Long-Timer Gone, Short-Timer Back

Carl William Bach was a long-time Ross Township resident whom I completely ignored until he died. By comparison, William Wollenberg, Jr. — now back for a visit — was a short-timer, and yet I've written loads about him and his saloon-keeping family.


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It took me a long time to figure out where the Bach homestead was. You'd think people who had been here since 1846 would have acquired more land than this: [12/1/13 update: They did. The DeWell family archivist points out that I missed a second 40-acre Bach parcel, outlined in green on the map below. Now I don't know which parcel to get all sentimental over. And I can't figure out which road the green parcel sits on — W. 86th? W. 89th?]



The daughter, Mrs. Henry Kuehl, mentioned in the obituary as living with him was the former Henrietta "Hattie" Bach. She had married Henry Kuehl in 1896 and left the old homestead for a few years, but by 1910 she and Henry had come back. In the intervening years, her brother, George, and his wife and children had lived with their father. So as far as I know Carl William Bach was never alone there.


Sources:
♦ 1900 Census.
♦ 1908 Plat Map.
♦ 1910 Census.
♦ 1920 Census.
♦ Indiana Marriage Collection.
♦ "Local and Personal." Hobart News 6 Jan. 1921.
♦ "Obituary." Hobart Gazette 7 Jan. 1921.
♦ "William Bach." Hobart News 6 Jan. 1921.

Men in Hats

From the envelope marked "John Gruel Farm" in Lillie Newman Barnes' keepsake box comes this group photo:


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Image courtesy of Diane Barnes.

But I don't have a clue who they are.

Jennie and Homer

Having been showered with gifts to start her own household, Jennie Chester married Homer Hull on January 5, 1921, and the young couple made plans to get as far away from Ainsworth as they could without leaving the country.


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From the Hobart News of 6 Jan. 1921.

The groom must have been pretty well fixed if he could afford a complete set of sterling silver.

I had lived half a lifetime without ever having seen the word "duvequyn," and an internet search turns up only "dyvetyne" (in various spellings), which may be what is meant, since it was used for clothing in the early part of the 20th century.

Looking at various images of reindeer, I suppose Jennie's suit was grayish-brown.

It's interesting that she was married in the Catholic Church. So far as I know, the Charles Chester family (while apparently not particularly religious) was Protestant; for example, when Kittie died in 1910, a Methodist pastor officiated at her funeral. If the whole family converted, I did not hear about it. Jennie may have been the exception.

Anyway, the Chester house was now devoid of daughters.

"If You Wanna Be Happy for the Rest of Your Life …"

Another unidentified wedding portrait from the steamer trunk.


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Image courtesy of E.H.

On the basis of the photographer, and the style of the bride's sleeves, we can date this to the 1890s.

Her dress has an interesting mixture of good and bad. The velvet on the upper sleeves drapes gracefully, and the satin ribbon, gathered and pinned in cascades down her bodice, with little echoes at her wrists, is an imaginative touch. But I wonder if they put that ribbon there to draw attention away from the poor fit of the bodice — excess fabric toward her shoulders, heavy wrinkling toward her waist. And for a special-occasion outfit, her skirt is remarkably plain, which makes it classic and timeless, I suppose, but in women's clothing at that time, "highly fashionable" was a more sought-after quality.

Automobile Genealogy

After several moments of deep confusion, I have figured out that I was wrong, 'way back in October 2009, when I said that Jennie Hurlburt had become Mrs. Chas. Stevens. It was Jennie's younger sister, Ethel. (In fact I have no idea how I concluded that any Hurlburt daughter had married Mr. Stevens, since I can't pinpoint my 2009 source — but somehow I got it half-right.)

Part of the problem is that the Milan Hurlburt family is remarkably difficult to find in the census records. The first trace I find of Ethel is in the marriage records in February 1909, when, at the tender age of 16, she married the 23-year-old Charles Stevens, a track foreman for the Pennsy railroad. They lived in Hobart and had four children: Zorah, Charles, Milan and Robert.

Anyway, all this meditation upon the identity of Mrs. Charles Stevens came from two items in 1920's final issue of the Gazette (which I have to transcribe because the microfilm is almost illegible):

Jacob Hurlburt and family of Ainsworth, Chester and M. Hurlburt were entertained at a Christmas dinner at the home of the latter's daughter, Mrs. Chas. Stevens.

♦    ♦    ♦
Last Sunday, while Charles Stevens and family were returning from Mr. Hurlburt's with a party of friends, apparently with no reason whatever, while crossing the Deep River bridge near the Frank Peterson farm, the car became unmanageable and turned square across the road, just over the abutment, and the front wheels of the car were hanging over a 10-foot embankment. But for the help of a good set of brakes there would have been a serious accident, as the car, going down, would have turned turtle into the river. Frank Peterson was called and a party in a passing car gave their help and righted the machine. When examined, the radio rods were found to be bent, causing it to be unmanageable. It was driven home without any further serious accident.

So apparently they got back in the car that had just tried to kill them and drove home. And no, I have no idea what "radio rods" are.


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The location of the accident, as it appeared in the 1926 Plat Book.


Sources:
♦ 1910 Census.
♦ 1920 Census.
♦ 1930 Census.
♦ 1940 Census.
♦ "Additional Local News." Hobart Gazette 31 Dec. 1920.
♦ "Auto Party Has Narrow Escape." Hobart Gazette 31 Dec. 1920.
♦ Indiana Marriage Collection.

Anna Lost in Thought

From Mildred Lindborg's photo album.


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Image courtesy of N.B.

Anna Lindborg, seemingly lost in thought and unaware of the camera. There are no notes to identify the location, and I don't recognize it, but it looks park-like.

Still Not Tuberculosis

The last "South of Deepriver" column of 1920 tells us, among other things, that poor Bertha Nolte Campbell was, in the family tradition, continuing to suffer poor health; but her illness probably wasn't tuberculosis, as the treatment for that would not be surgery.


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From the Hobart News of 30 Dec. 1920.

Also, a big party for the little Sauter born on Christmas Day.