Grandma Linenberger's Story

                         Mrs. John ( Lizzie) Linenberger, daughter of Anton Kinderknecht and Catherine (Mies) Kinderknecht.  This is her story, as she can remember her life.

 

                         My Mother was married first to Phillip Koerner and had two girls 3 & 4 years old.  Their names were Mary and Amelia, when she married Anton Kinderknecht in the town of Catherine, Kansas (Ellis County).  Mary was 14 years old when she died of diphtheria.  To the union of Anton and Catherine Kinderknecht were born, Alex, Lizzie, Celestine, Anton, Catherine, Felix, Phillip, and Regina.  My sister Catherine died when she was just one year old, on her birthday.  She was just one year younger than myself.  My brother Phillip died when he was thirteen years old.

                        I remember living on a farm 8 miles from Catherine where we all went in a lumber wagon on Sundays to attend the Catholic Church.  At that time it was customary to get there early for 8 o'clock mass then to 10 o'clock and then 2:30p.m. vespers, all of which were attended the same day.  In the winter we left in the morning when it was still dark, with straw on the bottom of the wagon box, then quilts on that, then the covers.   Also, sometimes we put hot stones and sad irons were heated to take and keep us warm.  Many times we took our naps right in the wagon.  We would come onto town and stay in Dad's vacant house when there were church services during the week.  We would take food and supplies in and that way eliminated going back out to the farm, only to turn around and make the long trip back into town.

                        I remember my step-sister, Amelia, getting married in Catherine to my Dad's brother, his name was Peter Kinderknecht.

                        My Dad and my Uncle Pete came from Russia 12 years apart.  My Dad was the first to come.

                        When I was eight years old the folks moved from Ellis County, 18 miles north of Hays to Buffalo Park, Kansas (Gove County).

                        I and brother Alex went out to Park with neighbors that had come to do their harvesting.  There were three wagons with seed wheat and food on them, and three header barches, some horses loose or being led, and some cows.  I believe my folks had five cows, 8 horses, pigs and some chickens and a dog, also the family.  All but Mother and the three children, Sallie, Tony, and Felix, came on the train to Park from Victoria, Kansas.

                        We had a large farm in Gove County.  One full section of land, which was in pasture one quarter where the house and buildings were on, and one half section was in cultivation.  Dad helped break up the 320 acres of sod with a walking plow and horses.  The first crop on the newly broken sod was corn.  It took them three years to break it all up.  Which gave them free crop except it was a lot of work.  This land was known as the Flenthorp and Carter Ranch, and the people would come in and rent part of the ranch and then they could break up the sod and have the first crop off of it.  On this ranch there were a lot of free range cattle up to the time Dad broke the sod.  There were two very large open sheds about 100 feet long, and about 40 feet wide.  Even after we'd lived there a lot of cattle would come to take shelter in the sheds for protection from the storms.  After Dad had picked his first crop of corn, he put it in those big sheds.

                         At corn picking time we had three or four men from Ellis County at our farm home and also  some neighbors each with a wagon.  They came as early in the morning as they could and stayed in the fields until the wagons got full.  Then they would come to the unloading  place, where I was stationed to give each one food before they went back into the fields.  Some stayed too long and couldn't finish a row to the end before it got dark and they had to then make a mark so they would know where to start the next morning.  We raised a lot of corn off of that field that first year, then when we finished the corn crop, we planted it with top sod.  We alternated from wheat to corn for years after.

                        I remember that the railroad went through the land not far from the house and just by the big pasture.  I know of about five prairie fires set by the sparks of the train.  All of the large fires went north because south had cultivated land and a road to stop the blaze.  Twice the fires started right close to the home building but we had a good fire guard plowed beside the railroad fire guard.  Sometimes the fires burned five or six miles before it could be stopped.  I can't recall that there were many homes in the path of the fire, but there were Barthalmn's, McElroy's, Easten's, Elenthorp's 800 acre grass range, north of us, and my sister's quarter of her home, and ours where the fire started.  All of the train men stopped to help or backed up to Quinter to get help.  My part in it was to hook up teams to the wagon and follow the men with drinking water and sacks, and shovels, and what not to help with the blaze.  My orders were not to come to close to the fire, but be there to bring the men back, and the men were so tired they had to be taken to the wagon to eat and just wait it out.  I remember that one time all the section workers from three towns, Park, Grainfield, and Quinter getting together at the crossing just south of the house, also two freight trains stopping to help put out the fire.  One of then had sent my brother Alex and John Linenberger and other boys on ponies to ride back and forth to take messages or bring help one way or another.

                        One of the large sheds with some of the landlords corn burned in one of those fires, and the other one was torn down and other buildings made up like chicken houses, grain bins and such.  After most of the land was plowed up and crops were planted on it the fires became less and less frequent.

                        My brother Phillip was born on what was known as the Schwart's place, which we bought, and which was a quarter of a mile south of Park.

                        My uncle Peter and my Dad had their brother Matt and family brought over from the old country (Russia).  They wanted my Grandma Kinderknecht to come but she got sick and couldn't, and she died then within that year.  The others came just before Christmas and made their home with us for a year.

                        In 1907, my Dad and family bought and moved to this home south of Park, known then as Buffalo Park.  His land extended to the depot, one half mile and forty acres south.  My brother Anton Jr. still lives on it and did until 1960.

                        In June of 1907 our house on this farm burned down, caused by a lightening bolt.  We all just barely escaped with our lives.  It struck at night so we all had our night clothes on, and being a very warm summer night, very little of that was on.  Since we didn't have too many clothes on we didn't go to the neighbors, but went out into the pasture and got some horses, and hooked them to the wagon, and all but Dad went two and one half miles east to my Uncle Matt's.  When we got to town, 2 men who were on a Dead Wake went out to the house and managed to get our wardrobe out.  It had our Sunday clothes in it and even though some were partially burned and torn, we were very lucky to even get it out.  After the house burned we lived in our barn, which was easily fixed up to live in, because it had five grain bins with a hallway between the manger and bins.  One partition was taken out so it made up one large room.  That left 2  bedrooms and one bin.  A hay loft made a good sleeping space for the boys.  My sister  Celestine (Sallie) was away by my sister Amelia's.  My uncle Joe's boy, cousin Tony Kinderknecht, stayed with us at that time.  We had to cook in our blacksmith shop, which had been made into a kitchen.  Dad had to leave the fireplace and the bellows in one corner of the room, so when the men had to come in and use the blacksmith as a shop, we women had to go out.  Then when it was mealtime the men had to get out so we could use it as a kitchen again.

                        It wasn't long before the folks started building a new house.  It was a large frame house with two large rooms and two bedrooms, pantry and closets downstairs.  The upstairs had four large bedrooms with closets in each room.  I remember I helped haul the lumber from Quinter, seven miles away.  There were no lumber yards in Park, so it was kinda fun but dangerous as we piled the lumber as high as possible on wagons that had the boxes removed, only the reach to hold the wagon together and we put shingles on top of every load, because it would have taken too many trips to haul by themselves.  My Mother had gotten in poor health after the fire so I missed a lot of school.

                        When our house was only under a roof, that is not finished inside, the baby of the family, my sister, Regina was born.  That was on August 31,1910.  It took us all of 1911 to finish the rest of the house, but then bad years struck.  We had drought, dust storms, and so many insects for a few years.  Then Dad let the man go that had been farming his land in Ellis County, and Dad, himself, went back and farmed it.  The farm was about 90 miles away, so Dad and one of my young brothers and myself started out one morning with each one driving one wagon and machinery, one driving a header barch, and the other a top buggy.  We all changed off driving.  We had 7 horses, 3 horses for a single plow and 4 for a bottom plow.  The men did the filed plowing or disking and later drilling wheat.  I took turns working in the field  and it took almost a day to go to town for food or repairs or whatever.  Also, Dad had to go back to Park sometimes on business, then I took over in the field until he got back.

                        I borrowed a setting hen and bought 24 eggs from a neighbor and hatched  and raised 18 chickens to be used for fryers, which we used before we moved back to Park after threshing late in the fall. 

                        I made about 4 trips back to Park, and we left about 5 o'clock on the morning and drove until about 10 o'clock.  Then we took a rest and ate and let the horses graze along the road, where there was a lot of grass.  When the horses got fed and got restless one of us always had to watch them.  when we'd get rested up we'd start off again.  We'd generally go about straight north of Ellis until night.  We'd all, mostly three of us, would try and stay awake by singing and telling stories or even taking walks until as late as possible, then Dad watched the horses, they usually laid down and rested after so long a time.  When the horses got up in the morning, Dad grained them, harnessed them, and woke us kids and we were on our way.  We mostly ate a cold breakfast, and ate whenever we got hungry.  Going east to Ellis County it usually got hot, then going west towards home, it was usually cold, especially after the first of October, then Dad borrowed seed to sow.  Then after the harvest he would take the same amount to market for that person.  We farmed one-half section in Ellis County with about 40 acres in pasture.  Sometimes Dad came back to do the threshing and help the neighbors, as they always helped one another out.  It usually took 6 or 7 men for harvest.  I cooked for them.  It took one to drive the team on the header box, one to load the wheat in the header box, one on the wheat stack, and one to drive the four horses on the header machine.  It took usually two men to unload the wheat at the stack while the box and header went to fill another load.  I helped do all these jobs but drive the header, which was not for women, except in the poor years or for a very short time.  If only one box was used the loader did the pitching or unloading, the header driver stacked and the box driver helped as good as he could, but that didn't go half as fast as the other, as there was too much waiting.  The last year I went along to Ellis County for the summer I was married to John Linenberger and then both my husband and I worked for Dad.  I, as cook and John, my husband, as a harvest hand.  Then John worked on the threshing crew, which lasted until fairly late in the fall.  After the harvest both of us went back on the train to Park.  At Park we rented a four room house.  It was the former Linenberger house in town, but they had sold it when they went to Colorado.

                        John went to work for his old boss, Andrew Goetz at the Park section of seven and one half miles.  Two and a half miles west and five miles east.  John walked the track many times, and he was known very well by the Union Pacific Road master.  When John's boss had to go the the hospital in Denver, John got to act as foreman, until Andy Goetz was able to go out with the men again.  John knew the works as well as the boss but didn't have the education, but with my help he did the work for 3 months only to save the Boss's pay, since they were very good friends, and since Andy would have lost his pay due to illness.

                        Our oldest child, a girl, Frances Helen was born on February 17, 1915, while we were living in the Linenberger house with Doctor Dan Stover attending.  She was born in my folk's house as there was a very bad snow storm and all the Section men were called out of town to the Collyer Curve, two towns East of Park.  The men had to stand by to clear the tracks before every train passed, doing all the work by hand and shovels.  They were gone three days and two nights.  Frances was born the next night after John got back.

                        In the spring of 1915 we moved to a farm 2 1/2 miles East of Park.  We started with 160 acres, 2 horses of our own, and rented one from my Dad for the plowing, one cow, 2 hogs and 17 hens.  We raised 25 chicks by setting hens, as nearly everybody did.  We had a good harvest the first year with mostly all being volunteer wheat, expenses were small and we had good and bad days.

                        During harvest there were always a lot of strangers around to help, and on Sunday and rainy days they hung around in town and got into trouble.

                        My Dad, Anton Kinderknecht, was a man of order in the family and the community, and when the men who came to help with the harvest got restless he and John and many others helped to find things to entertain them to keep them out of trouble.  My Day having the men have foot races, with about twenty or more at a time racing.  The winners of each side raced again the winners of the other side, until it got down to one top winner.  My Dad, himself, furnished a horse to race with a man.  It would be a short distance race with the man getting a head start, My Dad, himself, was a winner more than once.  They also got games together like horse shoe games, with five at a time playing.  Also had pulling hand holds, pulling rope or tug-or-war, roping men and even boxing.  John liked the boxing, even throwing balls.  Beside baseball, John was in it a long time, and each game was worked out like a tournament, with the winners playing the winners until they had a champion in each game.  Dad Kinderknecht got a lot of men to go to church just to keep them busy and out of trouble.  John and I stayed at the entertaining place a lot of times.  It was located between the Legleiter Store ( general store and handled everything from needles to wagons) and the Catholic Church.  When it was time for afternoon vespers or devotions mostly all Catholic's went to Church.  The Vespers only lasted one to one and a half hours.  Our top buggy sometimes had all it could possibly hold to and from the ball games and other games, even to the mumble peg games.

                        The second year on the farm we were hailed out, but the little corn we had out was small then and it came off in good shape, and made a fair crop.  Since the wheat was nearly ready to harvest when it hailed.  There was a very good wheat pasture everywhere.  We had tow sections East, one South, one-half West and one-half north, and our own there was only fence around the grass pasture.  We had little cash and not much work on the farm, so John went to work for his friend and boss, Andy Goetz.  He was a very good friend to both the Kinderknecht and Linenberger families.

                        Our first landlord was Joe Noah of Ness City, Kansas, our second was my Dad, Anton Kinderknecht Sr. of the Ellis County land, our third was Anton Pifer of Victoria, Kansas, the Collyer land, the Fourth landlord was, Art Otkin of Ellis, Kansas on south of Grinnell, Kansas.  Then we bought one section southeast of Oakley, Kansas.  We had the Otkin place in wheat and also ours, nearly 700 acres in wheat.  We didn't get more than seed from one patch.  That was the last land we rented in western Kansas.

                        On October 5, 1916, about a year and a half after Frances, our first child, our second baby was born.  We named him Andrew Victor.  I didn't seem to get over this birth and other old troubles, so when Victor was 2 1/2 months old we went to see the Linenberger grandparents at Marianthal, Kansas, west of Scott City, Kansas.  We got held up at Scott City because of a storm.  But, it was just for overnight, and so we just stayed in the train depot.

                        Soon after we got home Victor got pneumonia, and we nearly lost him, but the doctor, a Mrs. Wright, who attended me when he was born took good care of him and pulled him through.  This lady doctor stayed at Park for about a year for a rest and then left the next summer.  Then when Victor was about 5 1/2 months old, I had to doctor with a doctor in Grinnell, about 16 miles, going by horse and buggy, to have an operation at the Hays, Kansas hospital.  It was the closest and a small hospital.  Doctors Blake, Hass and Doctor Jameson took care of me in the St. Anthony Hospital, Hays, Kansas.

                        At those times most mothers nursed their babies so Victor had to go along on a train but when the Dr. got me ready for the operation he had to wait until my Mother and Father could come by train in the morning to get the baby.

                        My operation was a bad one as there were three things wrong.  There was female trouble, and the appendix was grown around the small intestines and the minor ailments.  We had to wean Victor, and have Grandma take care of him.  Since he was 5 1/2 months old it was hard to put him on a bottle so had to give up and just feed him other ways.  While I was in the hospital, Frances Helen got very sick with very bad lung trouble.  I was called home quickly I think it was on May 10, 1917, anyway it was five days sooner than the Dr. had planned to let me go home.  But I had to promise to get in some hired help.  I came home on a Saturday and Monday was when they prepared to operate on Frances.  Our living room had to be the operating room, since her lungs were so full of puss and since she was so weak she couldn't be moved.  She couldn't even make a sound she was so weak.  Everything was prepared for Dr. Rinehard and his wife, since his wife was a nurse.  They had come from the East about a month before.

                        The operation was set for Wednesday at 10:30 A.M.  Not having a decent set-up, and since I wasn't able or allowed to help or even be in the room, her grandpa Kinderknecht was willing to hold her on his lap.  Using a firm pad under her on his lap to act as a table.  Frances' Uncle Pete Kinderknecht, my Dad's brother who was married to my half sister, Amelia, held her legs, and Amelia stood by with hot blankets.  Grandma held her head and watched her eyes, while Daddy or John held her hand.  The Dr. and the nurse worked wonderfully together.  He lanced the right side between two ribs, and as soon as the opening was made the puss that filled her lungs shot out up about four feet and bowed about six feet and down hitting the side of the south wall and about six feet away.  Then she appeared dead to all  but the Dr.  She was so blue and yet white all over.  They called me in then, and they wrapped Frances in hot blankets even covered her head and then they stuck her in the old wood range oven.  Sister Amelia held her there.  Pretty soon, which seemed to be an eternity to me, she wiggled a little.  The Dr. said, "I knew it", then they took her out of the oven and uncovered her head and said she'd be alright now.  The stuff that had come from her side had soaked the covers, so Mr. and Mrs. Lowvenstine, our neighbors, and Uncle Pete went one mile to get some more blankets, as we had used all of our blankets including the baby blankets. 

                        Frances, was punctured on her side where the incision was made and it seemed like it was from that hole that she breathed.  As soon as she had enough life in her the Dr. took a rubber tube about like a big straw, cut it off cross-wise and about 2 inches long.  Then put a large safety pin through the top and shoved the tube in the incision.  The pin held it from slipping in.  He had made four tubes like that, three of which were boiled then left in a jar for the next usage.  The Dr. dressed her incision about 11:30 A.M., laid her in her cradle and covered her, all but her head, which she could never stand.  Shortly after that, the Dr. and his wife went back to Quinter, about 7 miles, and said he will be back in about 3 hours to check, but to let her move around as much as she liked but not let her cry too much.  She woke up and was tired but at least had her voice back, and then she went back to sleep, and slept for 3 hours.  by that time Grandma and Aunt Amelia and the others had a good meal and then about 4:00 or 4:30 P.M., the Dr. came and Frances wanted to eat, so the Dr. had John set her in the high chair and let her eat only she couldn't lift her right arm very good, but she tried and ate some soup with the left hand, but the Dr. coaxed her to use her right one, because he said the more she exercised it, also her chest, the more it pumped out the puss in her lungs.  Then for that day and night every four hours the Dr. was there to change that tube in her side and watched for clots.  After 10 days, he then went home and didn't come back for 2 weeks.  but he came three times a day and once a night to look and treat her, for about 10 or 12 days.  Frances, being very active, got along real well, only got very crooked on her spine.  Her breathing was normal, and she ran and played with that tube in her right side until the puss had all drained out.  Then he let just one tube grow out from the inside as it healed, it pushed it out, but the Dr. had us work with her for about three years to build up with exercises.  In every spring and fall, at the change of the weather, she got sick.  No Dr. could get to the trouble, so we, living at Ellis County, North of Victoria then and doctored with Dr. Anderson, also a Dr. at Hays and a specialist from Kansas City that came to Hays Hospital, they all just said maybe moving farther west would help.  we did move to Collyer, not as far as the Dr. wanted, but that was the only farm we could find and Frances had stayed at her grandparents at Park the summer before, and it seemed to help a lot.  We moved in 1924, but then she got sick again and got a puss pocket in her side in back under the short ribs.  I had another baby in 1925, and the other two, I had all I could do, but it pained Frances so much the Dr. did not open it, only had me put hot pollise on it all the time until it broke open in two places about an inch apart, and in a week this all drained, and for about two weeks it looked and smelled just like when she had been operated.  It just ate up all the cloth it came in contact with, and made the diapers, which I used around her to hold the gauze in place, so rotten that I couldn't use them any more.  After the abscess broke it left her awfully weak, but also relieved her a lot.  She did have to have a cloth bandage on it, and when she was confirmed they had to wear white dresses so had a time keeping the puss from soiling the dress.  She was about 12 years old at the time of her confirmation, and she was left with a curvature of the spine.  Dr. Rinehard told us if some of that puss had drained down in the lower diaphragm, she would need another operation, in a few years, but the Dr. at Hays and Victoria didn't think so.  But it did show up, but it just ruptured and drained in two places in the small of the back.

                        Andrew Victor started to work, he was about 13 years old, on a farm.  When he was about 16, he worked for Joe Carter and family feeding stock and doing all else that winter.  He was real nurse and companion to the old man Carter, Joe's Dad.  Victor was or had to be special nurse at night or any other time when the old man (who was on his death bed) wanted something, even a chew of tobacco or drink or what not, they had to call Victor out of the field or barnyard or out of bed.  He received $2.50 a week.. He stayed until after the old man passed away, the old man always said Victor is to get good pay out of this, but didn't.  victor was operated when he was 18 years old at St. Anthony's Hospital at Hays for a hernia and appendix.  He had either pneumonia about 2 weeks after he came home but then he had contracted colon trouble or something.  The Dr. said it was from working hard and eating irregular meals in the fields, and from siphoning gas from barrels to tractor.  So after that until now he still has trouble with his stomach.  Victor was married to Katie Brungardt in 1935 in the Oakley Catholic Church.  He went to Nebraska to work, then later to Washington County, Kansas, where he farmed until he couldn't take the hot sun, due to his migraine headaches.  He has his wife, Katie, his boy Francis, married to Vera DelVichio.  They have 2 boys, Steve and Mark (grandchildren).  His boy Linus, one daughter Theresa and another boy Cletus.  Victor worked at the Davison Grain Elevator, the locker then went to work at the IGA grocery store cutting meat, where he is still employed.  Till 1962, May 1st.

                        As I have said before in the years 1930 in March we moved south of Grinnell, then we had a good crop, but had to sell our wheat for from 18 cents a bushel to 30 cents a bushel.  We scooped it in bins for better pay, but had to scoop it back out for the same price.  A lot of work for nothing.  Since we had a lot of wheat on hand we put out about 600 to 800 acres that fall, having bought a farm, which consisted of one section of land about 8 miles south of where we lived with no improvements, about 4 miles west, and 2 south of Orion and 20 miles southeast of Oakley, the closest Catholic Church.  We didn't get to see a stem of wheat come up on our land, but raised enough on the  farmer's rented land to sow 200 acres of wheat but didn't get anything.  Also every spring we put out half the wheat ground in corn, but didn't get anything and had a lot of expenses for working the ground, the seed, and working the ground to hold the dust down.

                        Dad  worked on the W.P.A. on roads or ponds.  He made one on a farm about 20 feet deep, 180 feet wide and it could bank a long ways of water, but in 2 years of dust it was filled level, and never was filled, that I can remember.  So after about 5 years of that in the 30's, we gave up the land, let it go back.  We sold all of our cows, three of our best milk cows for the price of twenty five dollars a piece.  We sold them to one neighbor, and the others we sold all in a lot for $180.00, only 17, in that lot, but then we had to kill one cow and one calf, because they were too weak to ship.  The man wanted to back out on that deal, because he thought it was too much to pay, but we didn't let him.

                        Then in the spring of 1936, April 7th, we moved to Washington County, Kansas.  Francis had married Joe Brungardt in 1935, and had moved up to Washington, Kansas, and so for that reason we moved to Washington County, Kansas too.  We lived by a town called Enosdale, and lived there, but we had to drive so very far to church, up to Morrowville, Kansas, only 2 or 3 years.  The name of the farm was known as the Collins place, as Bertha Collins owned it.   Our youngest , the thirteenth, was born in February before we came to Washington, and it was on this farm that she had pneumonia.  The first crop that we had on the Collins Farm was completely destroyed by grasshoppers, but we were so much happier at this farm, mainly because we had just come from Western Kansas, where we had known about the drought, where there were the worst dust storms ever.  The animals lungs completely filled up with dust to the point that the government had to come out and kill the bloated cattle.  Anyway after the terrible dust storms the government took the place over for a rifle range.  The place I'm speaking of is the home 20 miles southeast of Oakley.  On this place that Dad and I had bought we built our four room house with a basement.  It was a frame house, and we built it with the help of my Dad, Anton Kinderknecht of Park.  He was quite sick all the while we were building the house.  It was in the winter when we built the house and in February of 1931 my Dad died of a heart attack.  We moved into the house in the middle of March.  It was in 1935  about that, that the government moved us out for the rifle range for war maneuvers.

                        Other things that occurred in Western Kansas, that we wanted to look back on, only to make us thankful for what we'd found in Washington County, were the times like when we lost 7 calves in a bad snow storm, one of which was standing straight up in a snow drift frozen to death.  We saved only two calves out of the nine, one was saved because it found shelter on the south porch of our neighbor, and they kept petting it to keep it on the porch and out of the snow until we could rescue it.  The other calf was found safe on the south side of our barn.  Our neighbor lost 70 grown cattle, that he had taken in on pasture.  He found them all dead along or by each fence post as if to show that they were trying to get refuge from just a small post.  The neighbors name was Ernie Waltz.

                        We sold all of our belongings such as livestock but four cows and a calf and four horses and our pony.  Also 2 hogs and four chickens, a dog and 2 cats.  We made quite a sight on the road from Grove County to Washington County with our livestock, our household things, and the 13 kids, and after we got settled down on the Collins Place even though we did have our troubles there too, they didn't seem nearly as bad as the ones we'd left behind in Western Kansas.

                        We lived on the Collins Farm until one day during a storm a friend of Victor and Katie's stopped in to tell us about a real nice farm north of Morrowville, Kansas that would be vacant pretty soon.  The farm was about doubly as big as the one we were on, and it was only a few miles to the church that we had been having to drive so far to.  Dad decided to move off the Collins Farm and moved up to that farm, which was known as the Nutsch's Place.  The Nutsch's place was a real challenge to John as it had nice land, good pasture, and nice farm buildings.  It was at this place that we had such a nice big garden and of course we had our married children living near us.  Francis lived up by the Morrowville Church, Victor lived just a mile south of the Nutsch Place, Isabelle and Ben also lived by the Catholic Church and our second boy, Albinus lived right across the road from the farm.  We had our share of sickness too, which a person always has with so many children.  But the worst I remember is when our third oldest daughter Irene.  She had an infected tooth pulled, and even though the Dr. thought some medicine he'd given Daddy to fight the infection would take care of it, the infection kept getting worse.  We hesitated in taking her to the Dr. right away because there was a bad snow storm in full force and all the roads blocked.  However her whole throat and face became so very swollen that her throat was bigger than her head.  One of our neighbors walked about 3 miles through the big drifts to the man that ran the maintainer, and had him come to the farm to open the roads so Daddy could take Irene to the hospital in Fairbury, Nebraska.  When we got her there the Dr. pronounced the infection, Ludwig-ana-jiena.  He made three incisions in her throat, and inserted tubes in it to drain the puss out.  She was a terribly sick girl, and it took her many months and weeks to get over the operation, and the whole ordeal.

                        In 1942 the man that owned the farm was killed, and went into estate so we had to move off as the man that inherited the farm wanted to move on it.

                        Dad and I looked all over in Washington County to find us a farm, and finally found the farm south of Washington.  It was only 2 1/2 miles from town and wasn't quite as large as the Nutsch's place, which was alright since Omer, and our fourth oldest boy, Elmer were entering the Army, and that meant we only had Daniel Jacob (Jack) and Phillip John who were still in grade school, to help John on the farm.  It was during our stay on this farm known as the Olsen Farm, that Edna Mae, our fourth oldest girl and Haddie Lillian, the fifth oldest went into Washington and began going to High School.  Edna worked at the Washington Hotel and Haddie at the Brown's Rexall drug store to get money to go through school.  The girl helped us the first summer get over the scarlet fever.  I got it first, and then the four youngest got it.  When we were all over it we had to air all of the household things, and had to bake all of the books and paper things in the oven.  It was an awful mess to clean up after.  The younger ones, Philip, Jack, Agnes and Betty or Elizabeth, went to country school, until in 1946 when the country school was consolidated and then they went into town school.  This farm we lived was very interesting as the Mormon Trail went along the river that ran through the west pasture.  Along the river bank at one point, was a  horse-head that had been carved there, and had many initials carved.  The house itself had a door to the outside in every room on the downstairs floor.  There also was an artesian well on the place that had the clearest and coldest water, and which ran constantly.  We lived on this farm for 10 years, up until Jack and Phil had left for the service and Agnes had graduated from High School, with Valedictorian honors, and the only one home was Betty.  She later left to work for Agnes who had gotten married and ran a cafeteria where Betty worked while going to school.

                        We had our farm sale in the latter part of August in 1953.  We had gotten a house on a farm near Greenleaf, and had it moved in town.  Up north of Washington by our oldest son Victor and family.

                        John worked in the Foster Lumber Yard, and on farms in harvest time, then in October of 1955 he worked in the sugar factory at Garden City, Kansas, where his brothers, Joe and Bill Linenberger worked.  John had worked in the sugar factories previously at Rocky Ford, Colorado, before we were married.

                        In 1954 we celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary, which was on April 28th, but we had to postpone the celebration because John got sick with a perforated ulcer, and was operated on just two days before the 28th.  We did have our celebration then on May 10, 1954.  We had a mass at the St. Augustine Catholic Church in Washington where we renewed our marriage vows, with the original attendants taking their place beside us at the altar.  A reception was held and an open house at the city hall from 2 to 5 p.m.  All of the 13 children were there but Philip, our youngest boy.  He was in the army in Korea.

                        The year of 1956 was a bad year for me, since it was in February of that year that my youngest daughter's husband, Cordis Huddle was killed in an accident at Wichita , Kansas.  He was killed while working at his job in liquid fertilizer plant, and was overcome by a gas known as Benzinehexachloride.  We went to Wichita to bring back Betty and her 3 1/2 month old son Chris.  That was on February 13, 1956.

                        In the spring of 1956 John worked on the city street gang until he got sick.  It was in the first part of June.  He came home sick, but got over it soon, we thought.  Then about 2 weeks after that he had to be brought home, sick again, and then Dr. LeMaster sent him to the clinic at Concordia, known as the Gelvin Clinic.  The tests taken at the clinic were on the 27th, 28th and 29th of June.  Agnes and I went over on a Friday to get the results of the tests.  Dr. F.P. Thornton attended John, so he took us into his office and showed us the x-rays he'd taken.  He told us John had cancer in the left kidney and had already spread over the whole left side of his chest.  The only advice was to keep him as normal as possible and give him vitamins for strength, and pain pills to relieve his pain.  Neither Agnes or I could tell Dad so Dr. Huntly got the records from Concordia, and the three oldest boys, Victor, Albinus and Omer and I went with John down to the Dr.'s office where the Dr. told him.  The day that he told him was on July 4, 1956.  John took the news well, and said that he suspected he had it, and was very glad that the Dr. told him, rather than not tell him at all.

                        We brought him home and right away I began taking care of him.  The hardest was that he wanted only me to take care of him and since I knew it would be the last time, I tried to do all I could.  And it worked out okay as long as he had enough strength to sort of help himself.  The children came regularly to help out whatever I needed.  But the night of July 19, I became so depressed and Omer, Victor, and Al came, and I think more came, but I don't remember too well.  We did have a reunion between the 4th of July and the 19th, where John could still go and see all of his children together.  Anyway I was going to have one of the boys stay with me on the 19th, but about 9 o'clock that night he got so sick we had to call the Dr..  We all had to plead with him to go to the hospital, where he could have better care, and we would bring him home as soon as he felt better.  He knew he wouldn't return home but agreed to go.

                        We put him in the hospital on a Thursday night, and all of the children, and grandchildren were called together to be with him at all times.  The priest had also been visiting him often and during those past weeks but he kept saying he knew it would be awhile before the good Lord will take him as he could tell by a special odor of that disease over a sick person.  Anyway it was a continuous trip just going back and forth from the house to the hospital.  John's brother, Andrew, Joe and Bill and his brother, Gus and Pete were unable to come, but anyway the 3 came the Friday of the 20th, and even then John had been able to recognize many of the people who came to see him, he did know his brothers and even said "Hi, Joseph and Andy".  He didn't recognize anyone but me from then on.  We were told by the Dr. that he was sinking away fast.  The Dr. gave me something to make me sleep, and I did, but have always gotten mad at myself for doing it, but I guess our bodies give up even if our minds don't.  Anyway all of the children and I and Fr. Gallagher were in his room from about 9 o'clock p.m. on Saturday after we admitted him.  Fr. told some of us that he was sure this would be the night as the odor was becoming very apparent.  At about 12 midnight a man in the next room to John's died of cancer, and his body was being taken away just as all of us and Father were saying the rosary as John took his last breath.  That was at 1:30 a.m. on July 22, 1956.

                        We all left the hospital, and since it was on a Sunday we agreed to all go to church and then go over to the funeral home to John.  After seeing what cancer can do to a human body I could hardly believe anything aside from sleep had caused his death.  He looked as young and healthy as he did when he was in the prime of his life.

                        He was buried in the Washington City Cemetery on the 25th day of July, 1956 with his brothers Joe and Bill singing the Requiem High Mass.  He is buried just across the drive, south of the grave where  Cordis Huddle, our Son-in Law was buried just 4 months earlier.

                        When John died a part of me died too.  I kept on as we all do, with my memories of our good and bad and our soft and hard times to guide me and to fall back on in my lonely hours.

                        John left the greatest thing a man can leave, his thirteen children and their children and now my life is to help them when I can and to wait out my time on this earth until time comes to join my John, and the others.