THE GRANDPARENTS
GRANDMA BRUSS

 

 

Grandma Bruss was the eighth child of ten children born to Nathan Suits Sr. and Northina America Barnard Suits. She was born June 9, 1893, on a small farm near the tiny crossroads town of Mohawk in Buck Creek Township, Hancock County, Indiana. She was named Emma Ethel and was known as Emma by her siblings and friends as a child but was known as Ethel throughout her adulthood. The children of Nathan and Northina spell their last name differently. Some of them spell Suits with one T others with two T’s. This apparently came about because one of the brothers was teased about his name while serving in the army. Because he was embarrassed by the teasing he added a T to his name and subsequently some of the brothers and sisters followed suit.

Grandma’s story is probably the most interesting of all the family stories in this collection, due to her Barnard ancestors. I am sure that none of her family had any idea that they were in any way related to several famous people. If they had known I’m sure they would have made it known as they did with the “Indian” story. More on those stories later.

Grandma’s mother Northina died when she was only nine years old and she, along with an older brother and his wife who moved back home, helped raise the other children.

Her mother was a seamstress and baker and she taught Grandma to sew and cook as well. As a young woman, Grandma baked pies for a local restaurant in Greenfield, Ind. to earn extra money for the family. I was reminded by my brother, Denis, that she was paid 3 cents per pie. At that rate she was probably the breadwinner at that time.  I don’t know for sure, but it would be my guess that she met my grandfather at that restaurant. I am assuming that when they met, he was working for the railroad and had probably gone there for lunch.

Grandma was not afraid of hard work. For the rest of her life, she continued to sew and cook and clean houses, among other pursuits. She saved her meager earnings until she had enough to purchase a property which she rented or “flipped”.  She then used the proceeds to purchase another and another. She became a regular on the courthouse steps when properties were auctioned at Sheriff’s auctions for delinquent taxes.

She made “feed sack dresses” which were popular during the depression era. Feed companies at that time sold their seed in bags with various prints on them so they could be used to make clothes instead of being discarded. She made hand sewn quilts which were beautifully done. She sewed on an old treadle Singer sewing machine and I swear I could see smoke coming from it as she pedaled. She had hundreds of dress patterns, dozens of used zippers, and thousands of used buttons.

Grandma continued to cook. She still made wonderful pies and bread and butter pickles, and she canned tomatoes and other vegetables. She made a Cole slaw which was very good, and I am sure very simple but impossible to duplicate. Also, cherry delight, wilted lettuce and neck bones with potatoes and carrots. Simple farm food but all very good. She was very frugal. She would  visit her brother’s farm after the migrant workers had picked tomatoes for Campbells Soup Co.company and would glean the leftover tomatoes for caning. She also canned other fruits and vegetables. Her specialties were peaches, strawberries, and Bread and Butter Pickles.

She loved BINGO and played weekly at the Eagles Lodge for several years. Because of the BINGO she decided to join the Eagles and in a short time she became an officer. Each officer had a spoken part at the meetings. Most members just read their part from a manual, but Grandma memorized her part for each office she held and spoke them from memory. Grandma.

Grandma had some strange ideas at times. She was deathly afraid of spiders and snakes, and would make us sit under the kitchen table on feather pillows during thunderstorms so we wouldn’t be struck by lightning.

 She lived to be nearly ninety-four and lived alone for most of that time after my grandfather died.

A few years ago, Denis and I along with his friend Gene Zimmerman, decided to visit Mowhawk to see the family farm.  The farm consisted of a 15-acre tract of land at the southeast corner of county roads 300N and 300W in Hancock County, Indiana. The land was left to Northina by her father in his will. I am surprised that they could support a family on n that small farm. By today’s standards it would barely support a family garden.

At first, we had a bit of trouble locating the homeplace and the cemeteries where many of our ancestors are buried, but with the help of a local genealogist we met at a local campground we were able to locate these places.  

We found the headstones of several of the family members but not all.

 

 

And now as I said earlier, I will get to the interesting part of her story.

As I said, Grandma’s mother was a Barnard. The family, as we knew it, were just poor farmers eking out a living. But the truth is that the Barnards were among the first families to own a portion of Nantucket Island. The following excerpt from Wikipedia contains a list of the first owners of Nantucket Island.

Nantucket settlers

In October 1641, William Alexander, the Earl of Stirling, deeded the island to Thomas Mayhew of Watertown, Massachusetts. In 1659, Mayhew sold an interest in the island to nine other purchasers, reserving 1/10th of an interest for himself, "for the sum of thirty pounds ... and also two beaver hats, one for myself, and one for my wife".^[13]

Each of the ten original owners was allowed to invite one partner. There is some confusion about the identity of the first twenty owners, partly because William Pile did not choose a partner and sold his interest to Richard Swain, which was subsequently divided between John Bishop and the children of George Bunker.

Anxious to add to their number and to induce tradesmen to come to the island, the total number of shares were increased to twenty-seven. The original purchasers needed the assistance of tradesmen who were skilled in the arts of weaving, milling, building and other pursuits and selected men who were given half a share provided that they lived on Nantucket and carried on their trade for at least three years.

By 1667, twenty-seven shares had been divided among 31 owners.^[14]

European settlement of Nantucket did not begin in earnest until 1659, when Thomas Mayhew sold his interest to a group of investors, led by Tristram Coffin. The "nine original purchasers" were Tristram Coffin, Peter Coffin, Thomas Macy, Christopher Hussey, Richard Swain, Thomas Barnard, Stephen Greenleaf, John Swain and William Pile. These men are considered the founding fathers of Nantucket, and many islanders are related to these families.

 

Since the island is small and there were only those original families living there many intermarried and so today nearly everyone who is descended from any of those original families are related.

My family is descended from Thomas Barnard and the Barnard family is interwoven through nearly all the other families. Some of my ancestors ate listed below.

 

Tristram Coffin the original purchaser (and governor of Mass.) would be my 7-8 great grandfather.

Lucretia Coffin Mott-world famous women’s rights advocate and woman speaker. Well known as a suffragette and abolitionist.

Levi Coffin-Known as the President of the Underground Railroad. Many residents of Randolph and Wayne Counties are familiar with his home in Fountain City, Ind. The home is on the east side of Ind. Hwy. 227.

Samuel F.B. Morse-Developer of the Morse code, used in telegraphy.

Rowland Hussey Macy-Founder of the Macy department stores.

Richard Nixon, 37^th president of the United States.

Barbara Pierce Bush-Wife of George H. W. Bush, 41^st president of the U.S. and mother of George H. Bush.

George H. Bush, 43^rd president of the United States.

William Hall Macy Jr.-Actor. Best known for his movie Fargo.

James Athearn Folger-Founder of Folger’s Coffee.

Abagail Folger-Victim of the Manson family Helter Skelter murders.

Benjamin Franklin-American statesman and founding father of the United States. (his mother was a Folger)

Fredrick A. P. Barnard-President of Columbia University and namesake of Barnard University at Columbia.

And many more.

As I said earlier, my grandmother would have been shocked. As I have been.

I came come by this information through a genealogist by the name of Gary Ell. Gary is a distant cousin through the Nantucket families. There is a funny story associated with Gary and his genealogy research.

Bonnie, my wife, is from a small town by the name of Fonda in upstate New York. Since we first met, she has talked about her High School boyfriend. His name is Alfie. Alfie was a great athlete and was offered an athletic scholarship to Penn. State but chose to join the Navy instead. To make a long story short; I learned through Gary’s genealogy that Alfie and I are cousins. What are the odds.

The Indian story.

As far back as I can remember my grandmother and her siblings talked about  the Indian in the family. No one in the family was ever able to prove that there was an Indian in the family. They only knew her name was Jane. However, there were a couple of pieces of circumstantial evidence that pointed in that direction. Ruben Barnard and his wife Jane suddenly left the Quaker church sometime shortly after their marriage. It is thought that they may have been disowned by the Quaker church, because they married outside of the faith. Also, to make matters worse, he apparently married an Indian, which was not thought kindly at the time. Also, their children’s birth certificates listed the father as Ruben but listed  the mother as unknown. Possibly an attempt to keep the children’s Indian blood a secret. And one more piece of evidence was Northina recalled her grandfather, Ruben, calling his wife, a stubborn old squaw when he was angry with her.

Through Gary Ell’s genealogy we were able to prove that my 5^th great grandmother was indeed a native American. Her name was Jane A. Dennil. We have not been able to determine which tribe or nation she was from, but she was probably Cherokee or Catawba since those were the groups living in North Carolina at the time of her birth.

And so, it goes. The poor farmers, searching for better farmland in Indiana while the relatives are building empires around the world.

 

 

 

 

THE BEST IS YET TO COME

 

Beauty is as beauty does, or so the wise men say.

And when you smile, you prove it, and put sunshine in the day.

You were just a tiny little girl not very long ago,

and now you’ve grown to womanhood and you have that special glow.

 

But beauty on the outside isn’t always what it seems,

It’s the beauty from the inside and a heart that’s filled with dreams.

You have the whole wide world ahead please don’t become misled.

Keep your eyes upon the future and fulfill your dreams instead.

 

If you do not continue, on the path you start today,

choose for yourself another goal, let not your path be swayed.

The road has many, many forks, you may know not which to choose.

But ask for help from up above, He will not let you lose.

 

I wish you well in all you do and pray for happiness.

And may your life be full of love and very greatly blessed.

Do not look back, have no regrets, enjoy your rising sun.

Go boldly forward on your way for the best is yet to come.

 

R.D. Bruss

 

 

 

THE BLACKSMITH

 

The blacksmith who lived just down our street

pounds on his anvil, tap, tap, tap…. repeat.

And then with hot and fiery steel

He shapes it with an earnest zeal.

 

From summer morn, and all day long,

I hear the tempo of his song.

And from the music that I hear

a work of art will soon appear.

 

Repair a shovel, build a gate.

Shoes to aid a horse’s gait.

A trailer hitch, a kitchen knife.

Most oft the necessities of life.

 

Hot and smoky was his shop.

His work goes on, he does not stop.

The forge is stoked, the bellows blow,

The flames fly skyward from below.

 

Glowing ingots soon will be

shaped and formed for all to see

into a fancy wrought iron gate

or a sturdy fire grate.

 

Molten steel will soon become

treasured objects, one by one.

Passed on to those who do not know,

of the blacksmith’s forge aglow.

 

R.D. Bruss (Brave Bear)

10/22

TAKE ME OUT TO THE BALL GAME

It was the spring of 1974 and I was a deputy on the Darke County Sheriff's Department in Greenville, Ohio. My friend, Gary Bowman was a detective on the police department. Gary also worked part time at the local radio station, W.D.R.K. (The Bright Spark in Darke) as a color commentator. Most of Gary's radio work was calling area high school athletic events with an occasional “gig” at a Cincinnati Reds game.

This was not just an ordinary spring. This was the year Hank Aaron would break Babe Ruth's all-time home run record. Hank ended the 1973 season with 713 career home runs, just one short of tying the Babe.

The Atlanta Braves, Hanks team, was opening the season with a three-game series at Cincinnati. It was not likely that a hitter as talented as Aaron would play all three games against the Reds and not tie and then break the record. Braves management wanted Aaron to break the record at home in Atlanta before the hometown fans. However, baseball commissioner Bowie Kuhn felt that to be fair Aaron should play at least two of the three games scheduled at Cincinnati.

On April 4^th, the first game of the series, Hank connected with a pitch that he sent over the outfield fence. Number 714. In the second game of the series on April 5^th, Hank went 0 for 3, leaving himself still one home run short of breaking the Babe's record.

On the evening of second game, I received a call from Gary who invited me to join him the next day, at Cincinnati, to watch the final game of the series. Gary was thinking that since Hank still needed one homer to break the record that we may be lucky enough to witness it in person.

Naturally I accepted the offer but felt I should ask Gary how we were going to find tickets for such an historic game. Gary just chuckled and said, “We don't need tickets, I have press passes”.

So, the next day I joined Gary in his cigar smoke filled car and we headed to Cincinnati. The rumor was that Braves management had fulfilled the commissioner's order and that Hank would not be playing that day. But we were on the way, and we were going to make the best of it, even if Hank didn't play.

We arrived at Riverfront Stadium well before game time and Gary drove straight to a VIP parking area close to the VIP entrance. This entrance was reserved for players, staff, and press. I was impressed. When we stepped into the stadium we were confronted with a maze of tunnels and passageways. I was convinced that we would be lost and spend the whole day trying to find the way out. But Gary was not intimidated. He said he thought we should go out to the field and see who was in the dugout and taking batting practice.

He led me through a few twists and turns and suddenly there was light at the end of the tunnel. In just a few seconds we were standing on the playing field at the entrance to the dugout. I was impressed. I felt like a kid in a candy shop. I don't really remember a lot about the field and dugout except there were a few younger players standing around. I really don't think I recognized any of them.

After a few minutes on the field, we decided we should head into clubhouse locker room. Gary thought we may get to meet some of the starters as they were getting ready for the game. As we walked into the locker room the first two players, I saw were Johnny Bench and Pete Rose. Bench was in uniform and nearly ready to play. Gary walked up to Bench, and they shook hands and of course, I had the opportunity to shake his hand too. Bench's hand was nearly four times the size of mine and at that point I really did feel like a kid. Pete Rose was about half dressed and the look on his face told us that he really didn't feel like meeting new people. I guess that I wouldn't be very cordial either if I had unexpected guests while I was in a T-shirt and jock strap.

In just a few steps we were outside of the offices of the coaches and manager. In the first office we were greeted by Alex Grammas, third base coach and George Scherger, bench coach. We visited with them for a few minutes, then walked across the hall to the manager's office. Gary knocked on the door then opened it and stuck his head in and said, “Hi Sparky, do you have a couple of minutes?” Sparky met us at the door and said "Gary, good to see you again". And again, I was impressed. Gary introduced me to Sparkey and he asked us to have a seat. We chatted with Sparky for a few minutes, then Gary asked if he would mind doing a short, taped interview for the station. He agreed and the tape recorder appeared. After a few questions Gary thanked him for his time and as we got up to leave, Sparky got up, told Gary he was glad to see him again. He then told me he was glad to meet me and to come back anytime. Once again, I was feeling that kid in the candy shop feeling. I had just been sitting in the office of and been talking with one of the most successful and popular managers in all of professional baseball.

From the offices we headed up to the press box. The press box was a large room on an upper level. It was furnished with rows of very comfortable seats facing the playing field that could be viewed through a full wall of windows. Also, the room was equipped with state-of-the-art broadcasting equipment. After all this was a big game and the room was full of celebrity sportscasters. ABC, CBS, NBC, ESPN were present, as well as radio and TV stations from every part of the country. The back of the room was a lounge area with tables and chairs and along one wall was a buffet, provided by the Reds management, for the press. The buffet had every kind of food one could think of. Roast beef, ham, pork chops, chicken Etc. Every possible kind of potatoes, vegetables, salads and of course pie, cake, cobblers and ice cream. And beer and soft drinks.

Since we had not had lunch, we decided to take advantage of buffet. I might add that the food was quite good. By the time we finished lunch it was getting close to game time, so we found a couple of seats near the window with a great view of the field. Suddenly as we waited for game time, a hush fell over the room. Joe Nuxhall was about to enter the room. Nuxhall played for several major league teams including Cincinnati during his career and then went on to coach and later became a sportscaster. At the time Nuxhall was the youngest person to play in a professional baseball game when he was just a few days short of his sixteenth birthday.

Nuxhall stepped through the door and surveyed the room full of big named sportscasters and suddenly he spotted Gary and me standing in the aisle. As he came to greet us, he smiled and said “Gary, how have you been? It's so good to see you again.” Again, I was introduced to a baseball legend. I know that all of those network stars who were hoping to meet Joe Nuxhall were wondering who that slightly overweight cigar chewing guy and his tall, skinny friend with the bad haircut were. Apparently, they had never heard of “The Bright Spark in Darke”.

Gary and I watched a few innings and when it became apparent that Aaron would not be playing, we decided leave early to beat the after-game traffic.

The braves were back in Atlanta on April 8^th and in the fourth inning Hank hit one over the fence off of Dodgers pitcher Al Downing for number 715, a new all-time home run record.

On the way home Gary sat quietly chewing on his cigar and most likely thinking about how he would air his most recent interview with Sparky Anderson. I, on the other hand, was still trying to digest everything that had taken place this day. For years I have described that day as feeling like a kid in a candy shop but that really doesn't come close to the way I felt that day. It has been nearly fifty years and it is still fresh in my mind.

Gary left the police department and built a very successful food business featuring the Texas Tenderloin. WDRK is no longer in existence and Gary passed away several years ago but the thrills and memories that he gave me will never pass away.

Buy me some peanuts and cracker jack, I don't care if I never get back.

R. Bruss

 

IT'S NOT MANUAL TRAINING

MR. GEORGE FRAZIER

A few days ago, there was a post on “You May Be From Union City, Indiana...” with a split photo of George and Mrs. Frazier. And his book “Jig”. This very interesting post reminded that I had started a story about Mr. Frazier several months ago as a part of a collection of memories from my younger days.

These stories are not intended for publication but to leave behind some information that may be of interest to future generations. I have many questions I wish I had asked of my parents and grandparents but never took the time to ask.

These stories will include people, events, and of course teachers who have impacted my life. The post I mentioned above was just enough to inspire me to complete the Mr. Frazier story.

Let me begin by saying that to this day it is difficult for me to refer to Mr. Frazier as George but for this endeavor I will use George just to save time time.

George Frazier taught school in the Indiana school system for over forty years, retiring at the end of my junior year in 1961. He was not only a teacher. He was an inventor a traveler a civic volunteer and a philanthropist.

I first met George in the fall of 1956 in a classroom in the southeast corner of the basement floor of the old West Side School building. (Now Hoosier Place Apartments) There were actually two rooms in that room, as I recall. The first room contained several desks/work benches; the corner of each bench had a vise, a swing out seat and a small storage area for drafting tools etc. This room also housed numerous hand tools as well as power wood working tools. More on that later. As I recall the second room contained metal working machines, a small foundry area and a wood finishing room.

George insisted that projects be completed in a certain way, beginning with a mechanical drawing of the project. Because he required these drawings, our first lessons were in the use of the drafting tools stored in the work bench. These tools, a drawing board, “T” square and triangles were a bit primitive, and I am reasonably sure that George made them because he probably did not enough in his budget to buy manufactured tools.

George taught us how to place the paper on the board correctly so the drawing lines would be parallel to the edges of the paper. We were also taught to divide the paper into four equal quadrants and how to draw a front view in the first quadrant, a side view in the second quadrant and a top view in the third; the fourth being used for extension lines only. Then it was time for dimension lines, and this is where we were treated to the first of George's many quotes. George made it clear that the arrow heads at the end of the dimension lines could not look like chicken feet. Hence the quote “Arrow heads have narrow heads”. To this day, nearly seventy years later I still make narrow heads when required.

When the drawing was completed, and the coveted (GF) initials were obtained we were permitted to move on to the actual construction of the project. Also, we heard the second of his quotations at this time. “That's pretty good for a little feller about your size, shape and color.”

Our first project was a wooden sanding block approximately 6”x 2 ½” x 3/4” with a 1/4” chamfer on all four top edges. This project required the use of common hand tools such as saws, mortise marking tool, and block plane. Of course, this would require the knowledge of how to use these tools. But George was there and ready with the skills.

Each student was assigned a plane and each plane and the bit for it were stamped with a number which corresponded to a number on a shelving unit where that plane would be kept when not in use. We were taught how to install the bit and how to adjust it properly so that when the tool was pushed across the wood a long, thin curl of wood would exit the plane. We were instructed that when we did not actually have the plane in our hand it should be placed on its side to to prevent damaging the bit. Each student was responsible for the care of his assigned plane including cleaning and keeping the bit sharp. Sharpening the bit was a lesson for another day.

Once the project was completed, the tools put away and the work area cleaned it was time to present the finished project to George for his approval. If any part of the project did not meet his expectation there would no (GF) on the project until the error was corrected. Then back to George for a second try. If that attempt was successful the student would get another “That's pretty good for a little feller about your size, shape and color” or if something was not quite up to his standards or a bit out of square he may say “that's as crooked as a hinds dog leg”. No GF and back to work on that one.

George taught us about all kinds of tools. What a ball peen hammer was for and how to use it and claw hammers and sledgehammers. We learned about saber saws, coping saws, jig saws and crosscut saws and rip saws and how to tell the difference. We learned about the different kinds of screw drivers and chisels and how to determine the different sizes of screws and nails. Wood screws, sheet metal screws, and on and on. Nails, from huge spikes to tiny wire brads. We learned how to determine the grit of sandpaper by reading the code on the back and what grade to use for a given purpose.

As the years went by, we moved on to bigger and more complicated power tools including metal working machines. Metal lathe, router, planer and jointer. The same tools we had used in wood working classes only much much bigger and more powerful; requiring more skill to use properly, and I haven't even mentioned the welders.

So far, I have only talked about George's teaching, but he taught us much more than what he talked about in the classroom.

He told stories about his many travels around this country and about his childhood. We were told about “stealing” honey form a bumble bee nest and about the old bachelor neighbor Henry Garr who only had one pair of underwear and one pair of coveralls which wore all year long....without laundering. Henry also took a bath once a year “whether he needed it or not”.

He taught by example by volunteering on the city park board where many of his ideas and innovations are still evident today. Many residents of Union City and the surrounding area are still benefiting from his labors. I am sure many of them have never even heard of him, but his dedication lives on.

George invented a garage door opener and a lawn chair and I'm sure other things, of which, I'm probably not even aware. He spent most summers traveling around this country taking 35mm slide photos which he categorized and then presented as travelogs for various groups around the area. He said on several occasions that he had been to every state in the union at least twice, except Alaska and Hawaii and he wouldn't be going to Hawaii until he could teach his Ply-Mouth to swim.

George wasn't one to set and think about his successes. After retirement he became a tour guide and continued to travel the U.S. sharing his vast knowledge of our country with many others, and while at home he continued to present his programs for many civic and social organizations.

George wasn't very big in stature, but he was a big man in many other ways. As I said, he wasn't one to set around. He returned to UC-W frequently to substitute, instilling pride in their school, their community, in their country and pride in themselves.

Mr. Frazier is gone now but he is not forgotten. He lives on in the hearts of all who knew him.

If I could speak to him today and sum his up his life I would just say,

That's pretty good for a little feller about your size, shape and color.

R. Bruss

The Song of the “Fine Young Brave”

The Song of the “Fine Young Brave”

The stealthy cougar on the prowl.
The plaintive cry of the gray wolf’s howl.
Distant calls as the Whip-poor-will sings,
and the gentile “whirr” of the humming bird’s wings.

Warming rays from the rising sun.
Replace the shadows one by one,

and warmth begins to fill the air.

The golden leaves glowing everywhere.

Gurgling streams flowing here and there
and a squirrel looking down with a curious stare.
A woodpecker peeks from a hole in a tree.
The erratic flight of a bumble bee.

We work the land with stick and stone
till our backs are bent and our women moan.
We plant our maze, you make it grow,
you give reward for the seeds we sow.

Oh. native spirit, from we know not where,
we feel your presence everywhere.
We feel you in the stars above
and in the gentle “coo” of the Mourning Dove

Your spirit moves throughout the land
from the mountain tops to the desert sand.
We thank you spirit high above.
You bring us hope you give us love.

R.Bruss (Brave Bear)
2021

MY FAVORITE OLD CHAIR

Once I had a favorite old chair

it’s where I would sit and never share.  

It was made of green leather and had a high back 

The arm rests, discolored and turned shades black.

The cushion was crushed and it sagged where I sat 

It was really quite comfy; and I liked it like that. 

Under the cushion, down in the cracks

It hid all the crumbs I had dropped from my snacks.

I liked that old chair, it fit like a glove

The feelings I had seemed to border on love.

 I’d sit there for hours while watching TV

And bask in the comfort of it’s arms around me.

But all  good things must come to an end

 The time had come to say goodby to my friend. 

My wife was insisting, the chair had to go

I can’t face the fact, please say it’s not so.

The chair now resides at the home of a friend 

I can’t face the fact that it’s come to an end.

 But still on occasion I go visit there

And take a few minutes to sit in my chair.

R. D. Bruss

12/2019