TALES OF SHOTO
By
Rose Bayless
Illustrated by
Susan Nassif
To my Grandchildren
David, Heather, Nadine, Scott, Steven
1989
Rose Bayless lives in
Park Lawn Home, Manitowoc
Illustrations by Susan Nassif,
her daughter, of Two Rivers
SHOTO
I was born August 14th, 1905, in a little place in the country
called Shoto. It consisted of a butcher shop, blacksmith shop, a flour and
saw mill, and two taverns (called saloons at that time). My father, Fred
Jachimstal, owned one of the saloons, one section of which was also a
grocery store..The building was located right on the corner in the village
where the River Falls Supper Club now stands, only it was a lot closer to
the road. I was born in an upstairs bedroom, which would have been right
over the Southeast corner of the restaurant parking lot.
My father had built the saloon building, which attached to a
smaller, older grocery store. Our living rooms were on the first floor
behind the saloon, while our bedrooms were upstairs. There were also ten
other upstairs bedrooms that would be rented out (mostly to people from
Chicago). Usually the school teacher also boarded here. To the west of the
saloon was a dance hall.
As I grew older I had to help wait on customers in the grocery
store..Whenever the door to the store opened, a bell would ring and we'd
have to go in and wait on the customer. They didn't help themselves as
they do now. I sure didn't like it when a customer asked for pickled
herring. I had to take them from a keg and weigh them on the scale. I
hated the odor, and still do to this day.
THE ONE ROOM SCHOOL
I had to walk about a mile to our district school. First it was a
brick building with a pot bellied stove for heating. Later a new school
was built with a furnace, but no plumbing. We had to pump water outside
for drinking and washing our hands. In the back yard there were two
outhouses (toilets), one for boys and one for girls. There was one teacher
for 8 grades, and all students were in one room. If we had to go to the
toilet we would have to get permission to leave the room. We did this by
raising our arm to try to get the teacher's attention. Sometimes she would
grant us permission, at other times she wouldn't. I'm sure she realized
that some of the boys and girls (mostly boys) just wanted to go outside
for awhile, and not for the real reason. One time I raised my arm for
permission, but she paid no attention. Finally I asked to leave the room.
She said, "No, you may not." I wouldn't think of disobeying the teacher,
so you know what happened. So did the teacher when she began to smell the
odor. She sent me home. Mother put me in a washtub by the kitchen fire,
cleaned me up, and sent me back to school. After that, the teacher paid
attention to my lifted arm.
One time the teacher caught me tossing a note to another pupil. She
came to me and hit my hand over the knuckles with a ruler several times
until the skin broke and started to bleed. When Mrs. Holly, our neighbor,
saw my hand, she thought it was terrible of the teacher to do that. My
parents said, "Rose must have deserved it." Maybe the teacher didn't mean
to hit that hard.
Another time my sweet tooth got me into trouble. It wasn't allowed
to eat or chew anything during school hours. I had some hard candies in my
desk hat I just couldn't resist, so I put one in my mouth. All of a sudden
it slipped part way down my throat, and wouldn't go down or come up. I
started choking. I was more frightened of the teacher than choking, so I
hid my head below the desk, muffled my mouth with a handkerchief, and
hoped she wouldn't hear me choking. Finally it came up. That taught me a
lesson: Obey the rules.
ALWAYS OBEY YOUR MOTHER !
When I was just a little girl, 2 ½ or 3 years old, I'd follow my
mother about like a puppy dog. At the time women wore skirts down to their
ankles. One day Mother was going down to the basement and I after her. She
told me not to come down but I disobeyed and followed her. As she went
down the stairs her long skirts were on the stairs above her. I stepped
on them and she, not knowing I was behind her, kept going. Her skirts
pulled me off balance and down I went, head first between the wall and the
stairs. I got a big bump on my head which I can still feel. That's what
happens when you disobey your mother!
CRABBING
My Father used to serve crabs in the saloon, and when he went to
catch them in the river I often went along to help. We went in a row boat,
with lots of nets all baited with liver ready to be put into the water.
Father would row some distance, the say, "Put in a net." I'd drop one over
the side and watch the floater come to the surface. The floater was to
mark the spot where we put the net, and also was used to pull the net with.
Up the river we rowed, and ever so often he'd say, "Drop another net."
After we had all the nets down, he'd row back to the first one. I'd pull
it up full of crabs, empty them into a tub, and reset the trap. Sometimes
the nets were so heavy that I had a hard time pulling them up. There were
times that I couldn't pull the net up, so father had to help. Instead of
crabs there was a huge turtle in the net. We always put it back in the
river, after we were through crabbing.
WATCHING THE COWS
One of my tasks was to pasture the cows. That means the cows were
in an unfenced area and had to be watched so they didn't wander off or get
into the corn field. I loved to read, so I'd take a book with me and read
while watching the cows. At times I'd forget to look up. When I finally
did look to see where the cows were, well, you know they were enjoying the
corn! I had to run and get them out quickly before father would see them.
He might not let me take a book again.
Another one of my job was to get the cows in the late afternoon
and bring them to the barn for milking. Sometimes they were in the woods
and I had to walk down a long lane and open a gate for them. Along the
lane I'd look in hollow fence posts and usually find a blue bird's nest.
I'd stay by the gate and call, "Come boss, come boss, Daisy, Bessie, come!"
(I don't remember all their names; we usually had five.) Soon they would
come as they were anxious to get milked. They would go right into the barn,
each one to her own stanchion or stall.
One time when I went to get them I called as usual, and all came
except for Daisy. I kept calling her but she wouldn't come. Being just a
little girl, I was a bit frightened of going into the woods alone to look
for her. So I followed the other cows to the barn, and then told Mother
that Daisy wouldn't come. Mother, of course, realized why, so she went to
look for Daisy and I went along. We finally found her in a thicket, and by
her side was her new baby! Daisy wasn't about to leave her baby in the
woods, and that's she didn't come when called. Mother picked up the baby
calf and carried it home, with Daisy following behind.
THE BUTCHER SHOP
One day I was sent to the butcher shop with a note of what my mother
wanted. Harvey Lieterman, the son of the blacksmith, came with me. He was
a bit older than I. We went in the shop. No one was around so I put the
note on the counter and picked up a large butcher knife. Harvey knew I
shouldn't do that, so he pulled it out of my hand, consequently cutting my
finger very badly. I must have screamed very loudly, as my brother Ed came
running over, tossed me over his shoulder and took me home.. Mother
doctored my finger. I still have the scar.
ALWAYS ASK FIRST
One time Lidmilla, the butcher's daughter. And I had to go for milk
to the Schimmel farm down the road. Lidmilla's father didn't own any cows
so he had to purchase all his milk. Instead of going along the road we
went across he field and through the orchard. There were such lovely
apples on the ground and we decided to take some. But where to put them so
Schimmels wouldn't know that we took them? We had no pockets in our
dresses so we put them in our underpants. We went into the kitchen for the
milk, and as we stood there Lidmilla's apples started to fall out and roll
across the floor. Mine stayed put as I had on bloomers and they couldn't
fall out. Well, I can tell you that I was as embarrassed as my friend and
we felt very guilty, since we took them without asking. I'm sure if we had
asked Mrs. Schimmel she would have given us all we wanted. I never took
anything without asking first, after that experience.
FREE LUNCH!
At the end of the bar, in the saloon, was a free lunch counter. It
had cheeses, crackers, hard boiled eggs, pretzels, sardines, herring, etc.
(imagine a free lunch with a 5 cent glass of beer!) Instead of an open
table, it had a hinged cover over it to keep the flies off. You lifted the
cover and helped yourself. One person in particular, I believe it was Edwin
Klabunde, liked to hoist himself up onto the corner of the lunch counter
and sit there, and nobody was able to get to the food. Father kept telling
him to keep off. Finally my father got rather exasperated and decided to
"fix him." So he fixed a heavy pin to fit in the crack in the cover, and
had a string attached in some way so that if a person sat on the counter
Father could pull the string, and you can imagine where that pin went! The
next time Klabunde sat on the counter, Father pulled the string. There was
a great "Yowwww!", and Bundy (as he was called) jumped off in a hurry. He
never sat there again!
RIVER MONSTER!
This is a story I used to hear: Three ladies were enjoying themselves
rowing up the river. One looked back and started to scream. A monster was
swimming after them, with a huge head and mouth wide open with lots of
sharp teeth! All three ladies started to scream. My Uncle George, on the
shore, heard the screams and jumped in a boat and went after them. Then
he saw what made them scream. A huge muskellunge was following them. It
was blind and practically a skeleton. Being blind it couldn't find food by
seeing, so it had to follow noises hoping it could get something in it's
mouth. It heard the splash of the oars and so it followed the boat in
hopes it would get some food. I'm sure he was a sight to frighten anyone!
Uncle George hit it over the head with his oar, to put it out of its
misery. The fish was slowly but surely starving to death. He brought it to
the saloon and put it along the inner edge of a round table my dad had.
The tail and head met. I would say the table measured approximately 40
inches in diameter, so you can see how huge this fish must of been!
A JOKE MT FATHER PLAYED
The Lietermans sold the Blacksmith Shop to Louis Jansky, so I never
did see Harvey again. The building was two stories high. The ground floor
was the shop and the upper floor was the living quarters. I used to
babysit for the children, Chester and Charlie.
Louis was very fond of Wyandott chickens he was raising. He kept them
in a large fenced-in area of his back yard. One day he discovered something
was molesting his chickens and that some of them were missing. My father
decided to play a joke on him. On a very cold, moonlit night he took his
old stuffed owl, went to the chicken pen, and fastened the owl on a fence
post. Then he silently went home and called Louis on the phone (he got him
out of bed) and said,"I happened to look out the window and saw something
flying around your chicken pen." Louis looked out the window and said,
"Yes, I see something sitting on a post. I've got to go down to the shop
and get my shotgun." He was so excited he didn't stop to put on a coat nor
shoes, but went down in his pajamas and bare feet. He tiptoed down to the
shop, got his gun----"Bang!"----"Bang!"----"Bang!" After the third shot he
thought it strange that the owl didn't fly away. Then I think he began to
swear under his breath, "That Yackie, I'll get even with him!"
LOUIS JANSKY'S REVENGE
Late one autumn, my father, Louis Jansky, and another neighbor,
George went rabbit hunting at Coleman, Wis. They stayed a few days at a
cottage and would hunt, play cards, and drink beer—just having a good time.
Their last day there they decided to go hunting one more time. Somehow or
other my father got separated from the other two; or possibly Louis
planned it that way! The forest was very thick so visibility wasn't good.
My father called, "where are you?" Louis heard him, so told George, "This
is a good time to get even with Yackie. You go in one direction, I'll go
in the other. When he calls, I'll answer him and go in a different
direction. The next time he calls you answer and move on." So Louis yelled,
"We're over here!' and moved on. Father went in the direction of the voice
and again called, "Where are you?" This time George answered, "Over here!"
So father went in that direction. That kept up for some time, Dad calling,
"Where are you?" and the answers, "Over here!" I guess Dad was beginning
to think he was really lost and was practically worn out going this way
and that. Finally it dawned on him what Louis was doing. When they all got
back to the cottage they had a good laugh about it.
GRANDPA JACHIMSTAL'S PRANKS
Years ago farmers would form a thrashing crew. I don't remember
whether one farmer owned the thrashing machine or if it was jointly owned
by a number of farmers. Anyway, come fall the crew would go from farmer to
farmer and thrash their grain. Sometimes it would take several days, so
the men would stay overnight and sleep in the barn. One night my Grandpa
(who was on the crew) climbed up on the house roof and covered up the
kitchen chimney. In the morning when the lady of the house started the
fire in the stove, all it did was smoke up the kitchen. I often wonder
whether the men were given any breakfast that morning, and if the men were
made to clean up the kitchen. Grandpa never mentioned that.
Another prank: A nearby neighbor of his was very immaculate person;
herself, her house—especially so her house. Also, she had a reputation of
being very curious. Grandpa decided to find out how curious she really was.
So one day he collected lots and lots of flies, put them in a box, and
went to call on her. He held it on his lap all the while. Finally her
curiosity got the best of her and she asked, "What have you got in the box?"
Grandfather replied, "You really want to see?" She answered, "Yes." So he
opened the box and out flew all thr flies. She let out a screech, and it
was some time before she would speak to him again.
GRANDPA PECH'S PRANKS
My Grandpa Pech was a prankster too. Hr used to tell me that on
Halloween night he and his pals would play tricks. Not trick or treat:
just tricks. One time they put a hay wagon on a barn roof. Another time
they unloaded a wagon full of wood that a farmer had ready to take to town
to sell. They took all the wood out of the wagon, tipped the wagon upside
down, and repiled the wood back on the wagon. They also did good "tricks",
especially for elderly people.
THE SPELLING BEE
In country schools (now country schools have practically disappeared)
we used to have picnics, school programs, and once a year a spell down
with schools from surrounding townships. It was held in my father's dance
hall as so many parents and friends attended. I was one of the contestants
(along with several others from our school). Soon all my classmates missed
a word. Finally one boy and I were the last ones left. I was beginning to
feel over confident. I was told to spell "Senate". Without even thinking I
spelled it "cenate". So our schools placed second in the Spelling Bee (as
it was called).
In going through to the other room, I passed a group of parents and
heard one say to our teacher, "Your school placed second." Teacher asked,
"Who was it?' (She must have been out of the room at the time.) When they
told her, "Rose Jachimstal", she said, "Oh, no! Not she!" She didn't
realize I had heard what she said. Well, that remark hurt me more than
missing "Senate". To think that my teacher had so little faith in me. I
guess she expected one of her other students to stay to the last.
DEATH ON THE RIVER
This happened in the winter of 1916. Joe Holly, the miller, had to
keep ice from jamming the dam and damaging it. If the dam broke there
would be no water to run his mill. When the ice started to build up behind
the dam, Joe and several neighbors, my father included, would saw and chop
the ice so it would go down the river. This particular day Joe was sawing
a huge block—standing in the middle and sawing around. My father warned
him not to go too far, or the ice would go down with him on it. Joe
laughed and jumped off. By this time my father was wet and cold, and said
he was going home for dry clothes and coffee, but would return. As Father
was drinking his coffee a neighbor came running. "This time Joe went too
far and went down with the ice!" They ran along the shore of the river to
see if they could get him, but they couldn't see a thing except the
rushing waters. There was nothing they could do; farther down the river
was frozen over. In spring when the ice was thawed my father and Ed Bishop
would go in a row boat day after day dragging the river bottom. Finally
one spring day they found him about 3/4 mile below the dam. He had been
caught under the ice.
A CLOSE CALL !
After Joe Holly drowned, Mrs. Holly's brother, Mr. Sladky, ran the
mill for her. Again, neighbors would help him clear away ice from the dam.
In 1918 Mr. Senbusch was helping. Somehow or other he slipped and went
down into the churning waters. John Peterick was on the shore holding a
pike pole. He saw a hand come out of the water, threw the pike pole where
he had seen the hand, and shouted, " I've got him!" Everyone helped pull,
and sure enough, Senbusch had his hand clenched around the pole. He was
unconscious, and they couldn't loosen his grip until he regained
consciousness. After a time he said, "All I remember was something
slipping past my fingers, so I grabbed it." Now that pike pole could of
pierced his body, but missed . Another miracle!
BESSIE AND THE PENNIES
One day while playing in the barn yard, I happened to see Bessie (our
cow) stretched out on the ground, her tummy practically twice its normal
size. I knew something was wrong, so I dashed to the house and told Father,
"There's something wrong with Bessie, she's laying on the ground and she's
so fat!" Dad was behind the bar at the time. He turned around and reached
into the cash register for a hand full of pennies, then dashed up to the
barn and started pushing them down Bessie's throat. It worked! It must
have been the copper that did it. Bessie had eaten (greedily) of green
forage, which caused gases in her stomach and made her bloat. Father always
said I had saved Bessie's life.
THE SQUIRREL
At one time I had several pet squirrel; not in a cage, but just
running around in the park and living between the walls of the old part of
our house. One squirrel got to be real friendly. I'd open the window and
he'd come on the sill and take peanuts from my hand. I loved him. At the
time my father used to set traps several miles up the river for muskrats
and mink, for the fur. He told me that sometimes a squirrel would get
caught so he'd let it go. I told him, "Next time you get a squirrel in
your trap, bring it home. I'll have it with my other squirrels." On day he
did just that. I took one look at it and began to cry and cry. "That's my
squirrel, I know it is." It had been caught by the leg, so the leg was
pretty well mangled. My father tried to convince me it wasn't my squirrel
since it had been caught several miles from home. I still insisted it was
mine and kept crying. Finally Dad said, "Well, I'll have to let it go." He
did, nd immediately the squirrel ran up the vines and between the walls. I
said, "See that is my squirrel, he knew where to go." They still didn't
believe me. Several days went by and I opened the window and called to the
squirrels, "Come and get it." My squirrel came and took the peanuts from
my hand, and sat and ate them right there. Only now he had just three legs.
Now my parents believed me! He had chewed away the mangled leg but he was
still the boss of the bunch.
PROHIBITION TIMES
The 18th Amendment to the Constitution (the Prohibition Amendment)
came into effect Jan. 16, 1920. That meant there now was a law forbidding
the manufacture or sale of alcoholic drinks. That practically put my
father out of business, as the saloon was his main source of income. When
people couldn't buy alcoholic drinks they would make their own called
"Moonshine", and try to sell it to saloon keepers like my father. I can
honestly say my father never purchased an ounce of "Moon", nor sold a
pennies worth over the bar. He was an honest man. My sister, Amelia, told
me that when prohibition came into effect, father hid all his good liquor.
In the pantry there was an old cupboard. He moved that out of the way,
sawed through the floor, lifted up the piece he had sawed out and put the
liquor in a dry well he knew was there. Then he replaced the piece of
floor and pushed the cupboard back on top. (I hope he didn't forget it
there, as in 1923 he sold the place and moved to Manitowoc.)
Sure, some folks would get intoxicated at dances he held, but they
were folks that carried their bottles in with them. If they got too
obnoxious he would put them out.
25 CENT DINNERS!
So to stay in business during Prohibition, my father sold soda, ice
cream, and near-beer, and then put on chicken and veal or pork dinners on
Sundays, on request. Soon different organizations from Manitowoc and Two
Rivers made reservations: 15, 25, 50 or more people at a time. Mother
baked everything but the bread. She made cakes, pies, rolls, doughnuts,
kolaches, meat, potatoes, vegetables and fruit. It was served family
style at 25 cents per plate. Later it went to 50 cents, and then to 75
cents. That was it! One time we had all the city employees of Manitowoc
(500). We had to put tables in the dance hall, and the neighbors helped
serve and wash dishes. That time we did use paper plates. You can see
that a great deal of time was spent waiting on tables, washing dishes,
peeling potatoes, etc. One certain family, from Manitowoc, came every
Sunday. While they had their dinner I was baby sitting with their baby.
That I loved to do!
IT PAYS TO SPEAK BOHEMIAN
My father used to have poultry raffles, usually a short time before
Thanksgiving Day. He had to drive about the county too purchase geese and
ducks. One time he came to a farm and asked the farmer and his wife if
they were willing to sell some of their poultry. The farmer and his wife
spoke to each other in Bohemian (not knowing that my father spoke it
also). They were saying, "We'll ask so much a piece for them, if he won't
take them for that price we will sell them for less." Naturally my father
heard and understood what was said, and so he held out for the lower
price. After the poultry was paid for and loaded in his wagon, my father
started talking to them in Bohemian. They looked at him, then said, "You
Son-of-a-Gun!"
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