Peck-A-Ton-Oka: ''River of Peace''

By Erwin Wetzel-Richli

This book tells the story of Emma struggling with 7 children in the wild country of Territorial Wisconsin. With the help of friends, she manages to raise her children. Each child goes on the extraordinary lives themselves.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 20, 2004
• ISBN: 9781465320643

Erwin Wetzel-Richli

The author was born on December 15, 1929 in Spreitenbach, Canton Aargau, Switzerland. He was married for 44 years to Lottie Richli and has been a widower since 1998. They had no children. He attended Public and Secondary schools and Industrial School in Zurich. His profession was that of an “Artificial Designer”. Later he went into Business and Marketing and was employed by an American group in sales, marketing and advertisement with the last years as a key accountant. In the 1980’s, he and his wife moved to the southern part of Switzerland to own and run an art gallery but moved back to Zurich due to his wife’s terminal illness. Meanwhile, he has always been occupied in the publishing field (i.e. biographies of artists, as well as the publishing of several historical stories such as “Jean Jaques Koller, 1757-1841, His Diaries and Journeys” published in Zurcher Taschenbuch in 1993, 1994 and 1996.

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Copyright © 2001 by Erwin Wetzel-Richli.

English edited version by Georgia Ames Fulstone, American agent.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any

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from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

PROLOGUE

ABOUT THE TALE

PART I

Looking Backward, and Hope

PART II

PART III

PART IV

PART V

PART VI

PART VII

PART VIII

PART IX

1841-1888

EPILOGUE

ENDNOTES

PROLOGUE

Old letters served as the groundwork for this story. Letters that we, my wife and I, discovered by chance in the attic of the venerable old patrician’s house on Lake Zurich where we lived for more than ten years.

We discussed the matter with the current owners of the building, two charming single ladies in their eighties, who turned over to us this treasure, which was useless to them. As these ladies told the story, around the turn of the century, they had come into possession of these letters, and according to the wishes of their owner, who was at that time one of the house’s occupants, the letters were to have been burned after her death. It is only to the collector’s mania of one of the two women that we owe the gratitude for saving these historically valuable letters from their sleeping beauty slumbers: she really couldn’t throw anything away! She even kept carefully all kinds of useless things—used nails, screws, string, boxes, while leftovers and old bread were fed to the many sea birds hovering on Lake Zurich!

For us, there followed a laborious period of dusting off and examining the letters. My wife Lottie (1934-1998), an experienced graphologist, proved to be a good reader of the old-style, partly illegible German script. As time went on the value of these documents, probably numbering several hundred, began to dawn on us, and at my wife’s request I noted their contents, one by one. This procedure took years, until I could work up the information they held into a story in which many witnesses of the past stepped forward from their anonymity. The story itself makes no scholarly claims, but the events and characters are authentic.

ABOUT THE TALE

In contrast to many other stories of emigration, which generally took place during the late nineteenth century, the following story occurs early in that century. The principal players in this case are a solidly middle-class family from the Canton of Aargau. The father, Friedrich Rodolf, was educated as a Doctor of Jurisprudence and held an important office in the town of Aarau. But because of several questionable episodes that caught the public’s attention, the city felt he could no longer hold his position and consequently he was relieved of his post.

The family left Aarau and moved down the Rhine to Zurzach where there they bought the roomy and spacious house called Zur Zimmeraxt.

In Zurzach, Rodolf tried without success to get an appointment at court or with the local authorities. He lost all his money on French Bonds and was unable to hold any permanent position. In order to feed his family, he rented out rooms and space in the coach house to foreign businessmen, who, at the time, came in great numbers to the popular and renowned salt and leather trade fairs in Zurzach. Zurzach was famous far and wide for its trade fairs, ranging as far back as the Middle Ages, and up through the early nineteenth century these trade fairs brought standing and wealth to the city and her residents.

For years the Rodolf family profited from them, too. But in the fullness of time, the Zurzach trade fairs lost their significance and with this the income of many residents diminished as well. For example, the Rodolf family lost several hundred guldens every year. Their economic situation became more and more precarious until it was merely a question of time before they were completely impoverished. When their need had grown greatest, the mother turned in despair to her father who lived in Zurich—the wealthy prosecutor and cantonal councilor, Jean Jaques Koller.*

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But Koller refused his help pointing out to his daughter, whom he did love, that he had opposed her marriage to Rodolf in 1812. At the time he had had inquiries made about his future son-in-law and they had produced very damaging information. But his daughter Emerence had disregarded these reports and had married Rodolf against her father’s will.

To ease their misery in Zurzach, despite all that, Koller had oatmeal and other fruits of the soil delivered regularly to the family, but he only sent enough money to pay for the education of his beloved grandchildren, who were of great concern to him. Meanwhile, the family had grown to eleven people. Besides the seven children, five boys and two girls, the master of the house had a brother who had just returned from Germany as a freshly minted lawyer, but who could not find a position in his profession. And in the same house hold, there lived and worked a maid about whom we will hear more in the course of the story.

Because of their desperate situation, the family council met evening after evening in Zurzach to discuss and weigh their next steps. In the end, only one thing remained for them to do which was to leave their homeland and immigrate to America.

In 1833, together with many others sharing the same fate, the Rodolfs, heavy of heart, took up their journey across the great pond into the unknown. It was common knowledge that some people actually did find fortune in that new homeland, but others sickened or became completely impoverished, and the demon alcohol often enough had a hand in the latter fate. Others returned to Europe, disappointed.

What the fate was of the eleven-member family from Aargau, we shall see in the following exciting tale.

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Rodolf Family Coat of Arms; from the collection of Georgia Ames Fulstone

PART I

Looking Backward, and Hope

La Crosse, Wisconsin, U.S.A., April 1888

On this dreary afternoon, the city seemed to be deserted. Only a few people scurried through the normally busy streets. The coach and wagon traffic, on the other hand, was greater than usual. The daylight was so bad that all the vehicles had lanterns, and the streetlights threw their faded yellow light across the damp surface of the street. Gusts of wind whipped up newspapers and other discarded paper, the latter primarily handbills and announcements of performances that referred in big, bold letters to one spectacle in particular: . . . come one, come all—Buffalo Bill’s Western Show is in town! . . .

At the time, the rather dubious William F. Cody, to use his real name, was appearing with the legendary Sioux Chief Sitting Bull, Annie Oakley, Wild Bill Hickok, and many others in the famous western show in La Crosse at the Old Opera House.

At Harrington House, the big hotel and business complex, the large conference room was being readied for a meeting of the Railroad Society of Wisconsin. The maître d’hôtel glanced around the room one last time, by way of an inspection, and found everything in order. Shortly thereafter the first coaches drew up, out of which climbed a company composed exclusively of dignified older men. All of them wore top hats; all were members of the rail road company.

The invitees met in the spacious lobby, which was dominated by an enormous Venetian chandelier hanging from the ceiling high overhead. Members arrived in a steady stream, and soon the lobby was full of cigar-smoking men who soon began to form small groups, discussing this or that. Others went directly into the conference room, where they could examine the agenda in peace and quiet. Today’s meeting demanded important decisions and even elections.

Then it was time, and with a stroke of the bell, the meeting was called to order by President and Honorary Chair Colonel Theodore Casper Rodolf. He thanked the group for attending in full and went straight to matters at hand. Everything went as planned, and the last item of business was the election of a new president, for the incumbent declined to be re-elected on grounds of age and infirmity. As expected, the members nominated a representative of many years and elected him unanimously.

Colonel Rodolf congratulated his successor and thanked the members for the trust they had extended to him during recent years. The annual meeting concluded with a standing ovation for the retiring president.

Some of the gentlemen said their good-byes right away conscious of long journeys home, but the majority stayed on for some time, sitting in a small anteroom at a round table, conversing amiably over a glass of whisky. They discussed plans for new railway lines, and spoke of one of the greatest inventions of Thomas Edison, who had started as a newspaper boy and had risen through the post of telegraph operator to become world renown as the inventor of the electric light bulb. They spoke of politics, too. As this topic arose, Rodolf excused himself with the explanation that he had to take part in another important political party meeting in just two days, and needed time to prepare for it.

Although he was no longer very steady on his feet, he dispensed with a coach and strolled at a leisurely pace through the damp, foggy, and almost ghostly streets towards his home, which was on 5th and State streets.

His wife Marie had expected him and she drew his attention to the mail that had just arrived. Along with the newspaper Le Courrier des Etats Unis and some business letters, there was a letter from Zurich. Theodore recognized the sender right away and opened the envelope with a smile. It bore many stamps from Paris, Le Havre, New York, and La Crosse. Marie sat down on a chair and listened expectantly. Her husband first glanced rapidly over the letter. Then he said, Dear good Philippine writes of her hope that she will yet be able to expect us in Zurich some day, and that after fifty-five years! She also writes of many new streets and buildings that have been built in Zurich recently, as well as other peculiarities . . .

There was a deeply felt bond between Theodore and his cousin Philippine that stretched back to their time at their grandfather Koller’s house; unfortunately, it now found expression solely in their correspondence. He would have liked very much to visit his old home, but something always came up—at first the reason was economic, then it was professional, and now reasons of age and illness hindered his undertaking such a journey to Switzerland. After he had moved away, Philippine lived for years with her mother, one of Jean Jacques Koller’s daughters, in Koller’s house in Zurich. In 1840, after her marriage to the theologian Oschwald, she lived with Oschwald in Greifensee until his death, and then returned to Zurich.

You know, Marie, said Theodore, my family in Zurich didn’t always have such an easy time of it either. Grandpa was a widower for several years; his wife died on July 17, 1793, ninety-five years ago, and Aunt Jeannette lost her husband—who was quite a bit older than she—quite early, as well. . .

Marie didn’t answer right away but merely nodded her head thoughtfully. Theodore laid the letter to one side, and commented to his wife, I think I’ll write back to Philippine this evening.

It began to rain heavily outside, and the cool spring weather had a chilling effect on the high-ceilinged living rooms, so Theodore laid a fire in the great fireplace and soon a more pleasant temperature spread throughout the room. The master of the house sat down in his comfortable rocking chair and enjoyed the newspaper. His legs hurt and given the April weather and his seventy-three years, it was no wonder! Theodore asked Marie for his tobacco, which sat on the wide mantelpiece along with a lot of other little items. There was a strange silence in the house, only the crackling of the fire and the monotonous ticking of the old English regulator clock could be heard. Theodore listened to the tick-tock, pulled on his meerschaum pipe, and then the flickering of the flames lured and captured him, and he caught himself letting his thoughts drift into the past. Images of his youth came over him as he saw himself at the new university in Zurich, and with his grandfather at the latter’s house, Zur Thalschanze. His wife sat across from him, working on her needlework. She observed her husband for a long time; he appeared to her to be somewhat melancholy. She thought, "surely he, too, is thinking of the day our beloved son Theodore died." Theodore looked up and noticed traces of sadness in his wife’s face. "It’s true, isn’t it, said Marie, you were also thinking just now about our poor son." Somewhat embarrassed, he answered, "Yes, and tomorrow right after breakfast I’ll get some flowers; together we can lay them on his grave." Marie went back to her needlework, satisfied by her husband’s answer.

The rain grew heavier, and strong gusts of wind swept the deserted streets. Theodore stared into the fire again, but he didn’t want to read or smoke any more, so he brought a warm blanket and laid it carefully across Marie’s shoulders. She pressed his hand gratefully. He sat down again in his rocking chair, and melancholy thoughts whirled in his mind. "How empty this big house has gotten," he thought, since our two living daughters moved away, it’s been very lonely and quiet here . . . and he thought wistfully of the four children they had already buried.

The English regulator clock struck seven, and Theodore pulled out his golden pocket watch—a cherished reminder of Grandpa Koller, and compared the times: they were identical. Then he looked over at Marie, who appeared to have been lulled to sleep. The soothing tick-tock of the clock and the flickering of the fire transfixed the tired master of the house, and he closed his eyes and let his thoughts roam freely . . .

1832, The Year of the Decision

This year the Rodolf family faced their greatest decision, for just like their father, Uncle Henri, his brother, had not been able to find work. The oldest son, Fritz, who was eighteen and a half, was in Baden, preparing for his law studies. Theodore, one year younger, was about to finish the canton school in Aarau. Henriette was living at a girls’ school in Olsberg; she was not quite seventeen, and wanted to become a teacher. Franz, a little over fifteen, had finished secondary school in Zurzach the year before, earning excellent marks. In contrast to his siblings he did not want to study. He was an accomplished artist who wanted to learn an honest trade, but he found himself unable to decide which profession he wanted to practice. The other three children were enrolled in elementary school in Zurzach. Gottlieb was almost fourteen, Julia a year younger, and Henri, the youngest, was a little over nine.

During the period before Easter, Theodore was enrolled in the highest grade in Aarau at the canton school, preparing for his final exams. His professors were unanimously satisfied with his achievements, especially Mr. Meyer, who taught medicine. In a letter to Grandfather Koller in Zurich, who had assumed the entire burden of paying for his grandchildren’s education, Meyer spoke with praise of his young candidate. In fact, all of the children who were still in school were very grateful to their patron, and showed their gratitude by earning good grades.

Fall came early this year, and the days grew noticeably shorter. Theodore had good lodgings, including his meals, with the Hagnauer-Gysi family in Aarau. Especially the lady of the house was touchingly concerned for the welfare of young Theodore, who often studied late into the night, as he was doing this evening when Mrs. Hagnauer knocked on his door. Theodore opened it and asked her to come in. Don’t ruin your eyes with this nighttime studying she said, and put on the nightstand the cup of warm milk she’d brought. Oh, before I forget Mrs. Hagnauer went on, today a parcel came for you from Zurich. Thank you, the young man responded, I know what it is; Grandpa promised me some black cloth to have a suit made. The dear man hasn’t forgotten that I’ll be allowed to receive communion next spring for the first time, and he shares with me a sense of the importance of the occasion.

Each wished the other a good night, but the student still could not go to bed: the exam on April 2nd took precedence and, by the light of an oil lamp, he went back to his books. Not until after midnight did Theodore go to bed. But sleep still would not come, for all kinds of thoughts were whirling in his mind; thoughts about mama’s last letter in which she had written, Our situation here is becoming more and more pressing; only God knows why? Papa, a trained jurist, will soon have spent twenty years without a permanent position. He tried without success to get work as a copyist or clerk in Zurzach. He was just as unsuccessful with his inquiries at the local court; there are no positions open there either. I suspect that Mr. Hdfeli, the lawyer who is court clerk, and the district administrator, Mr. Schleiniger—the two are related by marriage—are afraid that Papa would get close enough to take a good look at what they do. Our situation seems to be hopeless, and in the end there’s only one thing left to do: we’ll have to sell our house. From the proceeds we can build a new existence somewhere, perhaps in Zurich; I’m thinking about buying an inn. But if we should discover that there is no longer any chance of surviving in this country, then Papa wants to emigrate with the whole family . . .

These last lines occupied Theodore the most: "Emigrate? Now, when four of them were in the middle of their studies? What is to become of us?" He found question upon question, but no answers, and he asked God for help. And with these thoughts, Theodore fell asleep.

A Surprising Visit

Time flew by, but the situation remained unchanged. Grandfather’s opinion on the topic was that if it came to emigration, after all, then he wanted those of his grandchildren who were in the middle of their education to stay in Switzerland until they had finished them, and he would bear the costs. He was especially concerned about Theodore’s study of medicine, which Theodore hoped would pave the way for a great career as a physician. At the beginning of the next year, the new university in Zurich would open its gates; Koller’s grandson would be one of the first students, and he could live during this time in Koller’s roomy house, Zur Thalschanze, on the Thalacker.

But until that came to pass, Theodore first had to complete his canton school education, and to learn as much as he could. He studied physics, chemistry, anatomy and theology with Professor Meyer, and Greek and Latin with Professor Rauchenstein.

On a beautiful Sunday morning in September, the young Theodore Rodolf would gladly have slept a little longer, but he knew that his landlady, Mrs. Hagnauer, set great store by punctuality and was surely already waiting with his breakfast. While he was getting dressed, he heard a familiar voice down