other worlds to conquer. The hack drove up and we entered; that is, our parents, two sisters and two younger brothers; my older brother and I sat on the seat with the driver, and with a last farewell we drove to Bremen, reaching it in two hours, and from there by steamer to Bremer Haven, which took another six hours. On arrival at this seaport we saw for the first time what we had so often longed to see, ships of all nations, in all colors, with symbolic figureheads, lofty, majestic spars - oh, how different from our inland town! These ships were the first we had seen, lying quietly under a forest of stately spars, what a grand and enchanting picture! Here we also saw a curious sight. Bremer Haven was just building its second harbor or basin. It was dug out by men with shovels, and carted away in wheelbarrows or a network of plankways; the whole looked like a spider web, and the thousands of men like bees coming and going. Aboard Ship. After a few days we boarded the American bark Adele, hailing from Philadelphia, a Mr. Fountain captain. the ship was but small, about 300 tons burden - some of our lake vessels will carry forty times that. The whole number of passengers was only sixty-seven souls. We sailed on an American ship because the German fleet was blockaded by Denmark. The passengers were all below deck, but my father had arranged special quarters for our family. We were piloted out of the harbor into the North sea; how exciting to us boys, especially as were were not tormented by sea sickness, as others were. While I was watching the vanishing shore lines of my fatherland the sea had mad a little, so that the waves rushed into the open anchor holes and down the deck. I raced before them and down the hatches, and in great excitement told father that there was a big hole in the ship through which the water rushed. He soon quieted my fears by saying this was nothing, and they would soon be closed. Our progress was slow, as we had head winds, which seldom left us on our journey. We were nearly ten days on the North sea before we got into the English channel. Going through this channel, on one side the English, on the other the French shore line, with its pure white banks meeting many ships of all kinds and sizes, coming and going, life and bustle everywhere, and ever changing, was to us the most interesting scenes on our trip. While going through this channel I must relate how I was the first time baptized a smoker. The lifeboat was our ship's stable; it harbored live sheep, poultry, etc., of which , as far as meals are concerned, we had only a smell. The boat was covered with a canvas roof. My sister and I crawled in. I in some way got hold of a pipe. As smoking is second nature to English, I thought I could perfect my English by learning to smoke, which I enjoyed with greater pleasure than taking lessons of Mr. Albrecht. After triumphantly ending my first smoke we crawled out on the deck, and soon after heard the alarm of fire. We looked at each other in terror, but no one said a word, but instinctively hastened down below and into our bunks. The little blaze was soon extinguished, and after the excitement had subsided we whispered to each other that the fire must have originated from my pipe, and were glad that it ever after remained under my clouded smoke, a mystery. On Board the Atlantic. Now we entered the broad Atlantic, especially broad in those days, because it took us over eleven weeks to cross it. We had all kinds of weather, mostly head winds. Sea sickness among the passengers had nearly vanished, and to make up for lost meals the appetites were ravenous. Our menu consisted of dark rye bread, corned beef, potatoes, rice, coffee and tea; and, oh, when I think of it now my mouth waters; every Thursday plum pudding - how we all looked forward to this delicious day! The passengers were a happy crowd, mostly young people, full of life, with no worry for the morrow. They would congregate on deck on nice, warm evenings and sing all the dear German national and folk songs to their hearts' content. I, of course, joined in, as at school I had the reputation of being a star singer. On these occasions I learned most of the German songs, of which there is such a large selection. The most popular of these were "Jetzt ist die Zeit und Stunde Da," which, translated, is: The time and hour now is near That I must part from all most dear From friends and my dear native home Wherein my youthful days I roamed. The carriage awaits me at the door; The last time I shall walk this floor; The first step towards my new abode, America, on a foreign shore. My dear old home, then now adieu; Although I love you, I cannot stay, Though sad the parting is to me, I long to live where I am free. And invariably, on a nice moonlight evening, we would serenade the moon with the following song: Guter Mond, du gehst so ruhig Durch die Abend Wolken hin. Translated: Dear Moon, you glide so gently Above the evening fleeting clouds. O, how often did you guide me When I wandered to be housed. How kindly did you hide me When I my sweetheart vowed That eternal should my love be, You crept behind a cloud. Ever after, when you shine, Twill illuminate my mind Of that evening's happiness When love pledged the first kiss. How many times, when in a melancholy mood, did the reading of these songs, the humming of these popular airs, drive away the dark clouds and take me back again to the days on the grand Atlantic, with their boyish happiness. Young people look with fond anticipations toward the future, while the old look toward it with sad forebodings, and find the most comfort in dwelling on the past. What pleasure in our olden age When turning from page to page In the book of memory. Wherein we find transcribed The happiest moments of our lives, When all seemed bright and gay, And when we come to dear old songs. In youth we sang, oh, how we long To hear them sung once more, And with a sparkling of the eye We sing again, and it revives The youthful days of yore. So we ate and sang our way across the ocean. In spite of our most simple life, in food and lodging, we grew fat and hearty, with peace of mind and genuine happiness. The only time of fear was when a meeting was called for the purpose of consulting the captain to find out whether it would not be advisable to make for the nearest port to replenish our stock of drinking water, because it was rumored that it was running low. As none of the passengers could speak English, excepting my father and I, he was delegated to confer with the captain in regard to this, who soon pacified all by the assurance that there was an abundant supply yet on hand. The fears originated in this wise: All immigrant ships were at that time provisioned for thirteen weeks; we had been on the ocean ten weeks. Once while the cook was drawing water from a cask he remarked in the hearing of a passenger, "This is the last," meaning the last he would have to tap on the trip, and not the last on board, as the passenger had construed it. In Sight of Land. All were at rest again till we heard "land ahead." This announcement should be considered most welcome news, and hailed with the greatest joy. Singular as it may seem, it received but a faint reception. But here is the explanation: So far we had been, so to speak, under the guardianship of the captain, who had to provide for our meals, comfort and safety. Now we would be thrown on our own responsibilities and resources. The later in most cases were but meager, and uncertain of replenishment. We entered a foreign land without friends and without a knowledge of the language. What may our fate be there, where each must depend on his own resources? Besides, we would lose our new made friends, as one went here, the other there. All these uncertainties weighed on the minds of most of us. The serious stage of life, soon to enter, supplanted the former light spirits with a depressing one. All were more or less meditating on the uncertain future, and all gaiety and singing here ended. Pilot on Board. The pilot came on board and took charge of the ship, and we soon entered Delaware bay. Here, too, we had head winds and beat up the bay - on one tack neared Delaware and on the other the New Jersey shore. What beautiful scenery, farm buildings on both sides, apples just ripe on the trees. Small boats came alongside with fruit for sale, and we each got an apple; oh, how delicious; nothing like it in Germany! The change of fatherland looked promising before we touched land; how much more when we are once on it. We failed to taste or see the land of milk and honey, as father pictured to us, but still hoped we would further inland. Landing at Philadelphia. After a few days' sailing in Delaware bay we landed on Oct. 5, 1848, on terra firma in the old Quaker city of Philadelphia, after eleven weeks' journey on the ocean. The parting scene, with hand shaking and tears, was repeated on foreign shore, as nearly all separated, going to different places, and it is singular that we never met but a single one of our ship companions thereafter. Our family remained on board a few days longer, when we had to board ourselves. My English Language Put to Test. I was sent to a grocery to buy 18 cents' worth of coffee. I do not know why it had to be just 18 cents' worth, most likely we did not know if a pound might not cost one dollar, but let this be as it may, I proudly entered on my firs American shopping expedition. I stepped into the store and addressed the grocer thus: "Good morning, sir; how do you do?" This was the first sentence I had translated while taking my English lessons. The grocer seemed at first nonplussed by my unusual politeness, but after recovering, answered, "Quite well. Now, my little fellow, what can I do for you?" "I want for eiteen (18) cents coffee." "No, no, you don't," he corrected; "you mean ateen, "Oh, no," I contradicted. "I mean eiteen. I learned English in Germany, eiteen." "Well, never mind, I know what you mean." But as I was not sure that he did I showed him a two shilling piece (25 cents) and told him he must pay 7 cents back, which proved the example. I was sorry to find that the acute edges of my contrary nature had not been rounded by the rolling, grinding Atlantic. I took my coffee and 7 cents change on board and told father that the people could not speak as good English as we had learned in Germany. The grocer attempted to correct me by saying eiteen was ateen, but I did not agree with him, nor would I stand corrected. "Why," my father said, "he was right and you wrong. You ought not to dispute the pronunciation of the English language with a native born because you took a few lessons in Germany." In New York. After a few days we left and arrived in New York, at that time quite a city, but since then grown to immense proportions. My brother and I considered ourselves pretty good marble players and therefore awaited and sought an opportunity to show our mettle, which soon presented itself. We entered the game with the boys, and it did not take long before we had them all broke. How they pleaded with us to loan them some, so that the game could be continued. We held a consultation and reached the conclusion, as we had all they possessed, and in no event could gain any more, it would be foolish financiering; and so refused to point blank the loan. Now they called us hoggish Dutchmen, and in other ways showed a threatening attitude, which we did not care to see carried out, so, putting our hands on our bulged pockets, in a bee line we scampered for our boarding house. What became of our marbles I never knew, most likely as the German proverb says, "Leicht gewonnen, ist leicht zeronnen." Translated, "Easy won is easier gone." We remained in New York about a week, then left by steamer on the Hudson for Albany, from there by rail to Buffalo, and then boarded the large side-wheel steamer Globe for Milwaukee. Journey to Milwaukee. On the steamer our family occupied adjoining staterooms. My father, appreciating the benefits of the first table for his gourmands, tipped the porter, who, before ringing for meals, would come to our doors with muffled gun, that is, his bell concealed under his coattail, after which we would rush to the front and take possession of the field before the enemy arrived. The trick for a time worked all right, till others detected it and became more alert, but nevertheless we managed not to be crowded out. What delicious, royal table - chicken, mutton, steak, white bread, cake; oh, my, and apple pie! all the things which on the Adele we only had a smell of we could now consume midst the most dainties surroundings. Only in one case were we disappointed. After having tasted everything on the table we observed a new dish. It looked so tempting with its golden hue; my sister and I dashed for it. Say, this must be nice; we tasted only a mouthful, which more than satisfied us. It was corn cake, which afterwards we learned to relish. A few days out of Buffalo the steamer broke its main shaft, owing to which we were detained in Detroit for over a week, which we enjoyed. One day while my sister and I sauntered around the city the children pelted us with Indian corn, which in Germany was a rarity, costing 1 cent per kernel. Why, this is about realizing the German saying, "There the fried ducks will fly into your mouth." We picked up all these costly kernels, with which my sister filler her apron and I my pockets. Our shaft being completed, we proceeded our way to Milwaukee. A German boy some years older than my older brother, and having been in this country several years, came on board at Detroit, and seemed to enjoy to tease us by calling us Dutchmen, when we thought we were less so than he, whereupon we planned revenge. If we attacked him single handed we agreed that we would get the worst of it, but by unified action we could safely make the venture. My brother suggested that when the boy should climb over the shaft, as he was wont to do, I should then hold his legs, while he would do the pounding. This was nicely executed, and our tormentor subsided. Landing at Milwaukee. On the 22nd day of October, 1848, on a clear crisp morning, we landed on the north pier at Milwaukee and took lodgings in a small boarding house near by. The next day I was eager to have the trunk opened which held my dearest treasure, my new cross-bow. This was soon unpacked. Now I was prepared to shoot the partridges from the veranda, as father had told us in Germany we could, but they failed to show up, which made me feel sorry, especially because I lost my unbounded faith in father's truthfulness. But after reflection I was pacified, for he said we could shoot them, but did not say that they were there. So the next day I took my cross gun, and in company with my sister wended our way towards the woods to hunt. We went along the river, East Water street, to where now the city hall is located, where they were grading down a street, and from there climbed up the hill. On top of this we were in virgin forest. I spied what I took to be American partridges - I fired away, and, behold, wounded one in such a way that it could not get away fast enough to escape my clutches. I put it in my sister's apron, and with my cross gun on my shoulder we wended our way homeward. I must have appeared to a looker-on like a noble Indian proudly walking to his wigwam, with his squaw toddling alongside carrying his game. On arrival I said to father, "Say, I have got one of your American partridges." "Well, well, let me see. Why boy, that is a tame chicken." "Oh, no, it is grey!" "Never mind. Where did you shoot it?" "In the woods on the hill." "Take it back, then; it must belong to some one near there." I had to obey, but only partly, as I set it at liberty a few blocks distant, in a pitiable, lame condition. Father Meets Youthful Friends. My father found in Milwaukee several of his youthful friends, among whom were a Mr. Hilgen and Schroeder, who had been located for several years at Cedarburg, a small village eighteen miles northwest of Milwaukee. They operated a saw and flour mill and also a store there. They persuaded my father to locate in Cedarburg, as it was yet in the hopeful stage of development, plenty of room to grow, sure to grow with it, no reason why it should not outgrow Milwaukee, offering all the benefit accruing to all fast growing cities by the advance of real estate, which still could be bought for a song, etc. To Cedarburg. So on Nov. 2, on a cold morning when the first frost on a muddy road had made it terribly rough, a team, not a hack, as we had left in Germany, drove up to our door, and we were again on our course westward. On the way we were surprised to see a Mr. Alfs working on a farm by the roadside. We had known that he intended to leave a month after we did, and on a sailing vessel, too, and already here? He explained that he did, but had been only on the ocean six weeks to our eleven, which explained the mystery. In the evening, after a rough and most tedious drive of eighteen miles, all frozen and with aching bones, we entered the only tavern at Cedarburg. This somewhat dampened our fond expectations of the country. The first time I read, "Rattle the bones over the stones, it's only a pauper which no one owns." I was reminded of this drive. As strict economy would not allow us to remain long in a luxurious tavern, other places were looked up, where we could keep house till we had our own, but none could be found. Finally the tavern keeper offered us his dance hall upstairs, with the proviso that whenever he had a dance we had to clear ship for action. As no other opportunity presented itself, father reluctantly accepted. The hall was but one room, partitioned off into smaller rooms with blankets, sheets, etc. During our stay we had to clear out three times, on a Christmas, New Year's, and a Washington's Birthday ball. On such occasions we would dump our partitions and all into our trunks and put these alongside the wall. We had free admission to the dances. Father and mother would look on for a while and then retire below, but we children had a picnic of it and danced till the dawn of day - and in the free and easy, unceremonious gaiety we regained our faith in the glory of this country, which had been somewhat shaken by our drive. In Germany I would not have had the courage to attempt to dance without having first gotten my dancing master's diploma. but here, oh, my, I went right in - learned it in one night, and my little girl said I soared as graceful as an angel. After all had retired we opened the lids of our trunks on the wall, crept in, and with the refrain of the dance music ringing in our ears like the harps of angels, we slept the sweet sleep of childhood. Upon our arrival we were at once sent to the public school, in which a Mr. Chamberlain was teacher. He was the grandfather of Mr. Chamberlain, the superintendent of the Dennet's factory here, and died only a few years ago in Port Washington. Here, too, I attempted to foist my English, as it ought to be spoken upon the school. I persisted in pronouncing certainly as certainly, till I finally had to stand corrected. During the winter, and in spite of deep snow, our little house was under construction, to be used as a dwelling and store, precisely on the same plan as our little frame store here on Eighth street, which was torn down only a few years ago to make room for the present structure, after our mother passed away, as she expressed the wish that it should remain as long as she lived, a wish which was gladly respected. When spring was on the wing, and the sap of the maple was drawn upwards by the balmy air, (missing) tapped the maple trees (missing) house for syrup and maple (missing) ground was still under a (missing) snow. The scene at once (missing) my mind father's description (missing) land, I said: "Father, I suppose (missing) These scenes the phrase, "the (missing) where milk and honey flow, (missing) nated." He replied, he did not know (missing) but the application was not a (missing) one. On the last of April, when our house was nearly completed, I was taken sick with fever and ague. When my father talked about this to his friends they told him, "That is nothing, it will all be over in a few weeks; we all get it regularly each spring; it is never fatal, and is caused by a cedar swamp near by; you will have it soon, too." What! I, too? Not by a long shot. So, then, this is a Feverburg? I'll leave my house behind and get away before it gets hold of me; this is a nice burg to raise a large family in, and in other words gave vent to his disappointed feelings. The next day he had determined to leave, and having been informed that the fever fiend did not infest the lake shore towns, he wended his way on foot along the beach of Lake Michigan. First he walked to Port Clio - three miles east, where there was a pier and store which he had in mind to buy; since he was always attached to a seaport. But as he could not agree on the price he continued on foot along the beach to Port Washington; then to Sheboygan and Centerville, and then to Manitowoc. On his arrival here he surveyed the little village from the southern elevation and was at once struck by its beautiful location, as it nestled in a half moon valley, bounded by the blue lake on the east - the north, west and south a rising embankment, the river running through its center, a few vessels loading with lumber and shingles, a saw mill located at South Eighth street bridge, with its saws, wafting to him the pleasing hum of industry - all combined made upon him such favorable impressions that he decided to locate here, and returned for his family. Arrived at Manitowoc. Again our trunks were packed, and by team we left Cedarburg for Port Washington, and from there by the little propeller Rossiter, the only boat running weekly trips between Chicago and Green Bay, arriving at Manitowoc on the 19th day of May, 189. We landed on the south pier. I had the cold spell of my fever. Father covered me with his long overcoat, in which I must have looked like a pasha. We walked through the deep lake sand along the beach to J. Roemer's tavern, near the corner of Jay and sixth streets, which was to me the most fatiguing three blocks' walk I have ever experienced. Now, here we were, all in good health except myself ailing with the fever and ague, but it left me a few days after our arrival. We say there is no loss without some gain. Who knows whether my loss of health was not a gain in our family's destiny? In any event, my sickness was the cause that brought us to Manitowoc. How a small cause may affect the life of men. This is, then, why, how, when, and from where the Schuette family came. My First Attempt for Growth. Before entering on the public spirit for the growth of Manitowoc I wish to tell of my boyish effort in this behalf. After I was well again I strolled around the village to find something which I could aid or nurse in its development. The first thing I found in this line was a robin's nest in a maple tree on the present courthouse site. This needed protection. I watched and guarded it every day, and when the young were about to take to their wings I climbed up the tree and took charge of the entire brood, consisting of four young robins, believing that the old folks could hatch out a new brood while I was nursing the first, thereby fostering the growth of population. But I was surprised that they did not appreciate my public spirit, as they remonstrated with terrific screechings about my head, while I made my way homeward with my little orphans in my cap. Upon safe arrival I asked mother what I must feed them with. She replied, "I don't know anything about birds, have had my head and hands full to feed you babies." "Well," I asked, "what did you feed us with?" "Why, don't you know? Milk and bread." Now, I thought, if that is good enough for babies it ought to be good enough for birds. So I made a spoon from a shingle, and a kind of milk mush with which I fed them and which they devoured in great fashion. Of course it must be good for the, else nature would not have given hem an appetite for it. So the diet was continued. After a few days one died, then another, then another, and while I was feeding the last one, some one noticed it and asked what I fed them. I told him and that three had died from it. "Of course," he said, "I don't wonder, boy, they are insect birds, you must feed them with worms or meat. Yes, but the advice (The rest of the story is not digitized) Manitowoc Pilot, December 13, 1906 p.2
ADOLPH SCHULZE
HENRY SCHUMANN
Henry Schumann This is part of a large photo of men who belonged to the B.& M.I.U. No. 12 of Manitowoc. It can be found at the I-43 Antique Mall at Manitowoc B & M I U = Bricklayers and Masons’ International Union of America B&MIU was a successor to the Bricklayers International Union of the United States of North America, founded in 1865. In 1910 the B&MIU became interested in organizing plasterers and the union’s title then became the Bricklayers, Mason, and Plasterers’ International Union of America.The marriage of Carl Schweitzer (1842-1932) to
his third wife, Anna Bettele Stahl (1848-1941)GERALD N. SCOVE This is a bio. sketch from "History of Manitowoc County Wisconsin", by Dr. L. Falge, 1911-1912, v.2, p.509-510. G. N. Scove, who is an engineer of the hull department of the Manitowoc Dry Dock Company, was born in Manitowoc, May 5, 1879, and is a son of Hans and Lena (Burger) Scove. The father came to Manitowoc about 1860 and engaged in the shipbuilding business, he being one of the pioneer shipbuilders of Manitowoc. He was a member of the firm of Hansen & Scove, who built many of the early schooners and steamers and were instrumental in developing the shipbuilding industry of Manitowoc and Two Rivers. During the Civil war Mr. Scove assisted in building the fleet which was sent down the Mississippi river and took part in the capture of Vicksburg. Mr. Scove’s death occurred in 1888 when he was fifty-two years of age. His wife passed away in 1881 when she was thirty-five years of age. She is buried at Two Rivers cemetery. The father is interred at Evergreen cemetery. G. N. Scove acquired his early education in the public schools and high schools of Manitowoc, and at the age of seventeen left the high school. He immediately accepted employment with the Northern Grain Company as assistant superintendent and remained with them for seven years. He was afterward traveling salesman for the Northern Grain Company and also for the Manufacturers Appraisal Company of New York. After he had been thus employed for two years he accepted a position with the Manitowoc Dry Dock Company and is now chief draftsman of the concern. He acquired his knowledge of drafting during the time he was traveling for the two concerns. He early learned the fact that in self-development lies strength, and he tested his own powers by actual work, doing faithfully and efficiently every task which was assigned to him or which seemed to him a stepping stone in the path of progression, thus working his way upward to larger responsibilities and more important duties. His advancement has resulted through the development of his talents and powers, and the position of distinction and trust which he holds today is the logical outcome of his own efforts. In Manitowoc, on the 5th of July, 1906, Mr. Scove was married to Miss Irma Schuette, a daughter of Mr. and Mrs. August Schuette, the former of the firm of Schuette Brothers. Mr. Scove is a progressive republican and holds membership in the blue lodge of the Masons. He is also a member of the Country Club. Those who meet him in social relations respond readily to his genial and cordial manner, and thus his circle of friends is constantly enlarging.
Gregor Schwoerer and Katherine Fessler family from late 1893. Anton Schwoerer is tall person in center of back row. The baby in Katherine’s arms is Theodore Schwoerer, born Sept. 17, 1893.
Back row; L to R – Peter, Joseph, George, Anton, Katherine, Frederick, Ulrich and Otto Front row; L to R – Frank, Gregor (father), Theodore, Katherine Fessler (mother) and John Note: Both Gregor Schwoerer and Katherine Fessler are among the first people of St. Nazianz -- arriving there in the 1850's as children.
