Springfield, Ohio

December 1939

Louise dear –

I will try to answer your questions. First about

grandmother being interested in the underground railroad. She

was. I will tell you just what I remember knowing as a child

learned from her. She graduated from Steubenville Female Semi-

nary in 1850, March 24. This seminary, located in Steubenville,

Ohio, was a Presbyterian School with 14 professors and housed

in a lovely building on the hills above the Ohio River, the yard sur-

rounded by high brick walls sloping to the water’s edge.

Mother’s first school was a Presbyterian seminary in

Xenia, Ohio, which had an underground railroad, and most of the

best citizens helped fleeing slaves to reach Canada, which was in

defiance of the slave laws; human nature is the same through

the ages, and perhaps some laws were made to be broken. Whether

Mother was interested in the slave question before she went to

Xenia or whether she acquired her interest there I do not know,

but she never lost it.

One of the ardent supporters of the slave question in

Xenia used to visit mother in Springfield, I remember distinctly.

That must have been during the war and after, for I was born in

1860 and I can recall how she looked. Had she been born later

she would been no doubt a suffragette. She had a mannish figure

and wore mannish clothes – the two things that I remember; also

that she always came to visit mother accompanied by flocks of

negroes, whom mother fed in the yard and often kept overnight in

the barn, for which kindness they would fall down and worship her.

If mother’s children sometimes had to go hungry to bed, it was all

right, the poor slaves had to have a good supper. I remember one time

mother felt so sorry because an old uncle had no coat that she pro-

duced one for him, which he took with many bows, smiles and “God

bless yous”. This incident almost caused a break in our peaceful

family, as the coat proved to be father’s best, there being no truce

in hostilities until old uncle was found and the coat returned,

mother protesting until the last that if it was not found father could

get along without it better than the poor old black man.

The yard was loved by us all, especially mother, as she

loved grass-if not too high-and flowers; had only to smile at the

plants, stick them in the ground, and they seemed eager to show

her how fast they could grow for her. So her formal flower bed

was a great joy, and I can remember that it was hard for her to

give it up using the plants to fill the many vases her brother sent

her from Hartford, W. Va., where he made the lovely things as his

father had done before him. This brother often came to see mother.

His name was Mathew, a large man, quite a contrast to mother who

was rather small.

December 1939

No. 2

The back yard with its orchard and berries as a border,

and the garden which was a great help in feeding father and mother

and their seven children, grandfather Geiger, and Aunt Rills, and

the blacks. There is no place I love like I do that. It is queer

that after living about 35 years at our old home I never long for

it or even think of it, but do often get homesick for the old

house and lost, changed as it now is in so many ways. There must

be something queer in my make-up. At least these things are thus

now when I am 79 years old.

Louise, I would not dare to send you this picture of

the beauty spot of the yard, if I did not remember that you

were a girl of imagination and had Erie to interpret it for you.

The yard was wider at that time, extending to present Park Place,

covered with a beautiful orchard of delicious apples, in the north,

and other fruit. Need of money induced father to sell off up to

the present lines, which made it possible for Mr. Bowman to back

his little lots up in our face when he would rather make money out

of what was legally his to do with as he pleased rather than to

protect his life-long friend’s only piece of property. Legally

all right? yes.

All this came after her marriage to father, Hezekiah H.

Geiger to Nancy Melvina Hartford. The ceremony was in the female

seminary where she was teaching. Dr. Samuel Sprecker, D.D.,

president of Wittenberg college officiating. Mother used to tell

the story that it took her family some time to become reconciled

to her marrying a Lutheran-they were Presbyterians-especially when

they learned he had red hair. I never heard that they objected be-

cause he was poor. Their first home was at the College Building.

Afterwards they moved to the Kurtz? home on East High Street where

Aunt Alice was born. The Hartford family soon learned that a poor

red-headed professor of German ancestry had made a good husband

for Nancy Melvina.

Now what I know about father. He was of German descent,

one of 12 boys and 1 girl in his family. Being German his family

were Lutherans, also eager to give their children an education, the

best they could. Lutherans at that time were not the wealthy ones

of the earth, but there was a good Lutheran College at Gettysburg,

to which father went as a student. Gettysburg, though Lutheran, was

English in language. Before the civil war the synods of the English

Lutherans saw the need of an English school in the west. Springfield

was chosen as the place and Dr. Ezra Keller president. After his

death Dr. Samuel Sprecker took his place, the loveliest man I ever

knew, a saint, I used to think. Then our father was asked to make

the chair of mathematics and natural science at a pitifully small

salary. He did not wait to graduate (his diploma was given him

afterwards). The college held classes in the First Lutheran Church,

located where it has always stood. This was used until the first

college building was finished in 18 . Father made his home there

December 1939

No. 3

after that date. Mathematics was what he was best prepared for.

Natural science with a glass jar or so, a teaspoon, a tablespoon,

a pair of scissors, a few bottles of drugs, a shovel, a spade

and several other necessary utensils to hand out this knowledge

was difficult, but he persevered with it, having given his first

love to someone who knew only that branch, never complaining, often

going out among the synods to collect his salary and to secure money

to add to his valuable collection of utensils. So loyal was he to

his own church and college that he turned down several offers to

other more flourishing colleges with better salary. This type of

unselfish sacrifice brought a thought to my mind that this does

not pay unless the satisfaction it may bring might in a miraculous

manner compensate him. I fear this feeling lingers with me through

the long years since then to my 79^th year. I will try to arrive at

my father’s unselfish view.

So here he worked and made a success in spite of teaspoons

and scissors or maybe because of them. As the years went by, Witten-

berg prospered and became a coveted place for a teacher, especially

among the Lutherans. So in 1862 father’s position was given to a

younger man. The “younger-older system” was in vogue at that early

date an was not in the least diplomatic, even for his own gain.

But his life work was not over. He entered the geological

department of the United States, and as his work studied the theory

of the formation of the Blue Ridge and Allegheny Mts. of Virginia.

He presented a totally new theory , which was accepted, and I believe

is the one taught today.

The events about father’s leaving Wittenberg gave me a

feeling toward it, which was not flattering and which I have never

overcome, and will never try it. I feel in this case as if I am

being angry and sinning no. I do want to give Hon. General Warren

Keifer credit for getting father a appointed to the position in the

government. He was Speaker of the House then and used his influence

to secure it. Father’s being in Virginia kept him away from home, and

Uncle Frank was made his assistant and helped him with his work until

it was completed. He met in Virginia some of his mother’s relatives.

I think Hazel has met some of these, who are musicians –can you believe

it?

Father’s father’s boys turned out wonderfully. One a farmer

who was also a doctor and preacher, one a graduate of Wittenberg, a

preacher, another, a graduate doctor; one a professor; one a graduate of

Wittenberg, a lawyer, another a judge; one a colonel in the army, three

died as young men and one as an infant, one I cannot account for. Aunt

Rilla, the thirteenth child graduated from Springfield Female Seminary

where mother taught and where she was married to father in 188- I have

thought of the other one, a lawyer and for years, judge of common please

court in Urbana, a lovely man, handsome and cultured and well liked by

everyone.

I hope, Louise, this will give you the information in part you

wished. Here is hoping you can read it. I haven’t kept the pages in

the best of order but with some trouble you can make them out. Love to

all from all.

Aunt Lizzie

March 9, 1940

OUR OLD HOME AND THE COLLEGE

Three Ferncliff Avenue was the number of our old home,

the only one I knew until after I was married, a place I loved

more than any other. Let me give you some idea of the impressions

this old home, amongst the wonderful trees on a quiet street with no

near neighbors, made on my life.

Here all the seven Geiger children were born with the ex-

ception of the oldest, your Aunt Alice. The house was colonial in

style- of red brick, one of six homes of similar size and style which

stood on the bluff above Buck Creek, the little stream which divided

our town of Springfield into north and south Springfield. The yards of

all these houses were almost uniform in size-about three acres- covered

with large oak, walnut and maple trees. All were surrounded by high

fences-ours was a white picket fence six feet high, a fortune in lum-

ber if the date could be written 1940 instead of 1860. It was built

by father who was a professor in Wittenberg College.

The college was situated on a hill at the extreme north of

the little town. The building was very attractive with brick walls

painted red with white trim. It looked as if it were a college trans-

planted from some eastern state, so similar was it in appearance to

many institutions found east of Ohio. Our home was a Wittenberg

home too, although it was located among more Presbyterians than

Lutherans.

I want to tell you more about our yard and its lovely oak

and walnut trees, many standing to this day. There was a formal gar-

den in which everyone, even the smallest child had an interest and

pride because of the aid he gave to form and care for it, weeding and

watering it daily and keeping the grass cut in the paths between the

beds.

After I was married sometime, we built quite a nice house

on a lot at the foot of our old yard, a house everyone admired and of

which we were quite proud and in which we lived for thirty-five years.

Then we sold it to a college fraternity for a Chapter House and came to

live at 316 East Madison Avenue. This was after I was recovering from a

broken hip, but I never find myself looking back with longing for my old

own house where we spent so many happy years and from which our chil-

dren went out after they were married to their new homes, but the long-

ing has always been for the old home of my childhood with its large

rooms with high ceiling built in the most beautiful natural setting in the town.

To this day I still have the same love for the old place where we spent

so many years with father and mother and brothers and sisters-having a

happy time and never tiring of our simple fun and entertainment, with

hard slodding between the play acts.

Mother

March 11, 1940

Dear Children:

Our croquet ground was west of the house with two wonder-

ful oak trees to shade it,-beside a pear tree which had beautiful

pears each year, one of which was large enough for a real feast. How-

ever, the real beauty spot of the whole grounds was a rock mound

covered with all kinds of wild flowers. We children had carried the

rocks to the spot to build the mound and then pretty nearly robbed

the cliffs below the house of wild flowers to cover up the mound.

On this ground a game was almost always in progress,

played by different ages-college students and professors as well as

smaller boys and girls from the public school-all getting an equal

amount of pleasure out of the elements which made the game such fun.

Sunshine, cool breeches from all sides, sometime a little shower

which cooled things off and gave the thirsty flowers and plans a

drink and the children an excuse to pull off their shoes and stock-

ings to wade in the wet grass and puddles of water.

The greatest excitement was when a game was played by

well matched teams, usually students from the college. Such cheer-

ing could not be equaled any other place and often too many noisy

arguments, sometimes ending in hot words, afterwards changing to

laughter.

Black Miranda brought out a tray of hot biscuits, ample butter

and butter milk which everyone enjoyed. The crowd on these days was the

largest of the week. Miranda got her reward for she was praised b y all.

This, she loved more than anything and of course a few nickels and

dimes were left in her hands and no queen could have been happier

than she. She always wore, on these occasions, a red calico dress

starched to stand alone on the floor as the style was in that day so

long ago. Everyone left after a happy day looking forward to the

next game and all trying for the honor of playing on the team.

March 12, 1940

My dear children:

I am sure few people living in our wonderful country in

1940 have any idea of the lives of those living in the same country

almost a hundred years ago. At that time Springfield was a village

of few hundred with its streets laid out in the same manner as

now, but having, as in our mother country, England, certain sections

designated for certain classes-for at that time there were classes-

the rich divided from the poor, the educated from the uneducated, the

old order of Europe not having been discarded entirely. The little

village was a beauty spot with its clear, clean river running between

limestone cliffs covered with wonderful trees and gay, bright wild

flowers. The hills and valleys were covered with blue grass used

for pastures for the farmers’ cows. The cows were ornamented with

bells that tinkled with each motion of the cattle.

My mother, your grandmother-a beautiful young woman if

you can believe the lovely daguerreotype in which she is dressed

in a exquisite gown with a tight fitting bodice-her wavy hair dark to

match her eyes, parted in the middle, a lovely person to look at-a

lovely person to be with. No wonder father fell in love with her-

and so they were married. But her family could never understand

why she would marry a red headed German Lutheran professor. They

said nothing about his being poor, which I think made the most

difference to her-not that she ever complained, but she did love

pretty things and was too proud to accept favors she could not re-

turn. So from being asked to all the entertainments in the village,

she went less and less-staying at home with the children, enjoying the

lovely yard and flowers-with all seven lively children, I never re-

member her voice raised, or a punishment given. Always she was

given the best chair and helped first to the choicest bits at the

meals. She was the choicest thing in the home, considered so always

by her husband and children. Her entertainment for the year was

feeding for a week, a number of the Wittenberg Board when they met

twice a year- a rather lean time for us children. Sometimes we would

steal into the kitchen and beg a few rolls from Manda, who would butter

them, cover them with apple butter and slip us out of the kitchen be-

fore the men of the party came to dinner. I remember holding the hot

rolls out of sight while some solemn preacher would thank the Lord for

the food, the company and offer a prayer for the college. In the mean-

time, the apple butter ran down on my clean dress to the rag carpeted

floor. But mother never seemed to think us too naughty. Of course after

supper we were all summon for evening prayers which were long and

might have been understood by the Lord, but not by sleepy children.

Apple butter boiling was another busy time. Everyone helped

to pare and core the apples, polish the great brass kettle and wash the

jars. It was a long long time before the butter was finally pronounced

done, and ready for the jars. Forty gallons was considered a fair lot for

the winter’s supply with some to give to others. We had to be careful

about the stirring for the vessel burned easily-altogether much fun.

There was a game to see who could peel the longest apple peeling –and

then the fun of throwing it over one’s shoulder to the floor to have it

spell out the name of our best love.

March 12, 1940

No. 2

About this time, I was much interested in a real young man

ten years my senior. I was always so pleased when he was made one of the

apple butter helpers. I could understand why mother admired red hair,

for this young man had a mop of hair on his head of this lovely color.

There were three boys and four girls in our family-all good

pals, playing together either climbing hills or walking around our two

acre lot on the six foot picketed fence which kept us off the roads, or

playing croquet which we all liked and often quarreled over. But at

the end of the game were best friends. After evening prayer we all

assembled around a round colonial table to prepare lessons for the

next day. We girls and boys went to the college-girls being admitted

about this time. I can remember studying Latin and Greek lexicons too

heavy for me to lift from the table to find out what Virgil and Homer

wanted to tell us about the wars in that far way time and country. Of

course we loved the story of Helen of Troy and the wonderful heroes-

her lovers.

I myself loved algebra and higher mathematics because they

were supposed to be subjects girls could not understand. My easiest

subjects always. I loved to help the boys with their lessons which

I often did. There were very few girls studying at the college-

eleven in all-but we had good time together.

I suppose I should not tell the next story, but I will for

you. I never had many changes of school dresses and was not the most

careful person about keeping those I had pressed and fresh looking.

I remember the old English idea prevailed in the management of our

household and the treatment of the oldest member of the family in

regard to dress and every kind of advantage came first. I remember

rebelling once because, when Alice and I were both pupils at the

Presbyterian Seminary, I was told by father to put on Alice’s old

coat and wear it to school. This was too hard. To see Alice in

the new coat, knowing all the pupils would recognize her old coat

on me. So I refused to put it on. Of course in those days when a

father’s word was law, there was only one thing for father to do, put

the coat on me and walk with me to school where I arrived weeping

buckets of tears. Never will I forget the day. I am sure my sweet

teacher sensed the situation and made things easy for me. This was

my first conflict with father. It was sometime before I could for-

give this. The hard part was father not getting my point of view which

meant so much to me naturally, and which he seemed to overlook entirely-

or could not understand. The same difficulty as ever. The old find

it hard to understand the young- and the young, the old.

We were soon transferred from the seminary to the college-

the decision for this was perhaps financial, as our tuition at the

college was free which made a great difference as our yearly income

was very small. Why father didn’t accept the larger salary from other

colleges which he was offered several times I do not know unless he

was absolutely loyal to the English Lutheran Church which was then

struggling for a foothold in the west. men in those days were often

influenced by such lofty motives and I am sure Father was.

March 12, 1940

No. 3

I loved the change because of the Latin teacher, Professor

Henry Rodgers-my inspiration always. I remember how I felt when he

accepted a position as Latin teacher in the High School. College

meant so little to me after that and when he and his lovely bride

were killed in the Ashtabula wreck, I got some comfort out of the

tragedy by remembering that he belonged as much to the college students as

to the students of the High School. Strange reasoning for a four-

teen year old child.

Mother

March 13, 1940

SOMETHING ABOUT FATHER’S FAMILY

All the criticism I ever heard mother’s family make

about her marrying father was that he was red-headed and a

Lutheran instead of a Presbyterian-and his ancestors came from

Germany instead of England. His family, in spite of being German,

toward whom we are more prejudiced now than ever before, was a

remarkable one.

It consisted of twelve boys and one girl, who was the

last arrival. Among these twelve boys was one preacher, one

lawyer, two doctors, one professor and one army officer, none, of

course, with the education required of men in the same professions

now, but all with a good foundation which gave them success in life.

Aunt Urilla lived in our family until her marriage in

1883 when she moved back to Pennsylvania with her husband. All the

children of this family were brought up on farms in various loca-

tions in Pennsylvania. They were grown to manhood when their last

farm was sold and they moved to Ohio. I think this move was made

after Father Hezekiah, one of the older boys, had accepted a prof-

essorship in an English Lutheran College in Springfield. All the

families came west settling in western Ohio as Wittenberg college

was located in Springfield.

The first building on the lovely tree covered campus

was on a hill in the extreme northern part of the little village

looking so much like so many colleges seen east of Ohio, that one

could imagine it had been transplanted from its original settlement

to its present location. It was a red building of four stories,

trimmings all white, with a large white cupola.

Mother

March 15, 1940

My dear children:

I was quite young when I learned, in a very impressive

way, a universal experience of life which is well remembered by me

to this day. I had a new dress very seldom, always wearing hand-me

downs. The occasion then came for not only a new dress, but also a

new hat and shoes. This was an invitation to join the Bowman family

for a trip to the Put-n Bay. You can imagine my thrills when this

came. I, who had never been on a train, to have this trip was un-

believable. And when the new clothes were added to the surprise,

my joy was complete. no girl ever had such a present. Nothing else

was though of but the trip and the preparation for it, until the

day of department came. I was too excited to either eat or sleep but

I was eager to jump out of bed to catch the six o-clock train to

Sandusky. I remember the day was cloudy with quite a wind blowing

and quite chilly too. But my new dress, a plaid, and my new hat and

shoes, gave a feeling of pride which made me forget my sleepless

night. I forgot I had eaten no breakfast and remembered only I was

going on a wonderful adventure, trying to keep in mind all the “does

and don’ts” I had heard from each of the family. At last we all

were seated in the train. The conductor pulled the bell and we

were off-with all the accompanying bumps and jerks common to our

early trains. But we were off. A happy bunch of children going for a

happy day’s outing-no one more excited than I. Suddenly I had such

a queer feeling. I thought something was wrong-an very soon I knew

there was. My new dress was my only though-to keep it out of danger.

I finally put my head down on the seat and sleep until Sandusky was

called when I got up and tried to walk, my legs seemed unable to

carry me. Someone suggested I eat something. This was a mistake, alas.

They all said I would feel better when we would get on the boat. This was

another mistake. Watching the blue waves washing up on the shore had not

attraction for me. I just wanted a quiet place to sit-and sleep if

possible. Home seemed the only place worthwhile. What the family saw

when I returned was a white faced child too sick to say hello. All the

family offered sympathy but it was father who made the remark, “Well

Lizzie, you have learned to-day the truth of the saying, “Anticipation

is often better than realization”.” I thought those were two very

long words, but I learned the truth of their meaning and this truth

I have never forgotten.

Mother

March 20, 1940

Dear Children:

Charades was our great evening amusement. It is a hard task to

remember that this was in the days before the radio and to try to think

of an evening with that one entertainment missing. You might guess that

there were many dull time for the couple of dozen young people of our

immediately neighborhood. On the other hand the evenings were much

shorter commencing at about seven when we assembled in one of the homes

within a couple of blocks and from which we all departed to be home

by nine o’clock-the dark haired going to one house, the tow-haired ones

to another-and those with mixed colored hair to another –all sure they

had had a lovely evening.

The charades were great fun. With divided sides chosen from

the assembled crowd by two leaders, sometimes selected because of

superior acting or because they were older (age in the day counted

for its worth) or because they controlled the votes somehow. Almost

always the election passed off with the great harmony and the play

which was always original offered much amusement and received loud

applause. The stars dressed in clothes found in the attic and shown

to no one until they walked across the stage covering or revealing the

beauty of the star of the evening. If a apparent was self sacrificing

enough to sit through the play our joy was supreme, especially as their

tickets were more costly than those of the children and increased our

income, which was given to some charity.

To help us with our charades we were glad to welcome new comers

to our town and neighborhood. The children of Dr. McKnight, chose

pastor of the First Presbyterian Church, who had their home on Lime-

stone Street and who were our age were glad to join the actor’s

evenings and added much to the success of the entertainments. We always

tried to arrange the plays so as not to interfere with services at the

church. While Dr. McKnight might not have heartily approved of the

stage acting he could not but feel that his children were safe in a

Lutheran College Professor’s care, whose wife was a Presbyterian having

taught in the Presbyterian Seminary on North Limestone Street before

her marriage.

Our yard was above the limestone cliffs which were cut through

by the slow flowing waters of Buck Creek or Sagonda River as we loved to

call it when talking for the benefit of strangers. The wonderful gorges

which were formed by the swift flowing waters from the now little stream,

flowing gently through the shallow gorge which consumed hundreds of

years and thousands of gallons of water to complete its background. On

the top of the cliffs was a huge chestnut tree, where mother often took

her little flock of children to enjoy the cool of the shade and to throw

stones into Buck Creek-and often for a picnic supper to which Father

was always invited. The food tasted so good eaten out of doors.

These were happy, simple days-never to be forgotten. Mother in her

sweet voice told us of her old home. Then, we were so young and

happy. We would go home with our arms full of lovely wild flowers.

Mother

March 25, 1940

Melvina

Ella was the name of our youngest sister. To her older

sisters she seemed a very small child indeed. These older sisters

loved to curl her pretty brown hair and to take her walking for she

always had pretty shoes and gowns and was very sweet looking. She had

the reputation of being the best looking in the family and has kept

that all her life. But that was not her chief charm. She had a most

unselfish nature, always looking out for the other fellow. As a

little girl she always had younger children visiting her who would do

anything for her. They all loved her.

She graduated from Wittenberg college several years after the

rest of the sisters had finished and were out in the wide world try-

ing to make some money. After she left school it was her fate to teach

for years in some of Virginia’s charming girl’s schools, for which that

state has always been noted. The schools were situated in the lovely

mountains and valleys of Virginia. They were usually built in colonial

style which fitted into the landscape beautifully. The view from there

was a beautiful picture of valley or mountain or both. Living in

such a country was a rare privilege, so Ella’s time spent there must

have been a joy. After teaching days were over there were other ways

to earn money for this was necessary.

She is still living in the house where she was born, our

old home 3 Ferncliff Avenue, enjoying the comforts there and the

associations connected with the old place-and the beauty of it all.

Mother

March 30, 1940

OUR WONDERFUL CHRISTMAS PRESENT

I wish I could make you understand how we loved the sur-

prise Christmas present Santa brought us one year, a couple of days

before the regular Christmas day. I remember the ground was all

covered with snow and the wind was blowing cold all day so we children

played indoors. In the afternoon, our next door neighbor came over to ask

how we all were and how we were getting along playing for such a long

time in the house when we were accustomed to the freedom of all out-

doors. She was particularly anxious to know how mother was standing

the noises we were making as she had complained of not feeling well.

Finding everything as near satisfactory as could be expected from the

situation, she said to us, “I have a treat for you children to-night,

if mother will let you go with me and our children to our church where there

is a Christmas entertainment with Santa present with presents for all

good children.” Mother’s consent was given. Then commenced the ash-

ing of faces and hands and getting into our Sunday clothes to be ready

for the sleigh which was to call for us. The haste and excitement was

almost too much for us, but we were ready before the sleigh drove up, a

happy act of children going for a glorious party. I can remember the

great Christmas tree that greeted our eyes when we entered the children’s

Sunday school room – then the exercises and as the last act, Santa pass-

ing to each a present, a box of candy and an orange and other goodies.

The wonder of it all and the excitement were part of the entertainment.

Then the ride in the crisp air and father at the gate to welcome us and

to tell us that Santa had come to our house with a wonderful gift for

us all which he had left upstairs. Before we could see it he said we

must hang our coats and hoods in the closet and get good and warm by

the grate in the sitting room. All of these instructions were care-

fully carried out before going upstairs to be met by a woman in white

whom we didn’t know. She had a lovely basket on her arm covered with

a blue blanket. She stopped and when we all gathered round, she

threw off the blanket and the five pair of eyes got their first sight

of Uncle Frank, a lovely fat baby with his chubby fists in his mouth

and his lovely yellow curls growing thick on his beautiful head. You

can imagine the “ohs” and “ahs” and the countless questions. Then after

several looks we were all chased off to bed to dream of all kinds of

Fra Angelicos and Santa throwing oranges and pop corn balls and a baby

sleeping in a basket covered by a blue blanket.

Mother

April 20, 1940

FRANK’S ACCIDENT

Helen dear, you are good to tell me you all like the

stories I am trying to write for you. They have helped me pass

a good many lonesome hours and have been my salvation in that way.

I find I have to write when the mood is on or nothing comes that

is worthwhile.

I was trying to tell you about our yard with its wonder-

ful trees where we, as children, played Prisoner’s Base. One big

tree was reserved for a prison, each of us choosing a tree for our

home. The game was to steal the owners of the home trees away from

their homes and put them in jail where they stayed until all were

captured. Of course there was much running and pulling so the boys

soon threw their coats on the ground and the girls’ neatly braided

hair lost their ribbons and hung down their backs blowing with the

wind. We were all hot and tired but hoping it was not time for the

supper bell, which was often so late it was dark before the meal

was over.

One day there was great excitement in the playground. our

baby brother, Frank, had taken an active part in the game and

started on a fast run from the front of the house to his tree home

at the foot of the yard. Suddenly there was a scream and when we

reached Frank’s home tree, we found him plastered tight against

the tree from his toes to the top of his head with the blood

running over his face, a frightened looking child. At first we

children though his nose was flattened over his face and feared

it might always stay that way. And here appeared the first sign

of vanity we ever noticed in our little brother. It was pitiable

to hear him begging for our assurance that his nose would be all

right.

Mother

April 22, 1940

COLLEGE LIFE AT WITTENBERG COLLEGE

GRADUATION

College Life in 1880 to a young lady of 1939-40 would seem

almost incredible and yet it had some similarities. The time for the

classes to begin was nine o’clock. Each professor had his own room

for his classes. The men of the class occupied the back seats in the

class room, the young women the front ones. We assembled as I have said

for recitations at nine o’clock, after half an hour at chapel held in a

large room on the second floor and conducted by the various professors

in their turns. I can remember how the girls felt about their first days

work with the boys, who were truly believed to be much brainier than the

girls. I am sure at that time only the very advanced thinkers dreamed

that this accepted theory had another answer. But after several weeks in

these mixed classes, the dullest girls could wonder how the erroneous

idea came to have such a fixed place in the prejudice of all mankind.

I remember I loved mathematics and took much pride in work-

ing examples that were beyond some of the brightest boy pupils-examples

in algebra, geometry and finally calculus which was always considered

beyond the “female” brain. That word was still used in polite society

in 1880. So in 1880 I was graduated from Wittenberg, receiving the

second diploma from the college given to a young lady, my sister Alice,

who graduated in 1879 receiving the first. The graduating exercises

were held under the great trees which covered the campus. A good

crowd assembled to listen to the essays of the various graduates. I

really have forgotten the subject of my essay but know it was supposed

to help some various perplexing questions of that time. After I had

finished reading, I made my bow and listened to the applause. I had

received many flowers and presents and I began to believe that my

essay had convinced the audience that after all, the boy and girl

theory was wrong and that it would not be long before it was dis-

carded by the best students of the world.

With that diploma in my hand, I felt that I could fill any

position offered me with credit and immediately began to hunt for that

position. It came in the Lutherville Female Seminary, a Lutheran

School near Baltimore, Maryland at the magnificent salary of $150 and

keep. I stayed there for a year and then changed to Calanan College

in Des Moines, Iowa where I taught Latin and Greek for three years

preparing boys for Harvard and Yale, and girls for Wellesley and

other eastern colleges. As I never heard that any of these students

were returned home for lack of proper preparation in their languages,

I have always believed that they were well prepared.

Mother

April 23, 1940

BERT’S STUDY

I was able to help Brother Bert a little when he first

started in business. He was employed by the Roger Manufacturing

Shop as an office clerk-quite a desirable job. After he had been

there a month, there was talk that the office needed a short hand

writer. In order to save his job Bert determined to teach himself

shorthand, having no money for lessons. Don’t let anyone who

would undertake a similar task to-day get the idea that shorthand

methods of 1880 and now are anything alike. All the short cuts

and special helps were then unknown and shorthand was really

longhand with every difficulty present. But Bert undertook the

task with me to help. I remember when we decided I should read

the Scottish Chiefs word for word for him to take as dictation. It

was an awful task for both of us, taking more hours a day than I can

now remember but it was at last accomplished and his job was made

secure for him, a happy thing because the

family was dependent on the income for many necessary things. I

never recall that Bert got impatient with my reading or I so tired

that I wanted to give up my job. I always admired Bert for his

determination to learn this hard lesson so patiently.

Mother

April 25, 1940

Dear Children:

I remember one of the greatest days of interest at

Wittenberg was when the board met to decide the question of admit-

ing girls as students to the college. It was a subject much de-

bated, most bitterly, before the vote was finally taken in the

affirmative. When the news reached our home it meant much ex-

citement as the four girls could now have a college education.

There was so little money coming to the college at

that time that the institution suffered because there was none

for supplies for the daily needs of the classes. I can remember

how father worried because he could have none to equip his class

with the simplest things they needed. But he was game and realiz-

ing that he couldn’t spend money unless he had it, he worked along

as best he could with the supplies he had. Had he lived in this

century he might have learned (our) better methods and spent with-

out having it. It was discouraging to know that other colleges

were accomplishing things which could not be given to their stu-

dents because of the lack of materials. It is wonderful there is

no worrying now, but let memory and administration go back some-

times to those who accomplished much without those aids and with

little complaint or compensation.

Mother

April 27, 1940

DECISION TO STAY AT WITTENBERG

In my Sophomore year, or rather at the beginning of it, I

was asked to leave Wittenberg College and go to the Springfield

Seminary on High Street. This was the school sponsored by lead-

ing citizens in Springfield who felt the need of a good school

for their children. The very best teachers they could secure

were engaged for the school-it had an enviable reputation for

good work.

I don’t know what induced Mr. Samuel Bowman, our next

door neighbor, to offer me an opportunity to take advantage of

this school-whether it was because I was a special friend of his

oldest daughter, Darlington, who might have used her influence

in that direction, or because he couldn’t imagine a girl being

happy or doing her best work in a Co-Educational School. This

idea was too new to be proven a sure success at that time-but,

whatever the reason, he asked me and I was almost persuaded to

accept it-seeing myself, the many advantages it offered,-the

chief one, the friends I would make among girls of my own age.

There were only ten girls at Wittenberg, all of them older than

I, whom I would not meet often socially, because our homes were

so far apart, mine near the College, almost all the others liv-

ing in Lagonda-a village three miles away to the east.

I know now that the deciding factor in the decision to

remain at Wittenberg, was father’s position about the Co-Educa-

tional School, and his influence in securing an opportunity for

girls at the College, and the misunderstanding that would arise,

if one of his daughters should leave the School for no good

reason, before the idea had a real try-out. I often wonder if

I had made a different decision, how it would have changed my

life.

Mother

April 29, 1940

Dear Children:

My most loved sister was Anna, just fourteen months young-

er than I. We were together as much as possible both enjoying the

same things and the same people. I wish you children had old

enough to fully appreciate your aunt’s wonderful character and

charm. I especially wish this for her own children. We were

always supposed to be alike, which flattered me greatly as I,

though she was just the loveliest person I ever knew-intelligent,

smart in her classes, so full of understanding for everyone and

kindness for all.

Your father’s best friend at college was in love with her

and they were afterwards married-five years after our wedding with

our little Helen as their only attendant, holding tight to Aunt

Anna’s hand and wondering why Uncle John was standing there too.

This John was John H. Garver, the father of her five lovely chil-

dren. She was the perfect mother I should say giving cheerfully all

the advantages she could to each one of the children and receiving

from each the greatest love and admiration. She loved her home.

Its duties were always a pleasure for her to carry out.

One little incident I will tell you. This will show her

lovely disposition. She had spent a busy day preparing a dinner

for her son Ben’s classmates (25 in all). She made her special

dish, a marvelous soup from a recipe given to her by one of the

best cooks in Springfield. Before the dinner I went over to help

her with the final touches. The soup was in a bowl on the kitchen

table. With my usual instinct to straighten up, I commenced at the

table. Seeing nothing but what I though was dirty water in the

bowl, the contents were soon in the sink. When Anna inquired about

her prize dish, I remembered what I done with it and told her I

had thrown away her marvelous soup. Only one woman in a thousand

could have born calmly a disappointment of this kind when she was

tired and hot and just ready to serve her dinner. But she acted

more heroically than many a brave general-instead of scolding

and upbraiding me she spent her time trying to comfort me because

I felt dreadfully about what I had done saying-“well it soup

over the dam and what can we do about it?-nothing-why cry?” Won-

derful philosophy but hard to follow.

When she was forty-nine years old she left us-mourned

by all who knew her but mourned by her family more than words can

tell.

Mother

May 1, 1940

My dear children:

Father was recognized, both at the college and in the city,

as a well informed student of many subjects and was often consulted

by those seeking information. This reputation very likely helped

John B. Bookwalter to select him as his guest and companion on a trip

which he and his wife planned to the Sandwich Islands in 1874, a trip

seldom taken and considered very dangerous in those early days. Mrs.

Bookwalter before her marriage was Eliza Leffel, Leffel water wheel,

which made him a rich man and a leading manufacturer in that city,

The chief interest in the trip centered in the volcanoes

which formed and covered the islands, some of the largest in the

world bearing a peculiar volcanic formation found in no other place.

They were ambitious tourists hoping to measure and survey

some of these craters, for which purpose they planned to climb to the

top of Mounta Loa where were located two carters they hoped to measure

and survey. These were Kalanea, supposed to be the largest crater in

the world, and Moknawneoweo. This ascent was seldom undertaken by

the islanders never by tourists. Only six times before the Bookwal-

ters made their climb in 1874 had an attempt been made to reach the

top of the Mounta Loa although it offered to those reaching the top the

most wonderful volcanic display in the world. Even the enthusiastic

Bookwalter party had Mr. Bookwalter record in his description of the

trip that their ambitions for climbs had been so thoroughly satis-

fied that they would never undertake one again if they lived to

be as old as Methusaleh. In this same report we find these words-

“we are somewhat proud that our survey is regarded as the most accu-

rate yet taken.” Several years before one had been taken by Commo-

dore Wilkes, sent out by the U.S. for that purpose.

One of the efforts of the survey was to take the distinc-

tion of being the largest crater away from Kenea, which it had en-

joyed for such a long time and give it to Moknawneoweo. But the party

was satisfied with the report of the survey and the volcanic display

at the top of the mountain-sufficient reward for all their perils,

hardships and fatigues endured to reach their goal.

After a four months stay, the party reluctantly started on

their homeward journey after a trip most satisfactory in every way.

Their friends in Springfield gave them a hearty welcome-glad they were

safely home from islands that were made of flowing lava and fiery

volcanoes and sometimes rocked by earthquakes.

That winter it was the delight of all the Geiger children to

sit on the floor at father’s knee and hear of the wonders which had

been made possible for him to see and it was high delight to try to make

use see them through his eyes.

Mr. Bookwalter’s book of description of the trip is found

in the Springfield library where it can be consulted. What father

wrote about the trip and his lectures about it are the property of

Honolulu’s library. In writing this I was unable to consult them.

Mother

May 3, 1940

Dear children:

Lutherville, Maryland, just fourteen miles west of Baltimore,

was the school where I first taught after my graduation from Wittenberg

College in 1880, the second girl to receive a diploma from that institu-

tion, my sister, Alice, who graduated in 1879 was the first one.

Lutherville was a lovely little village, its colonial homes

built among great trees set in well kept lawns with many bright colored

flowers sending their perfume over the yards. One longed as he walked

around these old homes that someone would appear at the door and welcome

you in but that didn’t often occur, as the pupils of the female seminary

were seldom so fortunate as to get an invitation which would have helped

them to bear the tedium of the school’s strict rules. One has never to

talk to a boy over ten years old-never to go out of the gate after five

o’clock or walk nearer than three yards to the fence and never to have

young man callers except by special permission.

I had courage once to entertain a young man, but never again.

The moment the hand of the clock reached nine, our company was asked to

leave, to make place for our evening prayers. These were long and solemn,

giving God charge of the young ladies residing in the classic halls, for

the special purpose of acquiring an education to fit them for their

life’s work.

I never looked at the teacher’s sitting there in that room

without thinking of the sign posted at railroad crossings “Watch-Look-

Listen!” which I felt sure they had been practicing to use that very

evening. Not on the crossing but in the dreary room after our young

friends had arrived. This one time was enough for me.

Mother

May 5, 1940

OPERA

In Baltimore while teaching at Lutherville, I had my first

visit to the opera one Saturday afternoon. It was “Il Trovatore” with

Emma Eames then in her prime.

We stepped off our train half an hour or more before the

opera began, in time to see the beaus drive their young ladies to the

door of the theatre in their two seated vehicles. If driving themselves, as

most of them did, holding their whips straight up in the air, I thought

I had never seen more beautiful girls nor more handsome men. The girls,

dressed in lovely costumes, always wore a corsage of sweet smelling

violets. I can smell their fragrance to this day, as I can hear the

soft southern talk and laughter of the young people.

The theatre was brilliantly lighted and filled with a dis-

tinguished looking audience. Nothing could ever impress me as that first

glimpse of my first opera way back in 1881.

The opera itself was beyond anything I had ever imagined, and

through which I had thrills and such weeping spells as never before

or since.

After it was over Emma Eames came before the curtain many

times looking beautiful in a pink gown-always greeting by tremendous

applause.

At last it was over, and we went back to real life, after a day

never equaled for me in everything that was lovely and exciting.

Mother

May 10, 1940

My dear children:

I will now try to write perhaps the hardest paper I will

have to write. Here goes:

While my acquaintance and subsequent marriage with Arthur

Hosterman was a romance in a way, it was not a romance in Hollywood

style. In the first place we had known each other from the 8th grade

of public school in the northern building to our graduation at Witten-

berg College, I in 1880, your father in 1881. During all that time

we saw each other daily, often walking home together for a game of

croquet. I was the only girl he seemed interested in-in all those years.

Our friendship went along very quietly and peaceably

through our school days. After that, I was away teaching for four

years, one year in a Lutheran School in Lutherville, Maryland-and

three years in Calanan College in Des Moines, Iowa, where I taught

Latin and Greek, preparing girls for Wellesley and Smith and boys for

Yale and Harvard. I confess I have forgotten everything I knew about

both these languages, even the alphabet of the Greek.

After Des Moines, I spent a year at home, and then was

married May 6, 1884 at home. The wedding was very pretty with only

the family and several of my girl friends and a few of Arthur’s

College friends, so you see how a romantic romance could hardly get

a peep at us through those years.

Our first home was in Sioux City, Iowa, where Arthur had

a position in a newspaper office. Helen was born here on an awful

wintry day with the temperature twenty degrees below zero-snow in drifts so

that we could not see across the street. There was a good natured nurse

who sang to her all day long this amazing song:

“It was not your father

Who did the bad deed

It was the whiskey that maddened his brain.”

It is a wonder that Helen lived to be a normal child, or her

mother lived to nurse her.

Mother

May 15, 1940

Dear children:

Our first home after our marriage was in Sioux City, Iowa. I

had lived three years in Iowa where I taught school at Calanan College in

Des Moines and had learned something of the climate. It would have been

hard for anyone to have convinced me then that just to step from Des Moines

to Sioux City would make such a different in the temperature. I am not sure

I can make my story seem real enough for anyone to believe unless they

have had similar experiences.

In the first place the snow had a way of falling and piling up

that was terrifying and characteristic of the snow in that climate. For in-

stance, after snowfall at night, it was more than likely in the morning that

we would not be able to see anyone on the other side of the street and one

walking in the path in the snow was as tall as the snow banks on either

side of the path.

To this climate, Aunt Anna came to spend the winter before Helen

was born on the 12^th day of January on a typical Sioux City winter day. Uncle

John Garver had a job in the Kelly newspaper office where your father had the

position of city editor of the Sioux City Tribune. John boarded with us at the

time and the four of us had our evenings together reading, playing cards, en-

tertaining our friends who often came in and talking, building most wonderful

castles which we should inhabit at some future date-always very near at hand.

The boys started early for the office about a mile from our house. One morn-

ing they started out not realizing it was a terribly cold day because the sun

was shining brightly. When the office was reached, Uncle John discovered his

nose was frozen and remedy was to put cold snow on the frozen spot. Ss

the boys began to apply this remedy with the result that their fingers were

frozen before they realized it. Two forlorn boys arrived home after six and

Anna and I offered them our remedy-a good hot supper with porterhouse beef

steak, hot coffee and all that goes with that menu. I wish I could make you

know what wonderful meat we could buy there at so much less cost than I have

ever found anywhere else. So meatless meals were not often served at our table.

The boys always started out on the cold morning walk with the best breakfast

possible.

One morning we found the floor in the kitchen covered with ice and

water running in streams from our bursted pipes and the house colder than any

frigidaire invented since. Our big base burner was still burning but heat was

lost before it had left it less than a foot away. A plumber was the most de-

sired man in the world but it was not easy to call one as we had no telephones

then. We hastened to a neighbor’s where we found one. After calling all the

plumbers in the telephone book, one promised to come and help us out as son as

he could which proved to be later in the afternoon. In the meantime the water

covered all the downstairs rooms and was gradually climbing the back stairs.

We were young and didn’t worry costs or damage done but were thankful that

the plumber was there doing what he could. We piled all our covers on the beds

and were soon asleep trusting the wise rule that sufficient unto the day was the

evil thereof and hoping for a better day when the sun came up.

Mother

May 20, 1940

Dear Children:

Our back yard had a big, old fashioned barn where we children

spent many happy hours thinking up games to play. The barn was so large

that it would hold many children. Often all the children in the neighbor-

hood were gathered together and the barn filled with babies two and three

years old and up to the fourteen year old class. Mother never seemed to mind

being an old-fashioned mother who liked to keep her eyes on where the

children were and what they were doing. SO the Geiger backyard and big

barn welcomed all the neighborhood children and their mothers seemed to

think it safe place to send them to play.

After the last nail was driven to make the big barn door perfectly

safe we had our plans all made for our game. We planned to open up a kinder-

garten for the small tots, using the older ones as teachers. There was opened

a new kindergarten in our neighborhood having all the furniture, books, pic-

tures, maps and other things needed. Of course there were man things to do to

get ready for we planned to decorate the bare walls. Such fun we had making

these improvements with glue and bright, unusual paper and little pain.

All the older children had a hand in these preparations. Chairs had to be

found and placed, table and blackboards, boxes for pencils, dull pointed

scissors, hangers for coats and hats and other things too numerous to mention.

It was two full weeks before the school bell rang for the children to assemble.

Such a happy lot could be found no other place. The little girls were dressed

in starched dresses with their hair in bright ribbons-the boys looking in at

the door as if they were too big to play and yet wanting to come in so much

they didn’t have the courage to leave.

It was a nice looking school which began its day with singing and

marching and then was ready to settle down for the real work of the day. The

children learned under their good teachers and the school was open all summer

and the parents were perfectly satisfied with the whole arrangement.

I wish you could have seen this school and these children you

would have agreed with my opinion of them. Some of these boys were to go

to war to fight for their country-several to occupy places of honor-all to

take honorable places in the battle of life and to do their part well. A

number have died but the majority are among the happy ones of life giving

joy to those around them.

Mother

June 2, 1940

Dear Children:

I really remember less about Alice and Bert than other

children. They somehow seemed so much older and their friends were

quite grown up yet really they were not much older but for some reason

seemed that way. I remember Alice took wax lessons from the sister of

Mr. Funk. This set her apart from the rest of us. Her one great accom-

plishment in this art was a wax cross covered with lively lilies and

kept under a glass case to protect it. To our eyes it was a masterpiece

and we were always very careful not to go too near the table where it

was placed for fear of breaking it by making a false move or step. Then,

too, Alice took drawing and painting lessons and other things that made

her seem aloof so we seemed to know little of her, only knowing that

she was a great favorite with father and mother, because she was a great

help with the younger children and was a good student which pleased father.

I myself must give to Miss Jennie Snyder, a teacher in the publics schools,

whom I loved, my understanding of the English grammar, which was so essential

for the ancient languages. After Alice graduated from College, the one girl

in a class of nineteen boys, she decided she would be a teacher and took

the public school examination. She received an appointment in the high

school at Colorado Springs. It was here that she received her greatest

blow in life when she found she could not hear well enough to keep her

position, a terrible disappointment to her. But she never said “give up”

but secured a lovely position in a private school in College Hill,

Cincinnati, where the classrooms were smaller, so she did not have much

trouble. She spent many happy years there and made life long friends which

were always a joy to her. Her hearing got worse as time went on and has

always been a great handicap to her but she has not given up the joys of

life on that account. One of these joys is living in the old home with

its many associations and the beautiful yard covered with lovely trees

exactly as it was when we were all children there together with father

and mother.

Mother