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Just as the early residents of the District 49 area set up and developed a church of their faith,[1] they also began home schooling; and, in the early 1870s, developed a school to which children of the neighborhood and the families of the area who were members of the mission group which was to become St. John Catholic Church[2] were invited to attend. Much of the credit for this venture must be given to the Joseph Reuter and Peter Mueller families and the interests of their parents. [3] It was the Muellers[4] who first opened their home for the school and continued their support and interest with the completion of the first school building. And it was the Mueller School name that has become the common reference for not only the earlier lean-to shed and the first building, but also for the Hillcrest building and the District 49 rural school that closed in 1952 after serving children and families of the area for seventy-seven years.

With visiting priests from Nebraska City serving Catholics of the area once a month, there was opportunity for study sessions of the catechism and confirmation instruction in homes of the district. And, since the priests rode horseback from one farmer to the next, they were able to serve several families within one home and included neighbor children as well as area Bohemian and Yugoslav families who had shown an interest in the faith. In addition to catechetical studies, the priests taught basics of reading and writing. And they encouraged considerable memorization.

Even though a small isolated community, school learning was important for these early farm families of District 49. Thus, the Peter Mueller family sought out housewives and men with special skills in their own community but as well in the neighboring school of Bunker Hill and from the associates of Charles Giddings of Table Rock to teach in the school. Many of the first teachers were paid with board and room and perhaps a sack of grain or a couple of chickens. For an entire fall, winter, or spring term, the payment may be a pig that on the market would likely be worth $1.25 or less. One newspaper report indicates that a Miss Susie, the devoted teacher this term, was given a bonnet at the close of school picnic in recognition of her services.

The younger children typically attended school in the first 2 to 3 months of the fall and again in the 2 to 3 months of the spring. It was during these terms that the older boys and girls were needed for harvesting and herding in the fall and in the spring, there was need to plow and break the sod and start the planting. Thus, it was during the winter months that most of the older children could attend. And in many cases, that might also include young men and women in their late teens and early twenties who had not yet married along with a few hearty younger brothers and sisters who could ride bareback along with big brother to get to school. However, several students walked in 3 or 4 miles and stayed the night or bedded down in the haymow or lean-to of the farmer “keeping school.”

Learning to measure bushels of grain, cords of wood, the hands height of a horse, and guessing the weight of an animal were important skills for farm boys. Planting, harvesting, and storing the grains and crops could be learned at home, but the basics of “figuring” and being smart enough to know what your earnings might be as well as maintaining data on costs and profits were taught both at home and in the school. Shooting the gun and skinning the animals were learned from an older brother or from dad. Learning the numbers, learning to cipher, and learning to write one’s name and address could help the worker to become more sophisticated both as a hired hand and as a farmer. For girls, the basics of sewing, doing fancywork, learning to cook in other ways than mom ‘learned us’ and adding some singing and reading was important. There was always an aunt or grandmother who could teach knitting and tatting and who had the patterns “in her head” for knitted hose, bloomers, collars, and underskirts. And for all, learning the basics of the faith whether Catholic or Protestant with a bit or reading from the Bible and the Catechism was of a high importance.

For the early terms of school there were certificates issued and there were stars drawn on “done good” papers. And there was the honor of winning at the Friday afternoon ciphering match or spelldown. There was also the recognition of having finished the First Reader even if you were in fourth year classes. For most students, there was lots of memory work to be accomplished. This was an important way to learn the language in “book talk” as contrasted to the mix of English that may be the language of the home. Or, as in the case of the Muellers and Reuters, the mix of German and English with some Bohemian added from the neighborhood work crews. Peter Mueller and his wife, however, were recognized for their command of the language and for their “fine ability to read aloud the gospels.” Mr. Mueller was educated both on paper and in the ways of farming in the Nebraska Territory[5].

Reading aloud was an integral part of routines in both the home and the school. The teacher would read aloud from books available, but especially from the social studies texts and readers and from the “reading problems” found in the early arithmetic books. The immediate retelling and answering the question of “what does this say?” was rigorously applied. Listening skills and understanding were emphasized. Old copies of newspapers were passed from family to family for reading; and, in some cases, a family who had a member who could read was the reader for several adults as well as children and teens. Limericks, jingles, rhymes, and poems were useful for all age groups. Wisdom in rhyme or poetry was memorized and became the reading lesson for both student and parent.

Spelling [orthography] drills were common exercises for many children both at home and at school. How does this letter sound? What is this word? The use of flashcards with pictures and drawings were homemade, but served as a book of knowledge for the early grade levels. Many students had a homemade spelling book and may have one for each month of the year. Student-made picture dictionaries were added to from year-to-year and became an important learning tool. Students were taught with the system of sight reading and sounding out words. They were drilled for individual words, phrases, and words in context. They would need to not only be able to develop word recognition in print, but also in cursive writing. In addition, they would need to be able to spell the word out loud and to be able to write the word from dictation as well as to write a sentence using the word in a meaningful way. And they would certainly need to practice for next week’s spelldown.

Living and learning in a rural school was based on what was needed and especially on what was needed to survive in this wild farm country. The central area of the neighborhood making up District 49 was high ground and not at all like the bottomland along the Nemaha where it flooded season after season. But tilling the soil and growing a crop in the hill area as well as raising a family was all intermeshed with too much rain, no rain, hail, grasshoppers, mostly hand tools, and a bad year one more time. The first land was free but you had to stay there and make a go of it or you would lose that, too. So holding on and not giving up was important. For many of the residents of the area, they were too poor to leave, but wondering if they could afford to stay. But they held on and they held together. They held on to their faith and they all “bettered themselves” with their church, their school, and a special togetherness in community. Again, the Muellers and Reuters were leaders in clearing the land, breaking the sod, making a go at farming, and making a better community for families. And everyone wanted everything to be better for the next generation—the kids and their families.

As the tasks for the school developed and children learned and progressed, so did older siblings and parents who “learned it right along with their children.” For it was often several members of the family who were taking reading and ciphering and orthography along with those children who got to go to school. Several parents had never attended school or were dropouts at 4^th or 5^th grade at the age when they were needed to join the work force at home or would be hired out in town or to a neighbor. So it was that health notices, sale bills, special news items could also be included in the curriculum of the rural school. For it was in this way that the information could reach most all families and in many cases reach the core parents of the community. For example, the embroidery brocade stitches taught to girls at school were typically mimicked across the district and became the pattern for gifts to relatives and friends for that year. If a student missed out on some of the detail, the teacher would be invited to stop at a home to fill in with more direction and examples.

The school became the hub for the community not only for learning but also for many of its social occasions: the box and ice cream socials, the Christmas programs, the poetry readings, and the specialty science sessions. Throughout its history, District 49 has been nurtured to be a center for the community learning and for community activities. In the early lean years and again in the 1920s and 1930s, it was what the residents could afford. But always the school was both home and community and enlisted to serve both home and community. The school and pupils and the community grew together.

One of the outstanding wisdom makers to come to District 49 was the talented M.H. Marble.[6] Mr. Marble brought his college learning, his astute understandings of science and his interests in astrology to a captive audience—an audience that was in awe of his many talents and secrets for learning. It was Mr. Marble who brought to the school its first stratosphere globe. It was simply a 12- to 14-inch sun with an arm rotating around the sun that held a rotating earth with its rotating moon. To the uninitiated, it was a mechanism to enjoy as it turned around for its year with its chains and pulleys. But to Mr. Marble, he had found the seasons, the phases of the moon, the times for planting—both here in Nebraska and back where Grandpa came from--be it Germany, Yugoslavia, or Bohemia of Czechoslovakia. It was a bit of magic thrown into common understandings. It was a special interest item that stimulated much discussion in the community. And, relatives who came to visit families of the district had a “must visit” to the school to see the globe and its keeper.

It was Mr. Marble who, in a blackboard lesson for his eighth graders, casually pointed out the Dog Star, Sirius, the brightest star in the sky. It was said that he had the entire community “star-gazing.” And, as was obvious, Mr. Marble excelled in planning projects and getting citizens of the community involved directly and indirectly in exploration and learning. He would plant a few ideas and stand back to see what would happen. He admitted that some things failed, but that he always kept on trying. He enjoyed getting students stirred up enough to learn on their own. He got them to think, to read, to search out and investigate new and different ideas and concepts in books, and brought some of the first library books for the school from his own collections along with discards from the Table Rock Public Library and the local Alturian Club. One anecdote that followed Mr. Marble’s tenure at District 49 involved two fathers who came to the school to complain. They were upset that both their wives and their children were too involved with book larnin’ and were not keeping up with the things that mattered most: keeping the house going and the chicken feed ground. And one had added that not even the wash gets done on Mondays anymore.

There were no records found for the lean-to school built onto the Mueller home or for the add-on schoolhouse that followed class sessions in the dugout and in area homes. And there were but few details found for the first building that became a granary for the Mueller farm. The new school, built on the crest of the hill just west from the Mueller home, was located on the southwest corner of the southwest quarter of section 16, township 3, range 12. [7] The land for the original plat was deeded to the district by Thomas McClure on October 13, 1875. However, there was a “bond” recorded May 10, 1873 “for deed in four years.” [8] So, it is interpreted that the first school under county jurisdiction was chartered on the 1873 date. However, there was not a record found for the disbursement of the bond, so it is likely that there was a private transaction or an exchange to satisfy the contract after two years. The particular location chosen for the new building and its adjacent school yard had a panoramic view of the entire area and was well situated for the county road that was expected to be developed and would pass on the north side of the building.

The permanent schoolhouse was a wood frame building 30 feet by 60 feet with two windows each on the north and south sides. The outside door was on the east end wall along with hooks for hanging coats, a bench for lunches, and an open storage area for supplies, a few tools, and the brooms and sweeping compound. The west end of the building was enclosed outside; inside the entire wall was lined with slate blackboards. And hung over the right side of the blackboard was the oak map case with its four maps and charts showing all the continents and an overlay for Nebraska. The roof for the building was of wood shingles nailed down over mule-hide tarpaper; the red brick chimney was built on the outside of the building in the center of the south wall. A 6 x 6 x 12-foot high belfry was set on the east end of the roof, but was an add-on that did not cut into the main building. A magnificent bell of approximately an 18-inch diameter hung in the belfry. To accommodate the slant of the hill and the height of the front entrance, a cement frontage of about 8 feet by 30 feet was added to the east side of the building. The sandstone foundation was chinked together with cement originally and through the years, many times over. The four windows were of two 6-pane sashes set into a wood slide and had no ropes with weights to balance movement up and down. Windows were held up with a stick or brick and perhaps a corncob. The walls and ceiling were covered with tin master sheeting that had the pattern of wheat shock symbols in an intertwining of parallel lines. In the early years, the walls were painted pea green, but once in its later history they were changed to what students referenced as Nebraska Tan before being returned to green again.

For most its years, this one room school had kerosene lamps hung at the top of the left side at each of its four windows. The traditional school replicas of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln hung on the west and south walls. Early on there was a replica of the national constitution, but as that paper yellowed and brittled, it was taken down and discarded. For many of its years, the school had a two-level base burner as its heat source. Early on, wood was burned, but later anthracite coal and cobs served as fuel. The old heating stove was replaced in the fall of 1933 with a cast iron heating range that served until the school was closed. And with it came briquettes as the main fuel. Both stoves stood on an insulated metal stove board and were connected to the outside chimney through the south wall with four or five lengths of blued stovepipe. The stone water jar for the school stood to the left of the south window. Students could use the common cup or bring their own cup for drinking. The teacher or a neighbor brought in water for use at school once it was learned that the school well water was contaminated.

The teacher’s desk was at the west end on a raised platform of about 6 feet by 10 feet. The center drawer of the desk was of special interest since it held the signatures of many of the mentors who had served the district on its bottom side. On the desk was always [by decree of the county superintendent we were told] the grade book, the plan book, the Course of Study for the State of Nebraska Article III Rural Schools, and the school bell. On the left side were a series of guides and teacher directories for book series being used for that year, the hand dictionary, and the book the teacher was reading for opening exercises. A built-in cross shelf was affixed in the southwest corner to accommodate the stratosphere globe introduced by Mr. Marble. And beside the globe was a metal stand holding a 6-inch thick bound dictionary that showed both use and considerable misuse. Along the north wall stood the book closet [book cubberd] that was in essence the book storage for all grades and for all subjects. The 8-foot recitation bench stood centered in front of the teacher’s desk about midway between the desk and the pot-bellied stove. It brought the remark from a fellow student that when you were up for class, you were getting “heat” from both sides.

In the home schools, the offerings centered on what the parents felt was important and on the books and materials available. Typically, two sessions per week dealt with the catechism, its vocabulary and content. Those first years were non-structured, but were set up to fit the needs and interests of the children and teens who could attend and the skills the teacher had to offer. As the curriculum developed, there was both materials and assistance available through the state office of education in Lincoln. But there was no reporting and no general coordination at the state level. Fanny Giddings [Norris] of Table Rock offered ideas and shared resources for parents and teachers and often helped with schools of the vicinity. The Reverend Charles Giddings [her father] was the contact for most area schools with the state office. Later, as the county of Pawnee became organized, more assistance and direction followed through the Office of the County Superintendent. And finally, there were the brown-covered Course Guides that dictated what was to be taught in each subject area at each grade level. However, there were scant funds to support the school; with a low tax base and many taxes never collected, the resources for the district were slim and often non-existent. School District Treasurers of the county gave warrants as promises to pay as funds became available. An important development with county supervision was the change from the fall, winter, and spring sessions to a full 8-month school. However, boys and young men continued to attend as the farm work allowed or as their personal interests might dictate through the 1930s when attendance standards were put into place. As subject matter areas expanded, more of the practical arts and personal skill development areas were replaced in rural one-teacher schools and also at District 49. The yin and yang of the needs of the schools and living in a rural area were turned from the community base to the definitions of county and state courses of study and secondarily to area teacher training institutions.

Along with a new stove in 1933, the students came back to find their desks that had been bolted to the floor were now screwed onto one x four pine board strips. And a series of new-to-us secondhand desks had been added. Gone were the ones with initials carved into their tops. Gone were the oldest double desks with ink bottles stored in the inkwell hole on the left. Gone were the footstools or the two x six boards that were used by students whose feet did not touch the floor. And added were orange crate chairs for the beginners along with a sand table and easel. And where was that recitation bench? It’s now a part of a learning center over in the corner.

And the wooden cheese box[9] with medicines that had always been stored on the little shelf in the back corner was no more. The iodine bottle had the distinction of being the only item saved; and it now had a partner in Mercurochrome and was stored in the right hand drawer of the teacher’s desk in a box marked “First Aid Kit.” And there was something else new: tape and gauze for cuts. Missing was Bag Balm that was great for frosted ears and the end of your nose or for Red Rooster syndrome. And if you had chapped lips, a rope burn or a cat scratch, it was the thing. Or you could use Clover Leaf Salve on the back of rough hands or on a hangnail or for Cole sores. And most of the time there was a sheet of horehound candy from which you could break off a corner and slip under your tongue if you had a cough—or, if the teacher suggested that you try some. And there was no more vanilla to use for soothing a toothache. But brand new was a cuticle scissors and a nail file for use by students who had none at home. And with the taking away of the medicine box, there was a stiff brush added to the bench beside the wash pan. And though it would have been perfect to brush a horse or the dog, its intent was to keep dirt from under fingernails and to keep cuticles toughened.

And 1933 brought one more big change—no more common towel for use by all students of the school. And as we learned along the way, no more drying your hands on your pants or by sticking them deep into your pockets. All kids now had their own towels with a loop in the corner and hung them on a nail. But most of us used the first towel in the row if the teacher was busy but took ours home each weekend anyway, dirty or not. This was a change, however, that had an effect for the entire community and especially at our house. We changed from the 10-foot heavy linen roller towel to towels for kids and towels for parents. But since my father refused to give up the roller towel of his parents for a time, we had that fixture until the roller broke and he then discovered Turkish towels and joined the rest of the family in what he referred to as “this modern stuff you kids keep bringing home.”

Our caring teacher in 1933, Lois Eunice Norris, was a great-grandchild of Fanny Giddings [Norris]. [10] She loved and cherished us all and got to know both the parents and the students along with the entire community; she touched our lives with care and learning. She brought us new books each month through the traveling library of the county superintendent’s office; she introduced unit learning and dozens of special interest projects; she kept us busy and involved and learning days, nights, and weekends. She also instigated the first Health classes for the school curriculum and introduced us to toothbrushes, vaccinations, clean hands, use of a handkerchief, and how to take a temperature. She brought in the magic of flycatcher strips—the scented sticky strip that was pulled out of a cardboard cylinder and hung up for its prey. She helped us to give up the treatments for colds and croup we had known all our lives—the medicated sock[11] to hang around your neck and/or the bag of asafetida dangling under your shirt.

All students who intended to finish eighth grade started early with reviews of Warp’s Review Books that were available for all subject areas of the rural school curriculum. And everyone kept up as they could with the word lists provided in Eaton’s True Blue Speller developed by Roy Wesley Eaton, LL. D. His works that were last published by the Omaha School Supply Company and copyrighted in 1934, were basic for both the exams and for most spelling contests. The goal for this intense study and review was to pass the Eighth Grade Examinations. Occasionally, former teachers of the district would help out with study time and review sessions. But, in the main, students worked in small groups or by themselves. Or the teacher held question sessions after school while spreading sweeping compound and tidying up. The tests in Teacher Manuals were studied and the Unit Tests provided by textbook companies were exchanged from family to family. And there were those hand-written lists of questions [remembered or ‘copied from the tests’] that students of past years handed down from one generation to the next. So in addition to chores and a review of what happened at school today, there were weeks of drill and review—enough so that every mother and father along with the younger kids of the family might have been able to pass the eighth grade examinations with grades above the magic score of 70, the decreed number needed in order to earn promotion. After the March exam at Table Rock or Pawnee City, there was a six-week waiting period before the results came back. Until District 49 changed from the 8-month term to a 9-month term, the results would be received after the last day of school. And those notices from the Office of the County Superintendent were greeted with loud hurrahs or with disdain. Nothing succeeds like success and nothing fails like failure! And especially for the future referencing of a student who didn’t quite measure up since he got a 68—he may always be known as a really nice guy, but you know he never passed his eighth grade examinations.

School lunches were typically packed in syrup pails or in gray granite bucket containers with tin lids. Since most families were poor, there may be meat in the diet once or twice a week and then it would likely be at a home meal. In between there may be mashed beans, a fried egg, piccalilli, or a variety of jelly and butter for sandwiches at school. Special treats were fried rabbit and fried squirrel or fried down pork from the stone jar in the cave. And maybe at Thanksgiving, goose grease[12]—at least for the Germans. After a holiday or birthday, there might be a chicken wing or thigh to be savored. Almost always there would be an apple since most farmsteads had an orchard. Or, if the budget would allow, there were penny oranges and penny apples available most weeks at the Norris Store in town. Occasionally there would be an extra crust of sugar bread or a square of cake or coffee bread. And perhaps a day or so each week there was a potato to be roasted on top of the baseburner after a spike [a 20-penny nail] had been pushed through the potato. Potatoes or a corner of squash had to be put on the stove at recess time so they would be baked through by lunchtime. Most kids had a water bottle in their lunch pail and many also had a baking powder can or jar that was used for canned fruit. Oiled paper or butcher paper when accessible was used to wrap sandwiches. Late in the 1930s, the newly developed waxed paper wrapper from boughten town bread became available. Since all paper including newspaper was in short supply, most wrapping papers were recycled and reused. Neighbors who did not have kids in school saved up oiled paper and passed it on to families with children of school age. An everyday chore for Mom or one of the kids was to clean the lunch buckets and wipe off the wrappers so they would be ready for use again the next day.

On a cold, crisp day of winter when you could hear the crunch and crackle of the snow under your feet--you could expect the neighbor across the road, Joe Miller, [13] to come by with his 2-seater sleigh and team of mules [14] to take the school kids for a ride. There were bells on the hames of the harness and often a ribbon on the green-stained sleigh with a bit of red decorative stenciling. In the early years there were fur robes to be used for covers; later there were heavy horse blankets. Typically there were hot bricks wrapped in a gunnysack to keep your feet warm. And there was a special charm and awe and excitement! And always, there was Joe’s smile and tittering to the kids—all kids whom he adored. It was a thrill of a lifetime and an experience that most students found only in their years at 49 and perhaps never again in their lives.

Games before school and at recess included playing on the merry-go-round, cat and rat for the beginners, again and again work-up softball, and a series of team and contest sports. There was often a fox and goose ring when snow was on the ground and many trials at hide-and-seek, playing marbles, and Mother, May I. With a damp snow, there was usually a snow fort built and a few bouts of snowballing. Or, at least enough snowballs to “plaster” the west side of the schoolhouse. On cold days, kids could stay inside or a few could climb and have a break in the coalhouse; however, that excursion could end in a cob fight or getting coal dust on your pants. Often the teacher would introduce new games or lead in story or joke telling. Checkers, dart games, numbly-peg, and ring toss were popular. Recess also provided time for stoking the fire, getting in the coal and cobs for the next day, and checking out the lunch pail.

The late 1920s and early 1930s was the era of the 5-, 10-, and 25-cent writing tablets. And also the time of penny pencils that were of brown cedar wood with an eraser on top or the yellow number 2 pencils that sold at three for a nickel. And it was the time of 19- and 29-cent pencil boxes, but many of us had none since budgets were short; however, in grade four, Santa Claus did bring one for me and it was a beauty! Not only did it have a snap lid, but also a drawer and a four-section partitioned top insert. It was green and from that day on, I was forever convinced that green would be my favorite color. It was also the time of 1-inch by 2-inch rectangular-shaped art gum erasers. They crumbled easily, they bounced when thrown on the floor—and if you hit the backside of the recitation bench just right, it would ricochet off onto the desk of your best friend. Many children did not have extra funds to buy “colors,”[15] but the good teacher always kept a chalk box full of discards and added a few from time-to-time. Colors were Crayolas that came in boxes of 8, 16, and 24 or a master set of 48. The year I was eight and in fifth grade I got my first box of Crayolas[16] from a neighbor. And I was so excited that I forgot to thank her! [17]

A frequent visitor to school in each of my years there was Pup Miller—a long-hair collie who came to have his ears scratched and to wait for a crust of bread. Pup took naps and waited for kid contact just outside the front door of the school on the cement slab porch. Some teachers allowed a rug for Pup to curl up on, but others kept the rug inside for kids to wipe off their shoes on rainy or mud days. Several boys often kept back a treat from lunch squirreled away in a pants pocket. About a half-hour following lunch one of us would raise two fingers to gain permission to go to the outside privy. And Pup would be waiting. He’d first want his treat and then he would run with us to the end of the school ground and often allowed the giver of a treat to hang onto his long mane and run along beside. Pup could be dozing off or be in the middle of chasing a ball—but if his master whistled once, he would perk up his ears and take off for home. Pup was always on good behavior except when we would play Andy-over the schoolhouse. He would get the ball first most every time and would then need to be told by a select few voices to “give me the ball” before giving up his prize. When my family moved from 49, I missed our good teacher and each of my friends a lot, but maybe most of all I missed Pup Miller.

In several of the years we lived in the Hillcrest area, my mother[18] got the fall job of cleaning the schoolhouse. And for some of those years I got to go along and clean the outhouses. That meant cleaning out the cobwebs and washing down the walls and seats and the floor with a broom, a couple of pails of water, and some homemade lye-based soap. My mother would work at things for a couple of half-days in order to get all of the desks washed, the windows and blackboards cleaned and all of the woodwork wiped off. The worst job was cleaning the walls; but she used an old mop handle with a few rags tied on to dust crevice after crevice of coal and cob dust that had accumulated on the tin sheeting. Most years she would take Abe and George down more than once cause when she sat at the teacher’s desk she could still see some streaks on the glass front that had been missed. And, of course, it was snap to clean on the years when there was a new paint job, but then the pay was cut to match. The final job would be to wash the curtains and get those back up. On years when the material would fall apart, she then made new curtains on our treadle sewing machine—always from the same 12-cent per yard black and white polka-dot material. You could see out, but nobody could see in with that choice of net curtain goods. My job during cleaning time was to put on the stove polish one day and then polish it off the next—first with a brush and then with some hard-finish material to “get the shine on.” In years when it was just cleaning, the pay was $2.50; in years when there was the need to make the four sets of curtains, there was an extra 50-cent remuneration.

The pay for the school-cleaning job was a boon for our family since it equaled school clothes for me. There would be two pairs of bib overalls at 79 cents each and two shirts for 39 cents apiece. Short socks would be 12 cents a pair or long ones at two pair for a quarter. To finish things out, my mother made underpants out of flour sacks or whatever was in the ragbags given out at church. Outing flannel—especially the dark colors sold for six and eight cents a yard; the first year the flannel would become nightgowns. In the second, it would do a metamorphosis into long underwear. That meant that you could never go to the outhouse with any other boys—for they might see those red rose flour sack shorts or worse yet, get a glimpse of yellow- and brown-striped long underwear. One pair of overalls was saved “for good” and both pairs from last year were patched up and lined so “they would do” for this year, too. There always seemed to be a few kid coats at Norris Store behind the counter. And old Charlie Norris would catch us leaving with our groceries and comment that he had something to show me before I left. Out would come a winter coat that just fit. He’d button it up right to the neck and would add a scarf or pair of mittens. He’d always ask, “Is that a deal?” And my mother would give him a handshake and offer her thanks and appreciation. I would smile. And, I would be sure to look up Charlie every two weeks when we got back to town.

Kid shoes were often a size or two larger cause that was what was available at the second hand store for a dime or a quarter a pair; and always there were the “plow shoes” for everyday and the “new ones” for good. My father [19] had a set of tools for fixing shoes and cobbled together pieces of leather to make new soles and heels. If we had some extra money, we would take them to Bruce McCourtney who always fixed kid shoes for fifty cents and most of the time gave a nickel back from your fifty cents so you could have a Snickers on the way home. When holes wore into the soles of school shoes, we would cut out cardboard insoles that lasted for a day or until you stepped on a rock or walked through gravel—or worse, a water puddle. We cut out pieces of inner tube or shellacked cardboard to fit over the front half of the inside of the shoe so as to cover up shoe tacks that stuck through. If your shoelace broke and it had already been knotted too many times, you just pulled a jar rubber over your shoe top to hold it closed. On snow and mud days, you would also have 3- or 4-buckle overshoes to put on over your shoes. They may be discards that leak, but helped to keep your feet warm and for sure—kept the mud on the boot that you would take off when entering the schoolhouse. Once or twice a winter you would need to “grease up” all of the stitching in your shoes so the thread wouldn’t soak up too much moisture and rot. And if there were already some loose pieces, your father would add some tacks or a few stitches to hold things together. In the fall when the harness and bridles for the horses were cleaned up and greased, you also greased up your plow shoes so the tops would remain more pliable and not wear blisters on your toes or heels.

Most homes of District 49 had access to few or no books or newspapers in the decade of the 1930s. And, in our case, in addition, we also did not use the library. Occasionally, my father would get the Grit newspaper for five cents or last week’s issue of Liberty magazine [also for five cents] since over a span of months it contained the serialized story on “The Kidnapping of the Lindbergh Baby.” My parents would read each issue from cover-to-cover; my mother would read a few sections to me—especially captions under pictures. But more typically, I would “read” and mark up the Sears & Roebuck and Montgomery Ward catalogs. And review my Sears flashcards[20]. What a joy it was to have magazines and newspapers shared—even though they may be six months or a year old. I still have the “book” made in third grade titled, “People Who Help Us.” With that project I learned to cut and paste and to extend skills with both manuscript and cursive writing and learned also to do a bit of organizing. And I learned a great many new words! It was such a successful project that I continued with an animal book, one on vegetables, one on fruits, and a extra special one on friends—which was made up entirely of dogs except for one horse, a red hen and one Holstein cow stuck together on the last page. But then the hording disease started! My fourth grade teacher gave me a book all my own: Blacky Daw, the Crow. In a few weeks she gave me a discard history book on the life of Benjamin Franklin; next a book on Animals of Africa. And with those highly prized possessions a special kind of book fever set in—and the illness has never ceased. I continue to collect books. I love books. The motivation that came with having gained the skills to read and the fascination with the new world of discovery in books has never left me. Books are my reward and my passion.

On a cold, blustery Valentine Day in 1927 I was born a half-hour or so before midnight at the Andy Luksik[21] house in Table Rock, Nebraska. By mid-summer my father had left the creamery business and we had moved from town to the Ed Hanna farm in District 49. For the first months, my father, with his team of horses and a slip, did road work; in the spring, he began a 13-year series of jobs as hired man for area farmers: first with Joseph Reuter, then Albert Miller, and last with Hermann Heuke. His wage for the first years was at a dollar a day; his raise after four years was to 35 dollars per month. And with the last farmer, he was raised to 45 per month. Most years we also were provided a hog to butcher in the fall and later a quarter of beef. Some years there was also a side of mutton. Runt pigs were often available at the sale barn for a quarter or 50 cents apiece; if you brought your kid along, he may get one free. And calves that had had the condition of scales were typically culled out of the herd and sold for a dollar a head. We did quite well with runt pigs year after year, but not always too well with the calves.

We brought to the farm a dear old friendly cow [Flossie], a team of horses, a riding mare, and a few chickens[22]. My mother also kept a collection of seeds for trading and sharing so that she could “raise a garden.” My father carried home a sack of soiled or waste grain each mid-week[23] for the chickens. We cut roadside areas and a neighboring native prairie so as to have hay for the cow and the horses. Most years my parents walked cornfields so as to pick up any missed nubbins of corn so that the cow might also have an ear of corn a day in winter. The farmer shared oats that would be cooked with potato peelings and table scraps for the hens and the sow on the cold days of winter. My mother canned and dried vegetables and fruit. Most years she had a small sugar sack filled with dried peas and a flour sack filled with dried beans. And there was always a sack of dried apples and likely a few dried wild plums. She fried down enough pork to fill an upright 3-gallon crock churn. And, she canned beef in the oven using the two black bread pans filled half full of water to do a hot water bath. The area roadsides provided elderberries, chokecherries, wild plums, wild grapes, and a few raspberries for jams and jellies and a few jars of juice. In my mind they were all larger and richer then than I find them to be today. There was typically one large stone jar of sauerkraut with a special board and rock on top and one smaller stone jar of snibbled[24] beans that sat on the ledge just inside the door to the cellar. For the early part of the year, there was also a crock of dilled pickles. It was never a chore to be asked to go to get potatoes or a can of fruit from the cellar since you could pick up a pinch of sauerkraut both on the way down and on the way back up. But you had to be careful that you didn’t dribble “sauerkraut juice” on your pants—or the secret of your snacking would be out.

My education and training and tutoring began early with the help of my older brother[25] and my parents—but especially with my mother who read to me and quizzed me on directions and understandings. On the date of my fourth birthday, I was invited to attend school with my brother and to share in the afternoon Valentine Party. And it was a whale of a success. I got to go to class with the First Graders; I sat with the big kids in Eighth Grade[26]; I was fed bites of sandwiches from my new friends and made over for all of the day. And I even got valentines and cookies and sat on the teacher’s lap. With that attention, she also showed me a lotion bottle she kept deep in her center desk drawer and shook out a drop onto my cheek. The next day I was up early and went back again. And again. And that was the beginning of school for a kid who had a hearing loss, did not speak plainly, had an occasional stutter, and presented a mix of Plattdeutsch and misunderstood English in a combination of “kid talk” that only his mother understood.

But there was the teacher, Blanche Vrtiska, and there were 14 other “teachers” who were all eager to help out. And there were those first classmates[27] who could drill me with the flashcards and help with reading. The reading of English and book talk and not the mixture of a “language I had learned and understood” were thrust upon me. Phonics and learning the sounds was a perfect match for me. I learned the English language as I learned to read. And I learned in the reading system of Emma Miller Bolenius that was used at 49, the 1923 boys and girls reader series by Houghton-Mifflin that was the basic text for the first six grades. It was a coordinated system of blackboard drills, flashcard drills, a question series, seatwork, review questions, and the learning of 8 to 10 new words per lesson. Words were first repeated 8 to 10 times in a similar format; next 8 to 10 times in a new format. And the “old words” of six weeks ago were magically included and reviewed. All to discourage memorization only and to encourage a transfer of learning; all based on animals with people skills and people language and on a family whose children were learning good behavior traits and good patterns of study for mastering the tasks of school. Even Higgly Piggly, my black hen only lays eggs for gentlemen! Eight animal friends help Mr. Pig to search for his spectacles. The boy of the family goes to bed each night promptly at 8:00 o’clock—but after saying his prayers and having dried the dishes for his mother and reading his lesson for his father.

When my name showed up on the seventh end-of-month report as a new enrollee in first grade, there appeared not to be a problem. But when the follow-up statistics of personal data: parent’s names, home address, and age of student followed--the County Superintendent[28] made a visit. I was underage for the grade level. Why was he placed in this class? What to do. I was immature and overweight, had poor eye/hand coordination, had frequent ear infections and colds, but came to school anyway. I could read even though parts of many print sequences may have been memorized. If we hold him back, he’ll be in a grade by himself; let’s pass him and see what he can do in the fall. In the fall, he was sickly—with more ear infections and needed a nap some afternoons. And he didn’t measure up very well. But once he had reviewed the first grade reader, he took off again. To this day, I remember my being put back into the first reader and the other kids moving ahead with the second reader. But never again! I listened in while the others were reciting. I worked hard to catch up. Somehow I caught onto a firm determination to make it. I took both the first grade and second grade readers home most nights—and especially for the weekends. My brother and “the big kids” helped me out to learn how to say new words. I finally learned the sounds of all the letters as defined by Bolenius. I learned to read lips and I learned how to read print. I learned that one upperclassman could speak in a manner that I could understand; so I often raised one finger to ask him to say a word for me since he accepted me as I was and drilled me until I caught on—caught on to a sound to be made “with the lips, teeth, and tip of the tongue.” But only if I had known what the oft-repeated phrase meant. I only knew that I was saying it wrong and needed to try again. But my friend never teased nor made fun of my calling our good teacher, “Blank Tiska” [for Blanche Vrtiska]. He never called attention to my running off to the left with one leg being a bit shorter than the other; with poor motor skills he never lost his patience and labeled me “a clumsy ox.” And if I forgot or didn’t know, it was okay. But then he moved away. He and many others had helped me over the hump, however. I was soon reading above grade level; I could do spelling for my grade and the next; and I did arithmetic at and above grade level with only a few hitches in the multiplication tables. I was not measuring up to Palmer Method patterns of writing, however, and I continued then and now—to be a klutz. It would be the pattern for my life—all As and Bs in all subjects except for writing and physical education. And for those subjects—always Cs and Ds and one year with a new coach, all Fs in P.E.

A high and a low for each school year was the end-of-year school picnic. What a get-together! Old friends, former students, all the former teachers in the district, and of course, you and your parents—but for you, maybe only your mother since your father would need to work on a weekday. It was always the same invitation: bring two dishes to pass and your own table service. One year one group would bring the cakes and the next year another. Drinks and the homemade ice cream would be provided by the school board members—the Millers. It was a time to show off your version of potato salad and baked beans, your canned pickles, and a new recipe that was being tried out at club. There seemed to be enough food for an army. And it was special—the top blue ribbon specialty of each mother, just for picnic. You could go back for seconds and if your friend came, too—for a fourth. There were games following the main course of food; there were often sack races, 3-legged races, and always a ball game with men and boys showing off their skills—or lack thereof. And then there was the ice cream and cake. The Millers provided the large 3-gallon freezer, the special cooked pudding mix for the ice cream, and the ice and salt. Two or three men turned the freezer; and each year they would catch a young boy or two to take a turn. But that could end in frustration since this large freezer demanded a lot of muscle power to keep it turning. There were always pictures with the large box Kodak before leaving, fond goodbyes, a few tears, and many good wishes. My mother would thank the teacher for all her patience and good work. The flag would be lowered and one more school year would come to an end.

The 1934-35 school year was an especially tough one for our family; it was the fall in which my father broke his leg in an accident while putting up wood for our home use and for sale to families in town. It was a long-term situation that warranted his taking time off work with the farmer and without pay. And with complications, he then needed to be out longer than had been expected. So it was that my brother took time from school to help out with gathering trees for wood sawing and eventually lost out for the entire semester when the need to take on part-time jobs that would support our family developed. Wood sold for $2.50 a rick[29] and was typically delivered and stacked for the buyer. Part-time work was 25 or at most 35 cents an hour and a couple of our neighbors helped out with work opportunities. We had great sharing from friends, but it was a new low for us. It was a special blessing that my gracious brother, a tall sapling teen of 15 years, could do a man’s work in the timber and with farm chores—and that he shared all of his income for family needs. And as my mother remarked, “Somehow we made it and scraped through Gott sei Dank.”

Through four generations, the Miller family from William Mueller, his sons Peter and Joseph Miller, Joe’s son, Albert, and Albert’s two daughters, Mabelle Miller Welch [wife of David Welch] and Marilyn Miller Clement [wife of Gordon Clement] maintained an interest in education and the specific interests of the District 49 school. First, it was Peter who began and held the first school offerings together, and then Joseph and Albert held leadership positions of Secretary or Director for the school board and gave many years of service. When the school closed, the land reverted back to the surrounding Miller farm pasture. First the building stood empty, but then was used as a shed and shelter for cows. After the floor collapsed and most of the windows were out, the building was torched in 1988. Remaining in 2003 are a few stones from the foundation and a few hedge posts from the original fence that had surrounded the schoolyard. On the day of my visit, a bull snake had taken over a sunning position on a section of sandstone, a remnant of the foundation. I reminisced that I had encountered one of his ancestors in second grade when he had taken over the boys’ toilet. And one more time I walked down to touch the corner post as I had done dozens of times before in the game of Mother, May I. I smiled and patted that old bent post; but today it held no barbed wire on which to tear my pants—only a few steeples remain but still in place and holding onto a duty now lost from another time.

Just as the Joseph Reuters had supported the school, they also set aside land for the burial of relatives and their Catholic neighbors, the William Muellers—a plat now listed as St. John’s Cemetery. That meaning, an association with St. John’s Catholic Church of Table Rock until it was closed in 1968 and its memberships along with the cemetery were transferred to the St. Anthony Parish of Padua, Steinauer [Steinhauer [30]]. Burials at St. John’s, a square of native prairie south and up the hill from the Mueller[31] farm home, include the following listings.

There are graves for dear grandma Goodenkauf, and an O’Brien, a Guida, Clema, and Buma that continue to be marked. A series of small stone markers, formerly all in place, appear now to be missing; they are thought to have been markers for the graves of children. Since all graves are set back from the road about 220 feet, it is questioned whether there may have ever been a church building set before the cemetery proper; however, records indicate the founding of the St. John’s Catholic Parish in Table Rock beginning in 1877 as the oldest church in southeast Nebraska. For many of its years, St. John shared a priest with the Sacred Heart Parish of Burchard. It is interesting to note that the St. John Parish never built a rectory but depended on services from Nebraska City or Omaha in its early days and then later partnered with Sacred Heart. The first called Priest for St. John was The Reverend Augustus B. Rausch who served from 1881 to 1888. But Fr. Rausch boarded with area families from week-to-week or slept at the church on Saturday night since he also kept the fire in the pot-bellied stove used to heat the church for Sunday mass. Both Sacred Heart of Burchard and St. Anthony of Padua, Steinauer remain viable and active parishes of the Lincoln Diocese. The St. John building has been turned into a museum of mementos; it still has the original pews along with selected records of the parish representing its service to the families of the Table Rock and the surrounding community [1877—1968], a tribute to the Reuters and Muellers of District 49.

The first marriage recorded for the St. John Parish was that of Peter Mueller and Mary McBride married on May 02, 1881. The first burial listed for the St. John Cemetery is that of Teresa Mueller, wife of William Mueller on April 10, 1867. It is recorded that the St. John Parish began with 69 members [seven German families, one English, and the remaining one, Bohemian]. The parish closed with 45 families transferred and/or dropping from the membership. While the first priests came in by horseback from Nebraska City once a month, they later came by railroad on Saturday and stayed with parishioners until Sunday afternoon. Since there was no residence provided for the servants to St. John’s, the early priests boarded with families near Table Rock and walked from farm to farm or borrowed a riding horse. With the building of a Rectory at the Sacred Heart Parish in Burchard, priests then used that parish or Saint Anthony of Steinauer as living quarters and a base of operation to members of St. John and to the area of the cemetery and District 49.

Families of the district of the late 1920s and the early 1930s included the following listings:

Teachers of School District #49: When the rural school districts were dissolved in Pawnee County, the records and official declarations along with minutes and treasurer reports remained with the last Secretary of the school board for the district. Some of those records have been passed on to family members; some were sold at auction with the last effects of the building and dispersed. It is reported that Lewis Jasa bought the Regulator school clock at the District 49 auction and gave it as a gift to his daughter, Anita. Some few of the records of Joseph Miller as Secretary and Albert Miller as Director have been passed on to Mabelle Miller Welch as heir; however, the records are scant and provide few details of an historical nature for the district. The best print sources appear to be the files of The Table Rock Argus and The Pawnee Republican. It remains a task of a tedious nature to scan copies of these newspapers for school news for an isolated district of the county, however, in the later years, teacher listings appear to be complete for the county in an August issue. The few information items for the early years of school history for the district appear in family, church, and historical references.

District 49, its residents, students, and teachers, has always been very special to me and for my family. We all bonded together well. We had a great love affair. We went through “thick and thin” in the depression years so have many positive and negative attachments. But for a kid like me, it was mostly all good! I never knew we were likely the poorest family in the district until I was out of school. I thought we were rich because of all the love and care at home, the good food and good times, and the special friends at school and in the community. Today, however, no Sunday in southeast Nebraska is complete without a drive past some of the old houses where we lived, a check on St. John’s cemetery, and a trek past the old schoolhouse grounds and that corner fence post. It’s a time to remember walks to school, the wonderful teachers, the great kids of my time, Higgly Piggly of my first reader, our dogs--Sport and Snippy, [Pup Miller and Pooch Walters of the neighbors], that bull snake in the privy, dear old Flossie with one split hoof, Miss Vrtiska reading to us and screwing up her face in a different way for every character in the story, always sliding off the back of the horse when my brother rode up a steep bank, and a thousand other great memories that make up a kid’s life. And today—just as then, I pray the Abba, lieber Vater. Amen.

It’s an Amen to living and learning at Hillcrest School and to our several homes in the district and to that very special place, but the story continues—it continues as a saga that will not have a final chapter since it is all still saved and filed in my head.

3. Jeannette Miller, Research Clerk, Office of the County Clerk, Pawnee County, Pawnee City, Nebraska.

5. Two other schoolmates, Elmer and Dorothy Gilbert Penkava, Table Rock, Nebraska.

Footnotes:

[1] Same families [Joe Reuter and Peter Mueller] worked toward the formation of a church.

[2] St. John Catholic Church established in Table Rock, Nebraska in 1877.

[3] Parents were William and Teresa Mueller.

[4] The German spelling of Mueller was changed to Miller by Joseph Mueller at the time of the First World War because of the reactions to Germans and to former citizens of Germany.

[5] Nebraska Territory was created in 1854.

[6] M.H.Marble of Table Rock, Nebraska; was an attorney, but had many varied interests. [lived to be 102].

[7] Records of the Clerk’s Office for Pawnee County, Nebraska.

[8] Ibid.

[9] A double-sized soft pine box with a sliding lid that had held two 5-pound blocks of cheese.

[10] Mrs. Chauncey. H. Norris

[11] “Given up” until later years when I have again reinstated that particular comfort and learned that the “sock treatment” is the choice of my personal physician as well.

[12] Ganze Butter [Ganzefett]

[13] Joe Miller was the brother of Peter Miller and the grandfather of Mabelle and Marilyn Miller who attended District 49. Joe and Teresa Miller had three children: Albert Miller of the area; Teresa Gyhra of near Burchard, NE; Anna Hunt, of Dalhart, TX.

[14] Two very docile mules named Jack and Jill.

[15] Crayons: a small stick of chalk, charcoal or colored wax used for drawing, coloring or writing.

[16] Patented name for a wax crayon; also contained a binder; was rolled in a heavy-duty paper enclosure.

[17] Ines Linn Madden [Mrs. Harry].

[18] Mrs. J. H. Rottmann [Minnie] nee, Wilhemina Anna Sophia Huntemann

[19] John Henry Rottmann [Johann Heinrich Friedrich Rottmann]

[20] Sears Flashcards: 100 advertising envelopes with a word on one side and its meaning or picture on the other side. It was one more way to learn to read.

[21] Property now owned by Willard Binder; house was gutted and burned down in the year 2000.

[22] A few Rhode Island Reds and important to my mother, Cornish hens.

[23] Middle day of the week [Mittwoch auf Deutsch] Wednesday in English.

[24] Green beans cut on the slant and preserved with non-iodized salt with a brine similar to that of sauerkraut. Prepared by washing and soaking out salt; then cooking with fat pork and dry beans.

[25] Harry Fred Rottmann, [Heinrich Friedrich] born August 01, 1920; now of Humboldt, Nebraska.

[26] Never-to-be-forgotten: sitting with big kids, Harlan Keiser and Edmund Kuhlmann.

[27] Mabelle Miller, Dwain Gilbert, Leona Kuhlmann, and later Elmer Penkava.

[28] Alberta Ballance [Mrs. Paddy] was the county superintendent; she became a lifelong friend.

[29] A rick of sawed wood represented a stack four feet high and eight feet long.

[30] Stein Hauer or stone cutter. [from the area of Obernkirchen, Germany who cut the stones from a nearby quarry for the churches at Koln, Asendorf, etc.]

[31] The Albert Miller farmstead [presently, Mabelle Miller Welch].

[32] The Reuter [Reuters] name is spelled both with and without an “s” at the end. Several children of Jacob Reuter are spelled Reuter, but the parent name is recorded Reuters. Jacob [Jake] Reuter is recorded as having two wives; the first wife is thought to have died with the birth of a son, Arthur. At the time of the second marriage, Art lived with Jake’s brother Joe and Bertha at the adjoining farm.

[33] The listing of teachers represents contributions of former students and teachers of District 49. If you should have additions or corrections, you are cordially invited to share. Humorous Note: for several of the years, there were as many different teachers suggested as there were contacts; three of us “each of whom knows that we know,” have different teachers assigned for several of the years. And, of course, we are certain that we are not suffering from the condition of “Senior Moments.”

[34] Betty Kotalik did practice teaching with the author, Leon H. Rottmann and has held a teaching certificate for 53 years. [she joins Leon who has had an active teaching certificate since 1943].

[35] The District 49 school was closed following the 1951-1952 school term.

LIVING AND LEARNING IN HILLCREST SCHOOL