USA > Wisconsin > Washington County > Washington County, Wisconsin : past and present > Part 15
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John Remmel, Carl Mieritz, Fried. Schoenhard, Jacob Knoebel, John Holl, C. L. Powers, Melvin Ostrander, Newton E. Woodford, J. N. Perschbacher, Louis Kliesse, Chas. Guenther and Geo. Feight.
Willet R. Wescott Circle, Ladies of the G. A. R.
Willet R. Wescott Circle, No. 34, Ladies of the Grand Army of the Republic, was organized at West Bend, January 13, 1912. Its objects are "to unite in loyalty and practice the precepts of true fra- ternity; to honor surviving Union veterans, and to perpetuate and keep sacred Memorial Day; to assist the Grand Army of the Republic, to aid, encourage and sympathize with it in its noble work of charity, to extend needful aid to its members in sickness and distress; to aid old soldiers, sailors or marines, to attend the funerals of veterans and place the United States flag upon their silent hearts, to look after sol- diers' homes; to watch the schools and see that our children obtain proper education in the true history of our country, and in patriotism, to keep from almshouses the mothers, wives and widows of perma- nently disabled soldiers." Eligible are all mothers, wives, sisters, daughters, and granddaughters of soldiers, sailors, or marines who served honorably during the War of the Rebellion, ex-army nurses, and bloodkin nieces. The present officers are : President, Mary Day; Sr. Vice-President, Alma Hagner; Jr. Vice-President, Christina Bauer; Chaplain, Celesta Cooley; Secretary, Laverne Cooley ; Treas- urer, Clara Rolfs; Conductor, Dorothy Regner ; Ass't Conductor, Bar- bara Thoma; Guard, Margaret Day; Ass't Guard, Ruth Wendelborn; Musician, Ada Lemke; Patriotic Instructor, Julia Warnkey.
Washington County Medical Society
This society of physicians practicing in the county was organized June 24, 1903. It forms together with the medical societies of other counties the State Medical Society of Wisconsin, and through it, with other state organizations, the American Medical Association. The purposes of the society are to bring together the physicians of the county, so that "by frequent meetings and full and frank inter- change of views they may secure such intelligent unity and harmony in every phase of their labor as will elevate and make effective the opinions of the profession in all scientific, legislative, public health, material and social affairs, to the end that the profession may re- ceive that respect and support within its own ranks and from the
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community to which its honorable history and great achievements entitle it." Eligible for membership is every legally registered phy- sician in the county, who is of good moral and professional standing and who does not support or practice, or claim to practice, any ex- clusive system of medicine. In the monthly meetings interesting papers are read on medical subjects, reports on cases under treatment are made, discussions are held, and a good fellowship on a strictly noble and ethical basis is cultivated. The present officers are: Presi- dent, Dr. W. J. Wehle, West Bend; Vice-President, Dr. Phil. Kauth, Schleisingerville; Secretary-Treasurer, Dr. S. J. Driessel, Barton ; Delegate, Dr. H. Pfeifer, Jackson; Alternate, Dr. S. J. Driessel, Barton; Board of Censors, Drs. D. W. Lynch and G. A. Heidner, West Bend, and N. Ed. Hausmann, Kewaskum.
Badger Firemen's Association
An organization of volunteer fire departments was effected in West Bend in 1893. Its original name was Washington and Ozaukee Counties' Firemen's Association, and for a time the fire department of North Milwaukee also belonged to it. A number of years ago the name was changed to read as above. In course of the years several departments have dropped out, and others have joined. The associa- tion now is composed of the fire departments of West Bend, Cedar- burg, South Germantown, and Jackson. The object of the organiza- tion is to create a fraternal spirit among the different departments, to foster the pride in the noble and unselfish work, and to raise the efficiency. In the early part of summer of each year a tournament is held at one of the places belonging to the association. It consists of a number of contests with and without apparatus, followed by a picnic and a dance. Cash prizes are distributed among the win- ners, but the most coveted prize is a silver trumpet which goes to the department making the best time in the hose and the hook and ladder contests combined in three tournaments. The present officers of the association are: President, Geo. P. Boden, West Bend; Vice- President, Frank Schwalbach, South Germantown; Treasurer, John Klumb, West Bend; Secretary, John Armbruster, Cedarburg.
Other Societies
Many local societies, clubs and lodges exist in the county, but to go into detail with them would be passing the scope of this work. The
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Odd Fellows, Woodmen, Eagles, Beavers, Owls, G. U. G. Germania, Sons of Herman, Harugari, Royal Neighbors, etc., have lodges in the different cities and villages. West Bend has a lodge of Free Masons, and also a chapter of the Eastern Star. Hartford and West Bend have each a Woman's Club, the one in the latter city deserves special mention for its brave and noble efforts toward establishing a good public library and introducing manual training and domestic science in the public schools of West Bend.
FEDERLE'S SHORE, LITTLE CEDAR LAKE
A SHADY LANE NEAR BIG CEDAR LAKE
THE OUTLET OF BIG CEDAR LAKE
CHAPTER XXIII
THE LAKES BEAUTIFUL
There are about a score and a half of lakes and lakelets in the county. It may claim a goodly share of Wisconsin's wealth of lakes. These water sheets sometimes stretching between shores that are rather flat and prosy, or dipped in the mystic shadow of tamaracks, or shimmering through the haze of the morainic ridges, are an ever recurring feature of the landscape. There is hardly a part of the county without its lake, although they are more plentiful in the south- ern half. But from all the lakes two stand out in hallowed beauty not touched by any other one. They are the two Cedar lakes, Big Cedar and Little Cedar. In my career as an editor I had many oc- casions to sing of them in jingling verse or write in glowing prose. It came to be a kind of monopoly of mine. Of these narrations I have picked out the following two, in which some justice is done to Nature's prettiest spots in the county.
A-Picnicking with the Printers
The red-letter day of the West Bend printers, to which they look forward for an entire year, had come again. At five in the morning a hay wagon rattled out of the town. On it they all sat, from the beacons of local journalism down to the smallest devil. There were fifteen of us, the driver, a rather waggish fellow, figured in.
The provisions, both solid and liquid, lay carefully packed in the hay of the wagon box, while we sat around them on the rack.
We were bound for Little Cedar lake, and wanted to get there before the fish had breakfasted, for we had some delicacies for them. The rising sun shone on our way. But only for a while could we see a slice of his red disk, then it disappeared behind a gray wall of clouds. The bright hues of the aurora, foreboding trouble, faded away and left us poor knights of the quill and the stick and the ink fount in a landscape full of gray tones, in which clouds of mist were floating and enveloping bushes and trees.
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We were talking about northern lights that had flashed across the sky before dawn the same morning, when some one exclaimed: "It's raining!" Nobody looked wise for the next minute, because it is impossible to do so and sit on a hay rack like a drenched poodle. But it did not rain. The fog had condensed to a few drops which ac- cording to the law of gravitation and the sequence in time and space had to fall right on one of our most scholarly heads. The longing thoughts for that umbrella at home dispersed.
The ride may have lasted for an hour, when the wagon with its load stopped under the tall birches and maples of Thoma's Grove on the lake shore. Soon half a dozen boats were gliding through the water, the anglers rowing to the best fishing places, and the others expecting to get looks at the beautiful scenery along the shores. One of the latter even wanted to delve into the Platonic Idea. Shock- ing, isn't it? But there was no chance, for the gray mist hung over the lake and its surroundings, everything looked gray, gray like all theory.
Twelve o'clock midday. Near the sweltering hot stove in the shanty under the trees the two newspaper proprietors are standing, frying fish and potatoes for the hungry crowd. A very pleasant smell comes out of the reeking hut, and the smoke from the smoke- pipe sticking out of the roof is whirling lustily into the branches. Now and then an inquisitive eye looks through the trap-window to see the two chefs work in the sweat of their whole body, trying their skill at the culinary art. "Today they've got work once; all the year around we've got to work for them, but today they've got to dig in for us," remarks one. This change of roles has be- come an unwritten law.
The table is set under the trees. Everybody has a pasteboard plate, a knife and fork, and a bottle of beer. Suddenly one of the chefs comes rushing out of the shanty with a rinsing bowl full of fried fish; the other one fetches the fried potatoes. In the next moment everybody is busy eating. Fish, potatoes, ham, buttered bread, pickles, etc., disappear fast behind the hedges of printer's teeth, and are washed down with beer. Hardly anybody takes the time to chant the praise of the cooks. But evidently all enjoy the meal in the open immensely.
After dinner everybody whiled the hours away as he liked best. Some played cards, others played horseshoe, or took a bath, while I lay down in the grass, among the blue bells of Scotland, bee balm, and black-eyed Susans, and watched the bright green birch leaves flut-
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tering in a light breeze on the blue background of the sky, for the sun had meanwhile come out, and the gray clouds had dissolved into little white tatters.
The lake has a singular charm, one that would be hard to ex- plain. Is it the crystal water, or the spicy air, or the delightful shore that captivates, or do all these act in unison to ensnare the soul of the dreamer who likes to be united with Nature? A passionate fisherman is mostly attracted by the fish that populate the water; there must be a purpose for his will that figures on a goodly number of palatable fish. He thinks little of the agony of the worm, or frog, or minnow on the hook, or the dying gasps of the fish in the boat. He cares little for the pretty sights around him, and less for the chance to be absorbed by them to the point of forgetting his own endless willing. He rather stays with his fish. There are several ways to enjoy an outing at the lake.
In the afternoon I found great pleasure in a botanical expedition along the southern and western shore. For a collector there is a good chance to enrich his herbarium with water-plants. There are many kinds of them, from cat-tails, bulrushes and waterlilies down to those that cover the bottom and appear through the limpid water like an emerald carpet. Well satisfied I rowed back, past summer cottages and hotels peeping out of the verdant embrace, while the sound of cow bells came from the distance.
A great spectacle was the sunset. It is one of the sights at the lake. It was sublime to see the great glowing ball slip down slowly behind the wooded hills of the farther shore, surrounded by purple and violet clouds through the chinks of which a dazzling glow broke forth, while the reflex of the sun seemed to change the water into fluid gold. A sacred quietude lay all over Nature, as though life had paused at the wonderful sight. Then a bugle sounded at a dis- tance, and the rest of the great disk sank behind the tree tops.
Meanwhile the return had been prepared, and when the first shadows of night fell, the wagon with its jolly passengers bowled homeward. The moon was shining and the lindens at the road-side and in the hollows were blooming and filling the air with fragrance and recalling Heinrich Heine's stanza :
"This is the fairy-wood of old; The linden-blossoms' scenting And silvery moonlight wonderful My spirits are enchanting."
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But the ride was a very dusty one. When the horses were trot- ting, clouds of dust whirled up, thick and yellow like London fog. They settled on the throats and caused a dryness that was unusual, even with printers. Happily we had a few bottles of beer left. They were passed around, and when the driver's turn to drink came, he stopped the horses, put the bottle to his mouth, and gazed at the stars for fully a minute. Perhaps he wanted to take revenge for the hay-missiles that were hurled at him, and which he could not see come flying, because, as Don Quixote would have said, he had no eyes on the back of his neck.
Trailing the Auroras
There I stood now, in the darkness and in the woods. The search for the summer cottage of the Aurora Fishing Club I had to give up. With oppressed heart I felt the cruel side of Nature, of the same Nature that an hour ago had smiled upon me so ravishingly.
In the afternoon-it was Saturday and my off-afternoon-I had started on the way to walk the four miles from West Bend to Big Cedar lake. Being a great friend of walks, it was a pleasure to me to thus follow the invitation of some members of the club-among them were my brother-in-law and my two sisters-to spend the Sun- day with them, who in turn occupied the club house at the time.
It was very pleasant to wander on that splendid day of August. It was not too warm, and lightly my legs carried me past a vegetation in the apogee of its growth, past green pastures, billowing grain fields with golden ears bent earth-ward, picturesque farm houses, over hills and dales. Nowhere was there monotony in the landscape.
For a short way I rode on a farmer wagon. Just outside of the city the wagon caught up to me. On it sat a farmer boy, a picture of health and a model of rural suavity-in the country, too, the con- trasts of human nature touch each other. I was a stranger to him, but he invited me to ride with him. I could not decline the friendly invitation, and so I rode to the next cross-road, offered him a cigar, and relied on my legs again.
The way led past more meadows and fields, orchards and snug farm houses, and after a leisurely stroll of two hours, I entered the woods of Hacker's Summer Resort. Hardly had the branches closed above my head, when in a glade the saloon turned up, and farther on the sunny lake glistened between the dark tree trunks. At a glass of lager that seemed to have doubled its relishing qualities after the
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long walk, I learned that the steamboat would not arrive before six o'clock. I had to go athwart the lake, a distance of three miles. It was not yet four. Selecting a place that afforded a fine vista of the lake, I rested in the grass, and the charm of the scenery was so powerful that for hours it did not bore me. It was six o'clock, and it was seven, but there was no sign of the boat. The shadows of the dusk began to sink down when it halted at the little pier.
With a few passengers the rather rakish-looking vessel continued its cruise past charming islands, fine hotels and summer homes, and delightful shore lines, now lying with subdued colors in the fading light of the day. At one place a crowd of young people with dis- tinctly Semitic traits and manners came aboard-summer resorters who rode to a dance. When I went ashore at the pier of the Cedar Lake Park Hotel, the one closest to my place of destination, the lamps were lit in the park which surrounded the big hotel. Evidently I had to make haste to get to the club house before night.
After leaving the park, I followed a path on a terrace, with shrubs on one side and the water's edge close to the other. For a while I hurried on, pushing branches aside and scanning the path in the dying twilight. But it grew darker and there was no sign of the club house to be seen. Scarcely could the path be separated now from the rest of the ground. Walking grew dangerous, for at places the path skirted the brink within a few inches. A misstep would have brought me into the water on which now and then a stray beam of light was dancing, while the waves were gently tapping the gravelly shore, or sounding a warning gurgle. Then I lost my way altogether.
I had come to a brilliantly lighted summer villa and decided to ask for the way. With the flood of light, the place was strangely quiet. It stark reminded of an enchanted palace. Repeatedly I knocked at the screen door, then appeared a friendly old gentleman in a long dressing-gown and a velvet cap in the door opening, a black shadow on the floor heralding him. The way to the club house, he said, was in the rear of his house, running straight on for a while to a fork, then turning to the right. I thanked him for his informa- tion, and plunged into the night.
Before a boulder wall I stopped and looked for an exit, and not finding any, I swung myself over the rocky barrier. One of the stones got loose and rolled to the ground behind me. Somewhere a dog barked. A few steps brought me to a lane. At the fork I kept to the right and soon saw the dark contour of a house ahead of
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me. But it was as quiet as a mausoleum, no gleam of a light was to be seen and no sound of a voice to be heard. Certainly this was not the place of the Auroras. The good old gentleman in the beau- tiful house must have been mistaken.
Thus had it come about that I stood full of anxiety in the dark- ness and the woods. At first I thought of returning to the hotel where I had left the little steamboat. But the black night, the dense wood, and the dangers of the way stifled the idea in its inception. There was nothing left but to spend the night on the spot. The ground would afford a pretty soft lair, for grass and herbs grew luxuriantly on the rich humus, and low thickets stood around. For a moment I thought of wild animals that could sneak up to me under the cover of night, for in such a situation fancy works with high pressure. But of truculent animals there were none in the vicinity, and of attacks of venomous snakes I had never heard anything. I hoped that it would not rain.
I was wellnigh ready to bear the inevitable, when I saw a faint light glimmering through the brush. It was a strange, weird light that grew more so as it approached. Then I could see between the trees two men advancing slowly and carefully. The first one who walked with a stoop held a candle in front of himself.
Instinctively I left my place and approached the phantastic spec- tacle. It now dawned upon me that the two men must be summer guests, and I asked them for the club house. There they were going themselves, they replied. Now I saw that they were known to me. They had visited the hotel and stayed longer than they expected. By the candle's rays they could trace the path. I most readily joined them, and slowly we advanced, the first man holding the light toward the ground as if looking for some lost valuable.
After a while we arrived at the club house. Around a fire built in an open place in front of it they all sat, frying potatoes in the ashes. I told of my adventure, and they were glad that I had es- caped a night's lodging in the woods. The glow of the embers and an occasional flame darting up enabled me to study the features of my next neighbor, a comely blonde girl, one of the "dangerous" kind-for me. I wondered whether it was the same case with her. She drew a little gold watch from her pocket, and the thought struck me that she used it as a talisman to banish an intruder. She could not have known how shy her neighbor was in such matters.
An hour passed with talking, eating, and drinking, whereupon all retired to their cots in the roomy club house.
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It was bright daylight when I rose with the others. The women prepared breakfast-there evidently was a well-stocked larder-and we all sat at the long board.
Such a week in the country is like a string of holidays to city folks. Everything helps to create a festive mood, even the home- made furniture, the cracked cooking stove, the unfinished interior of the house with the beams decorated with gaudy Japanese fans and pictures cut out of magazines.
The day passed with rowing on the lake and a siesta in the grass. I could not help throwing an occasional surreptitious look on my blonde neighbor of the night before. My interest calmed down a little, however, when at the table she parted her lips, stuck out her little tongue and let it play for a while around the rosy orb. Did I show anything, and was it meant to disillusion me, or was she still but a child ?
When the parting hour came, they rowed me to the hotel where the steamboat lay at the landing, whistling for the last time to call tardy passengers. It seemed to me that a tremor ran through the body of the blonde, when I held her hand. Or was it the other way? Then I ran across the meadow to the boat. For a long time I carried a lit- tle photograph of her pretty face between the covers of my watch, then I lost it, and the image in my memory faded.
"The presence is a mighty goddess," Goethe said somewhere in his works. Her charm loses its power when she becomes something past. Then a new presence comes, and another, and so on, as long as the heart is young and the mind cannot decide to grip such a goddess at the tip of her garment.
Vol. 1-12
CHAPTER XXIV
THE HALL OF FAME
There are a few men whom Washington county can be especially proud of, who have come to a reputation that spread over the state, or the nation, or even the world, and whose marble busts should adorn the Hall of Fame, if the county ever choses to erect such an edifice. Some of these men have been born within its limits, others have been born in another state, or in Europe, but have spent the most plastic part of their youth here, and the county, to a considerable extent, has a right to bask in the rays of their glory and fame which enveloped them in later years, when they had been given to the world at large.
Dr. James A. Bach
The birthplace of Dr. James A. Bach, the Milwaukee oculist and aurist of a reputation that extends over our entire commonwealth, is St. Augustine in the town of Trenton. He was born October 13, 1860, the son of Mathias and Anna Bach, an old settler couple. After he had received an elementary education in the district school of his native town, he entered the State Normal school, and later continued his studies in the University of Ann Arbor, Michigan. He then taught in district schools for two years. His short career as a teacher was only a link to a vastly greater career. His ambition was to become a physician. For years he had fostered it but as his parents were not wealthy, he for a great part had to rely on his own resources, working out his own destiny, guided by the star of a noble profession, and driven by an ardent desire to become a master in it. He had to climb by relays. When he was 21 years old, he began his medical studies at Ann Arbor, and in 1884 he graduated from that college with distinction. He then settled in Milwaukee, hung out his shingle, and practiced medicine with marked success. His special attention was directed to diseases of the eye, ear, and throat, and because he liked these branches of pathology so very much, he after a while made up his mind to specialize in them.
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To gain a wider and deeper knowledge in these special fields, he in 1887 went to Europe to study in the clinics of the very best au- thorities of the age. At Vienna, known as the seat of famous medi- cal institutions, he studied under men like Profs. Manthner, Fuchs, Politzer, Gruber, Stoerk, Schroeder, Urbanitsch, and Stellweg. From there he went to Berlin, took a course in operations under the di- rection of Profs. Frankel and Hartmann, and also did practical work in the clinics of Drs. Hirschberg and Schweizer. Next he went to Paris, where he stayed for five months, increasing his knowledge by attending the clinics of the oculists Drs. De Wecker, Panas, Lan- dolt, and Galesowski. His special studies he completed in London, where he spent considerable time in the Moorfield Hospital for pa- tients afflicted with diseases of the eye and ear, and also in the Mc- Kenzie Hospital for patients with throat troubles.
With his stock of new knowledge and experience gathered in the foremost clinics of the world, he journeyed back to America. In Milwaukee he set up his office, and soon gained a wide reputation as specialist in his branches. In his ways Dr. Bach displays the qual- ities of the erudite scholar devoted to his science, and the conscien- tious physician of the highest type. Many difficult operations have been intrusted to his skillful and sure hand. Although eminently successful, he does not think, like mediocre minds, to be at the end of his studies. He devotes considerable time to the furtherance of knowledge in his special fields of pathology, and he is the author of many papers on these subjects. He holds a professorship in the Wisconsin College of Physicians and Surgeons, and in the free clinic of that college has performed a vast number of operations on pa- tients too poor to pay for them. He is connected with several hos- pitals as specialist. On June 24, 1896, he was married to Miss Kath- arina E. Pick, a daughter of the late John Pick, a very prominent merchant of West Bend. Five children are the issue of his mar- riage.
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