Got Initiated Into the Hay Field

18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:

Saturday, June 28, 1913: Got initiated into the hay field this afternoon, and I can say that I didn’t stay there very long either.

1913-07-52.b — Source: Ladies Home Journal (July, 1913)

Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:

How did Grandma manage to convince her father that she didn’t need to help for very long? It takes a lot of labor to make hay, and I’m surprised that he allowed her to be a slacker.

First the grass needed to be cut, and periodically turned as it dried.

After the grass had dried into hay, it was loaded onto wagons. Horses needed to be held and led as the hay was gathered, and workers needed to fork it onto the wagon.

And, of course, this all needed to be done very quickly—with eyes always looking towards the sky for any clouds that might suggest an impending storm. As the old saying says—Make hay while the sun shines.

You may also enjoy a previous post about how hay was unloaded from wagons a hundred years ago and moved into the haymows in the barn:

Hay Pulleys and Ropes

50th Anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg

18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:

Friday, June 27, 1913: I forget what I did today.

Postcard of (circa 1913) — Postcard of General Warren’s Statue on Little Round Top, Gettysburg, Pa. (circa 1913)

Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:

Since Grandma again didn’t write much a hundred years ago today—and I find the story of the 50^th Anniversary celebration of the Battle of Gettysburg fascinating, I’ll share some more excerpts from 1913 newspapers:

Gray Praises the Blue for the Great Reunion

Los Angeles Times (July 2, 1913)

In the pitiless glare of a sun that sent the mercury bubbling over the hundred mark the armies of the North and the South began today the formal exercises to mark the semi-centennial of Gettysburg.

Every seat under the canvas was taken long before Secretary of War Garrison and Gov. Tener, the orators of the day, came chugging up in their automobiles. Although the men in gray were far outnumbered by those in blue, there were possibly 2000 southerners in the amphitheater and what they lacked in numbers they made up in lung power.

Before the morning exercises began, the reunions of regiments and companies and squadrons began. Confederates who were in Pickett’s charge took keen delight in marching with fife and drum to Spangler’s wood, where the columns of Pickett formed on July 3, ’63, to begin the charge that marked the high tide of the lost cause.

On the edge of the Union side of the camp, the veterans of Meredith’s Iron Brigade and of Pettigrew’s brigade of North Carolina got together to go over the story of the fight of the first of July.

Veteran Resents Slur on Lincoln: Seven Wounded

Chicago Daily Tribune (July 3, 1913)

Seven men were stabbed tonight in the dining room of the Gettysburg Hotel as a result of a fight which started when several men aroused the anger of a veteran in blue by abusing Lincoln. . . .

. . . the flight started suddenly and was over in a few minutes. It began when the dining room was full and caused a panic among the scores of guests.

The veteran heard the slighting remarks about Lincoln. He jumped to his feet and began to defend the martyred president and berated the detractors. . .

A romance developed in camp today when John Goodwin of New York, a veteran, and Margaret Murphy of Chicago were united in marriage by Squire Harnish. Forty-six years ago the two were engaged, but they subsequently married others. They became widower and widow, the old flame was rekindled, and they agreed to come to Gettysburg on the fiftieth anniversary of the battle and marry. The happy pair will go on a wedding tour from here and will reside in New York.

Gen. “Tom” Steward of Pennsylvania is telling an amusing story of a “runaway vet” he came across in the big camp. The veteran is 85 years old and his son at home announced decisively that under no circumstances should his aged parent go to Gettysburg. The desire to be here and meet his former comrades was so strong in the heart of the old gentleman that he climbed out of a window of this home and ran away, turning up here in good shape. He is now happy and well cared for.

Veterans as Good Story Tellers as They Formerly Were Solders

New York Times (July 3, 1913)

Last night the veterans were really able to enjoy themselves for the first time since their arrival. ..

A roaring storm swept down out of the Blue Ridge over the plateau of Gettysburg yesterday morning, bringing needed relief to the thousands of veterans in blue and gray, who had sweltered for four days in an atmosphere that was dangerous in the city of 50,000 old and weary men.

For more than a half hour the rain came pouring down upon the sun-cracked and wind-swept encampment grounds. It charged with violent thundering over the ground that Pickett covered in ’63. Its salvos of thunder were like the booming guns of Meade and Lee, but the thermometer dropped with wonderful ability and the lightning cleared the air of its humidity. . .

So many cases have been reported of veterans losing their return railroad tickets and the consequent distress because of the inability to purchase transportation that Governor Tener yesterday notified General Liggett, the United Sates army officer in charge of the camp, that the state of Pennsylvania would pay the return fare of all veterans who had lost their tickets.

Gettysburg Cold to Wilson’s Speech

New York Times (July 5, 1913)

Mr. Wilson came to Gettysburg at 11 o’clock by train from Baltimore. His appearance at the station of Gettysburg was the signal for a cheer and from down in the Gettysburg College grounds came a twenty-one gun salute. . .

The President spoke slowly and carefully, but the breeze played under the side of the tent and the restless feet of those who hastened in made it difficult for the old men to hear and understand. He was interrupted only once or twice with cheering and that seemed perfunctory. . .

At high tide the camp cared for 65,000 men, about 85 percent of whom were old warriors, not put under the discipline of fighting men, and susceptible to all the ill-effects that climate and camp hardships can have on men. The youngest was scarcely less than 65 years old, and most of them were 70 or more. In view of the average fatalities in the best conducted military camps of the world, allowance had been made for ten deaths a day in the camp. Yet there were only eight deaths for the four days of the encampment, and one of the victims was killed by an automobile.

If you missed yesterday’s post you might also enjoy:

Free Transportation for Veterans to the 50th Anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg

Free Transportation for Veterans to the 50th Anniversary of the Battle of Gettsyburg

18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:

Thursday, June 26, 1913: A busy bee, I cannot be by the looks of this entry.

Source: Milton Evening Standard (June 26, 1913)

Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:

Another quiet day for Grandma—but others felt a sense of excitement. Civil War veterans who lived in central Pennsylvania were preparing to head to Gettysburg to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg.

A hundred years ago today, the local newspaper, The Milton Evening Standard, had a front page article about how veterans were to pick up their vouchers to travel to Gettysburg (see article above).

A month earlier there was another article about how the state of Pennsylvania would pay for the transportation costs of Civil War veterans who wanted to attend the huge anniversary celebration at Gettysburg.

Source: Milton Evening Standard (May 27, 1913)

Did Grandma Want to Become a Teacher?

18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:

Tuesday, June 24, 1913: Can’t say I have much for today either. These June days seem to have very little to do with me.

Recent photo of building that once housed the Red Hill School at the south end of McEwensville — Recent photo of building at the south end of McEwensville that once housed the Red Hill School where her sister Besse had taught

Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:

I can sense a bit of sadness or depression. What did Grandma mean when she wrote that these June days seem to have very little to do with her?

It may be a huge stretch on my part, but this entry makes me wonder if Grandma was hoping to hear that she’d gotten position as a teacher at a one-room school house. . . and that she was very worried that she won’t get one.

But, on the other hand, Grandma never wrote anything about seeking a teaching job. . . so maybe I’m letting my imagination run wild. . . .

However, both of Grandma’s older sisters, as well as several friends, taught at nearby one-room school houses after they graduated from high school, so it seems like she may have wanted a similar job.

Her sister Ruth (often call Rufus in the diary) graduated from high school in 1911. On June 30, 1911 Grandma wrote in the diary:

Rufus is going to teach school next winter, as she has just been elected to that office. Am glad.

And, according to The History of the McEwensville Schools by Thomas Kramm, Grandma’s oldest sister Besse taught at the Red Hill School at the south end of McEwensville from 1906 to 1909.

Piano Lesson Was A Long Hour

18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:

Saturday, June 21, 1913: My music teacher came this morning, and I spent a long hour in taking my lesson.

Source: The Mechanics of Piano Technic (1909)

Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:

This is the second week since Grandma began taking piano lessons. Why did the hour seem long?

Was she learning “boring” but important basics like how to hold her hands and how to properly hit the keys?

I’m still looking for hundred-year-old music books for beginning piano students, but I did find a college-text on playing the piano:

The principal difficulty of piano playing we found to be the production of sufficient power, and the economical application of the power to all kinds of passages, with velocity and under delicate control. Tone quality may be harsh if the strings are unduly vibrated, or thin if the quantity of vibration be too small to excite all the overtones.

The Mechanics of Piano Technic by Ethelbert Warren Grabill (1909)

My Memories of Blanche Bryson Kramm

18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:

June 18, 19, 20: These days are filled with uneventful proceedings not worth mentioning.

Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:

Occasionally I miss the obvious, and this is one of those times. I recently realized that I knew one of Grandma’s friends in the diary (Blanche Bryson) when I was a child!

Since Grandma didn’t write anything specific for a hundred years ago today, I’m going to share that story with you.

Yesterday I shared information that Blanche Bryson’s daughter Jane Shuman, daughter Pam Cooper, and granddaughter-in-law Janet Shuman gave me about Blanche and her sister Margaret. Blanche’s married name was Kramm, and Janet wrote in an email:

“Grammie Kramm was 74 when I met her & still substitute teaching at Warrior Run in 1966.”

And, it was like . . . Whoa, my 4th grade teacher missed a lot of school, and for much of that year I had a long-term substitute named Mrs. Kramm. . . Blanche Bryson Kramm.

Mrs. Kramm would have been in her early 70s when I had her as a teacher, but she still had lots of enthusiasm, loved working with children, and knew how to engage them in learning.

I’m sure that Mrs. Kramm did a superb job teaching us reading and math, but–and this might sound silly, but I mean it in the nicest way– what I remember best about Mrs. Kramm is how she taught me to tear paper in a straight line without using scissors.

Let me explain—

During the time period when Mrs. Kramm was our substitute, there was a school program or assembly. Our class sang a song about popsicles and we held “popsicles” that we made out of Crayola crayon boxes that we attached a popsicle stick to and then covered with brown construction paper. (We made chocolate popsicles).

The music teacher had selected the song, and my classmates and I thought that making fake popsicle props was a bit babyish for us fourth graders.

Mrs. Kramm, however, decided that it was a wonderful project for fourth graders—if we learned how to tear paper neatly without using scissors.

I remember folding brown construction paper back and forth a couple times—and trying to tear. Oops—the tear veered off at a strange angle. . . .

I don’t remember many sheets of paper I ruined, but I do remember the pride I felt when I successfully tore a straight line. (It’s really easy, but it seemed hard back then.)

Fast forward to today— Every time I neatly tear a coupon out of a flyer at the grocery store, or tear off a registration form at the bottom of a larger sheet of paper, I think of Mrs. Kramm. . . aka Blanche Bryson Kramm.

Blanche and Margaret Bryson

18-year-old Helena Muffly wrote exactly 100 years ago today:

June 18, 19, 20: These days are filled with uneventful proceedings not worth mentioning.

Her middle-aged granddaughter’s comments 100 years later:

Since Grandma didn’t write anything today, I’ll share some information about two of Grandma’s friends—Blanche and Margaret Bryson.

Milford, Margaret, Bertlet, and Blanche Bryson

One of the things that I enjoy most about doing this blog is the opportunity to meet wonderful people—and to reconnect with people in the community where I grew up. I recently spent a wonderful evening with three of Blanche’s descendants—Jane Shuman (her daughter), Pam Cooper (her granddaughter), and Janet Shuman (her granddaughter-in-law). We looked at pictures, shared stories, and reminisced about people we knew.

This is what I learned about Blanche and Margaret–

At the time of the diary, Blanche Bryson was a teacher at the Keefertown School. It was one-room schoolhouse in a very tiny hamlet about 5 miles northeast of McEwensville. Today, Keefertown wouldn’t be considered a town at all, but just a cluster of several homes along a country road. During the week, Blanche boarded with the Frank Menges family so that she wouldn’t need to make the daily trip out to Keefertown from her family’s home.

Building that once housed Keefertown School. An addition and second floor were added after it became a home.

About two years after the spot we are at in the diary, Blanche married O.W. (Oscar William) Kramm. Blanche and O.W. lived on a farm in Turbot Township for about 7 years, then moved to the Gaston Farm (near old Gaston School – now a chicken coop) on the Turbotville Road between McEwensville and Turbotville. They moved to McEwensville in 1939.

Their daughters, Ruth and Jane, were attending college in Bloomsburg by that time. Later Blanche taught the primary grades at the McEwensville School. She also taught a short time at Owltown (near Shamokin), Dewart, and the 8th Street School in Watsontown.

After she retired in 1962, she was a substitute teacher in the Warrior Run School District. (Small schools in the area became part of the Warrior Run District in the late 1950s).

Margaret was the youngest of the Bryson children and had a twin brother named Milfred (called Babe). There was also a brother, Bertlet, between Blanche and the twins. Margaret was always called Sis by family members. She married and divorced twice. Her first marriage was to a policeman, Heber Wolfe. They lived in nearby Milton and had two children.

Margaret was a nurse. She worked at the Muncy Women’s Prison, and also did hospital and private duty work. The prison is about 12 miles from McEwensville. It still exists, and is now called the State Correctional Institution—Muncy.

Both Blanche and Margaret lived well into their 80s, and according to Janet, “The Bryson girls remained close throughout their long lives.”

Milford, Blanche,Bertlet, and Margaret Bryson (1910)