Dear Wisconsin Stories:
Actually, I haven't written to tell a story. I was looking up Dick Metko and found a story from his son, on your website. I wonder whether anyone has any stories about my mother's cousin, Jay Main, who also was a musician and songwriter. Jay Q. Wells, an old-timer/bandleader who was with the same orchestra as Dick Metko, sent me some of Jay Main's recordings last fall.

Jay Wells is pretty much an archivist/resource for polka lore and legend. Anybody who was at the Frank Zappa/Mothers of Invention concert, May 1970 at the Cinderella Ballroom in Appleton, there's a professor at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, British Columbia who would REALLY like to hear from you. He documents EVERYTHING about Frank Zappa. The concert at the Cinderella was probably one of Zappa's most unusual and least known concerts. The professor is Charles Ulrich, he's in the linguistics department but spends a lot of his time on Frank Zappa. I think his e-mail is ulrich@sfu.ca.

I notice one of your correspondents identifies himself as being stuck in California (?) due to errors in judgment. Well, I'm stranded in Yellowknife, Canada, due to errors in judgment. Life stinks, but polkas make it a lot easier. I grew up a block away from the Cinderella. In summer, especially in hot weather, before air conditioning, the windows and doors of the Cinderella would be wide open, and our windows open too. We kids fell asleep to the sound of polkas… live music!

Jay Wells sent me a number of recordings. One was recorded live, at the Cinderella, in 1953. You could hear the dancers' feet stomping, etc. I was amazed because it's entirely possible that I might have heard this performance myself when I was about a year old, 1953! When my sister moved to California and heard a lot of mariachi music on the radio, to her it kind of sounded like polka music. Lo and behold, believe it or not, Chicano/ Tex-Mex music IS related to polkas! All the best to all of you from Amy in Yellowknife. Temperature today: a scorching -6 degrees, we had a little bit of -40 but it really hardly gets cold anymore with global warming. The Arctic ain't what it used to be.

Amy Hoffman

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
My self and some friends get togeather in the summer and fly old antique airplanes all over the midwest and give rides . We restored these airplanes and love to show them off . Along the way we meet some intersting and fun people . If you have any reporters who would like to ride along and make a story about it just contact me . We would like to have you. My e-mail is b727smith@yahoo.com. See ya.

Alex Smith

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
I am trapped in Lancaster, Calif. (near smoggy L.A.) following a couple of errors in judgement on my part. But I will return to my beloved Madison someday- the most tolerent and beautiful city in the cosmos.

I miss Willy street and State street. I miss The Willy Street Pub & Grill, even Blue Bird Services where I worked. I miss walking my little Yorkie, Suzy, along the shore of Lake Mendota; near upper North Sherman. And I miss a tiny blue eyed Glonde in Kohl's Food Emporium in North Sherman Plaza.

I miss you Wisconsin, especially wonderful Madison.

Don Martin

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
It happened again. The Bilding family picnic on the original Bilding farmstead. Seventy one of the 107 people showed up.

It is a standing tradition that people gather at Aunt Ida and Uncle John's house on Saturday to clean vegetables for the boohyah made the next day by cousins, Dorothy and Dennis. The kettle and firewood are set up down in the flat, under aged oak and maple trees. The spring feed stream running in between the trees is full of topsoil from runoff and flooding from this years excessive rains.

Sunday, the 4th, the skies threatened again, but held off until just before the bonfire/wiener roast.in the late afternoon. The boohyah was wonderful as usual...Dennis and Dorothy do a great job.

It is so good to see all the cousins...many drive up from the Naperville, Ill. area to connect with their roots.

We thank God for those who can make it. Like all famililies disease and illness take their toll. We miss those who have left this life and remember them fondly in pictures and stories.

The hay wagons are full of food all afternoon...homemade pies, desserts, fresh fruit and vegetables to munch on. The kids hike to the ends of the fields, woods and streams of the farm , with city moving ever so near our beloved picnic field.

The volleyball matches with all its special rules delights us all, even if you feel the aches and pains big time the next few days.

The wiener roast signals the end of the picnic is near.

Everybody works to pick up the remnants of a funfilled day.

We love our picnic. The warmth of family binds us through the coming seasons of life changes ... new baby, a new marriage, an illness, a death. Good times and some not so good times.

Warm wishes are exchanged, a hug secures the connection.

Mary Berg

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
I come from a family of road builders: My dad Armin, two uncles, two brothers, myself and a brother-in-law. I remember my dad's 40 years working in all parts of the state building the interstate, lots of highways that were built and rebuilt since he first started in 1936. Moving dirt was the name of the game and not glamorous at all. Times of getting up at 3 a.m. to drive to Spooner from Sauk City. Heat to 140 degrees on burning sands; being gone all week from home; difficult men; getting road machinery from one place to another; making sure the job got done right; working with a difficult owner; bidding road jobs all over the state to see if you had work that year. My uncle had a road job near Rhinelander that he had to finish up with a dredge it was so wet and difficult to get the compaction needed.

My sister was three years old when my mom was taking the Greyhound bus to Madison in 1943. As they entered the bus, she cried out, "Daddy, daddy, daddy!!" My dad had come home after three months of working on Wright-Patterson field in Ohio. He had stood the whole way from Ohio, giving up his seat to a woman with a baby. In late fall, he would lay off the men for the winter and they would wait for the telephone call in the spring to send them back to work. Good pay, long hours. My dad was one of the few road builders the state engineers would trust to finish up the small stuff before signing off. He also did field-staking for grade levels, even though he only had a high school education. Blasting rock, sloping, or graveling — he supervised it all.

Tim Zimmerman

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
Mom is going to be 76 this year, so that means the picnic has been going on on the same farm for 65 years or to the best of her recollections. The picnic is held on the Sunday most near to the 4th of July each and year. If the 4th falls on a Sunday, it is just another thing to celebrate.

The picnic had simple beginnings. Grandma Bildings did not like to go into DePere for 4th celebrations and decided with Grandpa to start their own celebration on the farm. Grandpa, Grandma, Grandma's parents, Grandma's two single sisters, Aunt Aggie and Aunt Mary were present for the first celebrations. Today the numbers can reach well over one hundred people celebrating until the shade of old oaks near the stream of the Bildings family homestead. Each and every picnic starts the same with the before meal prayer and then the booyah and ends the same way with a big bonfire and weiner roast. The rest of the day is filled with games, volleyball, family stories and lots more food displayed on newly emptied haywagons.

Grandpa and Grandma had four children, twenty six grandchildren now married and bringing a new generations of picnic goers. Lot of us still live in WI, but family keeps coming from Illinois and Maryland. We have had tragedies that have posponed picnics but they have been held every year. It is hard to know how long the tradition will last.

Mary Berg

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
This article appeared in the St. Paul Dispatch on September 3, 1966 written by Earl Chapin about my father R.C.Riek, who lived in Woodville, Wisconsin:

"When the mainstream of traffic used to funnel down old Highway 12 in Western Wisconsin, it passed a landmark between Roberts and Hammond which stood out above all others, an abandoned concrete silo which bore in large letters on a yellow background, the reminder, R.C.Riek, Auctioneer, Woodville, Wisconsin.

This became widely known as Riek's silo. It was doubtless a good advertising medium, but the subject needed little introduction - to western Wisconsin, at least. He has been a familiar figure over a wide area for more than three decades. He is known to thousands not only as an auctioneer, but as an emcee and a voice on the Woodville hour every Saturday morning over New Richmond radio WIXK.

For one who makes such a positive impression on people, Ralph Riek is a man rather difficult to define, probably because he does things so naturally. At Woodville, he is called upon to emcee the annual Synttende Mai queen contest, is impressed into service on similar occasions, and is always able to take command of the situation on a moment's notice.

So far as auctioneering goes, Riek ascribed his skill to long practice. "There's a lot to auctioneering. You don't learn it overnight. You've got to get along with people, keep their attention and know when to sell and when not to sell."

Riek has had plenty of experience. His father raised registered Guernseys on a 320-acre farm near Boyceville. "I used to attend registered Guernsey sales as a kid and after the sale I'd go home and practice the auctioneer's lingo." This early interest led Riek, in 1921, to attend the Jones school of auctioneering in Chicago. The six-week course cost $400 which was a lot of money then, but I never regrettted it."

To Riek his profession is a "hobby, a fascinating occupation. I'm in the because I love it. I get to recognize everybody and I notice people's absence if they don't come to the sales for a while.

"Crowds have been pretty much the same over the years, but sales are different. I used to carry my own tin cups. The farmers put on the lunch and served coffee and I furnished the cups. But the state decided it wasn't sanitary. That ended that."

The man who has cried auctions from horse and buggy days to modern times notes that "people used to sell their farms and soon had to go back to work. Today we get as much for a tractor as we got for a whole farm long ago." Sales are frequent now as "wages have attracted many farmers to the city."

Riek's biggest sale entailed 970 iems. This was when the contents of the old 72-room Galloway hotel in Eau Claire was sold. "We began at 10a.m. and finished at 6:30 p.m. Never stopped."

Dorothy Riek Johnson

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
I have a 1959 Chevy pickup truck 30 feet up in a tree, and I use it for a tree house. It has been up there for over nine years. My son Luke and I built it when he was 13 years old, and a friend with a crane helped me put it up there. There are pictures and more information on my Web site at www.harleyheartbeat.com.

Mark Madson

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
I just want to let you know how great and interesting the story was on Wednesday evening at 7:00 about the history of Summer Camps. I am a 31-year leader of our camp in Waupaca, which I spend volunteering for a week and many different times throughout the year, as fall weekend and winter camps. I directed and started our winter camping program. I am also a bus driver for the Neenah School District. During the summer, I do alot of summer driving to many different camps thru Wisconsin and have experience the spirit of Summer Camp Life. I think roughly I can count about a dozen different ones. Yes, Summer Camp changes a person and gives a person a life along memories. Again, thank you for this interesting program.

Gerry Marks

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
I'm a native Wisconsinite; I'm 3rd generation American on my mother's side. Most of my family of origin continues to reside in this state. I'm very fortunate to have been educated in the public schools and to further my education in the UW System for both a bachelor's and a master's degree. Yet I will not insulted if any one wants to edit this submission. My son is an excellent student and continues to learn more each year about his family heritage. My most remembered experiences were of my youth in Northern Wisconsin and the family "mecca" to Madison each spring to visit my father's relatives.

The differences between the northern woods and lakes as well as the southern cities and corn fields make this state a unique one to behold. I recall the Head of the Statue of Liberty in a lake in Madison and thinking that no one in my hometown would understand that type of art!

There are so many wonderful stories my grandparents share with me about how small-town Madison was when they grew-up there -- somehow they clung to the northwoods for their livelhood and their "pioneer" spirit. Their lives may have been easier living in a thriving metroplitan area; however, they always said the Northwood was their home. I miss them dearly and regret not documenting more of their history. Thus this entry is my small forum as well as honor of their many story gifts to me.

Robin Wiessinger

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
My grandmother, Gertrude Frederick was a remarkable lady. Her husband died when my mother was a child, and raised four children on her own.She was the caretaker of Trout Lake Golf Course, just outside of Woodruff. It was a eighteen hole course with a big lodge. I spent a lot of my summers there as a child.

The men that she had hired to do the daily grooming and maintenance, lived there in the small cabins around the lodge. She had lived in the lodge where she would spend all of her time preparing meals for her hired hands.I would awake in the morning to the smell of fresh cinnamon rolls, and when the meal was prepared, I would get to go out on the porch and ring the huge church bell, telling the men to come and get it.

Trout River ran through the course and provided us with many of fish, mainly musky and Grandma knew just how to cook them. After dinner was done and the dough made for the next morning rolls, we would all go into the grand room and sit in front of the fireplace, the smell of burning birch would fill the lodge with a aroma of the outdoors. Stories would be told of the hole-in-one,the huge musky that got away or about the bear that was banging on the back door all night.I shall never forget this place,and all the things my grandmother did.

Almost every summer I drive up there to relive the great memories.

Scott Larson

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
I'm a desendant of Jacques Vieau, who had fur-trading post from Green Bay to Milwaukee. One of his daughters married Solomon Juneau, listed as first white settler of Milwaukee. My grandfather spoke many Indian languages. He was also friends with them too. I'm proud of what he accomplished. At times I feel history bypassed him. He deserves to be acknowledged more. I would love to see a story done on him. Thanks for letting me speak my thoughts.

Karl Vieau

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
My grandfather began a feed mill In Bloomer in the early part of the century. He adpated over the years and also hauled lumber and eventually milk. Berg Transfer operated in the Bloomer area until 1950, when my grandmother died. Then, my dad, Bud, and Grandpa Ed moved the business to Ladysmith. There it continued and supported our family of 12 children until 1970, when the Coop Creamery closed. What a change in the farming community!

My parents grew up on farms and themselves were supported and raised by that lifestyle. Now, after over 60 years in the business we had a big change -- my dad eventually got a job with Indianhead Trucking of Chippewa Falls, driving a gas truck. We only saw him on weekends …

It was so strange not having the creamery anymore. I walked past there every day on the way to school and many of my classmates would get off the family truck as it delivered milk cans and walk with me. Now it sat empty, the wind blowing through it. Dairy farms in the area were disappearing, many each year.

Farming still exists there. Sheep, goats, llamas and a variety of produce have replaced the traditional dairy operations … the face of farming communities has changed tremendously in the past 30 years.

Geralynne Berg-Sutten

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
My dad's father, Frederick Henry Jesse Max Paegelow, was an Able Seaman aboard one of the last Great Lakes Schooners, the Sunrise, which sank 40NE of Chicago in 1896. I have the article from the Chicago paper of that day and a clip from 1921 when the Sunrise washed ashore on McKinley Beach, Milw. Since that time I have realized my families history and have taken it full circle by earning my USCG 50 Ton Masters License for Steam, Sail and Motor Vessels.

Captain Tim Paegelow

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
Following Wisconsin Stories: Coping with Cold, Marcia Burmeister writes of the 1947 Milwaukee Snowstorm when she was in Wauwatosa.

Dad had had surgery and was in a Milwaukee hospital. Schools were closed 14 days and I have a picture of myself and a neighbor boy standing on a snowdrift. I was 8 and my head almost reached the second floor windows. The neighbor was 6 and he was almost to the top of the porch windows.

We were fortunate that Mother had taken in two World War Two veterans who had come to Milwaukee to use their GI benefits and study for good jobs. Jerry helped to keep us dug out so out coal furnace wouldn't asphyxiate us. The other GI, Joe, had a back injury but he helped mom on the house.

My older brother helped Jerry shovel if he could but he was usually the one Mom sent for bread and milk at the store one block away.In those days the milkman or iceman (some people still had iceboxes) could not get through either. Even the wagons that still were horse-drawn had troubles. Often, there was no mail. Mom finally got down to see Dad a day or two before he was discharged from the hospital. Schools reopened and Joe was the first of our boarders to leave. Jerry stayed until summer and by the next fall brought his fiancée to see us before moving out of state. We kids were sorry to see him go. I have never forgotten that winter.

Marcia Burmeister

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
My father is Dick Metko, accordionist and member of the Lawrence Duchow Orchestra and the Dick Rodgers Orchestra. Lawrence and my father were signed to Decca and RCA Records in the 1940s and 1950s, and released many records nationally. My father wrote "Good Ol'Mountain Dew," which Mountain Dew soda used to promote their product. He also endorsed Pan Accordions, a New York instrument company.

Lawrence and my father, along with their fellow bandmates, made weekly appearances on TV and Radio, and entertained much of America and Europe during the Depression, two world wars, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War. Lawrence Duchow, Dick Rogers and my father were all talented music promoters and musicians, and created many wonderful events, organized extensive tour, and wrote several of the standard polkas and waltzes played by every American polka band. They are all honored members of the Wisconsin Polka Hall of Fame.

Robyn Marie Metko

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
used to help my father when he worked for Pratts ice house. We used to cut ice with an ice saw just off the old northwestern coal dock when the bay was frozen over. Then we put the ice in a sled and hauled it with my dad's two teams of horses up to the ice house, which was right below the Washburn Foundry by the rail road tracks. One year the ice was 36 inches thick. My father made three dollars a day working at the ice house.

William Jorgenson

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
My Grandpa sold potatoes. I had to walk from my place to his in the country. I lived in the country. We did not live too far. I had to hoe around them all day. And pick blueberries. I still live in the same town. I lived in the country for a nice time. When I went to college I still was at home. It was the next town away. Then I got older, and I lived in town then moved. In the country I had horses. I live in town again and have a piece of property in the country.

Teddy Gierczic

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
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Dear Wisconsin Stories:
This relates to itinerant entertainers: Some years ago, as a columnist for the Middleton TimesTribune, I interviewed the late George Kuepper, a prominent Middleton citizen, member of the City Council and a retired tire company employee. Mr. Kuepper told of his association with two kinds of itinerant entertainment enterprises in Wisconsin. He worked for a company which put on musical extravaganzas in small towns using local children in the cast and providing all the accouterments of the shows. Later, he played in a touring dance band, performing at colleges and dance halls all over the Midwest.

[Editor's note: Visit the Wisconsin Stories: Passing Through Web site to learn more about itinerant entertainers.]

Jane Maher

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
I had the pleasure of becoming very close to an elderly gentleman in our village named Thomas Pyburn Jr., who passed away last April at the age of 94. He always had wonderful stories about huge snowfalls, tragic brushes with pneumonia and the difficult Depression. He described the small town he was born in and ended up passing away in (next door to the home he was born in) through each stage of the 20th century.

When he passed on, he left me the heir to his home, and going through it, I found some wonderful items of his father's. His father was a rural route mail carrier at the turn of the century and had visited many cities for conventions. At each convention he and his guest received ribbons, so I have this massive collection that completely fluttered my heart. His father began his postal career with a horse and wagon. When the automobile was affordable, and Tom decided to get married, they transformed the old barn into a home for Tom and his new bride. We are in the process of remodeling his home for our family to live in. When we pulled up some trim boards in the attic, we found hay and straw bits and the old hayloft trap door. It was pretty cool! Now the old barn, erected near 1901-1904, will be our home. And once again, (it) will host many holiday parties and family gatherings.

[Editor's note: Visit the Wisconsin Stories: In the Mail Web site to learn more about early mail carriers.]

Jeannete Bergholz

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
This story was printed in the January 30, 1926 The Adams Advertiser about my great grandfather George Atchey and great-great grandfather Lorenzo D. Smith:

Shirley J. Roth

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
I have fond memories of a northwestern lake in Wisconsin. It's known as Mack Lake, north of Spooner. The lake was always smooth as glass when my family and I would arrive. My siblings and I could hardly wait to get to the cabin after we'd stop at the Mack Lake Store to pick up the key for our rustic home away from home. I remember the mornings I'd awake to the smell of bacon and pancakes cooked on the gas stove. Bacon and pancakes always seemed appropriate while living in a cabin.

I also remember waking up some mornings, not being able to see across the lake because of the thick morning fog. It was as though the clouds had laid down to rest for the night. The cabin had running water, and electricity. My family and I spend many hours on the front porch watching other vacationers on the lake. We had our share of the lake too. My entire family did a lot of boat rowing, fishing and swimming. All this made me happy to be a part of Wisconsin. I thank my parents and Wisconsin for this favorite summer memory.

Michael Newbold

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
I remember Grandpa and Grandma Morgan (and) spending my summer vacation on Mirror Lake, Wisconsin. Grandpa Floyd Morgan owned a summer cottage. My sister Sandy and myself had our first fishing lesson on Mirror Lake. Catching butterflies and planting flowers. Sitting in the rocking chairs and listening to baseball games on the radio. Late at night listening to the whipporwills and larks sing me to sleep on the screened-in porch. Grandpa called me his "Indian Princess."

Grandma Pearl Mae Heffel Morgan lived in several places (Evansville, Janesville, Footville, Mirror Lake, Wisconsin). She was a teacher and raised four strong sons: Robert, Donald, Clifford (Kip), and Richard. They became a business man, artist, doctor and musician. What a lucky granddaughter I am to have such a gifted person in my life.

I also remember Grandpa and Grandma William "Miles" McGuire. They lived in Footville, Wisconsin. I was very little and just big enough to hide behind the big iron stove. Unfortunately I burned my arms getting out of such a close encounter. Grandpa raised pigs and piglets. The kitchen was huge and bedrooms were small, yet they raised 11 strong and caring children. I know now that they also had a farm. But being small and unknowing is but a memory now.

Karen Morgan Riley

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
With the heat of July upon us, my thoughts go back to the farm where I grew up in the Town of Sherman, in Sheboygan County. Relatives would return home to the farm to help with the harvest. There were three generations of family working hard together. When the grain was golden, it was cut with a combine, forming shucks, as my grandmother called them. Many hours were spent in each field shucking the bundles to dry. The hardest work was the threshing. it was hot and dusty. But the golden kernels of grain were so precious to my grandmother and father. Nothing was better than mother's ice cold lemonade after each load was done. And I think it's time to watch those old home movies once again.

Mary Lee Maki

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
My Father, Lloyd "Pete" Krebs, was born and raised on the family farm, on the shores of Rush Lake, Wis. He enjoyed the outdoors and duck hunting most of all in the fall of the year. I am so happy to think that he got to hunt in a time where a hunter could go out and easily get his limit every day of the hunting season, mostly in the years between 1920 and 1955. I too, enjoyed growing up on the lake and looking forward every fall to all the hunters that came through our driveway to land their skiffs down by our boathouse, and hopefully get their limit of birds. My mother even had Dad haul a small shed down in the field, so she could cook up burgers, etc., to feed the hunters. Our hay field turned into a shanty town come duck season. I miss my parents, but I have the pleasure of continuing the family heritage of owning the farm and carrying on the hunting business. There are about 14 cottages on our farm, and when fall comes, it awakens almost as busy as it did in the '40s. It's my favorite time of year.

Nancy Krebs Resop

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
I am a third-, fourth-generation descendent of a Norwegian immigrant missionary and of several medical doctors who settled in Eau Claire and La Crosse in the 1890s. What interests me is the relationship that these folks had with their communities. One of the forebearers is a man named Midelfart, who, despite his name, was a very proud man, a man concerned especially to give his 11 children (nine of whom were girls) a strong educational background.

Midelfart settled in 1893 in Eau Claire, a rough and ready lumbering town. What possibilities were there for the education of his children? He decided to send them away to high school. One can find, in Wallace Stegner's "Angle of Repose," a similar story: a 19th century woman out west decided, unhappily, to send her son east for high school. Stegner pictured the boy as isolated, alone, separated from his family. These Norwegians, particularly my grandfather in Eau Claire, had some contact with the local community, but I think a stronger pull came from the community of people from Norway. It is surprising to me how little I heard about the lumbering community, Eau Claire, as I grew up. Referring to another of Stegner's works, "Wolf Willow," I recall that Stegner's Norwegian background was much more important to his mother than his surroundings in SW Saskatchewan. And 30 years before in Saskatchewan all hell was breaking loose. These are themes it would, I think, be very interesting to explore in the context of a local Wisconsin community.

Sigurd Midelfort

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
My grandmother was from Wisconsin. She died in the '70s. However, her grandmother witnessed the last battle or one of the last battles between the Sioux and Chippewa in Wisconsin. It happened out the farm they lived on. It took place in Dunn County at a place called Vanceburg. Her name was at the time was Orlea Vance. I would like to point out that Vance was a name that was Anglicized from Vincennes. She was born in the province of Quebec and married in the Notre Dame Cathedral in Montreal in 1845. She died in 1922, I think at the age of 102, in Tomahawk, Wisconsin. At the time of the Indian battle, she was married to Peter Vance, the brother of Levi Vance, who ran a trading post in Dunn County.

You can read about her at the following pages at the WHS Digital Library and Archives.

David Clark

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
My story relates to the year that my family spent on the Corcoran farm outside of River Falls. It was 1951-1952 and my father had been hired on as caretaker of the dairy herd. As a 19-year-old accustomed to life in town, it was an adventure which has stayed with me all my life. Sadie Lovell was the marvelous woman who held sway over Gertrude School, where about 20 of us learned not only academics, but lessons in botany in the woods surrounding the school. Money was extremely hard to come by, and my parents learned to live from the land. We tapped maple trees and scratched out a garden. We bought eggs from a neighboring family, and during a vicious blizzard my father walked into town through waist-high snow, carting home supplies in his Army duffle bag. I still remember how my mother cried when the carton of eggs emerged with yolks running down the side. That was the year when I learned to climb the windmill (not a good idea) and the year that I spent sitting next to the fence playing dolls.

Beth Larson Stigall

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
My father, Peter De Rubeis, was born in Africa and at the age of 2 was brought to the U.S. by his mother, a Sicilian, to join her husband, from Abruzzi, who was an iron ore miner in Michigan. He married my mother, also of Italian heritage, and spent most of his life in Hurley, Wisconsin .

For 40 years he was an excellent, self-taught mining engineer with Pickands Mather, and his other interests were politics and music. He served a very colorful term as mayor of Hurley. Never satisfied with mediocrity, he inspired me to do my best always.

He was an outstanding trumpet player and was called to play with Wisconsin bands when they were in competition. The most memorable time was when he was asked to play with the Blatz Band of Milwaukee for international competition in Geneva, Switzerland, in 1934. He played solo trumpet, and the band placed first and were honored by Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia of New York when they returned. Former Governor Lee Sherman Dreyfus said of my father when he died in 1991: "He was truly one of our state's top natural resources."

Growing up in Hurley, an incredible ethnic community, prepared me for dealing with people of other nationalities, lifestyles and economic status. Our marvelous educational system was a source of pride. I was the first college graduate in my family, and the pride my parents and family felt with this accomplishment provided me with self-esteem for the rest of my life. I have always been grateful for this immigrant background.

Norma Rusch

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
In Waushara County, my family started camping at our own little campsite (in) the mid-1970s. It's a few miles northwest of Redgranite. My dad's younger brother, Robert (Bob) Newbold, bought 2+1/2 acres and my family started camping on this land dominated with oak trees. We had a primative campsite at first. There were tents, small campfire, coolers and folding chairs. We hung our pots and pans on trees. I guess you could say we had a real pan tree. Eventually, we continued the driveway into another 2+1/2 acres further back into the woods. My Uncle Bob decided to build a shed to store most of what we needed there. He also had electricity installed. It was nice having electricity since we started using campers. The firepit in the new sight is a good four feet in diameter. It was our favorite spot for sitting around with stories to tell. A lot of meals, marshmellows and hotdogs we cooked over the circle of warmth. Mom and Dad used to look forward to spring, since that's when the camp season began.

Michael Newbold

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
My mother and father both grew up in northern Wisconsin around the the town of Marathon. They both lived on farms. My mother attended a one-room school house with her brothers and sister and their neighbors. My father helped his father build several (of) the outer buildings on their farm. Since they were dairy farmers, they had cows, pigs and chickens. On their property, they had maple trees and they made their own maple syrup. When my grandparents could no longer work the farm, my father's brother bought it. As a child, I would visit the farm first with my grandparents and then to visit my aunt, uncle and cousins. When my aunt and uncle retired, my cousin bought the farm. She stills owns it today although it is no longer a dairy farm. I will remember those days on the farm even though I was the "city girl" from Milwaukee.

Shirley Jeffords