Where in the World is Swampdoddle?

Between 1959 and his death in 1971 my grandfather Lynne O. Ramer of Milroy, PA wrote letters and articles published in the Lewistown Sentinel column We Notice That by Ben Meyers. Today I am sharing the article about the location of Swampdoodle.

*****

We Notice That by Ben Meyers
The Question for Today: Where is (Was) Swampoodle?

Natives Want to Know

Dear Ben:
Do you know the exact locale of a place once called Swampoodle? Was it up the east end of Kish Valley? That is, if it even actually existed.

Aunt Annie (Ramer) Smithers claimed that she as well as [her siblings] Howard, Emma, and Carrie were all born in Swampoodle. But none could verify the exact location.

It may even have been farther distance, anywhere in Mifflin, Union, yes, even Blair or Schuylkill Counties because Gramps Joe Ramer worked at clearing off the virgin timber in all those places.

Mrs. Alice (nee Ramer) Mickey sent me some newspaper pictures of a sawmill supposed to be located in Swampoodle. Gramps Joe, then aged and blind, wearing a broad-brimmed Amish-type hat, with full beard and cane, was sitting on a log near the sawmill, while playing around were some kids. Some mountain men and mules were there, too.

Won’t you see what you can find out about Swampoodle, as Aunt Carrie Bobb, near 92, wants to know where she was born for sure?

Sincerely,
Lynne O. Ramer

Who Can Help Them?

Dear Lynne: Personally we can’t be of much help in answering your questions. However, maybe some of the WNT readers can give an assist. If so we’d be glad to hear from them.

The very names itself implies Swampoodle was in or close by a swamp terrain—consisting of soft, wet, spongy ground. The handiest such place we know of in this immediate vicinity is of course Bear Meadows. There the land is boggy and unfit for growing much else than trees, bushes, flowers and suchlike. Also such a place isn’t so good for pasturage. And of course unsuited for human habitation, unless a person was to build his dwelling on piles, which sometimes is done.
Anybody know where Swampoodle is—or was?

*****

We Notice That by Ben Meyers

Yes, Virginia, There Are (or were) Swampdoodles

Several Turn Up

Yes, Virginia, there is indeed a Swampoodle!

At least, there was a Swampoodle, a flourishing little community. And it may be still existent.

Not only one such place, but actually three, have been reported by as many different readers.

This was all in response to Lynne Ramer’s yelp-For-Help appearing in the WNT column lately.

Tom Harbeson of Milroy, our ex-District Forester for the state, says that the Swampoodle he is familiar with was located in Buffalo Township, Union County.

“Some of my folks were born in the village known as Forest Hill,” says Tom. “Near by Forest Hill was another settlement. It was called Swampdoodle because it was situated on low, swampy ground.

“There wasn’t much to say in favor of Swampoodle as a site for a village to be located upon, but some folks actually did just that. One family I remember bore the name of Mook. There were quite a few members of the clan. I don’t know whether it is called Swampoodle any more.”

Pinpointing the locale as being in Union Country by Tom Harbeson fits in neatly with this having possibly been the place where Gramps Joe Ramer lived for a while when some of his children were born.

The old photo of Joe Ramer at his cabin quite definitely fixes the location as Union County and that was where he had lumbered on the virgin timber. Lynne Ramer’s Aunt Carrie Bobb could well have been born there, also Annie, Howard and Emma.

George Zeigler tells us he remembers the time when Joe Ramer hauled timber off the mountains in the far-eastern portion of new Lancaster Valley. That ties in with the general direction of the Swampoodle mentioned by Tom Harbeson as being in Union County.

George remembers there was a settlement in that section of New Lancaster. he isn’t too sure of its name, but it was a swampy, spongy place and might have been the site of another Swampoodle.

Another Swampoodle is reported by Jim McCafferty, ex-hotelman. However, its locale is too far distant in another direction to have been the one the Ramers are interested in.

However, Jim’s report verifies the belief that not only was Swampoodle once used as the name of a certain location, but it had a more general usage to describe sections that might be of a boggy nature.

In other words, Swampoodle was for real, not just something dreamed up.

“I remember Swampoodle well,” says Jim McCafferty. “It was when I was living in Philadelphia. The place was situated at a spot near 13th and Oxford Streets.

“The distinguishing feature of that Swampoodle was an old cemetery at a higher-than-average spot. It was some five feet higher than the street level and there was a fence around it. My aunt told me that the old name for the area was Swampoodle.

“I don’t suppose it’s still known as Swampoodle. Doubtless it was finally taken into the corporate limits of the city of Philadelphia, just exactly what has happened to various other areas which were absorbed into the city as its limits were pushed further outward.”

Joseph S. Ramer and his second wife
Rachel Barbara Reed

Up in the Haymow: Lynne O. Ramer Memories of Mifflin County in the Early 20th C.

My grandfather Lynne O. Ramer wrote hundreds of letters which were published in the Lewistown Sentinel by Ben Meyers in his column We Notice That. Many were filled with memories of his boyhood in Milroy, PA.

Today I am sharing his letter which appeared on September 7, 1968, in the Lewistown Sentinel. He recalls boyhood in the haylofts of barns in the early 20th c.

*****

Lots of Work and Fun-Making When Barns Flourished

Up in the Haymow

Being a Blue Hollow lad back in the days when every farm had its great big and roomy barn, filling it was a lot of hard work. But there was something to compensate for it. There was lots of fun-making too.

Up in the haymow there were also sheaves of wheat, oats, and corn stalks. The mow’s floor consisted of scanty, open-face planks where the food for  the livestock had to be handled with tender care or it would be ruined.

To prevent spontaneous combustion and heatings and excess molds, causing fire to break out and perhaps burn the building to the ground, there had to be proper ventilation.

So the kids had to heap the hays and straws and sheaves in the most intricate manner. After those things began to settle down, the puzzle of getting out of it would have challenged the skill of an escape artist like Houdini. The kids had a job trying to untangle the mess.

It was hard on the kids too on a smootheringly hot day. In the haymows the harried youths dragged and tramped the hays until they actually dropped from sheer fatigue.

Remember, it was 100 degrees and more up there beneath the tin roof. Then the kids sweated, but in the winter time they almost froze up there, chutting the feeds down through the mow hole, down to the ever-hungry horses and cows.

Yet, despite all this, it was like a paradise up there next to the cool tin roof on a rainy day. It was pleasant and relaxing, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain. Or the clank-clank of hail stones in sweet music as they descended on the corrugated galvanized roof.

‘Twas no place to linger on sub-zero days, dragging the food supply to the mow holes. It was fully a 50-foot drop from the top of the mows to the barn floor below.

wnt

Knocked Out Cold

So the muscle-power of the cows and horses had to be called on to help. A one-inch hemp rope around the neck of Old Daisy, Old Bessy or Old Dobbin or Old Mary would pull the pitchfork-holding sheaves up to the top.

The arrangement worked real well. But then one day Mary’s colt whinnied at an unguarded moment. The rope was tightened as Mary tried to go to her baby and it caught the farm boy, who was tossed through the air “with the greatest of ease.”

When he hit bottom he bounced off a heap of limestones. Result: The lad was knocked out cold. It was a long sleep for him before he woke up with the help of old Doc Boyer. Unconscious he was from 2 p.m. to 8 a.m. the next day.  The youngster had the “ride of his life,” nearly the last ride.

When the thunder rumbled and the lightning flashed and the rain and hail pummeled the galvanized roof, nobody had to worry about being up in the haymow. They felt perfectly safe. No electrical charges landed there. There were four lightening rods. Ben Franklin proved a point with his kite.

If a lad got careless when the mows were being filled he might disappear in the hap, falling through an unfloored section of the floor, reappearing again in the stable below—scaring a horse or cow half out of its wits.

wnt

Thresher Comes Around

The time came when Homer Crissman* brought his threshing rig to separate the chaff from the grain. The thresher was set up. And soon the barn floors were littered with dust and chaff and the wheat and oats sheaves did fly.

The cone-capped stack grew bigger and even bigger in height and width. There the livestock could munch later, but meanwhile the chickens followed the sifting chaff and grains away out into the meadows and fields.

Yes, the kids had lots of useful things to fill their lives. Unlike the youths today, they didn’t need thrills such as some do nowadays—pulling over mailboxes, prowling rural lanes, scaring the people by the noise of their motorcycles.

Gone are the days and gone also are many of the old-fashioned barns which furnished to much work and play, not only for kids, but for all the family.

*Samuel Homer Crissman was born in 1858 in Mifflin County, PA. He was a farmer in 1910. In 1930 he ran a saw mill. He passed in 1940 at age 82.

*****

My grandfather lived with his mother and Ramer grandparents in Milroy. Joseph Sylvester Ramer and Rachel Barbara Reed are shown below with their house and an outbuilding behind them. Joseph ran a saw mill.

After the death of Joseph's first wife Anna Kramer he married Rachel Barbara Reed. Their daughter Esther Mae gave birth to Lynne in 1905. When Joseph died, Esther and Lynne continued to live with Rachel.

When Gramps was nine he lost both his mother and his grandmother. His mother's siblings stepped in to care for him. He lived with his aunt Carrie Ramer Bobb and aunt Annie Ramer Smithers.

Carrie Bobb (52 y.o.) and Lynne Ramer (24 yo.)

Annie and Charles Smithers in the 1940s

Charlie Smithers encouraged my grandfather's academic success. Gramps worked his way through college and seminary at Susquehanna University and Columbia Teachers College. Later, he earned his Masters in Mathematics from University of Buffalo.

*****

My husband's maternal grandfather John Oran O'Dell was a farmer with a thresher in Lynn Township, St. Clair Co., MI.

He had a farm in the upper left corner of Lynn Twsp. almost to Brown City. The 'old homestead' had a large barn.

*****

Although my first home was an 1830s farmhouse, we didn't have a barn, just a series of 'sheds' or 'garages'. But across the street was another 1830s farmhouse with a barn. When my dad was a boy, he would help John Kuhn. Below is John with a load of hay, his barn in the background.

Lynne O. Ramer Memories of Teachers 100 Years Ago. And Recipes!

Today I am sharing my grandfather Lynne O. Ramer's letter published May 3, 1961 in the Lewistown Sentinel column We Notice That by Ben Meyers. Gramps talks about Milroy, PA teachers 100 years ago.

*****

Dear Ben and Dave Yingling: I got your message via courier (Gilbert McKinley Shirk). So here’s the answer: That other Ramer school teacher at the turn of he century you were inquiring about was Clyde Oliver Ramer, my uncle.

Note the Lynne “O” in my name. It stands for “Oliver,” as both my uncle and I were named after his uncle, Oliver Reed, who was grandmother Rachel’s brother.

I don’t know where Uncle Clyde taught school. He was the last Ramer boy to leave Rachel’s nest.  When I was 4, he taught me how to spell Kishacoquillas. That was followed by such eye-blinders as Popocatepetl, Aurora Borealis, Schenectady, Armagh, Schuylkill, Tuscarora, etc.  Oh, yes, and Susquehanna!

He also taught me the ABC’s backwards---XYZ’s.  And it took Miss Cora Lewis, my first grade teacher, quite a while to unscramble my memory.

Thus it came to be that Uncle Clyde flexed his pedagogical talents on me. Then we’d go to the barber shop or to the restaurant over Laurel Run, Milroy, and the fees I collected were roughly one penny per word or a nickel for the “reversed alphabet.” With the “take” I got for correct spelling, I got myself a “poke” of candy.  On second thought, maybe it was one penny for five words.

Wnt

Esther Mae Ramer and baby Lynne Oliver

Mental Giants

Uncle Clyde and Aunt Ida Ramer took me to raise when my mother, Esther, and my grandmother, Rachel, both died in 1912. He further exercised his teacher talents on me in arithmetic and geography. He “thimble-pied” fractions into my thick skull and taught me to name all the counties of Pennsylvania, starting at Erie and eastward around the border, spelling inward to arrive at Centre County. Then for a review, start at Centre County and spiral outwards back to Erie. If you asked me real quickly nowadays I couldn’t name the county in the northeast corner. Or indeed in any other corner!

As added exercises in those days at school we had to learn the county set and principal towns of all the Pennsylvania counties and the capitals, principal cities and products of every country in the world.

There weren’t so many nations in 1915, so ‘twas an easier job than school kids have today. Besides we had to learn the names of every town, township and county officer, and know the requirements for their offices, and the length of their terms.  They called it “CIVICS”!

Wnt

Lynne's school photo when he was six years old

Tribute to Orrie

One exercise required of us (1916) by Prof. John Benjamin Boyer was to make a census of Milroy.  The “big count” was roughly 1,400.  I was amazed to see a current Pennsylvania road map say the count is 1,403. Where did those extra three come from? Perhaps this has been revised since the census taken in 1960.

We had a subject called “Agriculture,” in which class we would calculate balanced diets of fats, carbohydrates, proteins, etc. for beasts and fowls, even though a lot of us were riding bicycles.  I guess the “horse count” is not as great in K. V. as it was in 1915-20.  But even then there were some Maxwells and Fords, i.e., “tin lizzies.”

Now I had only intended to answer Dave Yingling’s question, just to tell you the name of that Ramer who was his contemporary teacher.  But the pen rambles on!

So here goes for a slight more ramble to pay tribute to another living grammar school teacher, Orris M. [sic] Pecht, who taught thousands of boys in his 30-plus years as an Armagh Township pedagogue?

Most of the older boys and older girls should remember him. I missed out on “Orrie,” since I attended Mr. Manwiller’s seventh-eight grades in Reedsville.

Wnt

Last Dinkey Ride

Oliver Reed’s last trip from Lewisburg to visit Milroy and to see his sister Rachel was made on the day that the last dinkey-and-logger’s trip was made on Reichly Brother’s railroad. I remember it so well, since the dinkey broke an axel and we had to hoof quite a way to get home and I stirred up every hornet’s nest on the right-of-way. We had gone up huckleberryin’ atop Long Mountain.

Ben, I got your batch of clippings from WNT columns.  Many thanks.  To old eagle eye Gilbert M. Shirk and Reed W. Fultz go my thanks too for similar favors.

My wife Evelyn is going to make us a pot of greens done in the style found in the WNT recipe. Get someone to put in the recipes for schnitts and neff and chive dumplings. They are palate twisters.  Aunt Carrie Bobb of Potlicker Flats was a specialist on dandelion, schnitts and dumplings.  She will be 86 this coming June 14. Nammie [his grandmother Rachel Reed Ramer] was the one to concoct the stuffed pig’s stomachs thought!

Sincerely,
Lynne O. Ramer
Royal Oak Mich.

****

NOTES

Cyrus Oliver Reed

When Cyrus Oliver Reed was born on November 5, 1855, in Kelly, Pennsylvania, his father, Jacob, was 44 and his mother, Susannah, was 41. He married Emma M. Dieffenbach in 1885. They had one child during their marriage. He died on March 1, 1925, in his hometown at the age of 69.

from We Notice That column, Lewistown Sentinel, July 16, 1961. Submitted by Lynne O. Ramer to Ben Meyers: "Dave Yingling and my Uncle Clyde Ramer went to teacher's training together in 1899. Then they each taught in rural schools for $30 monthly--and find your own keepins! Ten times $30-- how does that sound for a year's work? Of course this isn't the daily national teaching standard today, but it was a month's pay only a half century ago."

The 1900 Census shows Clyde, age 22, was a teacher. He lived with his family: father Joseph, age 67 operated a planning saw mill with his son Howard helping; mother Rachel was age 59; sisters Annie, Emma J. and Esther worked in the knitting mill factory; son Charles Perry was a day laborer, and daughter Marcia, 15, was at school. Annie's child Charles, age 4, also lived with them.

The teacher's salary couldn't support a wife and the 1910 Census for Lewistown, PA shows Clyde Oliver, age 31, married to Ida, age 25,  and working as a machinist at the steel mill. In 1930 the Finleyville PA Census shows Oliver Raymer, age 51, owned a garage and Ida worked as a schoolteacher. In 1940 Ida is still teaching, and the census shows she had a four year degree.

Professor John Benjamin Boyer

The 1900 Northumberland, Lower Mahanoy Census shows John age 17 living with his family Benjamin Boyer, farmer b, 1853, mother Lizzie born 1849, and sibling Charles b. 1875. 

The 1910 Mifflin County Census shows he was a boarder and teaching in the high school.

The 1920 Census show he was teaching and living with his mother Elizabeth in Lower Mahanoy, Northumberland, PA

John B. Boyer in 1908 Bucknell University yearbook

History of Northumberland County, Floyds 1911: John is a graduate of the Bloomsburg State Normal School and Bucknell University. He is a highly successful teacher, and at present is principal of the High School at Milroy, Mifflin County, Pa.

When John Benjamin Boyer was born on July 24, 1882, in Lower Mahanoy, Pennsylvania, his father, Benjamin, was 29 and his mother, Elizabeth, was 33. He was living in Northampton, Pennsylvania, when he registered for the World War II draft. He had one brother.

His death certificate shows he was Assistant Superintendent of Northumberland Schools. He died in 1948 at age 65 after suffering an accident with farm machinery.

John's family tree goes back to his immigrant ancestor JOHN HENRY BOYER
born 13 AUG 1727  in Flomersheim, Frankenthal, Rheinland-Pfalz, Germany and who died January 24, 1777 in the Revolutionary War in Amityville, Berks Co., PA

Orris Wilmot Pecht (born in 1873 in Siglerville, PA and died in 1966 in Lewistown, PA) appears on the 1920 census as a teacher with wife Sarah Eva Barger (1883-1971)  and children Katherine, Bertha, and Unice [sic, Eunice]. His father was Isaiah (1839-1914) and Katherine Barger (1845-1920). Another child was Dorothy E. (1921-2012). Orris's death certificate shows he was an elementary school teacher. His family tree in America goes back to Frederick Pecht born 1795. His daughter Eunice (1911-2003) was also a teacher.

Orris and wife Sarah were cousins. Jacob (1812-1901) had children James (1860-1935) and Kathleen (1845-1920) Jacob was father to Sara Eva; Kathleen was mother to Orris.

Lloyd Raymond Manwiller (1893-1989) was a career teacher and school principle. His time at Reedsville must have been short lived. The 1920 census shows Loyd [sic] R. Manwiller, age 27, a boarder in Summerhill, Cabria, PA working at the public school. In 1921 he appears in the Hazelton, PA directory as principle at the "Hts Sch".  His parents were Newton H. Manwiller Lizzie Kutz Schlegel. He married Stella Gibboney. He is buried in a Reedsville, PA cemetery.

Reed William Fultz (1904-1962) appears on the 1930 Juniata, Mifflin, PA census as a lumberman married to Bessie M with a child Olive. His death certificate shows he was born in Milroy to parents Harry R. and Bessie Jane Fultz. Reed married Jessie Shotzberger.  Reed died in Juniata and is buried there.

Aunt Carrie Bobb's Chive Dumplings Recipe

• 
  Take two parts chives and one part parsley. A big colander full. Wash and cut up into small pieces. Fry a few minutes to soften with small amount of shortening and salt.
• 
  Then break three eggs over it. Cook till eggs set. Take off stove. Put in a pan to cool. Then make dough as for pie crust only not as short.
• 
  Roll out dough in squares about six inches long and three or four inches wide. Put the chive mixture in between two squares. Then turn and pinch the sides together so no water gets in. Make them kind of flat till they look like an oversize ravioli.
• 
  Drop them slowly, one by one, into pot of boiling water, but not on top of one another. Like you do in dropping squares of home-made pot pie into the pot.
• 
  Boil four or five minutes. Then remove from pot and fry them in a pan with shortening till both sides are nice and brown. When they are browning, you can refill the pot with another round of dumplings and be ready to repeat the process. After they are browned, the chive dumplings are ready to eat.

They may be eaten hot or cold. Some like ‘em hot, some vice versa. If you like ‘em hot and there are some left over, warm them in a pan over slow heat and a little shortening and a small sprinkling of water. Makes them as good as new!

Pennsylvania Dutch Schnitz un Knepp

Pennsylvania Dutch Schnitz in Knepp

6 oz. dried, skin-on and cored apple slices
3 lbs. smoked ham with bone
1 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 pinch ground cinnamon
2 cups flour
4 tsps. baking powder
1 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. ground white pepper
1 egg, well beaten
3 Tbsps. melted butter
1 cup whole milk

Cover the dried schnitz apples with water; soak overnight. In the morning, cover ham with water and simmer for 2 hours. Then add the apples and water in which they have been soaking and continue to simmer for another hour. Remove ham from the pot and use a slotted spoon to remove the apples. Add the sugars and cinnamon to the remaining liquid. Reserve this juice in the pot until you're ready to cook the dumplings.

To prepare the dumplings, sift together the flour, baking powder, salt and white pepper. Mix together in a separate container the beaten egg, melted butter and milk and quickly stir this into the flour mixture. Stir just until blended (over-stirring will make the dumplings tough). Let dough rest 30 minutes. Drop the dumpling mix by tablespoonful into the simmering cooking liquids. Tightly cover the kettle and cook for 20 minutes. Serve hot on large platter with cooked schnitz apples and sliced baked ham. Makes about 8 servings.

Here is another version:

3 pounds ham
1 quart apples, dried
2 tablespoons brown sugar
2 cups flour
1 cup milk
4 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 egg, well beaten
3 tablespoons butter, melted
1 teaspoon salt

Pick over and wash dried apples. Cover with water and let soak overnight or for a number of hours.

In the morning, cover ham with cold water and let boil for 3 hours. Add the apples and water in which they have been soaked and continue to boil for another hour. Add brown sugar.

Make dumplings by sifting together the flour, salt, pepper and baking powder. Stir in the beaten egg, milk (enough to make fairly moist, stiff batter), and melted butter.

Drop the batter by spoonfuls into the hot liquid with the ham and apples. Cover kettle tight and cook dumplings for 15 minutes. Serve piping hot on large platter.

Recipe Source: "Pennsylvania Dutch Cook Book: Fine Old Recipes," Culinary Arts Press, 1936.

The Quilts and Chive Dumpling Recipe of Aunt Carrie Ramer Bobb of Potlicker Flats

In 1961 my mom, brother and I went with my Grandparents Ramer  to visit Gramp's hometown of Milroy, PA. We visited his mother's sister Carrie Viola Ramer Bobb who had helped raise Gramps after the death of his mother and grandmother. She was a quiltmaker and my mother brought home this Dresden Plate quilt, which she gave to me in 1990.

Many of the fabrics date to the 1930s and 1940s. The quilt may have been made in the 1950s.

I love the stripes fabrics used in wonky ways.

Above: Aunt Carrie Bobb in her later years. Below: Aunt Carrie behind my Grandfather Ramer when Carrie was 52 years old and Gramps was 24.

Sidney Bobb, great-grandson of Aunt Carrie, has two of her quilts as well; a Drunkard's Path and Grandmother's Flower Garden.

Carrie was born June 14, 1875 in Milroy, PA, daughter of Joseph Sylvester Ramer and his second wife Barbara Rachel Reed Ramer. My great-grandmother Esther Mae Ramer was her younger sister. Carrie married John Edward Bobb. She lived next door to her daughter Pearl when I met Aunt Carrie and Pearl. Aunt Carrie still had an outhouse. And yes, there really is, or was, a Potlicker Flats in Mifflin County near Milroy! Its on Laurel Creek near U.S. 322. The 2010 census showed 172 residents.

Gramps wrote letters to Lewistown Sentinel columnist Ben Meyers. In 1960 he wrote, "We had our dinner at Cousin Pearl's (Mrs. Lobiah Gonsman) up at Potlicker--two roast chickens and all the fixins. Aunt Carrie was spry and talkative--at 85 years." In 1961 he wrote, "Overnight at 86-year-old Aunt Carrie Bobb's home and a typical Pennsylvania Dutch dinner at cousin Pearl's and Abe's home."

March 17, 1963 the We Notice That column was all about Carrie. She had asked Ben Meyer to share her letter:

Dear Ben:
Will you print this in your column? I am a guest at the County Home, and Mifflin Countians can be proud of their home.
Mr. and Mrs. Wagner run the farm and the home and they are wonderful people and I love them dearly.
And the nurses are all grand and I love them, also the women cooks and their helpers.
In this way I want to thank the fire companies and churches and all the other organizations for their lovely Christmas gifts and treats and services throughout the year.
Also the hairdressers for their gift. They are doing a wonderful job.
I am a little handicapped. I can’t see or hear very good. Too bad. I will be 90 years old June 14 and I am I fairly good health and I thank God for that. Love to all people.
Mrs. Carrie V. Bobb
c/o Mifflin County Home
P. S. Ben, I am going to send you a receipt for chive dumplings soon. Yum, yum! Wish I had three!

Ben replied in his column, 

Dear Carrie Bobb:
Thank you so much for your very sweet letter! It stirred us deeply. And we’re quite sure all the members of We Notice That family will enjoy it too. 

Just to read your letter, then reread it, maybe a couple of times, ought to act as a great morale booster for many who, though in a much different situation and environment from yours, have never learned to count their blessings, but gripe and complain about their lot. You set us all a good example by practicing the “contentment that is great gain,” as one inspired writer expressed it. Wealth, social prestige, power—none of these can be favorable compared to one’s being happy, content, and grateful just for the little things, the things that money can’t buy. 

And another, thing, Mrs. Bobb. You’ve learned how to overcome or rather how to combat loneliness which is one of the greatest problems among elderly folk. For those up in years, the most common cause for loneliness is neglect, even when living with relatives, but more often when living in an institution. Older people tend to feel outdated, deliberately cut-off by those from whom they expect love and friendship. Changed attitudes of families towards parents and grandparents in recent years has resulted in increased loneliness among the aged. But in your case, Mrs. Bobb, its evident you still enjoy the companionship and care of your loved ones. They come often to call and to take you out for a visit, yes, even for an overnight stay or longer.

We believe you had lived alone for years in your little home at Potlicker Flats till advancing years and frailties made it impractical to continue going it by yourself as winter approached again. And so it was last fall, with your own choosing and consent, you welcomed and accepted the transfer to your present quarters. The basic human desire to be with a loved one, to be understood, to be loved, to feel wanted, needed and cared for—these needs you now find are furnished in your present environment. There you have your own individual room, too. 

Thanks again, dear friend, for your mighty welcome letter. It’s quite remarkable. But then you are quite a remarkable woman. Not only are you active, having a keen mind, but most of all the appreciation you feel for others, your zeal to enjoy things so much! We hear too your room was so filled with presents at the holiday season, it prompted you to say, “I never before had such a wonderful time—it would take me a whole year to consume all these goodies!” So the thankfulness you expressed to all the different groups who do much to lighten and cheer the County Home Guests, it comes bubbling out of your appreciative and grateful and loving heart, Mrs. Bobb!

As for the chive-dumpling recipe, we’re looking for it. We’ll keep working up an appetite for the feast. Meanwhile, as the Psalmist said, Mrs. Bobb, “Be courageous and may your heart be strong.”

In 1965 Lynne wrote about a family reunion with folks bringing Aunt Carrie scraps. He waxed philosophically about life being like a patchwork quilt.

Well, we have stitched on another vacation patch to the crazy quilt of life. At the Richfield Ramer Clutch several widely scattered cuzzins brought bags of patches for Aunt Carrie Bobb of the Mifflin County Home, who has another Postage Stamp Quilt underway. 

Aunt Carrie sews on this quilt between times devoted to folding sheets and towels for the guests and writing 10 letters each week. This year the patches came from Bethesda, Camden, Annapolis, Indianapolis, Sinking Valley, Allen Park and Berkley, etc., etc.-and a crazy assortment they were to be sure! 

Yet when a quilt is complete there is some manner of symmetry and form to the total, be it a Dresden Circles, a Field of Diamonds, a Double Wedding Ring or just a plain Postage Stamp. 

Such is life! Patches added willy-nilly, seemingly with no central purpose, yet the total displays an amazing degree of purpose. A quilt is hard to see because we look at the patches, just like it's said we can't see the forest due to the single trees. 

The way the patches are being added, daily and yearly, in the USA makes it very nigh impossible to see the 'quilt', which though never finished, may have some form and sense ultimately. We should not be too critical of ourselves or of our children since our grand-pappy's grandpappy sewed in some patches as 'crazy' as they came! The patterns never change, generation after generation.  

I am not sure if only Milroy Countians called the quilt I own Dresden Circles. I did find that Amy Smart of Diary of a Quilter has a post on Dresden Circles here. Field of Diamonds is made of hexagons like Grandmother's Flower Garden, but the flowers are a diamond shape.

In 1966 Ben Meyer wrote,

One evening there came a knock on the door. And who was there but a lady bringing some samples of her famous chive dumplings which we’d mentioned before in this column. She was Mrs. Pauline Saddler of Milroy. It seems that once a year she and Mrs. Carrie Bobb get together for a cooking spree. They spend a large part of a day to produce their favorite dish—fried dumplings seasoned heavily with chopped chives. The reason they turn out so many dumplings is because they’re not selfish. They like to share their good things with others. And the gift delivered to us was just one of many they distributed to their friends. If we’re not mistaken, Mrs. Saddler and Mrs. Bobb produces 90-odd dumplings in one batch which was enough to full their own needs and to share some with other folks. The 90-year-old, spry Aunt Carrie Bobb as all her friends call her) has given us the recipe for this intriguing dish. Here it is:

Aunt Carrie's Chive Dumplings Recipe

• Take two parts chives and one part parsley. A big colander full. Wash and cut up into small pieces. Fry a few minutes to soften with small amount of shortening and salt.

• Then break three eggs over it. Cook till eggs set. Take off stove. Put in a pan to cool. Then make dough as for pie crust only not as short.

• Roll out dough in squares about six inches long and three or four inches wide. Put the chive mixture in between two squares. Then turn and pinch the sides together so no water gets in. Make them kind of flat till they look like an oversize ravioli.

• Drop them slowly, one by one, into pot of boiling water, but not on top of one another. Like you do in dropping squares of home-made pot pie into the pot.

• Boil four or five minutes. Then remove from pot and fry them in a pan with shortening till both sides are nice and brown. When they are browning, you can refill the pot with another round of dumplings and be ready to repeat the process. After they are browned, the chive dumplings are ready to eat.

They may be eaten hot or cold. Some like ‘em hot, some vice versa. If you like ‘em hot and there are some left over, warm them in a pan over slow heat and a little shortening and a small sprinkling of water. Makes them as good as new! 

In 1967 Carrie again wrote to Ben Meyers, a long letter full of remembrances of people from Reedsville's past. She concluded,

I am almost 92 years old, but I have a good memory. As I said, you can print what you want. I am almost blind and awful hard of hearing. Otherwise I am good. I can go up and down stairs and I help a laundress fold sheets at the County Home. You reported those chive dumplings I made last year with relatives and friends in Milroy. Well, it’s the chive season again and we cooked up some more. With best wishes to all the readers, 

 Sincerely,

Mrs. Carrie Bobb, Mifflin County Home

P. S. I used to live at the foot of Seven Mountains, alongside the Lakes-to-Sea cabins. Excuse poor writing, Ben.

Aunt Carrie died in 1971, six months before my grandfather died.

*****

My Ramer Family Tree

Mathias Roemer, born September 1746 in Wesphalia, Germany and arrived in America in 1765. In 1756 the Greenwich Twsp, Berks Co. tax lists show Mathias Reamer. By 1790 he settled in Maxatany, Berks Co, PA and appears as Matthew Rehmer. He appears as Maths Reimer in Upper Mahontongo, Berks Co PA in 1810 and  in 1820 as Mathias Remer. He dies in 1828 and is buried in Pitman, Eldred Twsp, Schuylkill Co, PA,  listed in the Abstract of Graces of Revolutionary Patriots. Mathias married Maria and they had children Catherine, George, Issac and Nicholas.

Nicholas Roemer was born in 1791 in Greenwich, Berks CO., PA. In 1814 he married Maria Mattern, whose father was in the Revolutionary War. Maria's ancestor Peter Matthorn came from near the Matterhorn in Switzerland and arrived in America in 1751. Nicholas died in 1831 and is buried in Pitman, Eldred Twsp, Schuylkill Co. PA. He may be the Nicholas Roemer who was a Union soldier during the Civil War. They had children Salome, Caroline, George, Joshua, William, Issac, Madelena, Catherine and Joseph Sylvester. Nicholas died in 1867.

Joseph Sylvester Ramer was born in 1832 and died in 1900. His first wife was Anna Kramer and they had children Daniel, Anna Sarah, Robert, Joseph Karner, William E., Oscar William, Ida B, and John. Anna died in 1870. In 1871 he married Rachel Barbara Reed. They had children Anna Verona (married Charles Smithers), Clyde Oliver, Howard Jacob, Carrie Viola (married John Edward Bobb), Emma J, Esther Mae, Charles Perry, and Marcia Etta.

Joseph and Rachel Reed Ramer

Believed to be Rachel Reed

Esther Mae Ramer

Esther Mae Ramer was born in 1880. She had child Lynne Oliver Ramer in 1903; Harry Shirk was the father.

'Essie' and son Lynne

In 1908 she married Lawrence Zeke Harmon. By 1910 the census showed they were divorced. My mother told me that her father was not allowed to call Esther "Mother." Since the above photo shows a proud mother, she may have hidden that she was Lynn's father from Lawrence and when he discovered the truth their marriage failed. But that is just conjecture.

Lawrence Zeke Harmon

Esther Mae died in 1912. Her mother Rachel Barbara Reed Ramer also died in 1912. Lynne Oliver Ramer was raised by his aunts Anna Verona Ramer Smithers and Carrie Ramer Bobb. Lawrence went on to marry two more women, both recently widowed.

Lynne married Evelyn Adair Greenwood (see My Lancaster Greenwood Family) and their children were Joyce Adair, Nancy Jean, and twins Frederick Donald and Lynn David.

Joyce, Nancy, Don and Dave, 1945 in Milroy, PA

Joyce Adair married Eugene Vernon Gochenour and their children are Nancy Adair (me) and Thomas Eugene.

Lynne met the man who was to become my husband at a Fourth of July picnic at my family's home. Six days later we lost my grandfather.
He is

Grandfather's Memories of Boyish Play, Pranks, and Paddles

My grandfather Lynne O. Ramer wrote articles for his hometown newspaper, the Lewistown Sentinel of Lewistown, Mifflin Co., PA. In one article he recalled that from 1900 to 1920 the Brock family boys of Milroy, PA were loaded with play things:

circa 1911: Gramps at play, about 8 years old, with cousins. He is pretty well dressed in a 'middy' sailor inspired suit.
 A year later he was an orphan dependent on aunts for his care.

Play Things around 1910

"First they had a home-made merry-go-round with a grand organ that produced music. It was all hand operated, much to the delight of the teens and preteens who flocked, some invited and some not, to come and enjoy the fun.

"The play room—we’d call it the recreation room nowadays—was the storage room off the kitchen. There among the pies and cookies cooked for the family use, but shared with the youngsters who came calling between meals, were the home-made playthings.

"There were hand-carved spreading fans inside of Mason jars, continuous chain links carved from one billet of wood*. There were two spinning cylinder wire cages housing chipmunks who chattered gaily all day long.

"Besides these and dozens of other games to play there were stacks of comic strips from the Williamsport Gazette and the Philadelphia North American. These consisted of the adventures of the Katzenjammer Kids, Jiggs and Maggie, Enoch Periwinkle Pickleweight, John Dubbalong and the like.

"On a rainy day there would be no less than 10 or 12 little boys deeply at their work-play reading the old “continued funnies,” grinding the hurdy-gurdy carousel and intently watching the chippies race around the insides of their wire cylinders.

"There were stacks of paperbacks of adventure characters, such as the Liberty Boys of ’76, Jesse James, Fred Fearnot, A No. 1 and every known Horatio Alger tale, Andy Grant’s Pluck, From Rags to Riches.

“And so it went for many happy hours or boyhood daze. So once more, it’s thanks to Robert, Albert and Luther Brock, not forgetting their doting mother and a kind father [James S. and Minnie Melissa Maben Brock] who realized how to keep kids happy and busy, making and using their playthings.

"The lessons learned well by the youngsters of that time. Long since grown to manhood and womanhood, is this:

“It isn't necessary to buy one’s children expensive and attractive mechanical toys, but something requiring participation. And never forget children are fondest of things they improvise themselves---cooking pans and saucers, empty thread spools, old tin cans, a handful of bright, shiny horse chestnuts.”

The Brock family included parents James S. and Minnie Melissa Maben Brock and sons Oscar Ream (b. 1890), Luther J. (b. 1902), Albert (b. 1894) and Robert (b. 1903).  Dad was a carpenter, which explained the wonderful contraptions the kids had.

Pranks around 1910

As to trouble, boys a hundred years ago had all kinds of options. Gramps wrote,

"This little story verifies the truism that “there is no perfect crime.” Somehow or in some way the wrongdoer always leaves tell-tale evidence at the scene, which betrays him. The tell-tale evidence on the occasion given herewith was a certain color. A maroon color. Not too bright. Not too brilliant, but still a dead giveaway for the wearer of it.

"The incident itself happened not a few years ago, but there are many who will still remember it when we recall it to their attention. We recite it here especially for today’s dads who are wont to claim, “Now when I was a boy, we didn't do things like you kids today!”

“We were all old enough to know better, but just old enough to think we knew best. The scheme arose from nowhere and ended in nothing—luckily—when a small band of Reedsville lads idly watched a fall threshing from Cow Field Hill.

“As the wind blew the chaff, and some grain, farther and farther from the barn, the hungry chickens kept advancing under cover of the barrage, to gobble up the banquet. Well, the poultry advance edged nearer and nearer. An idea began to form in the minds of the boys---fresh stewed chicken, mingled with tender, unripe field corn from some farmer’s fields.

“One quick grab and we had a plump, squawking Rhode Island Red rooster. His neck was quickly twisted to stop his racket. Up Cow Field Hill we scrambled fast, but not fast enough to escape the ire of the farmer whose rooster we were snatching.

“Unbeknownst to us, the farmer had obviously been watching us—and the rooster. He had taken time to arm himself with a shotgun. When we were slowed down by a barbed wire fence, the pellets began to rain mightily close, it seemed. So it was that wisdom outscored valor and we left the rooster and fled to the near-by woods, finally returning to town by a detour, around the upper end of the mill dam at Tea Creek.**

“The irate farmer guessed our devious route and he met us head on, on Main Street, and easily he spotted the maroon sweater that one of the boys was wearing. It was a case of his being known by the color—and the companions—he kept.

“It seemed the farmer had failed to see us* close enough to identify any of the boys, but he did manage to catch a good view of the maroon-colored sweater. Which proved our downfall—the one clue that showed this was no perfect crime.

“The chicken costs only one dollar. But the lesson could have been more painful if the shoguns pellets had landed you know where.

“One of that group, but this time a highly-respected Reedsville citizen, carried this experience to the grave recently. But there are others in the village who will recall it. Simple moral seems to be avoid wearing colored sweaters on escapades. But here’s a better moral: Stealing is breaking one of the divine commands—so refrain from it always.”

Maroon boy's sweater circa 1900

* Here, using the word 'us', Gramps betrayed that he was one of the culprits!
**The dam was built in 1870 by the Reedsville Milling Company. It was 14" ft high and 47 ft. long, creating a duck pond.

****

As a teacher Gramps found students could be troublesome. Actually he WAS one of those troublesome students. Later he got back what he had given. Gramps recalled,

Hartwick Seminary

"At old Hartwick Seminary in Otsego County, New York—near Cooperstown—where I taught from 1926 to 1930—about mid-June the student sneaked squibs into their rooms. Then at night they lit these firecrackers and tossed them out the window. Imagine how it startled the faculty, including me.

"There was a fire law against such things, so I watched windows one night. I caught a Philadelphia dentist’s two sons in the act. As soon as I saw one of them light a squib I yelled, “Hold it!” He did just that. It exploded in his hand. It wasn't hard to find who it was next day, for he had his hand bandaged.

"That wasn't the end of the incident. In the wee, small hours of a later night, I was suddenly aroused by a six-inch squib exploding on my chest!

"Nasal reactions to the “sulfur and brimstone” lent the impression I wasn't on earth. Needless to say we could never prove who did it. It’s very likely that he too is a Philadelphia dentist, or doctor, by now.

"The student had climbed on a ledge outside my dormitory window and tossed in the fire cracker. Before I could gather my wits, he had climbed away.

"But school boy sport was going over on long before old Hartwick days. In 1917 at Milroy High School [in Milroy, Mifflin Co., PA] some energetic boys would apply snowballs to the thermometer and Prof. Stanley Morgan would excuse the school when he read the mercury read 29 degrees at the time we called his attention to it.

"You can image the prof’s chagrin when the temperature leaped back to the 70s after everybody was on the way home. But I can’t recall we ever played with matches or explosives of any sort in MHS.

"Now to update this matter: Last Thursday at Lawrence Institute of Technology [in Southfield, MI] in a calculus class, I began to make an erasure. Suddenly the eraser exploded into a thousand Roman candles in my hand! Some energetic student had fitted a row of match heads in the felt. Friction did the usual.

"Only a few hours before that one of our college chemistry profs had a piece of chalk light up when he wrote H2O on the board. It was a match head (old fashioned kitchen kind) which had been fitted into a hole in the chalk end.

"That was quite a surprise for him and so was mine. Needless to say a good laugh was had by all and sundry, including me. But had the burning felt fallen behind my specs I likely would not be seeing so clearly—as in a mirror.

"When I was a kid we boys used to ‘find’ chickens and sweet corn for our dough bakes, but we never demolished rural mailboxes on KV’s [Kishacoquillas Valley, Mifflin Co, PA]back mountain road or stole $100 from an 80 year-old-widows.

"The State superintendent of schools in New York remarked (and that was back in 1950): “They are not bad boys and they aren't good boys either. They are just busy!” To which I add: Ain't we all! Except the ‘busy-ness” is getting to acquire some funny new formats.

*****

In another article on 'pranks, Gramps wrote about punishments no longer in use.

"The old school teacher listened patiently while the ancient mill worker related the tales of pranks that misfired in the industrial world. Then he spoke up: “And that reminds me of the pranks which boys in schools and colleges used to do and in which the present generation still indulge. Some of these happened in Mifflin County, others elsewhere that I taught.”

"In Burnham high school, the first principal to serve there punished six boys alike, whipping them for pulling one girl’s pigtails. One boy was very angry and remained so for over 50 years, because he was innocent. He was just “doodling along behind, minding my own business,” he said. In fact, he died holding the grudge. And the principal died too, never knowing one boy was still angry at him. Moral: Don’t walk behind naughty boys, said the narrator of this tale.

"This happened in the fifth grade of the Armagh Township school. A certain boy provoked the anger of the teacher, who instead of waiting to apply her oak paddle at the right spot and at closer quarters, let it fly at his head as he sat in his seat. He ducked. His companion who shared the desk in common with the other boy got whanged with the missile. Said his sympathetic grandma: “You shouldn't set with him anyways.” Moral: Be careful whom the teacher assigns you to sit with.

"In another fifth grade the text asked: “What amount of dirt is in an excavation 100’ x 100' x 50’?” One boy wrote on his slate, “None.” Said the teacher: “You’re the only one who got the wrong answer.” He replied, “I’m the only one who got the right answer. There is no dirt in an excavation.” "The book answer says 500,000 cubic feet, which proves you’re wrong,”declared the teacher. She sent him home until he could learn the correct answer. He must have never learned it, for he never came back.

"It was the custom among the older students to check their traps both before and after school. One found a skunk in his trap. Contents of the animal’s cologne sac were placed in a standard empty perfume bottle. This he proudly displayed to all the girls and then visibly hid it in his school desk. At recess he left it unguarded. Three maids who lingered shared the contents on the front of their waists. School was let out, not just for a day, but till the stench was eradicated. The lad was beat up by the girl’s males relatives—brothers, fathers, uncles. Also by his own mother, the teacher, and the principal, all using their paddles. He never forgot it. He learned his lesson. But then the girls never forgot it either.

"But paddles weren't the only weapons used on boyish pranksters. Some boys had told teacher a fib. Said she, “If you lie to me just once more, I’ll put red pepper on your tongues.” It’s human to err. Came the time to administer the punishment. There was a lot of scrambling and bawling. But that all ended abruptly, for the hot stuff turned out to be merely ground cinnamon. Proving that imagination is stronger than realization. But the kids didn't forget. Teacher got straight answers after that.

"The exam question was, “What is 6 feet wide and 1 feet deep?” One boy wrote on his slate, “It's an outhouse.” Teacher sent him home, “until you learn to be respectful.” Days later she readmitted him. Came another exam. Same question. Seeing the lad reach for his hat and jacket, she said “Where are you going?” “Home,” he replied, “I still believe it was an outhouse.” He never returned to school.

Read more Grandfather stories:

Hog Butchering

Steel Mill