(From My Golden Rule Days)
My parents, Otto and Ernestine Graupner, (German translation for “Graupner”: “one who delivers hulled grain”), lived in St. Louis, where my father was a hod carrier. He carried the heavy load of bricks to the men who laid them. Most of the houses were made of brick in those days. He had to carry a lot of them up a ladder and his shoulders were always sore, so they decided to move to a farm. They had three small children, Clark, Oscar, and Alma. My mother had quite a few relatives there, and they were all farmers.
The nearest town was Hermann, founded in 1836 by the German Settlement Society of Philadelphia, who wished to preserve their native culture. This area north of St. Louis, was chosen by scouts because of the Missouri river; its bluffs and hills reminded them of the Rhine valley.
I was the first to be born on our eighty acre farm, followed by Helen, Paul, and Ruth. The doctor lived three miles away in the village of Stony Hill and he came in a two wheeled cart pulled by one horse. Ruth was born on Christmas Eve, and he arrived wearing a heavy fur cap and coat.
Trying to keep Hermann German failed, as children preferred English, and World War I changed everything. Many a grandfather and the grandmothers were bitterly disappointed. Later, it was realized that a perfect colony was not to be, but the influence of those early settlers is still in evidence. One hundred sixty years later the well-made brick buildings still stand.
Many events are now an annual affair, the Maifest being the biggest drawing card. The large German School is now a museum: the huge underground wine cellar with its large casks of homemade wine, house tours of homes with antique furniture and modern television sets. There is lots of music and singing as the home folks put on a pageant. Then too, the good food to enjoy.
Page 1-2 — Copyright Esther Barnhart
