Embedded Files
The Westphal Family c. 1918: Ruth, Lillian, Kenneth, Herman C. and Josephine (Dee and Bumpy not yet born). Mom explained that, just before posing for this picture, she had just been scolded for jumping down the stairs, thus her hand-on-hip attitude and facial expression.
Jo in 1920—at age 13
Jo in 1969—at age 62
Workman on the scaffolding of the superstructure of St. Stanislaus--a photograph from the website of the Church, showing the window casings young Stash might have been jumping
Fr. Bolka, pastor of St. Stanislaus from 1909 to 1940, would have been pastor when Dad attended Grade School there.
Young Stash (kneeling on left) c. 1915, with siblings and friends in a restored photograph
Andrew J. Wentland [10/23/1866 - 1/16/1943], in 1927
St. Stanislaus pictured in 2017
THE STORIES
The Stockings and the Butcher Knife
The story that I remember most about Mom’s early years is the one about how mad she was that her sister Ruth had taken her silk stockings when she was planning to wear them on a date that night. Jo ordered Ruth to give them back, and when Ruth resisted, Jo went to the kitchen, got out the big butcher knife her mom, Lillian, used and began chasing Ruth around the house. They were living at 312 Holiday Street when that happened. I always had this image of Mom running after Ruth brandishing this big knife over her head as they raced outside and around the house. The truth is probably closer to Mom’s having moved from the kitchen toward Ruth and that, once she saw her older sister brandishing the big knife, she made a sudden and immediate surrender of the stockings. But the embellished story of “chasing around the house” is the one we always heard.
Introducing the Charleston
The story most curious is the one about Mom’s being recruited at age 16 to introduce “the Charleston” in Michigan. It’s not clear who chose her for this distinction. From the picture in the album of her at 16, it’s not difficult to see why Mom would have caught the eye of a promoter. And how did she introduce wanting to go to Michigan for this kind of activity to Candy and Mamie? What was there reaction to what may have seemed like a frivolous activity? But we know from the twinkle in Mom’s eye whenever she talked about it that she must have had a great time. Even in her later years she could kick up quite a heel doing the dance.
Kicking Chandeliers
Perhaps because of her early Charleston moves, Mom continued to perfect her high-kicking technique. Most of us have forgotten the when or where that occasioned the tease often leveled at Mom (in which she always seemed to delight under her objections). We’d say, “Mom’s out kickin’ chandeliers again!” The legend still lives on of how high she could kick. In 1979, Mom showed her competitive spirit at the Cursillo, an intensive weekend retreat. Bart Williams thought she could kick high. But Bart was in admiration of Mom’s outdoing her at the kickin’ contest. I imagine the two of them continuing the high-kicking competition in the great beyond.
Mom As Dental Assistant
Mom recounted that, at age 16, she worked as dental assistant to Dr. Seifert. Seems the doctor took more than a professional interest in her. According to Mom, she had to be careful at times when assisting the good doctor. Given that the first dental x-ray in the U.S. had been completed 27 years earlier, it’s possible the doctor had her assisting with x-ray processing, and the dark room was a place she’d have to be especially careful. She never went into detail. But she didn’t stay in the employ of the doctor very long.
The Beauty Contest, 1924, on the East Beach
Talk about ribbing! As the mother of 3 sons and wife of a "tease", Mom seemed to have had the patience of Job to have put up with some of our antics. For instance, how did she ever tolerate that, whenever company came over, we'd delight in getting out the photo album and showing everyone her picture as a beauty pageant contestant on the East Beach in Michigan City at age 17!!! What a figure! So what if flat stomachs were not "in" in 1924!
A copy of the article from the Michigan City Dispatch describing the event is on the left.
Mom and first-place winner Antoinette Folta remained life-long friends. Every year Mom received a Christmas card from Antoinette, a music enthusiast and pianist, signed “Don’t B♭! B ♯! B ♮!” In 1977, Antoinette sent the copy of the newspaper clipping on the right, with a letter on the back in which she writes: “Too bad mother didn’t let me come to Calif. Then. I had a Big Future ahead of me. But she was so strict and not interested in show business, etc. She wanted me to be a lady doctor.” She noted at the bottom of the copy of the article,.”First Prize, $30, and gifts of all kinds.. . I was only 16 yrs old so I could enter contest. I was developed U-La-La!” and listing the many “official duties” resulting from her winning first prize. While Antoinette’s pride at being the winner shows clearly in her note, Mom never seemed to envy her good fortune, content to have been third place and remaining a lifelong, if geographically distant, friend to Antoinette. Mom and Dad visited Antoinette Savage at her California home in 1972, the only trip outside of the Midwest I remember my Dad ever making.
"Vati" and "Mutti"
Johann and Frederika Westphal were their real names. But to Mom, in her early years, like everyone in her family, they were known by their nicknames. I always imagined the names resulted from the simplification for the children’s sake of the pronunciation of “grampa” and “gramma” in Low German—Plattdeutsch as Gramma Westphal described it—for Grossvater and Grossmutter. Later research discovered that terms "Vati" and "Mutti" are used like “”mommy” and “daddy" which is, no doubt, what Mom and her siblings heard Candy and Mamie call them. They are the only great grandparents of whom we have a photograph. The photo is a reproduction of a cracked and torn original taken c. 1929. I imagine the family darkroom photographic expert, Herb Bower, made the reproduction to save the photo for posterity. The original? Who knows where it is?
When I talked to Mom about this photo, she said that they are standing in front of 312 Holliday Street in Michigan City. It appears the street is behind them with what appears to be a Model T Ford parked just to their right. The dating is estimated by the automobile, since the “T” was last produced for model year 1927. Of course, the photograph could be from a later year in the 20’s or even 30's. Perhaps they were dressed up to ride to some special occasion. They certainly appear Teutonic and stern. Their expressions may well be attributed to their being ill at ease before this relatively new technology—photography. Both are dressed in what appears to be black (though there’s no way of knowing colors in the black-and-white picture): Frederika is dressed in a long sateen gown with a ruffled collar, Johann, in a double-breasted Edwardian cut suit coat, holds a cigar in his right hand. His goatee is distinctive. Anytime Mom talked about him, she would mention how, as a child, she’d sit on his lap and make him laugh by pulling his goatee. I imagine his stern face breaking into a smile, as his first little grandchild carried out this endearing tease. I always wondered who had the foresight to snap the photo of the two of them we have in the album. Recent genealogy searches in ancestry.com discovered the exact dates of birth and death as well as the parents of both of them. They were the parents of Grandpa Westphal. I wonder how it is that they came to live at 312 Holliday Street with Mamie and Candy—the nicknames of my Mom’s parents. And what was the relationship Mamie had with her in-laws?
The back of the reproduction of the photo of Vati and Muttie was used for what appears to be a typing exercise. There is no indication who typed the note, nor why it was typed on the back of this vintage photo.
Gramma Westphal’s parents
Rudolph Voltz (1861-1892) and Bertha Voltz (1865-1895) are buried in Michigan City. The picture at left is of their grave markers taken by Mom in July, 1969, at Greenwood Cemetary. Since they died at ages 31 and 30 respectively, about 12 years before Mom was born, she had nothing to share about them.
Dad’s Grandparents
There is no photograph of Andrew’s parents, Antonina Adamski [b. 1841 – d. July 30, 1928] (buried in St. Stanislaus Church Cemetary) and his father [Wendtland in the 1900 Census, Wentlent or even Wendtlandt] born in the province of Polzin (Poznan in Prussian)) .*
THE WENTLAND NAME
The name Wentland is the most recent spelling of the family name. In 1913, Stanley Walter's name is spelled "Wentlanta" in his first communion book. In the 1900 Census listing, Andrew is listed a"Wendtland".
It is interesting to note that the parish website indicates Francis Wentlent was a witness of the first wedding at St. Stanislaus: “The first date listed is that of January 13, 1891, the marriage of Joseph Wochalski, son of Frances to Catherine Jankowski, daughter of Jacob Jankowski. Witnesses were Francis Wentlent and Carol Zak -- Rev. E. Wrobel. [While “Wentlent” is one of the many variations of the family name, there is no documentation to show a connection between Andrew Wentland and this Frances Wentlent.]
Antonina was married a second time to Enoch Wojiechowski who died in New Carlisle, Indiana, and is buried in St. John Kanty Cemetery. Little I known of Frances’ parents, Martin Laskowski [or Laskowske or Laskoski] [d. 9/14/1921] and Mary Kujawski [b. 1/29/1896].
On a genealogical search with Aunt Florence and Kathy, Don and Charlotte’s daughter, in 1992, I took photos of two grave sites marked with “M. Laskowske,” one a simple cement cross (above), the other an iron cross (left), in St. John Kanty Church Cemetery, Rolling Prairie, Indiana. Which belongs to our great grandfather Martin is not clear.
_________________________________
*The website of St. Stanislaus Kostka Church http://home.catholicweb.com/ststanislauskostka/index.cfm/about offers a History of the Polish People of Michigan City and Saint Stanislaus Kostka Parish describing how the process of migration by settlers to the Northern Indiana area took place. That history mentions that “many Polish immigrants came from one area, the province of Posen.”Playing on the foundations of St. Stanislaus Church
The earliest story Dad shared was about his adventure when he was in 6th Grade. In 1913, St. Stanislaus Church in Michigan City was being built. For any 11-year old, the lure of a building under construction was irresistible. It was natural that Shaver would find the building going up next to the school as attractive to him as a Good Humor bar on a summer day. However, Fr. Bolka, like any good pastor, wanted to be sure the parish school children would be safe during the construction period. For their own good, he, no doubt, gave strict instruction to the school children to stay away from the construction going on at the corner of Ann and Washington Streets. At that time, the basement of the yet-to-be built church had already been functioning for Sunday serivces. After construction, this area would become the parish hall of this modified Romanesque structure. The picture of the church with the superstructure going up, before the window casements were installed, the window spaces between the c the school on the left shows thee windows along the side of the church building that were so tantalizing to a 13-year-old. During construction, the completed brickwork on each side of where the windows would be placed made for great sport for young Shaver to jump, like skipping over a series of wide puddles. Great sport, until the day, the principal, Sister Ursula, SSND, called him to the front of class and gave him the tongue-lashing of his childhood. “You should know better than to play on the church foundation!” we can imagine her saying in a Polish accent. It's possible that young Stash he had tried his darndest to be discrete by keeping from being seen. But it may have been that, looking from the window of the convent on Ripley Street, she had spied him playing on the construction of the church superstructure on a Saturday afternoon.
Dad never said what happened when Dziadzio* and Babcia+ heard about it. When they did, young Shaver certainly would have received the brunt of Polish family discipline. But then again, it’s possible Andrew, the Pullman Car Factory worker, might have said something like, “What’s wrong with a kid having some fun?”
*Pronounce: JAH-jaw, even though we boys always heard it pronounced it JAH-jah.+ Pronounce: BAHP-chah: "ch" as in "China", "ah" as "a" in "father." Also Babcia is used to refer to one’s father’s mother and Bucia to mother’s mother. Many make no distinction, using “Bucia” for mother of father and of mother. For his part, Dad never made the distinction, and Mom followed suit.
Josephine c. 1923 - 16 years old
Sarah Bernhardt [October 23, 1844 – March 26, 1923]
Mom and the Movies
Candy—Herman C., her dad—referred to Jo as his “Sarah Bernhardt” in her teenage years. Much later in her life, that reputation would continue through the kidding of her sons, even though, at that young age, we didn’t know to whom that name referred. When Mom referred to her dad’s using that moniker, she usually was teary-eyed. Today psychology would say she was in touch with her feelings. She’d never put it that way.
This Bernhardt trait was never more evident than at the movies. On those occasions when she could convince Dad to go to a romantic comedy rather than his preferred “shoot-‘em-up” film, Dad and we three boys could almost predict when Mom’s eyes would start tearing up. We would look over to her and whisper to one another, “Oh, oh, get out the rowboats!” as the tears began to run down her cheeks at some especially emotional scene.. As I look back now, I marvel at the sense of humor Mom displayed in putting up with this ribbing. And we’d sometimes even add our comment in a misguided effort to diminish her emotions, “Aw Mom, it’s only a movie!” We never meant to diminish Mom’s emotion or be mean. As a young child my emotional life was hardly developed enough to appreciate the significance of feelings and their part in the fullness of human experience. Today we’d never disrespect the authentic emotions displayed by anyone at any time, whether in counseling or at the movies. I am indebted to Mom for her genetic bequest to me in display of emotions. I think of her every time I watch movies with an unabashed demonstration of emotion--no excuses, no apologies.
Page updated
Google Sites
Report abuse