Interview with Hedwiga Masseth Schneider
Occasional comments by Francis Masseth (FM)
Conducted by Brother Placid Gross (PG)
7 October 1997, Bismarck, North Dakota
Transcription by Ann Grausam
Editing and proofreading by Jane D. Trygg
HS: Adam, Katie, Joe, Lizzy, Anthony, Barbara, Michael, Jennifer, Hedwiga, Francis, and then was Annie Maria.
PG: Oh, Anna Maria was the last one.
PG: Do you remember anything what your parents talked about from Russia? Did they ever talk about Russia?
HS: Yes. My dad was in the Russian Army. Before he got married he was in the Russian Army for five years. The Russians were pretty tough in the Army. My dad was in a company; in Russia they call it the company you know. That's one thing I remember about my Father and what he told me about Russia. His officer said, "Mike, you take the horses down.” They had a little stream like Apple Creek or something like we have here. “And you wash them horses,” said the officer. So my dad took the team of horses down to the stream. He said the horses were starting to eat grass and he said there were big rocks laying there. He sat on the rock. He said, “If I wash these horses, they'll push me around. I'm not going to wash them.” He sat there, and sat there, and nothing happened, you know. Pretty soon his officer came down and he said, “Mike, why aren't you washing them horses?” And Mike, my dad, said, “I'm not gonna wash them horses.” “You know what? I could shoot you right here,” the officer says. “I don't care. I'm not gonna wash them horses,” my dad said. Well the officer stood from one foot to the other and was thinking a little bit. He had a little book in his pocket he took the book out and he says, “Are you pretty good in figures?” And then he gave him a few figures and my dad knew all that stuff, see. So he says, “I'll tell you.” He said, “I'll give you a different job. You are very good in figures. You are going to get on the wagon, where you deliver food to different places. Don't ever say anything,” he said, “because I'll be in hot water.” So my dad said, “My mouth is sealed. I'll take it.” So that was the end of washing horses for him. That is one thing I remember.
PG: Was he scared the horses were going to push him around and drown him?
HS: No, the Russians were pushing him around by making him wash horses. He didn't want to wash them horses. He told us if he did all the dirty work that he didn't want to do, he'll be doing that all his life. My dad was an assessor for twenty-two years at Napoleon.
PG: He assessed people; he did taxes. Do you, how long was he in the Russian Army?
HS: For five years.
PG: Do you know what he did in the Army? What kind of work did he do?
HS: That's what he did then. He was a delivery man of groceries, and would do bookwork, you know, because he was very good in figures.
PG: I was wondering if he was riding horse.
HS: No, just when he first got in there that they tried they to push him around, and make him wash the horses.
PG: But after he got out of the army he got married?
HS: Yes, after he got out of the army, he got married. You know years ago, they used to bring somebody to the house. They weren't sweethearts or people didn't sleep together before they got married. Somebody knew him. It was my Uncle. And when my dad got home, he knew he liked him and he said, "I got a good wife for you." So my mother, she worked for somebody out there. While my grandmother had a work shed, you know she made wild juice, 50 gallons and kept it in the root cellars outside, see. Ma worked hard. Then they hauled some stuff, and the horses ran away. And ma fell off the wagon she broke her arm and broke both legs. So she was behind a little bit because it took a long time for that to heal, you know. Two broken legs and one broken arm at one time! She was on crutches.
Well, it was just about the time that she was getting better when my dad got home from the army to get married. He was 25 years old when he got married. They brought him to the house. And when they brought him to the house the oldest girl had a chance to get married first to this guy. That's what his intention was anyhow, but my mother had a sister too. So my uncle brought my dad over to the house and then he said, "Well, so you want to get married?" Well, my ma thought she wasn't well enough because she had these broken legs and arm. And she sort of thought it over. But my dad was a good looking man; he was a strong person and healthy person. And then my mother's sister said, "If you don't take him, I'll take him." Then my mom says, "Well, what the hell, why shouldn't I take him. He wants me." So she took him.
And then the first year when they were married my mom got scarlet fever. That was going around, years ago it was bad. They had mom dressed already and laid down, you know. The neighbors came around, yah know. My dad couldn't believe that she was dead. He said, "Nope, she's not dead." So they sat around and said a rosary. My dad took a mirror and put it on her face, like that. And they were sitting and waiting. He went over there and took that mirror off and said, "She's not dead." And she wasn't. They were going to bury her. They already started making her clothes to bury her in. She had a shirt made for her to be buried in. Mom's brother who had gotten married a year before and he got sick and died. So she always said, "He got to wear the shirt that they made for me." So these are the things I remember that my parents told me.
PG: But she got completely over her scarlet fever?
HS: Yes, she got over that. They were married in, 1894. Then Adam was born in 1896. My mom was sick, so it took a little time for her to get her strength back. And you know what? My mom had a baby in 1896, and 1897, and 1898, and 1899. She had a baby every year. They were matched; she was working, but they were healthy people. So that was Lizzy who was born in 1899. And I was born in 1909. I was ten years younger than her and Lizzy's daughter, Jenny Schneider that married Mike, she was born in 1919. She was ten years younger than me. But she only got to be 36 years old, my sister [Lizzy]. And then she got sick. She had nine children. And her youngest one wasn't even two years old when she died. He didn't even know that his mama died. "My mom is sleeping," he said.
PG: And what did she die from?
HS: She died from blood poisoning. She was a midwife. She brought over 100 babies into the world. My mother was a midwife too. One time Mrs. Feist had a baby, Regina was the mother, and it weighed seventeen pounds. My mother was its midwife. That was a big baby. It just jumped out and started walking around the house!
My ma was a good lady, a very, very good lady. I remember one
time we had a poor family that lived about a mile and a half
from us. They lived at the place where your brother lives. They
used to get milk from us. And they had six children. One time
this lady came down and my mom said she was so poor. Ma went
in, we lived in a new house already and she took a sheet and
laid it on the floor she gave them some of our clothes. She
took some of my clothes and she gave it to them, because they
had girls that were my size, you know. And I didn't want to
give my dresses up; yet because I liked them. I didn't want
to give some of my clothes up. But she took a bunch of stuff,
just a whole bunch of stuff and gave it to that lady. Mom had
a heart of gold.
She always remembered the people who were beggars, like the lady in church. She would just sit there and nobody would talk to her, but my mom would go over there and talk to her. “How are you today?” She felt sorry for her.
When ma died, she had that money we used to give to the church. Then I had to go over to the church, every month and pay at the Masses. I said, "I want to pay it for the year." Monsignor Fiean said, "No, you come in every month and pay for it." So for five years I had a Mass every month for dad. So I took the money over to the priest. And then when my mom died she said, "You do the same thing for me as you did for dad. You have a Mass." So when it comes towards the last year, I went over to Father Fiean one day and I said, "I came over and want to pay you for the Mass again." "Why don't I pay it for a year?" he said. I said, "1 have to come over every month and pay you for the Mass." Then he looked at me with a smile, he was all smiles. He said, "Your mom doesn't need Masses any more. She's a saint." "Well," I said, "if she doesn't need them, I hope all the poor souls get some that usually never get any."
I was in the Alter Society for twenty-two years. I was the treasurer over there. I had to go there every month. We had masses for our soldiers, for our Alter Society ladies and for our sick people in the parish. So I had to write a check and take it over there every month, for twenty-two years when I was treasurer. When my husband got so sick had to give it up because he needed the care, I took care of him.
PG: Was your mother a midwife in Russia?
HS: No, no. Just in America. She was out here around the farm, because there were no doctors around.
PG: Did they come and get her when somebody had a baby?
HS: Yes. My mom also used to dress people (when they died). My Uncle, Matt Moser, in Strasburg made coffins. And his wife, my mother's sister, lined them all with silk. They didn't have any children, so they made their living this way. And they had a house they put the coffins up in the attic, you know. There was a stairway to go up, so when somebody died you picked out their coffin. For the older people, they had black cloth with the white lining. And then for the babies or single people they had a dark blue cloth to line. The coffins were nice. They made these coffins for many people in Strasburg. He made a coffin one time...
PG: Now who made the coffins?
HS: My Uncle Matt Moser made the coffins. He died of cancer up here somewhere. We went down there to see him once and we took my folks along. His wife, she was always canning. She had a garden and made jelly. She made everything. She made whiskey, you know, the old whiskey. The neighbor women used to come in to have a little shot after church. They would have coffee there too. And my aunt said to me, "Hedwiga, go down and get some jelly. You know, go down the steps and go around and there's a ledge where there is some jelly." And they also had lights, you know, just little tiny bulbs with a string. I pulled the string and, oh! There was a coffin in there! They had it in there because it would dry out too much in the attic. Uncle Moser made her a coffin, so she had the coffin when she died. And she had it sitting in the extra room because the shelves in there. I got scared when I came in there and there was this coffin I didn't notice it at first.
So many things like that you just can't forget. I know a lady that lived by her one time. They had their wedding, their golden wedding. She was a really plain person, Bescedria, my ma’s sister. All of my mother's sisters, they liked white clothes with little flowers or something plain on it. They always closed up to here with buttons all the way down the front. They are all dressed decent. You would never see them walking around with their bare arms and stuff. They didn't do that. I tell you, they were just Christly people. You know, they should be. Years ago, I used to go to church, and the ladies would come in and they didn't have any sleeves. So the priest wouldn't give them Holy Communion. That's true. I remember that.
PG: They had to have long sleeves?
HS: They had to have sleeves down to the elbow at least. That was years ago. Just about all the churches were like that years ago.
PG: What church was it? Here in Bismarck?
HS: Years ago, all churches were like that.
PG: Oh, I see.
HS: You had to wear shawls too. I tell you1 I was so mad the other day. Somebody went up there, they had shorts on up to here, and they tried to pass Holy Communion out. It's not nice. They should be a little more decent, you know.
PG: What about midwives? Can you tell me anything more about being a midwife? Did anybody die when your mother was a midwife?
HS: Yes, her sister died. She was married to Andrew Warner, your uncle. He's dead now, but his first wife was my mother's sister. Her name was Agatha. They had six children, and three of them died from diphtheria, and there were three of them that lived. They were Joe, Andrew, and Megan. They are all dead now too, they are old already. They got past their nineties; they got pretty old. And then when she had this baby, and then she died.
PG: Did she die right at childbirth?
HS: At childbirth, they laid the baby in the coffin with her when they buried her. And she's buried out there at St. Anthony's Church. She was the first person that was buried out there. They never used to have a church there. They had it at St. John's which is close to Wishek. We passed there once; we took your folks along and went down to Ackman. Father Lowinger lives down there. We called your folks up to see if they would come down and then we all went down. And then we passed St. John's Church, but it wasn't open anymore. There was a cemetery there, I remember that. The church was still sitting there, but they didn't have church (mass) in it anymore. Then Adolf said, "We used to come down to this church before St. Anthony's Church started."
PG: Is there anything else you want to share about how many babies your mother delivered? Did your mother make any medicine or anything?
HS: Oh, my gosh, she had quite a few. My sister Lizzy delivered over one-hundred. But mom did quite a few too. I would say, just sort of guessing, about fifty maybe.
PG: Did your mother have any medicine for them?
HS: No, they didn't have no medicine.
PG: Chaomilee , Camilla tea.
HS: When Lizzy had her babies, my mother came down. When Katie had a baby she came down. When my dad's sister had a baby, mom brought him down to the house. When the children were sick with the flu, she brought them in the house and took care of them. Us kids never knew why we didn't get the flu. We took care of everybody's kids, the Fedishs and all the Schroeders. The boys went out there too. Do you know why we didn’t get the flu? My dad made us eat garlic. My mom had a garlic grater, you know. They would hang it up and it was garlic like that. You had to eat that garlic; we didn't mind it so much. Barbara ate it. Jenny, my sister that's older than me, she hated garlic. "You have to eat that garlic," dad said. So she would take a piece of bread and she would wrap the garlic and put it in her mouth, and she'd...! She had to eat it too!
PG: Did you smell from the garlic?
HS: Oh, you stink like hell. We had to open the windows sometimes to breathe.
PG: When you went to school with the garlic smell, did the other kids smell it?
HS: Oh, sure they did.
PG: Did everybody eat garlic?
HS: The Wanners and the Richters ate a lot of garlic. Years
ago, you know, the garlic was good for you. The Richters used
to say only three families that went to school were the Wanners,
the Richters, and the Masseths. Later on the Fedishs started.
There was John Richter out here, and his son had a priest, Fr.
William. That old man Richter, his mother was my godmother,
her name was Johanna.
I was supposed to be named Johanna. And when my dad went over there to get me baptized, I had Scholtzes who lived a mile from us. Then dad said, "Well, we'll just go through Richters. We'll just pick up Mrs. Richter." Her name was Johanna Richter. And she took my mother for a Godmother for her children too. She had a daughter who was just a little older than me, Jennifer. Her birthday was in June. She is out in Seattle, Washington. She is still alive. My mother's brothers called her Johanna after the Godmother, her mother. Then when we got over to the priest the priest said, "I'm gonna call the baby what I want. You had all these kids. My mother's name as Hedwiga, and I am Hedwiga Johanna." "That's not what I had wanted," my mother said. "And the Godmother, Johanna, doesn't like it." Oh, Johanna didn't mind it too bad. So mom took it. Then they couldn't remember my name so they called me Baby, Baby. Then pretty soon Easter came around. My Godmother, Johanna, sent me a little box. I still remember that little box, it was velvet. She had Easter eggs in there, and she had my name spelled out on it, "Hedwiga Johanna". Mom just felt bad about it.
Mom was a smart lady. She prayed good, she could read good too. My mom could read very good German, but not English.
PG: Was that Mrs. Richter any relative of yours?
HS: No, just good neighbors you know. They had quite a few children too. I think they had eleven or twelve.
PG: Do you remember anything else that your parents said about Russia?
HS: My dad could talk Russian real good. And he used to invite
Mr. Richter, Mr. Warner, and Mr. Brown over. They would play
cards in our house. That house had two rooms, with a dining
room and a front room and a door. They all sat at the table
in the dining room. So my dad would say, "Today, my friends
are going to come over and play cards." But they closed
the door; I don't know why they closed the door. They always
closed the door, and then they talked Russian. I guess they
wanted to keep their Russian language, see. So these guys were
in there talking Russian.
PG: Did they get homesick for Russia?
HS: Oh, I suppose they did. You know, a little bit I think they did, because they would sing Russian sometimes.
My dad, when he was younger, he thought Catechism and stuff. Because he could read good. He thought a little Catechism and German. That's where they learned the German too, because they were all Germans. Alsace-Lorraine, that's where my grandpa comes from.
PG: Alsace-Lorraine. They went from Alsace-Lorraine, that was German. Then they went to Russia and then lived in Russia a long time, then came over here.
HS: When the Russians got bad, a lot of people came over here. You know my dad still had a sister over there, Cathertine. She married a Holzer. And he had sore eyes. They wouldn't let anybody come over there unless they were in perfect shape you know. When they would let people out of Russia; he had sore eyes, so he couldn't come over to America when my folks came over. So she was left behind.
PG: She never came over here then?
HS: They never came over. Later on her husband died she had two boys, Mike and Joe, and three girls. My folks used to write to her. And she was so poor, I remember that. In the end of the books sometimes there's an empty page, she made an envelope with that and wrote with that kind of paper. They didn't have any paper. They made their own envelopes. And then she wrote to us. Then my ma went around and she collected some money from some people. Years ago a dollar meant a lot. Oh my God, she had $21.00 or something like that people gave. Then she had some yard goods and thread and stuff she filled a sack like that. She put the address on and shipped it over. That was when the Russians were really bad, oh they were really bad. And then she wrote us an said that we shouldn't send anything over. The Russians just stick a knife in and open the bag and take out the good stuff. The thread and stuff that they want to use they take. What they don't need they give it to the people that it was sent to. So they had tough time. Then she said one of the girls went out one night with her boyfriend, she got shot through the head. They found her by the sea, the Black Sea. That was one of the girls that we knew was dead.
PG: Okay, was the girl that got shot a relative?
HS: Yes, it was my cousin. My dad's sister, her name was Catherine. She married a Holzer. It was one of her daughters. It was Catherine's daughter. And then we got another letter from her that said her oldest son starved to death. They starved over the e then. They dug roots and made soup and stuff. They were really poor. There were a lot of them dead. Her oldest son got married; he was the only one that we knew of that got married. His name was Michael; I guess she called him after my dad. And she said they found him on the street, and he had the hand of his coat and was chewing on lit. You know hunger can do a lot to you. I know thirst can do a lot, but hunger is worse.
PG: So, he was so hungry; he was eating his coat.
HS: Starving, he was eating his coat. It must be just terrible for a mother to see that stuff, you know. And then pretty soon we didn't hear anything anymore. I don't know if the kids couldn't write, or what happened, but we didn't hear anything anymore.
PG: Do you know about what year it was when they starved like
HS: We still lived out of town on the farm. That must have been in...
PG: Was it 1921?
HS: Oh, in there 1917- 1921 or so. During those years was when it was really tough.
PG: That was your dad's sister Catherine. Did your dad have more sisters?
HS: He had a half-sister, Carol Bride. She lived in Aberdeen, South Dakota. Mary Phiser. See my grandma got married again and she married a Schneider. And then they had this Mary. She was Mary's godmother and George's godmother. They were very good friends of to our folks.
PG: Of your dad's brothers and sisters, how many stayed in Russia?
HS: Just one sister, Catherine. She married the Holzer.
PG: Do you know what happened to them after that?
HS: Well he died, and she must have died too, because we didn't
hear anything. I might still have some cousins there, just one
boy. His name would be Joe and the girls' names I'm not quite
sure. I think one of the girl's names was Barbara, but I'm not
quite sure. I know that one girl got shot through the head,
and there would be just three of them left, if there is anybody
PG: How many of your mother's brothers and sisters stayed over in Russia?
HS: None. Not on my mothers side. They all came over here.
My grandfathers are both buried in Russia. Joe Frederich and
Joe Masseth. They died quite young.
PG: Are the grandmas buried over there?
HS: No, the grandmas are buried here. Grandma Frederich is buried in Strasburg. Barbara Frederich, no Barbara Baudegan was her name. They should go back to the first marriage when they get buried. They shouldn't stay with the second marriage. It's too much of a makeup.
PG: So the widows came over here.
HS: The widows came over here.
PG: Were they old ladies when they came over here?
HS: Well, my dad's father [my grandfather] was only forty-eight when he died. So my dad was only thirteen years old when his father died. So he had to work for other people.
PG: What kind of work did he have to do?
HS: Well on the farm mostly. They did farmer work when they were teenagers, you know, growing up, he was thirteen.
PG: Okay, now the next question. Can you still talk German?
HS: Me? Can I ever. I can even sing German.
PG: Can you sing for us?
HS: [German singing 471 -475] We used to sing I German. My mother was a singer, she just loved German.
PG: Well, sing it again.
HS: Maybe I should sing something else. I remember something grandma told me. I have to sing that. Just give me a little time. She said, there was a young girl and she was blind. That's what I remember. She lived very far from our place. And the evening, this beautiful evening, they had weather something like North Dakota, you know, in Russia. That's why they settled here when they came over. They settled in South Dakota first. This one little blind girl, she came out there. She was so pretty. And she stand by the fence and she would sing, [German singing 495- 500]. Ain't that pretty!
My ma could sing so good, you know. She was a good singer. She sang in the old country, she sang in church too. So I sang in church, the same thing I wanted to do when I grew up. I used to go over to church and practice singing. Six miles I had to go over on horseback and practice singing.
PG: This song that you just sang, will you say the words with out singing so we understand it better.
HS: [German dialogue of the song sung above 511-517]
PG: Did your children learn German?
HS: My oldest girl could talk German, because my folks lived with me. I took care of my folks, all the time. I washed and ironed for them for years and years. I did everything for them. The last five years my mom lived, I took care of her. I gave her baths, combed her hair, cut her toenails, cut her fingernails, put her to bed, everyday.
PG: But otherwise your children did not learn any German?
HS: Well, they can understand a little bit, but the boys never cared to learn that much. But Lila, she could talk German.
PG: When you lived in town did you have to talk English, because everyone else talked English? Everybody else talks German?
HS: Yes, but when I found somebody that talked German, I talked
German to them. There was a Russia lady living over here, she
can talk Russian, but she could talk English. Her name was Schmidt.
Whenever I saw that lady I wanted to talk German to her, thought
she was German. But she would shake her head. She was a good
English speaker and could talk Russian, but not German.
PG: When you were little and you lived on the farm, what was some of the work you enjoyed doing?
HS: Oh my God, I did everything.
PG: What did you like to do the most?
PG: Did you like to wash dishes?
HS: That was my job. And my step-brother, Will, my sister, and I milked seventeen cows and had seventeen calves; and we had to teach how to drink. She put her fingers in their mouth, not out of the pail. And we never lost a calf. We had seventeen cows and seventeen calves. My dad says, "Boy that's a good record, that's good." We walked down almost a block to where we milked the cow in the summer time. Then we had to carry the milk back in a ten gallon cream can. That's why my arms are so long. It stretched ‘em! People would say, "What do you have such long arms for?" Well, I stretched them!
Then we milked and separated it, we had to feed the calves. We gave them each a gallon of milk. Each calf got a gallon of milk in the morning and night. And we put the cream in the tank. We had a barrel that we put the cream inside. And the water was running all he time to keep it cold. That's because you couldn't go to town everyday to bring the cream over in the summertime and that's warm. There's a lot of work on the far. Oh my God, feed the chickens and geese. We'd pluck the geese, and we made pillows with the feathers. Then I worked outside. I plowed with my dad. We plowed with horses. I got up in the morning and went out to hitch up my horses and feed them. We went in and ate then we took the team out. We had four horses on the plow and one on the rake, you know. There was five horses I would hitch up.
PG: That was the harrow, the rake. When you worked in the field what did you wear?
HS: I wore overhauls.
PG: Did you have to wear a dress?
HS: No, I wore overhauls. My mom was a good patcher, so I used
to borrow my brother's overhauls. They were all patched up,
but it's okay. They were clean anyhow. Then I helped make hay.
My brother cut the hay and I raked it.
And I liked to go horse back riding, too. Oh, I was a good horse back rider.
PG: Did you ride bareback?
HS: No, I had a saddle. I didn't like to go bareback. I had my saddle.
PG: You had a saddle already! Okay, what work did you not enjoy doing?
HS: Well, I didn't like to milk, for one thing, because the
cows liked to chase the mosquitoes with their tails. Their tails
would get in my eyes all the time. I didn't like to milk. I
had to do it and did it, but I didn't like to do it.
PG: Were you ever punished when you did not do the work?
HS: Never. I always was there when they needed me. I was always with everybody. We carried the water in, carried the slop out. We carried the manure in for the fire, carried the ashes out. All of that was our work when we came home from school.
PG: Did you have dried manure?
HS: Well, you know hey used to make the manure. All the manure was on the path and then they would rive the horses on it and packed it solid got just like coal. Then they got square piece like this, see. Then it had cracks in it when it dried. When they dried we put the on the pile. Then took that stuff that the cows left behind, you know, the wet manure. Then we had to close the holes up. It was like we were cementing or whatever. And then they got real hard and then the snow didn't get in there.
PG: You stacked up the blocks of manure, and smeared the outside with fresh manure, so it wouldn't get wet or so the snow wouldn't get in.
HS: That's right. And then we had to haul the hay into the barn for the cattle and horses you know. You had to pitch it in by hand.
My dad had two stallions that had to be fed all the time. When my dad used to be in the threshing machine, I had to take the stallions out. They were so mean you know. Sometimes when little kids came around the stallion thought he could be the boss. So you had to jerk him to tell him that you’re the boss. Then they would settle down. We had a brown stallion and a black stallion. People used to come and breed their horses there. Dad majored in horses. We had a big fence there and he used to sell horses. People would bring their mares; they would pay a dollar right away and the when the colt came, dad got eleven dollars. We had over one hundred there. It paid off.
PG: Now what about school?
HS: We had the teachers in our house. One year my dad was on the school board we thought nobody would take the teachers. So we had four teachers at once in our house. There were two men and two lady teachers all at one time. The teachers stayed until they found a place for them, see. When they came with the train we had to go get them. They came from Wisconsin, and Crookston, Minnesota, and a number of different places. I just remember one teacher had from Napoleon. That was later, after one of the teachers died. One of the teachers died in our house.
PG: In your house, really?
HS: I will tell you, after I tell you about this. See then there was a district of four. Here was us, here was Schaffers, and two others lived over here. So then my dad had to call and see who picked the teachers. We got the person who picked the teachers to pick one that didn't have to go so far because it was cold in the wintertime. Then one takes that teacher, and one teacher goes over there, and so on. And we always had a teacher for our school. So now this one nice lady, she was from Crookston, Minnesota. It is out of Fargo a little ways, not too far. And she was twenty-one years old, and she was a nice strong lady. Her name was Hilda McCarty.
PG: Hilda McCarty, okay.
HS: She was a very nice little girl. And she got diphtheria. I'll tell you what happened, that was something, real bad. Most of the wintertime was so cold. It was in the first part of February and this girl got so sick. She had a sore throat. My mom brought a bed down to the dining room and set it up there. Ma said, "We would like to call a doctor." We called around then we got a doctor from Wishek. This doctor came out with a buggy, and two horses. There wasn't too much snow out, it was cold. It was just a buggy, not a sled, and he had to work; and we could still drive with the buggy. And he came in and he said, "Oh, that's diphtheria." "I didn't think she had diphtheria," my mom said. And do you know, when my mom gave him tea and he ate it. She said, "You stay overnight." “No, no, no," he said, "I'm going back." And he vaccinated her. He made her sit up in bed like that and I had a lot of pillows behind her. We had good geese, so we had lots of feathers and pillows. And he stuck a needle in her .
[Slight interruption in the dialogue]
HS: Then my mom said, "He shouldn't have done that." Well you know, he stuck that needle in there and she turned black and blue. And my mom was so scared. She says, "Oh he killed, her!" My God that lady was so sick.
Nobody's supposed to come in when you got diphtheria. But my folks didn't want that. Dad said, "No, I'm gonna call the neighbors." Dad called the Fedishs and they came down. And Feists, Ramet Feist came down too. And my folks and Tuni, was the oldest, my brother, he came down. He was upstairs, he came down too. And us kids we didn’t, they didn't want us to be in there. We were upstairs, praying I guess. And then she died. Oh my God, you know we liked her so much, our teacher had died! So what were we gonna do, she was dead. Well, dad called up to Napoleon to her folks up there and he told them. It was cold outside. Well, she had a brother and a sister. And her brother said, "You get her ready and bring her to Napoleon." So dad called around to get the undertaker, they couldn't get anybody; and it was two days already. Well she smelled already from laying there that long. Us kids were scared. We didn't even go through the dining room to go upstairs. We took our beds and threw them down on the porch and took them around, and slept downstairs. We all slept downstairs and we never got diphtheria. But they had our house closed, quarantined. We couldn't go out and nobody could come in.
So from Temvik, down here; we got two undertakers. They came out with a bobsled, and they came sort of late in the afternoon. They worked on her, and then they burned some kind of a stuff like a candle; and it stunk. To this day when I smell it, I could puke. You know, that was supposed to kill the germs. But we never went through that room anymore. We ate downstairs, our kitchen was downstairs anyhow. They were ready to carry her out to the porch or someplace. But you can't carry her outside because the animals would eat her. All in all, it was a good thing the undertakers came. They just wrapped her up, got her ready, put her in the coffin. And they put her in the box. They sealed the box outside with glue torch like what the welders use. They could never open it to see her, after it was sealed.
My dad went to take her to Napoleon, but he couldn't take anybody along because the house was closed. In the winter time, it gets dark at five o'clock already. So the boys hitched up the horses, and they put the coffin in the sled, the undertakers took off and went home. That was quite a ways, you know. It s about eighteen or nineteen miles to Temvik you know. My dad had to go to Napoleon all by himself. And you know how long takes in the winter time to drive? Then when he went through that slough there south from Bonefoots (049). That's so low there, especially when there isn't much snow. And dad was sitting up on the sled. They had those seats with a bench and where the coffin was below him. When he went over the snow bank, there was a bump because the snow had blown. He said the coffin would slide down when he would go up a snow bank the coffin would slide back. It made a hell of a noise, you know. There was somebody in there all along. When he come back he said, "When the coffin used to come down under my feet like that, “he says, "my hair just went up like that!" He was alone you know! He probably got up there about six-thirty or seven o'clock. He probably didn't get into Napoleon until almost ten o'clock.
PG: Well with the horses, that would take a long time.
HS: Sure it did, you can't drive fast with much snow. Then he said, when he went over that grading, it was so dark you couldn't see it. The horses got so scared. Oh my God, they almost tipped in the ditch, you know. He said he had to get off of the seat, and hold the sled up and drive the horses. He couldn't see no more, where the ditch was and where the road was because of the snow. He said he almost went in the ditch, my God. He said he was a nervous wreck by the time he got up there. He got up to the Napoleon depot an her brother was waiting there for her.
PG: Earlier you said they called to Wishek or called to the neighbors. Did you have a telephone?
HS: Yes we had a telephone. We called the neighbors, so the folks were not alone there when our teacher died, but the doctor should have stayed there though.
PG: But you actually had a phone.
HS: Oh yes, a ringing phone. I still remember our ring, two longs and two shorts. That was something else. It was a good thing we had a phone.
PG: Now what was the teacher's name?
HS: Her name was Hilda McCarty. No, she was Norwegian. Her name would be... McCarty would be Irish person. Oh, I can't remember that name. Hilda, but I don't remember the last name. We used to say, we used to scare each other about her. You know when you're kids you're so dumb; they say stuff to scare each other. But that smell I tell you, J just couldn't get it out of my mind.
PG: Did you sometimes have teachers that stayed there all year?
HS: Oh yes. They had seven months of school. We boarded the teachers. Then you know we had to make a fire in school. There was a belly button stove, you know what I talking about, with a door in the front. My brother used to go over there a little earlier he would start the fire. Sometimes he didn't get there early enough and when we got to school we had to start the fire. And the schoolhouse out there, they got pretty cold during the night when the fire was out. We sat around with our books. Sometimes the fire didn't work very good, it smoked, you know, your eyeballs almost fell out by the time you got the fire to steady. But we had pretty good teachers.
PG: Did you have to talk English or were you allowed to talk German in the school?
HS: We just talked English and German, I guess; they weren't too strict with us. Of course the teachers didn't like it because most of them couldn't talk German. But I remember the teachers weren't too tough, but when we got outside talked German. But most the time we talked English, in school. But I went to German school too, two months out of the year, in the summer.
PG: Where did you go for that?
HS: We went to St. Anthony's Church. We drove a team, a donkey and a horse that we had. My sister Francis and I went. I drove the team and we went to school. We had to go early enough, we had to go to mass in the morning and then we drove over there. We had to take some hay along for the horses. Sometimes they ate hay along side of the highway there too, Catechism.
PG: But they also taught you German.
HS: They taught German reading. I could read German, and we had Catechism too. There were one hundred kids going to school at that time. Martin Brown, he was our teacher.
PG: Tell me something about Martin Brown. Was he strict?
HS: He was strict! Boy he was strict! He'd pull some kid's ears, you'd get hit with a ruler, your hand slapped, or you had to hold books up.
PG: He slapped your hands with a ruler.
HS: He was mean.
PG: Was he the only teacher for the little kids and the big kids?
HS: Yes, he was the only teacher for the one-hundred German
kids. He taught Catechism. They had one girl she was adopted.
They didn't have any other children, I guess. Maggie was her
name. He moved to Hague, North Dakota, I guess, near that creek
PG: Do you remember Confirmation?
HS: Yes, I was confirmed by Bishop Werhle (?). I was confirmed in St. Michael's Church, which was built in 1917. Years ago the bishops didn't come around every year. They sometimes came around every three years. So we had to get our Confirmation Godmother and then we could be confirmed. I was older when I was confirmed.
PG: Do you remember anything special about that?
HS: Yes, we had to get our godmothers, you know. I had to take my cousin. I didn't want her, I wanted somebody else. My folks said you better. We had to take them too. She was all right.
PG: Who was your godmother?
HS: Christina Masseth They lived in Miles City, Montana. She died now, but she married a Vetter. She had the boys, one Jacob and one, what was the other one's name? There were two sisters who married two brothers.
PG: Was that your first cousin?
HS: She was my first cousin, Christina and Elizabeth. And do you know Elizabeth is still alive? She lives in Portland, Oregon. Her two sons never married, and they are living with her in the house. They are taking care of her. She is older; she's in her nineties.
PG: Now when St. Michael's Church started, was your dad there helping to start it?
HS: No, we went to St. Anthony's. But somehow or another we got confirmed at St. Michael's. The Bishop came to St. Michael's because there was Confirmation there.
PG: I was wondering if you dad helped start St. Michael's Church.
HS: Well no, Ed and Georgina went to St. Michael's, you know. We went there once in a while, because the Langers were my cousins. So we went over on the holidays a lot of times, you know for Sunday dinner or something.
PG: When somebody died, what did you do?
HS: Around our country there?
HS: My ma dressed people a lot of times.
PG: Did you have the undertaker?
HS: No. They washed them up and put their nice clothes on them. They had a homemade coffin, and laid them in, and buried them.
PG: Did they have the coffin in the house?
HS: Yes .They said the rosary and then when they were ready the next day, they buried them.
PG: Oh, they did not wait very long. When somebody died, the next day they already buried them.
HS: Yes, they got eve thing ready. So my folks, a lot of times, went to these homes and said rosaries. My dad and my mom both lead the rosary, you know. I remember one funeral there was Louis, my brother-in-law’s brother. They had three children. His name was Joe. And he was buried in St. Anthony's. He died so suddenly. I think he had a heart attack. Mrs. Schlocher, you know, Sebastian Schlocher's wife’s that was her sister. They had these three little kids, but she didn't know what to do. So Mrs. Schlocher cleaned her basement out, then she lived downstairs with her three little boys. Then later on she married a Welder.
PG: I remember the Welders. What about lineup? How did you celebrate Christmas when you were little? Did you have the Santa Claus or the Belznickel?
HS: Oh, no. We had Belznickel and Das Christkindel. Then we made something with ribbons, nice ribbons, it was sort of an oval curtain, you know, with the ribbons hanging down. I remember one time we had candlesticks. They put candle on, candlesticks on the tree, and they lit some of the candles.
PG: On the Christmas tree?
HS: Yes. And that one candle wasn't strong enough, and the Christmas tree started on fire. We had it in the front room, and we lived in the new house already. So dad took the can and just threw it through the window, broke the window out. We had to do that because it was burning. Then Belznickel and Das Christkindel came. You know what we used to get for Christmas, sometimes an apple and some cookies. We used to have these little cookies that had frosting on. They had the little hook on there and you could hang them on the Christmas tree. Oh, they were good. And then a few little candies and stuff. My mom would make a little box and we each would get one. And she’d be sneaky and cover it up, and then when the Das Christkindel came, she gave it to Das Christkindl, and he gave it to us. Then they would hit our hands with ruler, with the tape wrench.
PG: Did you get any gifts? You didn't get any toys.
HS: Oh my God, I don't know. I don't remember any. One time we got dolls. I think my mom sent for heads in the Sears Roebuck, and she sewed it on. She made her own dolls. You know, with stuffing.
PG: Your mother made the dolls.
HS: Yes, she stuffed them, and then she sewed that head on there, made a little dress and stuff. Jenny had one, and I had one. I think that's the only toys I ever remembered that we got.
PG: What about Easter? Did you have an Easter Rabbit?
HS: Oh yeah, the Easter Rabbit. We didn't have a rabbit, but we thought the rabbit laid eggs. We used to make ourselves some straw nests out in the garden. We dug little step down, not very deep you know, and put straw in it. And we didn't get any candy. We had some dyed Easter eggs in there, when you wash them, they're nice.
PG: So you thought the Easter rabbit laid the eggs?
HS: Oh, we didn't know. I didn't know what we thought. It's East~nd there's Easter eggs.
PG: How did you color the egg later on? Were you able to buy the egg coloring like we do now?
HS: I watched my sister dye eggs once, Lizzy. We were little
yet. She had lavender and coffee and I don t know if she had
some kind of a paper or what. I don't remember whether they
bought it or whether it was something they just made up. But
it was maybe just two colors or three colors. I don't know.
PG: Was it like our crepe paper?
HS: Maybe, that could be. Yeah, it seemed to me like it was, you put hot water over it or something.
PG: How were the weddings? How about when you got married, where did you get married?
HS: I got married he e in St. Mary's Church.
PG: Oh, here in Bismarck. Did your folks live up here already?
HS: We got married 1929. We got married on a Monday. We had only a week off and you know you couldn't take off more, which was during the hard times. You couldn't buy a wedding dress from here on to the New York. So I just got a straight dress. I bought myself a new dress. It was orchid. Tuni bought himself a suit. I just threw his coat away the other day. I had it hanging out there; it was just going to pieces. It was a blue serge suit, it was a beautiful suit. Tuni always like nice things you know.
PG: You mean from 1929, you still had that same coat hanging there?
HS: Yes, I just threw it away.
PG: What kind of dress did you have? You bought it right?
HS: I had an orchid straight dress. It had that little cape, too. The dress had no sleeves, only ones up to here. It was just like a jacket like, but it’s the same color. And it had lace around the bottom. You know that lace, I took that lace off, and Lynn wanted it, Regina’s daughter. So I gave it to her. She said, “Grandma, I want to frame that.” It was about like that, it was just around the bottom, you know. It was about that high. But it was just like new you know. And she says she’s going to frame that. They think a lot of us, these kids, you know.
PG: Did you have a big celebration?
HS: Oh, no. We couldn’t afford it. You know I still got my first wedding ring here? Tuni paid two dollars for it, this one here. The diamond he gave me, I had to put it in a different mount because I wore it out. That had to put it together so that they were stronger.
PG: Just a little band about 1/16 of an inch, it’s a wedding ring without a stone.
HS: Yes. Then it had little flower designs here. They wore out. He bought me a wrist watch and that. I had enough. When we got married, I couldn’t afford the wedding, but Francis, my sister, stood up for me and Tuni’s best friend. We got married at seven o’clock in the morning. And then the Father had another wedding at eight o’clock. That’s why we had to get married so early. Then we went down to the sweet shop and had breakfast, and then we borrowed my brother’s car, we didn’t have a car. Then we went on vacation. We went down to Kintyre. My sister lived five miles north of Kintyre. We stayed one night over there and then we went to Napoleon to meet Sults, my other sister lived there. We stayed on night over there. And then we went down to Adam’s and we stayed one night over there. Because we never got down there without a car, you know. We didn’t get anyplace. And then my brother Joe had a pool hall in Strasburg. Then we went over there. We stayed two nights over there. By that time it was the 29th; it was church feast, you know in Strasburg.
So we helped them. They made hamburgers and stuff you know. He had that pool hall; he had pop and stuff. He couldn’t sell no beer or liquor or anything like that. So we spent two nights with Regina and Joe, and then we went home. And then on Monday morning we went to work again. So it was just for the week. We couldn't afford more. Because Tuni built that house over here, before we were married he had to make payments you know, on it. They were large. $25.00 a month and then you had it for so many months. Originally the house next door was our house. We lived there twenty-six years. And mom and dad lived in the basement. And then we built this one.
PG: So you had a one-week honeymoon.
HS: One-week honeymoon.
PG: And you went from here, from Bismarck to Kintyre to Strasburg.
HS: Yes, and on Monday morning we went back to work again. You know, years ago, people didn't get up in the morning and say, "What am I going to wear today, because you only had two dresses: one for one week, and one for the next. And one Sunday dress. Nowadays you get up and don't know what to wear. Oh, what am I going to wear today, I got too many clothes.
PG: What about superstitions. Did your parents have any superstitions? Did they believe in stuff that wasn't true?
HS: Well yes, I tell ya one thing funny that happened once when my grandma on my dad's side died. She is buried south from Mott, North Dakota. About twenty-five miles away, there was country church there once. The sons lived there. That's no more a church there, but they built a fence around the cemetery, the cemetery where my grandma's buried down there. Well anyhow, we were eating supper, and we had a phonograph setting crossways. And my dad always dad holy pictures and stuff. He had a room at home that he had all the rosaries, books, prayer books and stuff in. And he had sacred heart pictures big like that. People come and they'd bow at this. So we had it hanging crossways over in the corner there. Phonograph was setting over there too. We were eating supper, and all at once that picture, Poff!
PG: The picture fell off the wall.
HS: It fell off the wall. We all jumped up when it fell. The
phonograph box was open, see, and that made a heck of a noise.
My dad said, "Oh something happened, you know."
And sure enough, it didn't take so long the next morning, and he found his mom died. There was a lot of snow that winter. He wanted to go to the funeral, so he got ready and left that morning, and went to Napoleon. He had a brother living up there and he left his team set there. His brother lived about two miles out of town, and he took the Soo Line down to Mott to the funeral. And do you know, they came1ate. They just came home from the funeral when the Soo Line came out. So he was too late for the funeral. But I was at their house at one time. When we were little, my dad had a car, in 1913. 1913 Ford.
PG: You had a car already in 1913.
HS: Yes. Do you know what kind of lights they had? On the side there were little kerosene lanterns. We hardly drove at night, you know, but gee, they were there in case you had to. So we drove to Mott, and the first day we drove to Mobridge, South Dakota. And we had to go over with the ferry. And it was raining that day. There's just room on the ferry for three cars, or two cars and a buggy were on there. So when we went down to drive down to the ferry. It was so muddy, you know, right by the river's always so muddy. So dad said, "No, we all have to get out of the car because that might go in the river. So we got off the car. He took us down, and he was standing in the line, it was just Francis and me and Annie was a baby and ma. Then we drove the car to the ferry and there was a team this way and two cars this way. And we were standing over here. We got over the Missouri River. Then we got off at the other side. We got stuck in that mud again you know, but we got up there somehow.
Then when over there, see, years ago they built a house. The grandpa she married, that Schieffert. And he had two boys living there, they were farmers. And then they built a house for their dad, but they kept them alive, because it was his land. So they farmed their land. They bought what they needed for grandma. So we stayed overnight there. I know we slept on the floor, Francis and I. Old people don't have that much room, they just had a small place. So when we were ready to go home we drove a different route, and we got stuck again in that Ford car. We went over the Cannonball River. It was raining again that day.
PG: You know, like that picture falling off that wall. Did that happen a lot? Did it happen to other people too? Did you hear about it once in a while?
HS: My sister, I had a sister that always knew when somebody died, Katie. She always knew when something happened. Some friends say there are others like that too.
[Break in Dialogue]
PG: How about Brauche, did your mom do Brauche when she was the midwife?
HS: No. I don't think so. But she took me one time, when I had sore eyes. My mom says, [German dialogue 432-433]. Because the priest didn't believe in Brauche, and then my mom hitched the horses up, and they took me back there towards Wishek. There was a Lutheran lady, Rosie. She did Brauche for the people. So I still remember that. The lady, she had two chairs, and she had the pillow down, and she laid me down. She went out in the chicken coop and got a fresh egg. And then she beat the white like you do to make a pie. She whipped it and whipped it. Then she took the white of an egg, and she put that foam in my eyes. See, my eyes were scratchy, they were so red. You know when you are younger you rub them right away, and oh they were really sore. So I had to do that, and they got better. Brauche or whatever she did, I don't know. I don't remember that she touched me too much. But she put that stuff in there. Then my ma was supposed to do it again after we get home until my eyes healed.
PG: What other home remedies did they have? What else did they
do for sicknesses?
HS: Oh, my gosh. I had a sore mouth one time, I remember that. It just wouldn't heal. So
I had to go and wash my mouth out in what the horses and the cows drink out, the tank. That healed it. I had to heal. Then that old lady Dashel, she was just a common lady, and she used to make a salve. It was cool. It was black like tar almost, but it was more on the brown side. I had a sore hand once, and the skin came off. I went to school already, and my mom made me one of them things you put your hand and fingers out [a sling]. And my hand was all red. I could just pull the skin off. And ma took me up there to Mrs. Dashel, she lived in Napoleon. She was a very nice, Christly lady. And she made that salve from different stuff she picked on the field. Different (480-482). And she cooked that salve. And do you know why she healed my hand like that? I had to put it on and it didn't smell too bad. But for the cool, it's just like putting peroxide on or something. Then my mom made it at home. It was just this big red sore and tender. But that salve healed it.
PG: Did you make your own clothes?
HS: You bet we did. My sister sewed. My mom sewed too, but she never had that much time. My sister Barbara sewed clothes. She used to like your dad.
PG: Oh, Barbara liked my dad.
HS: Yes. My sister Barbara, she’s a nice lady. Go and
get that picture once that's sitting in there with all of the
PG: Did you have a sewing machine?
HS: Yeah, we had a sewing machine. We painted our own house, we sewed, and we baked our own bread. Here are my sisters, seven sisters [looking at a picture].
PG: Now how did you fix your hair? Was it homemade or did you go to town to get your hair fixed?
HS: Oh, we sometimes fixed it ourselves, and sometimes we went to town. We had these little bobby pins, you know. Some of them still use them bobby pins that you put little pieces of hair up with. With those bobby pins you could sleep with it in.
Do you know how we used to take our bath? We had a big wash tub. And we took our bath in it, and then we had another big bowl where we washed our hair, and another one to rinse our hair out. Saturday night was the day to fix your hair and put a dishtowel on it. The next morning they were dry.
PG: When you made your clothes, where did you get the material from?
HS: We went to Napoleon, and they had a store there that we bought the goods from. And the bloomers and petticoats sometimes were made out of flour sacks. You know, they had flower sacks years ago, all kinds of flour sacks. We would wash them nice and cut them up. The better ones though, not the one's for everyday. The better ones were sort of lacy. They had lace on there.
My oldest sister got married in black. They wore black clothes when they got married, years ago. And my other sister, she borrowed the dress from somebody that got married. Then my other sister had a blue dress on, a straight dress. And my other sister had a pink dress on. And I had an orchid on. And my youngest sister had a blue dress on. And Francis, I don't remember what she had on. Francis, what color of dress did you have on when you got married?
HS: Oh, pink too.
FM: Real light pink.
PG: Do you remember when you got the first radio?
HS: Oh, golly yes. We were down by Mark Wilke's, down were we lived yah know. They had these earphones. There was Jenny, me, and my brother Mike and Dad said, "We will go up there tonight after supper. Wilke had a radio that you can hear out of." So we went up and he put earphones on our ears. He lived up there where Ole Mannes lives, over a little ways. And we sat down, and we had that box there. So we listened to that.
PG: You only had one earphone so you had to pass it around,
so only one could listen at a little.
HS: Yes. Then in a little while somebody else could hear.
PG: Now when you die, what would you like people to remember you for, a good housewife or a good grandma?
HS: Oh, I'd like to have them remember me as I like people and I like to help people. And I like the weak people too, those that need help.
PG: Very good. That's kind of who you are. You're a caretaker. You took care of parents, you took care of your husband, and you took care of everybody. Everybody comes here, and you take care of them.
HS: And I kept my home, in case my kids come; and they want to stay with me. Or whatever happens out here.
PG: When you were still young, did you get newspapers or farm magazines?
HS: Oh, yes. My mom got the “Strauts Ensire” (596) from Dickinson, they used to print it. I used to pick it up there when my husband worked for the gas company. It was a German paper. My dad was the agent always. It was two dollars a year, and they would get it once a month. And there was all this news in there. That’s how they could communicate with people that came over from Russia. My dad says the best way to remember somebody is when you meet them, remember how many sisters or brothers they have. Put your fingers and say they have five brothers or different, and then you remember it better. He used to write, he had a typewriter.
PG: Your dad has a typewriter?
HS: Yeah, and he would write in to the “Strauts Ensire”
in Dickinson. And people would just wait for that, because he
could read, so and so [German dialogue 616-619]. They knew where
they were living through this paper. It went on like that. This
is something dumb to talk about, but Sebastian's grandmother,
Mrs. Holg, she didn't pay dad for the paper, I don't know why;
she didn't want to send it or what. But dad felt so sorry for
her that he kept on paying her paper of two dollars a year.
Then when Sebastian got married, Tuni and I took them down to
the wedding; we went over there, and then Maggi's mother said,
"Oh, you're," they didn't have a big wedding, "you're
invited too." She said to me, because I brought my folks
down. What were we going to do, you know. We came over to the
house, and so she made a little dinner there, at the house there.
They had a small house. And the old lady was there yet. Then
she made a table here, and I think she put a sheet or something
on there. So she said my folks should go in the back there;
and she says my ma and dad and that lady, Mrs. Holg would sit
back there. They had known Mrs. Holg a long time already. They
had a good time. So she looked at dad, she says, "You know
me [German dialogue 652-655]." Dad never said anything
you know. [German dialogue 656-657]. Dad knew it because he
paid for it. Then she said [German dialogue 660-661]. And she
knew. I remember that was a good thing, because I was sitting
out. She took her handkerchief out, and she opened it she gave
dad twelve dollars. She exactly knew how much she owed him.
[German dialogue 668-669]. My dad felt sorry for her. [German
dialogue 670-673]. And she appreciates it so much. I had to
laugh, that dad said that [German dialogue 675-677]. But that
was something to remember. She knew exactly how much she owed.
That's just little things. But they could be big too. It is
something to think about. That when you owe somebody something,
and you want to pay it, and she lived long enough that she got
to pay it back.
PG: Now I want to ask you about your husband, what's your husband's parents name?
HS: His dad's name was Anton Schnieder too. And his mother's name was Magdelena.
PG: And her last name, do you know her last name?
HS: Her last name was Burckhard.
PG: Did they come to United States?
HS: Yes, they come to United States too.
PG: Where did the Schneiders live?
HS: They lived out where we lived too, in Logan County. Then some of them moved to Devils Lake, and then they moved back again, and then they moved to Canada, and back again, you know, moving around.
PG: Where are your husband's parents buried?
HS: They're buried up at St. Mary's Cemetery.
PG: They're in Bismarck. Did they live up in Bismarck?
HS: Yes, they lived if Bismarck. They had a little house over here on 13th Street, a small house.
PG: Are they related to Schneider Buschon?
HS: Oh, yes. It was my husband's cousins. Schneider Buschon and Schneider Mike. That's two brothers. Mike, he lived in Canada. He had both legs taken off before he died. He was in a basket.
PG: They were first cousins to your husband. So their dad's were brothers.
HS: Yes. Schnider Buschon used to work for Schlossers out there
when they worked around. He was a tough guy. He used to come
down to my brother's to see my brothers. You should know Louis
PG: Sure, I know Louie. He married my sister, but he died.
HS: Oh, we had fun with him. It was a wedding, whose wedding was it there in Napoleon? Oh, that guy from Aberdeen. Schneider Buschon, Schneider Lewy, and Tuni. Oh, did they have a good time. They were drinking. We had our kids with us, the two little ones, Paul and Michael. And I said we're gonna stay over night. Tuni said, "No, no. We're gonna go home." So, oh that's so dumb. The boys want to stay overnight. Nope, we were gonna go home.
End of tape – end of dialogue