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[by Edward Gustav Uihlein](1845-1921)

January 11, 2000, version

Copyright of this transcription (originally translated, in part, by Rosina Laurette Lippi): John K. Notz, Jr. (1998)

Note; Hyperlinks added by Editor Mike Reilly


    Edward Uihlein’s writing of the above memoirs was commenced by him at his Geneva Lake home, "Forest Glen", in Fontana, WI, on September 16, 1917. Substantial parts were, thereafter, written on stationery of "The Raymond" hotel in Pasadena, CA. The original was written with portions, some in English and some in German. After I learned in the Fall of 1978 from my mother of the existence of these memoirs, I caused the portions written in German to be translated and the entirety to be transcribed by Rosina Laurette Lippi.

    In preparation for a Main/Danube Rivers trip in October, 1997, that my wife and I were planning, with extra time to see Wertheim and Miltenberg, I retyped that portion of the memoir that pertained to Edward Uihlein’s time in Wertheim and Miltenberg, and I sent it, in advance to the concierge of the hotel in Wurzberg where we had a reservation. She saw to giving a copy to each of the two guides assigned to us, one in Miltenberg and one in Wertheim. After my return, I wrote a "paper" on that day’s experiences.

    Previously, I had written a "paper" on the relationships between Edward Uihlein and the "Able Superintendent" referred to in the portion of his memoir that pertains to his "Forest Glen" on Geneva Lake, WI. That "Able Superintendent" was the famous landscape architect, Jens Jensen.

    As I have worked with portions of Edward Uihlein’s memoirs and realized that bits of the translation were inaccurate, and its fragmentary telling made it hard to follow, I typed its entirety and reordered it, chronologically. While some of Edward Uihlein’s shifting in and out of subjects has, thereby, been lost, there, now, is a flow in the telling. Clearly, he had must have had more about which he could have written. I understand from his obituaries that he was too ill to open his "Forest Glen" in 1920. He died in February, 1921, at the home of his eldest daughter, Clara Uihlein Trostel, in Milwaukee. Copyright of this transcription (originally translated, in part, by Rosina Laurette Lippi): John K. Notz, Jr. (1998)

    Very often, my family has asked me to write down some of the memories of my youth, and, today, I begin that task. These little sketches of my life must, necessarily, speak, principally, of myself and, therefore, the appearance of egotism must be pardoned. Chance or necessity deemed that, though I was the third born of my family, the role of eldest should fall to me. My parents had a small inn ["gasthaus"] called "The Gold Crown" ["Zum Goldenen Krone"] in Wertheim am Main, and, with much work and penny-pinching, Mother and Father managed to feed the family. My parents seemed to have great faith in family progress, as they agreed to let their eldest son, August, then about seven years old, accompany my grandfather, who was traveling to visit his son in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. A basis for this decision may have been the fact that August Krug’s marriage (Milwaukee) was childless. At some later point, I will write of this trip of grandfather and grandson. Now that my grandmother was left behind, she let it be known that she wished the company of my second brother, Henry [Heinrich], during the absence; my parents fulfilled this request.

    In this manner, I became the eldest at home and the protector of the remaining children. As it was not until four or five years later that a girl was born to the family, my sister Anna, I became the "daughter" of the family by virtue of my longish blonde curls and was given the nickname "Mutton Chop" ("Haemmelchen"). I was born on October 19, 1845, and was, therefore, between five and six years old at this time. Father had his hands full with the business, and Mother ran the kitchen and the complete household, with the help of one maid. At that time, there were, always, ten to twelve paying guests at the table, as well as two or three laborers and a so-called "governess", who made beds, cleaned and cared for the laundry, and so on, rather than tending the children. This task fell to me, as I have, already, mentioned. The expansion of the family that I referred to earlier was not neglected. The youngest, William [Wilhelm], was, also, the ninth child; nine children who enjoyed the best of health, putting aside the usual childhood maladies. Seven boys and two girls without any birth defect - never a broken arm or leg; we, all, thrived wonderfully.

     I must not forget to mention that my parents dealt with quite a hardship. In Wertheim, every Spring, the small Tauber River overflowed, due to heavy amounts of snow and rain, and, within very few hours, the whole village was under water. Every open, as well as every sealed, container was, soon, floating or lost. Potatoes, vegetables, salted meat - everything had to be carried to the top floors, and the wooden floor of the dining room had to be anchored down, to prevent it from "heaving". Within 12 hours, the whole household had been evacuated to the second floor. Boatmen brought their small craft into the streets and set up water taxis and collected passage. We had our own little "Venice". As children, we considered these to be festive days; schools were closed for a period. Our large laundry tubs were filled with meat and bread and were used to ship these things around, for householder needs. The ride in these primitive craft was not without danger, even when the water in the streets was quite calm. The first day with these boats was spent making sure that they were waterproof and learning how to propel them forward, as they tended to dance around in circles. Two to four days, later, the water receded, leaving a terrible filth. One did not bother to pump the basement entirely dry, as the whole performance repeated itself eight to twelve days later, due to the Main River. The water height rose, sometimes, to twenty feet and blocked the flow of the Tauber River. This happened two or three times in some years, and, of course, the Spring brought all the related illnesses; typhoid, consumption, even cholera, became common.

Over the doorway of our home was an inscription:

On the first Day of this Year the Water reached this Line



[Den ersten Tag in diesem Jahr]

[so hoch der Strich das Wasser War]



    Other water lines were marked 1782, 1784, 1845, and so on. Although these were unusual heights, no years passed in which Wertheim did not become a "Little Venice". There were many efforts to change the situation, but nothing was successful. For the last 60 years [to 1917], the few new buildings with which Wertheim has been blessed have been built on higher ground, with the result that the town’s water pressure was insufficient to reach these buildings.

    For the occasional visits of Martin Luther to Wertheim, he would pause in his reading, to turn and admire the beautiful landscape. He noted:

    Wertheim need never fear fire - but the threat of flood water is dire.

[Vor Feuer hat Wertheim nichts zu emfaehn] [im Wasser aber kann’s untergahn.]

    As I have, already, noted, my parents were so overrun with work that they had little time for the details of child-rearing, and there was no supervision of homework, no explanation of difficult problems, arithmetic calculations or compositions, with the result of rather bad school reports. Due to financial conditions, no private tutor was engaged to assist me, and I lost two years, in which I was not advanced. Nevertheless, I graduated from the Wertheim Division of "Unter Onarta", which begins with the "Prima". What I lacked in Latin, French and Greek, I made up for with good grades in Geography, Music, Choir, Drawing, Gymnastics, Swimming, etc.

    When I had reached the age of eight [in 1853], my parents had decided that I should take violin lessons from our old teacher, Feizen Lentz. At first, the progress was rather slow, but, when my brother Karl also selected the same instrument, we, soon, were able to play duets, and we certainly enjoyed it. At the age of ten, our teacher arranged, with the assistance of two other students, to play quartets. One evening, we were invited to play for The Museum Society {Museum Gesellschaft] at one of its evening Musicales. We played "Joseph in Egypt [Josef in Egypt]] by Mehl and were highly complimented on our playing. Heinrich Moser played the first violin; I had the second violin; our teacher the viola; and one of his friends, in the absence of a cello, took that part with a bassoon. We advanced, right along, and, thus, became acquainted with a number of operatic overtures, such as "The Magic Flute", "William Tell", "Barber of Seville" ["Zauberfloete", "Tell", "Barbier zum Sevilla"] and, in addition, Mozart, Beethoven and Mendelsohn quartets and quintets. My musical ear was well-trained; so, I became a member of the Catholic Church Choir, singing alto parts and, also, taking violin parts at High Masses, Easter, Pentecost, etc.

    At age ten, I had, already, been enlisted as house and garden help. It was my assignment to set the tables in the guests’ dining room, to carry drinking water from the nearest well, to carry the Noon meal to the dining room and serve it to the guests, to butcher meat, to look after the dishware, etc. The fact that the kitchen was 150 feet from the dining room meant that I had to move very quickly, to fill requests satisfactorily. After meals, there were the dishes to do and the kitchen cloths to be pressed, and so forth. School closed at 11:45; so, there was quite a rush to get everything ready by Noon. Of course, business was slow in Winter, and there were, then, seldom more that six or eight guests to serve. In the afternoon, school started at 2:00, with music, gymnastics and swimming. In the evenings, from 7:30 to 9:30, there were arts and crafts classes. Thanks to this schedule, there was little or no time for play.

    In a small city like Wertheim, the church and school house was very much used as a playground, and there was not a corner in the church tower that we did not know as well as our own pockets; and our presence was, at all times, welcome, as Old Man Bauer could not do justice, alone, to all of his duties, such as tolling the bells, pumping up the wind bellows for the organ, keeping things clean, everywhere, helping the Priest in his change of garments for the different requirements of the First Mass, the Sunday High Mass, and the so-called Requiem Mass, in the case of the death of a church member, etc.

    My first money, ever earned, was as a Second Altar Boy. The School Master Feigenbutz was our Treasurer, and the yearly dividend was declared in October, on St. Michael’s Day. The income of each of the eight Altar Boys, per year, was, in American money, about $1.50 [some $30, in 1997] of the First Altar Boy and $1.00 [some $20, in 1997] for the Second Altar Boys. The duties of the First were to answer the Priests’ prayers in Latin and to carry a large prayer book from one side of the Altar to the other, and to serve incense, with red-hot coals. The duties of the Second were to carry the Cross, the Holy Water and the wine and wafers for Communion and, also, to ring the bells of the Priest at Communion.

    Just before the closing of the services, it was the duty of the Sexton to make a collection, with a silk bag on a long pole, to reach the full length of the benches, and it was, always, a picnic, for us boys, to witness the criticism of the Priest over the outcome of the contents, as it was never satisfactory as to its amount; besides, a number of counterfeit coins were deposited and, the worst of all, brass buttons and, even, ordinary trouser buttons. The patience of the Priest was, sometimes, taxed to the extent that a "Thunderstorm" [Donnerwetter] escaped his holy lips.

    At a funeral of a member of the church, it was customary that the bells were tolled until the cemetery was reached, which we could observe from the church tower. An ordinary funeral required three Altar Boys, the Sexton and the Priest. As a rule, a liberal tip was paid, which was deposited in our General Fund. In some instances, the tip was rather slow in coming, and, having waited some four-five weeks in vain. we appointed one of the boys to watch the head of the family leaving the church, to "thank" him, cordially, for the liberal tip. As a rule, the tip came forward, without complaint, to the Priest, and we attained our goal. One day, we had to bury a Catholic in a little town called Sachsehausen, about three miles from Wertheim. We reached the place about 5:00 PM, and the services were somewhat short. The deceased person was poor but, apparently, esteemed among the Protestant population. In peasant style, bouquets of wild flowers decorated the coffin, and a number of citizens, among them the Mayor [Burgermeister] attended the funeral. We were treated to a glass of beer and sausage and considered the affair to have been a nice outing.

    My father rented, in Wertheim, a larger garden, where we raised, besides apples, pears and plums, a fair supply of vegetables. We, also, had a few beds of flowers, such as tulips, hyacinths, bleeding hearts, lilacs, snowballs and syringas. I spent a good deal of time in that garden and considered it the foundation of my later inclination to cultivate flowers and shrubs.

    I well remember making my first trip on a steamboat, from Wertheim to Miltenberg, to visit my grandparents. I was, then [1851], about six years of age and must have been impressed, for I cried for an hour or more, until I became accustomed to the escaping of steam, the noise of the wheels and the saluting by steam whistle of towns being passed, the peculiar odor of oil from the engine room, but, not least, the working of the machinery proper.

    The second event that made a great impression on me was the day when I saw the first locomotive in Wurzberg. My uncle, August Krug, paid us a visit in 1855, when I was a boy of ten. One day, he proposed to my mother a carriage drive of five hours to Wurzberg. That city, in my child’s estimation, was about as large as any city in the world, London and Paris excepted. The Southern Germans (Bavarians/Baden), at that time, had very little love for Prussia and Berlin, and, therefor, the former cities were preferred by me.

    I well recall the time when we boys had paper soldier hats and wooden sticks, serving as guns, marching in our neighborhood, singing:

    Johnny, Tommy, Joe and Ed, Come and kill the Prussians dead.

    [Hecker, Struwe, Sitz & Blum] [Kommt und Bringt die Presesen um.]

    Before Wurzberg was reached, our carriage driver gave me a scare, saying that no boy could enter that city unless he had eaten his way through layers of cake some six inches thick. I thought that problem over for some time, but, considering the fact that I had had nothing to eat for five hours, I would try, and, if there were any possibility, I would succeed. My uncle went with me, to show me the first locomotive and train, and, when I heard the whistle, he could not hold me any longer, as I ran at the pace of a race horse, for fear that I would, never, get another chance to see a machine traveling, I was told, at the speed of lightning. We, also, paid a visit to the Citizens’ Brewery [Buergerliche Brauhaus], where beer was made by steam [dampfbetriebe]. That whole trip made an immense impression on my young mind, and I feel grateful for the same, to this day.

    The next great impression on my mind was the introduction of the telegraph in Wertheim - probably, about 1855. I confess that, for years, I could not grasp the possibility of communicating great distances by electric communications; for that matter, I, today, am, practically, at a loss to understand wireless telegraphy. At that time, a story was told in Wertheim which, even if not originating there, is worthwhile mentioning:

    "A peasant asked for information, just how that telegraph worked, and was told that, for instance, if your son in Wurzberg needs anything, you telegraph him, and, in a few hours, you have his answer. So, the peasant hung up on the telegraph pole a new pair of boots for his son. A few hours thereafter, he found an old pair hanging on the same pole. He was highly pleased with such prompt service, without knowing that some passing stranger made use of the opportunity, to exchange his old boots for a new pair."

    About 1855, Prince [Fuerst] Georg von Loewenstein Wertheim, who was highly esteemed by the population of Wertheim, died in his castle at Triefenstein, located about six miles up the Main River, in a splendid park of beech trees and a great many running springs. The funeral took place in the evening at 9:00 PM, with a large procession of torch lights arranged by the citizens of Wertheim. In the absence of a bridge across the river, two large ferries were employed, with dozens of craft of smaller size, and the whole made an imposing procession. Of course, the cleaning of the clothing, next day, from the pitch dripped from torches was quite a job. The body was deposited in the vault of the Protestant Church, and Prince Adolph, the son of the deceased, took charge of the Prince’s estates the next day.

    Wertheim lies on the Main and Tauber Rivers and is, more or less, surrounded by the Oden Forest. The hills, here, offer youth an excellent opportunity for sledding. The climb is quite tiring, but, when the full height is reached, one receives quite a reward for the expenditure of effort. At racing speed, a sled would whip downwards, and pity the boy whose poor steering sent him off the path and into a tumble of 20 or 25 feet over stone and stubble, to land in a ditch. The Tauber is a quiet river in the Winter and freezes over quickly - a paradise for young and old. The younger boys are only involved in mastering ice skating, but, when a boy reaches age 14, his interest turns to skating arm-in-arm with his sweetheart. Different games were arranged. Afterwards, simple cakes and coffee were set up - teaching us that life can be enjoyed at no great cost.

    The Tauber River cut the town in half, forming two factions. One half of the town was known as "over the Tauber", and the young boys of both factions fought a constant feud; the bridge was, often, the site of bloody battles. Normally, sticks and rocks were employed as weapons and, in Winter, snowballs, with bits of ice. The population was about 3,800 - 316 Protestant Families, 216 Catholic Families and 16 Jewish Families. Until the age of 14, each faith provided education for its followers. After age nine, however, a student could attend the Gymnasium, and, at age 14, a decision concerning a profession or trade had to be made - the former necessitating preparation for the University.

    At my thirteenth year [1849], my voice began to change, and it became a high tenor. This would have been the time to provide me with more advanced teachers, but they were not obtainable in Wertheim, and, for Father’s financial circumstances, were too great an expense. Besides, my mother advocated additional school years, with a view towards my studying Theology and, ultimately, becoming a Catholic priest. Her ideas were supported by Dr. Schachleiter, a friend of our family and strong "Ultra Mantan" ["Ultramontanes" - Roman Catholic - probably Counter-Reform - Bavarian conservative group that oppressed Jews] politician. All of this was not to my liking, and, having reached the age of 15 [in 1860], I, at once, decided to become a merchant, with the results described elsewhere in these memoirs.

    I remained in school until age 15 [1861], and, then, I entered into a merchant’s apprenticeship in the store of Josef Knapp in Miltenberg, Bavaria. The Germans have a saying: "The devil will enter any profession except apprenticeship."

    This, probably, originated in the fact that many apprentices were poorly fed and burdened with every possible task: baby-sitting, wood-splitting, field work and so on. This did not apply to me; I was treated fairly in all matters, even if my employer did not, really, bother to introduce me to the mysteries of bookkeeping, correspondence or inventory. I must mention that, at the time, there were habits and customs in relation to boys that, today, would be considered absurd. For example, when a boy enters into an apprenticeship, his father agreed to pay 100 Gulden for each of the three years, without any credit to the boy’s account for his daily work, from 5:00 in the morning to 10:00 at night, with meals at the family table and every other Sunday off, from 3:00 to 6:00 in the evening.

    Although the store was a small one, we had our fingers in many pies, for most of the neighborhood shops bought their wares from us. We were wholesale merchants and carried, along with everyday things, branding irons, stoneware, masonry tools, all sorts of nails and hardware, rope, ovens, kitchen stoves, pottery and dishes, cheeses, vinegars, mineral water, herring and other fish, gunpowder, yarns, tobacco and cigars, and so forth and so on. It was my responsibility to make sure that all of the shelves were stocked, from boxes and cartons. I, also, opened the store at 5:30 AM and sorted the mail, and, in the evening, I copied all the letters, by hand. After dinner, bags were prefolded into 1/4, 1/2 and 1 pound sizes. One would think that a boy would go to bed, readily, after such a day, but the old bookkeeper was delighted to learn that I played the violin and would accompany me on the spinet in the evening and, sometimes, into the Midnight hours. Of course, it was, often, hard to answer the chime of the clock at 5:00 in the morning.

    After I was accepted as an apprentice at the general store of Joseph Knapp, Jr., in Miltenberg am Main, the home of my mother, I, very soon, made the acquaintance of the organist of the Catholic Church, and he was elated to get an experienced addition to his vocal and musical choir; so, I became a member, at once, and took my part in the providing of church music. However, The Reverend Pastor Bach [Herr Stadtpfarrer Bach] also learned of my arrival and, promptly, insisted upon my attendance at Sunday School. Herr Knapp argued that a young man of my age, having attended the best of schools, learned Latin, French, and Greek languages, could, certainly, not derive any benefit in a Sunday School [Christnlehre] and, therefore, should be excused, but Father Bach held that it was absolutely necessary. Finally, I learned the arguments of both sides and, simply, decided that, if compelled to attend Sunday School, I would stop my activity as a singer and player at the High Masses or, in fact, every Sunday morning. This settled the matter, at once, and I, never, heard any more from Father Bach. . . .

[There is a second version of this story:]

    I was, barely, four weeks into my apprenticeship, when the Catholic priest paid my employer a visit, to make it clear that I was to attend religious class from 1:00 to 2:00. Mr. Knapp tried to save me from this fate, by reasoning that I had a better education than most who attended religious class and would discourage those who had only finished the Primary School. This argument did not influence the Father. However, he was not aware that I had played violin and sang an occasional tenor solo at the High Mass. This served as a good weapon, for, when Father Bach insisted on my presence at religious class, I was forced to abstain from any participation at Mass. This worked miraculously. I, never again, heard anything about my playing hooky.

    The store’s warehouse was a two floor stone building with a large basement. When linseed, hops and poppy were to be harvested, Mr. Knapp would buy the crops from the farmers and send them to different mills, to be ground into flour or oil, a part for sale in the store, and the rest to be sold in Frankfurt or Mainz. It was transported there by ship, as this was before the railroad was built. Our staff consisted of one handyman and two apprentices. All goods that arrived from the cities that I have mentioned had to be fetched from the river dock with a low, four-wheeled cart. In the event that too many goods accumulated, we were allowed to requisition the neighbor’s cow, as a brute force, but not without an amusing bout of pushing, with the handyman and both apprentices heaving and ho-ing behind the reluctant animal. The neighbor was, often, enlisted by a small payment of tobacco. The stretch, from river to warehouse, was about two blocks. After unpacking the goods, they were counted, sorted and weighed. Ovens, which were composed of 20 to 30 parts, were transported to the second and third floors by hand operated lift, where they were assembled and marked as to price. This was true of other metal goods, such as heating ovens, kitchenware, grave crosses, guns, hops, poppy seeds and linseed cakes. There was an extra half floor of space for the supplies of coffee, rice and pepper. The shoppers insisted on green coffee beans; in some years, however, rain had bleached the beans, and, as a result, one batch after another had to be dyed; then, the housewives took them home and washed them.

    Miltenberg, or at least the part along the river, has the same flooding problem as Wertheim. Oil barrels had to be weighted down in the cellar and the goods then carried to the second floor. Christ! [Kruz!] What a slave’s task it was to get everything into safe territory. After the water receded, the oil, wine and cheese cellars were in a state of total filth.

    In Spring, the stone quarries began their work, with 300 to 400 men, and it was then that we sold blasting powder. According to law, we could keep only ten pounds in the house. The larger supply was kept in the garden shed in five or six barrels. As soon as orders came in, the younger apprentice had to carry 25 pounds at a time on his back from the garden shed to the store, and, on Wednesday and Saturday, this was not limited to blasting powder, as the housewives then did their shopping. But the quality and color of the stone from the quarries was excellent. Most of the houses in Offenbach, Frankfurt, Aschaffenburg and Mainz were built, in part, out of this stone. Their steps and window casements were chiseled decoratively. The bridges in Miltenberg, Frankfurt, Mainz and Cologne were, also, constructed with this stone, making the quarry an important industry of the area.

    During the time of the American Civil War, and, also, my apprenticeship - 1861-1865 (Editor's Note: Edward's apprenticeship actually only lasted until 1864 when he left for America.) - Mr. Knapp got the bright idea of exporting dried plums [prunes] to America. He bought every prune in sight. In the first year, the processing of the plums was accomplished; however, in the second year, due to a large crop, there was no market, and barely 25% of the inventory was sold. In the third year, every barrel had to be opened and drained, as great amounts of sugary syrup had developed. This second drying left them as little more than skin and pits. There was an attempt to make schnapps out of the remnants, which failed, miserably; with the addition of inflation, this speculation added up to a great loss. The year 1863 brought a large linseed crop, and, this time, Mr. Knapp made large purchases from Hungary at the right times, balancing out, to some extent, the previous catastrophe.

    Mr. Knapp, also, bought blue grapes, to press for large amounts of red wine which we sold in the store. At first, the wine was sour and non-drinkable, but, once our youngest apprentice decided to make it tasty, in spite of itself, and added a quite large quantity of sugar. The result was a binge so wild that I had much trouble getting friend Willibald into bed. The sounds that he made that night reminded me of sea-bound ships on the river.

    After two years of employment, I was given three days of vacation, to spend in my home town, which was 15 miles away. I was so happy to see my parents, brothers and sisters and friends! There happened to be a costume ball scheduled in Wertheim ["Fasching"?], and, as they usually lasted a full two days, my vacation seemed all too short.

    Then, a new apprentice arrived, and my situation got a lot better. I was given more of the clerical work, pricing merchandise, inventorying, billing and operating the cash register. I was given quite a bit of responsibility. In the late part of the year, I was given a buying assignment. Mr. Knapp trusted me with this. I was given a list of approaching purchasing needs, the places from where they came, the price lists and the appropriate amount of money, in Frankfurt’s currency or in silver coin, as farmers absolutely refused to accept gold, which was considered worthless by the local natives. At 4:00 A. M., I set out with my sturdy wagon and four strong horses, and, within an hour, I was measuring and pouring and closing deals. This went on for quite a while, and, then, the farmers gathered around me in a circle, to collect their payment. Around 4:00 in the afternoon, I headed home; at 6:00, I was weighing and unloading and storing the day’s purchases. The next morning, I started out for another farming area, with the whole process lasting from two to three weeks.

    The oil miller came twice a week, to pick up his wares and returned with oil and lard. As both the wheat miller and the oil miller did not have the best of reputations, it took the greatest degree of observation, to make sure that one got his full measure at the proper quality. Lard was sold as a supplement for livestock feed and for cosmetic treatment to foods. At that time, there were no "Pure Food Laws".

    At the time that I decided to emigrate to America, I had two months still left of my apprenticeship. When I approached Mr. Knapp with my desires, he considered this problem and, finally, decided, anyway, to award me my certificate, based on my excellent record and hard work. In the name of his family, I wished me luck. Though they had been filled with hard work, the farewell to those years of my apprenticeship was not easy. The Knapp Family had, always, been friendly to me and treated me politely. I was never punished, and I never missed a day due to illness.

    In 1869, when I returned to Germany for a visit, I went back to the store. Mr. Knapp had passed on during my absence, and his son was not doing a good job of carrying on the business. His mother confided in me that the quality of the store and its reputation was rapidly going down hill. The young Mr. Knapp had spent most of his time entertaining clients, drinking large amounts of wine with them, and never did learn much about the store.

   In 1864, the Uhrig Family of St. Louis, who had become friends of our family while visiting Germany, prepared to return to their home. Father arranged that I travel to America with Mr. Uhrig - of course, at my own cost. Father and my sister Anna accompanied me as far as Frankfurt, Wiesbaden and Cologne by boat, and, there, I said, "Good-bye". The Uhrigs and I made some stops on our way to Hamburg and, ultimately, departed on the Saxonia for Southampton and, then, after twelve uneventful days, New York. We stayed at The Prescott Hotel on The Bowery, taking second class rooms for economy, while Mrs. Uhrig and her daughter Josephine took a first class room.

    The impressions of this new world on a youth of 18 years who had never traveled were overpowering. Frankfurt, with all its sights, the Roman Center, the Kings’ Rooms, Goethe’s Home, Rothschild’s Bank, the Botanic Garden and Zoos; Wiesbaden, with its cures and gambling halls and architecture; the first look at The Rhine River; the valleys above Cologne; the mountains, the castles, . . . the trip down The Rhine, with excellent food and drink at relatively inexpensive rates; the freighters, with loads of raw materials from Africa or Asia, Ceylon, Sumatra, Borneo, Egypt, Persia, the Philippines, India - carrying cotton, tobacco, dyes, oil, dates, straw, elephant tusks and spices - it was too much to grasp.

    I believe that it was June 10, 1864, that we reached Southampton and, having had a view of England, set forth on the actual trip. The first morning at sea, the breakfast table was only half-filled, due to a strong Northwest wind. Even I was not spared seasickness. After the first storm, the weather cleared, and the trip was very enjoyable. If I am not mistaken, we landed in New York on June 25. I was almost sad to see the day come. Some of the passengers had, already, been to the United States and were helpful. The Uhrigs had, also, taken me into their hearts, so that I did not feel alone. While at the Prescott Hotel, we bought rail tickets to Chicago and on to Milwaukee. The train had to stop, often, to load wood for the engines. We arrived in Chicago at 10:00 PM and in Milwaukee at 2:30 AM and took rooms at The Republican House. Mr. Uhrig had a nice piece of land outside of Milwaukee, where I stayed, as his guest, for a week. The Schlitz Brewery was, still, small, at this time, employing six to eight people. Mr. Uhrig’s Brewery was in St. Louis and was one of the leading businesses in the U.S. My brother August was his Manager and his brother-in-law, Louis Schottstein, Brewery Manager.

    Through my brother’s recommendation, I was able to get a position in a storehouse at 31st and Olive Streets [in St. Louis, MO]. I was, mainly, concerned with mastering English, which I had studied, furiously, for three months prior to my departure. In a short time, I was able to help customers, and I was not concerned about the pay. My boss was good enough to give me $10 per month, besides room and board.

    Mr. Vodde had had no training or experience as a merchant and was very poor at handling his employees. His books were in terrible shape; so, one day, I got out a new ledger and sat down and, eventually, made some kind of sense out of them - at least enough to send out monthly bills. the result was so good that Mr. Vodde let his older salesman go and raised my salary to $30 per month. Eight months later, I was offered a position as a bookkeeper at the Kruz & Hofmeister Brewery at $75 per month, which I accepted.

    Upon my arrival in St. Louis in 1864, being employed near the city limits and The Civil War still going on, I drifted away from active musical life, but I attended good concerts at places like The Tivoli, the opera and the theaters.

    I formed a partnership with Charles Grath for the manufacture and wholesale of metal wagon parts and oil. Our best customer was Chase Hanford & Company in Chicago, and, to save freight costs, I went to Chicago, to open my own factory, while Grath stayed in St. Louis. I preferred Chicago to St. Louis, and, today, I am proud that my judgment was right.

    In 1866, I signed a lease to rent a three-story building from Margaret Forster at 14th and Spruce Streets in St. Louis. With the financial assistance of my brothers August and Henry, I opened my own shop and rented part of the building so successfully that the rental fees completely covered my own rent. Then, I formed a partnership with Charles Grath for the manufacture and wholesaling of metal wagon parts and oil. Our best customer was Chase, Hanford & Company in Chicago, and, to save freight costs, I went to Chicago, to open my own factory, while Grath stayed in St. Louis.

    In 1867, I went to Chicago and made the acquaintance of Mr. Gustav Ehrhorn and a few of his friends. He was, at the time, organist at St. Peter’s [German Roman Catholic] Church and a good leader of a Men’s Choir [Maenner Gesang]. Upon his invitation, I joined the church choir, consisting of some ten female and ten male voices, a few of whom had had good training and voices. About in the month of May, 1867, Mr. Ehrhorn proposed to start a male chorus, which was approved by a number of the singers, and, at our first meeting, we decided to call ourselves, the German Men’s Choral Society [Verein Teutonia Maenner Chor], with some 18 members. Besides, a large number of friends participated as so-called passive members, which meant that they did not take part in singing, but they are entitled to vote and to attend all concerts arranged by the Society, free of charge - the dues being $4 per year. The Society made good progress and, in the course of time, we enrolled about 120 members. In 1868, the Musical Festival of the North American Singing Society took place in Chicago, in which our Society took an active part, and the musical and financial success was quite pronounced.

    My own success was great. Besides the manufacture of wagons and wagon parts and metal goods, I opened a small retail store within the factory. Chase Hanford & Company remained a faithful customer and backed an expansion of the factory.

    The Chicago Fire occurred October 9, 1871. I was located with my little factory on West Chicago Avenue and did not have to suffer, but the event was of such magnitude that I cannot but say a few words about it. The Fire started about 8:30 Sunday evening, and, apparently, it took, in a very short time, such dimensions that I and my friend Grundlach determined to go and see it, thinking that it was somewhere around Madison Street and Clinton. Walking along, it proved to be near Canal and Polk Streets. We had crossed the bridge, when the Fire, in less than ten minutes, spread across the River, taking its course in a Northeasterly direction. We hurried along Wabash Avenue, only to find that Monroe, Adams and Washington were reached by the Fire, and, if we undertook to proceed further North, we would, absolutely, be cut off and would perish. So, we turned South, again, and found our way, via the 12th Street bridge, and reached home at 436 Milwaukee Avenue at about 2:00. Reports came that the Courthouse was gone and the Waterworks on Chicago Avenue was on fire. Hundreds perished in the LaSalle Street Tunnel, so that there was no question that all that part of the South Side and the whole North Side, to Lincoln Park, was doomed. Although all the neighboring towns and cities, including Milwaukee, Joliet, Peoria, Galesburg, etc., sent fire apparatus of all kinds, nothing could check the elements in their fury. All that they could do was defend the West Side, where the River gave a good opportunity to help. On the South Side, South of Harrison, whole blocks were blown up with dynamite, to check the Fire from going further South, with fairly good success. On Tuesday, a rain set in, and the limits of Lincoln Park helped considerably. Well, it is not my intention to have given a history of the Fire, but, simply, to mention that I witnessed all of it.

    The Great Fire of 1871 had left me untouched, increasing my business tremendously. In 1872, Mr. Schlitz offered me the position as Agent for Chicago and its area, which I took, even though the commission per barrel did not approach the profit of my existing business. He pointed out the growth potential, and there was a great demand for good beer in Chicago. Schlitz was, always, trying for the absolute best, and orders came in so quickly that it was impossible to fill them all. Business grew, despite the appearance of competition, and, on January 1, 1874, Mr. Schlitz founded the Jos. Schlitz & Company brewery with $400,000. The expansion of the railroads throughout the U.S. made Chicago the freighting center for Schlitz, which opened up the market. The business, literally, exploded. I had to travel extensively, to promote customer relations, which I disliked, intensely.

    Business was good, and Mr. Schlitz had the urge to visit relatives in Germany whom he had not seen since 1856. In May, 1875, he boarded a ship in New York in the best of health. On May 9, we received the terrible report of the demise of the good ship "Schiller". Of the 800 passengers and crew, less than one half were rescued, and we never heard anything of Mr. Schlitz. Some claimed to have spoken with him shortly before the ship sank, but those reports were, hardly, credible. The extensive searches carried on by divers turned up nothing, and, in this manner, a vigorous, hardworking man in the prime of life disappeared, mourned by his friends and widow and, not least, by the Uihlein brothers.

    In the Summer of 1874, I met a Miss Manns; she won my heart. As I had, already attained age 29, I decided to pursue the matter and approach the good nature of Augusta’s mother. A few visits to her parents’ farm disclosed the existence of the appropriate features: good figure, profile, hands and teeth; healthy appearance; 22 years old; and, not least, an excellent character; these were the things that I valued highly, along with a good nature and heart, a well-bred German manner and the arts of a good housekeeper. As I, later, often, determined, she, also, had a wonderful, warm approach to motherhood. A few weeks later, we were engaged, with the blessings of parents and family, on both sides. We were married on January 29, 1875 - a marriage of 38 years without strife.

    I had a somewhat dangerous experience in 1874 with the first telephones. My intended wife lived with her parents [actually, her mother and her step-father, John Kohn] on a farm some 28 miles West of Chicago. [Later, the Kohn Family moved to Oak Park, IL.] Usually, I paid a visit there, regularly, on Sundays, when various relatives also came and visited. One day, I was asked the question, "Well, what is new in the world?" and I was pleased to give information concerning the telephone, and I explained its workings in detail. They were, all, delighted at the great invention, except one uncle, Mathias Hahn, who looked at me and at his sister, my prospective mother-in-law, in great doubt about the veracity of my story. Finally, he said to his sister, "If I were in your place, Sophie, I would consider, twice, very carefully, before I would decide to let such a Chicago Humbug marry my daughter." To convince her, I invited her for a visit in Chicago and gave her a chance to convince herself of the truth of my story; she returned, highly pleased and satisfied.

    At about that same time [1874?], the arc light, for illuminating purposes, was invented, and my brothers, August and Alfred, came to Chicago for an investigation, with a view to introducing the first electric light into Milwaukee, in Schlitz Park. We, at once, contracted with a party named Bullock, I think, of Cleveland, and the system was installed in a short time. The power was conveyed from the Schlitz brewery to the Park, and, for about 30 minutes, everything worked well, when, all of a sudden, the lights went out, and many voices were heard, "I told you so!" However, electricians were, promptly, at hand, and the evening closed with the knowledge that we had introduced, successfully, into Milwaukee the first electric light. The disturbance was explained to have been due to interference from tree branches and leaves, which were, promptly, removed. For many months, Mr. Edison was busy in Menlo Park, to find a conversion of light, from arc to incandescent. The daily papers ridiculed Mr. Edison, saying that he was trying an impossibility; however, his genius was crowned with success, and our brewery was the first to illuminate its premises with incandescent light.

    In 1877, I acquired several lots, for the erection of our own home at what was, then, known, as 34 Ewing Place, between Robey Street and Hoyne Avenue [now, 2041 Pierce Avenue, Chicago]. Labor and building materials were, at that time rather cheap, and the total cost of the building did not exceed $10,000 [some $200,000, or more, in 1998 Dollars]. [Emil] Frommann was the architect. Later on, I decided to erect a conservatory for the cultivation of rare plants, such as palms, anthuria, maranthas - in fact, as many tropical plants as the greenhouses could accommodate - to which I added a little collection of orchids. I had the good fortune of obtaining an experienced gardener, under whose care everything succeeded splendidly; however, after six years of service, he left me, and a gardener named Skjoldager took the vacancy. Under his good care, the orchid collection was much enlarged, and, today, some 5,000 of the rarest orchids, from all parts of the world, are to be found in various parts of my conservatories. It will be 25 years, this Summer, since Skjoldager took his position, and he is, apparently, in good health.

    In 1891, we [Augusta Manns Uihlein, my wife, and I] took our first trip to Europe together, especially to see Wertheim am Main. Augusta was born in St. Louis, and Germany and its people were totally strange to her. I had a grand time, showing her land and city, forest, mountain and valley, historical and artistic sights. We, then, made a grand tour of Norway, Sweden, Finland, Russia, Poland, Hungary, Austria and Italy. Late in the year, we returned.

    In the brewery, everything progressed well; all debts were paid; all necessary equipment was present; and the machinery was in the best condition. There was a continually growing supply of malt, hops and beer. We could, now, turn to investing funds in the improvement of other facilities and opening in new cities. I was instructed to inspect likely sites in Chicago, for the purpose of large new outlets. In the beginning, I, often, consulted my brother August about these possibilities, but, with experience, my judgment became dependable.

    For our own purposes, we, often, invested funds by financing our customers. in this manner, we, not only reached higher sales figures, but we, also, insured our customers against competition. We could set our own prices; but, of course, we never took unfair advantage of this situation. When we rented to a merchant who handled our products, exclusively, we were very sure of his reputation and his compliance with all laws and ordinances. A respectable merchant need not have feared an increase in his rent, unless an increase in taxes or the costs of maintenance made it necessary. Needless to say, our policies were not highly regarded by the competition. However, after some time, when we had achieved a reputation for keeping to our contracts and the most inconsequential of promises, we had no problem renting all available space. The final result was the respect of all of Chicago’s business sector. Eventually, all original land purchases proved to be most prudent, and great profits were made, when they were sold. Now that my "plan" was crowned with success, my brothers August, Henry and Alfred, decided to invest their private funds with me, and I was told to buy more lots in Chicago, which reached an eventual worth of several million dollars.

    Now that my "plan" was crowned with success, my brothers August, Henry and Alfred decided to invest their private funds with me, and I was told to buy more lots in Chicago, which, eventually, attained a worth of several million dollars.

    In connection with the above, in 1898 [actually, 1894], a number of my neighbors and Governor John Peter Altgeld asked that I accept an appointment as a Commissioner of the West Park System, which appointment I accepted, rasher reluctantly. The fact that I had declined an appointment as a member of the Board of Education, as well as a request that I be a candidate for election as a member of the Common Council made the request that I be a Park Commissioner so strong that, as a practical matter, I could not evade it. The Governor, promptly, appointed me, and being the member being in charge of improvements was assigned to me.

    Our Board, consisting of prominent and highly esteemed men, acted quite harmoniously, and a great number of lasting improvements were accomplished, among which was a new system of sewerage and water; installation of electric light systems for all the large parks and boulevards; some 800 arc light lamps, including the construction of a machinery and boiler house; erection of music stands, all finished with marble and copper roofs; a racetrack in Garfield Park; erection of a natatorium, with large pools for men and women, with all the required dressing rooms, in Douglas Park; erection of an administration building, with office toilets for men and women; large stables; a boat storage building, for 100 boats, carpenter and general workshops; room in the basement for storage of plants during the Winter; construction of a boulevard between Garfield and Douglas Parks and, also, from Western Avenue, crossing to the Diversey Street bridge and boulevard; a number of comfort stations; building of miles of cement sidewalks; etc. All of this was done in about two years, and the public was satisfied that every cent received value therefor. The Commission was never attacked by the Press for any misappropriation of funds or in any other way.

    In 1899 [actually, 1896], a Republican Governor (Tanner) was elected, and, according to the American custom, by the dictation of the politicians, our Board was, in a shameful manner, dismissed. That I had, for years, given valuable time, making trips to New York, Jamaica and the West Indies, to enrich the park conservatories with hundreds of specimens of rare plants, at my own expense was recognized. I feel that the greatest injustice has been done to me, and, never again, will I have anything to do with any political position.

    I may say that my colleagues on the Board, who have, all, done their full duty, entertain the same feelings. The Board consisted of:

    Harvey T. Weeks Charles J. Vopicka    Andrew Graham Carl Moll    John M. Oliver Edward G. Uihlein

    Walther Bogle

    Con [Cornelius] Mahoney was General Superintendent.

    After my experience as [Chicago West] Park Commissioner, I determined to have my own park and acquired the nice home and grounds of George A. Weiss [a Chicago brewer] located on the shores of beautiful Lake Geneva, consisting of some 22 acres with 500 feet of lakefront. In due time, considerable land adjoining me was offered for sale, and I accumulated, all told, about 134 acres, a good part of which is in farm and splendid woodland. The balance I transformed into a park, free admission to which was at all times granted to and enjoyed by the public. Only a small part - about 3-1/2 acres - was improved upon, and near the lakefront was where the house was located. The rest of the land is on the West side of a public road running through, and this is the part I selected for park purposes.

    It required a great deal of work to regulate the brook and locate a great number of natural springs. Ponds were excavated and the sand so obtained utilized to fill low places. A dozen bridges had to be constructed; a drive road was built all around the place; and practically the whole first year was consumed in the leveling of grounds, laying sod, seeding large areas, planting fruit and shade trees and shrubs, laying some 10,000 feet of tiles, preparing terraces for a vineyard, starting the vegetable garden, developing the building for the springs, constructing new fences, and getting the water system connected with the old ground system, building a chicken yard, putting up a windmill, repairing the barn, with a new floor and roof, building a vegetable cellar, erecting a bee house and a duck house, with a pond, and building water connections, as well as many cement walks, building an observation tower, with connecting walks through the woods, building a cabin for a cow and sheep and a house for pigeons, putting up some 36 iron vases, a cement stairway leading from the Winter cottage to the brook, building Summer houses.

    The grotto pond with a rookery and spring on top of [the] same is unique of its kind. About 35 men were busy over five months to complete everything. The confers - in fact, all of the trees were planted very small - not over three feet, and even smaller, but good work under an able Superintendent was done, and most of the trees, today, are fine specimens, reaching, in many instances, to heights of 35-40 feet. The fruit yard, with over 100 apple and pear trees, is, now, in fair bearing condition, and delicious fruit is obtained from it.

    I have never approved of the attitude of owners of fine places who deny visitors admission, and, since I have owned my place, visitors have been welcome at all times. It is true that some make improper use of that privilege, but, in general, I have no particular reason to complain. The objectionable features are boys running wild, and girls are overanxious to take photos, taking positions in the flowerbeds and tramping down some flowers. Very few pick flowers and walk over the lawns, and so, in all, I have not, to date, find it necessary to change my rules.

    A few of the large walnut and maple trees were struck by lightening; some were killed outright; others were crippled but are surviving. In the first two years, rabbits did considerable damage to the fruit trees, which had to be planted, anew. We were, also, bothered, some, by mink, raccoons, turtles, muskrats, hawks, gophers and other pests, but constant vigilance diminished them to such an extent that very little harm is, now, done. While garter snakes are perfectly harmless, few people like their presence, and few are, now, left. A bad feature is the presence of poison ivy, all through the woods, and, as there is so much of it, and not having heard of any serious case, I have done nothing to eradicate it. Hundreds of visitors have been over the grounds every year, but I have not heard of any accident ending seriously, except when, on a Sunday, an auto ran up against the stone protection walk of the road bridge and upset, with four passengers turning complete somersaults and landing in the pool below, some 18 feet down; however, even then, no one was seriously hurt. Movie picture people, repeatedly, made use of our grounds and found the most desirable places to suit their purposes.

    Naturally, all of this little park requires a lot of work, trimming trees and shrubs and grapevines, most of which has my personal attention. Most of the lawns are cut by machines with gasoline motors; however, flower beds and weeds also require a great deal of attention during the season, especially when one considers that they have to be replanted twice and even three times, during the comparatively short season. All the higher plants, such as dahlias, canna lilies, fuchsia, golden glow, phloxes, ten week stocks (?), lilies, peonies, gladiolas, asters, etc., require support, with iron gas pipes and cane sticks, all of which is considerable work to keep in fine trim. Thanks to our good supply of water, we can keep five or six garden hose sprinklers running day and night during the dry months of July and August.

    The public has made improper use of the pier, sitting around by the dozens, fishing, which necessitated removal of the same. I erected a fine bathhouse, with a small pier for the naphtha launch, which is one of the luxuries of the place, as a pastime for our children. In high Summer, the lake water becomes rather warm. To counteract this, both ladies’ and men’s departments are provided with cold spring water shower baths, which are much appreciated.

    My time being, mostly, taken up with garden work, I have never attempted to enjoy fishing in the lake, but we, sometimes, succeed in catching in the ponds a few nice brook trout, which are delicious.

    In Fall, when grapes are ripe, the table is, always, supplied with same. Apple cider of good quality is, also, always, on hand; several kegs are turned into kitchen use, for vinegar. The canning of currants, tomatoes, cucumbers, beans, beets, strawberries, gooseberries, etc., keeps the ladies busy during the whole season. We have, at all times, two to three fresh milking cows, and their products in the form of butter, sweet and sour milk, cream, etc., are much appreciated, whilst the fresh eggs of the chicken and duck yard make country life rather agreeable. The fine collection of French and German lilacs, beautiful peonies, lilies, both water and land grown, the many varieties of roses, hydrangeas, snowballs, forget-me-not, yuccas, and hundreds more, furnish a decoration for every nook and corner of the house, never to be forgotten.

    I have spent a little more time for the description of our Geneva Lake place than I intended, which is, probably, pardonable, as practically all of it is my personal creation, since 1899.

    In 1913, we traveled once more, to the Azores, Spain, Italy, Egypt and Greece. We had some unfortunate trouble with our ship at this point and had to wait a while for a different one that could better handle the challenge. Thanks to the Russian-Turkish War, we had to change our plans and skip over Constantinople. In Athens, we took the Queen of Greece, Sophie, the sister of Kaiser Wilhelm, II, on board. There were receptions, with ornately decorated and served dinners, and we were given the honor of being presented to the royal guest.

    This excitement took its toll, as my wife, who had, never, needed to consult a doctor in 38 years of marriage, woke the next morning unable to speak. We called the doctor immediately, who diagnosed a stroke. Within 24 hours, she could recognize me and our two youngest daughters, Ella and Melita, who were with us, and, in 48 hours, she could say a few broken words. Slowly, she improved, and we left the ship in Genoa, to spend six weeks in an excellent and very quiet hotel with a park. I must mention the help of Captain Schulke, Ship’s Doctor Beaulieu and Professor Winter from Koenigsberg.

    Augusta recuperated, day by day, until she was able to risk travel to Dr. Ebers’ Sanitarium in Baden-Baden. Immediately upon arrival, Dr. Ebers ran a complete and thorough examination, based upon which he set up a recovery plan, which proved very positive. Within two to three weeks, we were taking short walks, and even her speech returned, although it was slow and halting. Her appetite was good, and I watched her recovery progress with the greatest satisfaction.

    After a short visit to Heidelberg and Wertheim, we turned for home. The reunion with the remaining children proved to be another positive influence, although I had feared the exact opposite reaction. The children were wise enough to overlook Mama’s impaired speech. This convinced me that time would improve the situation, an opinion which mama shared. In the comfort of her own home, she improved greatly, took longer walks and could confess to satisfactory health.

    All this excitement did not pass me up without a heavy blow, either. My nerves were totally shaken, and I went through many water and electrical massage treatments, swallowed many pills and suffered through many poisonous shots; in the end, I was in such terrible shape that I thought of the worst kind of end to it all. Worse still, this situation shook my wife, and she had to be taken under a doctor’s care. She had repeated strokes, and, on June 27, 1913, at 2:45 in the afternoon, she gave up the ghost in the presence of all her children and sons and daughters in law. I have lost a good, kind woman, the mother of my children. May she rest in eternal peace.

    Returning to business, our firm was, always, a member of the Chicago & Milwaukee Brewers’ Association, and, as I have, at all times, taken an active interest in it, I was honored with the Secretaryship for some 14 years, without any interruption. At various times, I was elected as Trustee, which brought me the title of Watchdog of the Treasury. Finally, I was elected for two terms as President of the Association. Considering that I was a sharp competitor of my Chicago colleagues, I looked upon this action as quite an honor for myself, as well as for our firm, and an elaborate piece made up of a clock and vases decorates, today, our parlor mantle piece, presented to me as a Christmas gift by the Association.

    After 45 years in the administration of the Schlitz Brewery, one day, a motion was passed that any Director - I was a Vice President and Manager of the Chicago Branch - who had reached his 70th birthday should end his employment, most favorably by resigning. I was the only one who did not wait to be asked and, immediately, submitted my resignation. In spite of all this, I was elected to another Directorship, immediately, a position which I refused, for numerous reasons not to be further explained.

    I had the honor of being elected the first President of German Men’s Choral Society, and I was reelected, time and time again. However, as other members were also entitled to that honor, for their benefit, I insisted that my resignation be accepted. In 1917, we celebrated our 50th Anniversary with a large Concert and [Commers?]. Some 22 singing societies honored us with their full presence and presented our society with silk flags, ebony batons, etc. The entire festival ended with a visit by all 122 members at our place on Geneva Lake - a visit that I am assured by all members will never be forgotten.

* * *

Excerpt from Marquis' "The Book of Chicagoans" (1911 ed.)

UIHLEIN, Edward Gustav, brewer; born Wertheim-on-the Main, Baden, Germany, October 19, 1845; son of Benedict and Katherine (Krug) Uihlein; graduated Wertheim Gymnasium, 1861; came to the United States, June, 1864; married January, 1875, Augusta Manns, St. Louis, MO; children: Clara (Mrs. A. O. Trostel, Milwaukee), Edgar, Olga (Mrs. Henry Beneke, Chicago, Ella [later married Edwin A. Seipp, Chicago], Melita [later married William C. Seipp, Jr.]. Was employed in the grocery business in St. Louis for three years; manufacturer of oils in Chicago, 1867-1871; since January 1, 1872, in charge of the Chicago agency of the Jos. Schlitz Brewing Co. of Milwaukee and now vice president of the company. Member, Chicago and Milwaukee Brewers' Association, United States Brewers' Association; was West Park Commissioner for three years under Governor Altgeld [1894-1896]. President, Chicago Horticultural Society; President, German Hospital. Mason (32). Has a notable collection of tropical palms and orchids from all parts of the world, and his collection is considered one of the best in America. Clubs: Germania, Orpheus, Teutonia, Maennerchor, German Press. Recreations: gardening and farming. Summer home: Forest Glen, on Lake Geneva. Residence: 2041 Ewing Place. Office: Ohio and North Union Streets.

* * *

Excerpt from Marquis' "Who's Who in Chicago and Vicinity" (1936 ed.)

JENSEN, Jens, landscape architect; born Denmark, September 13, 1960; son of Christian and Magdalen Sofia (Petersen) Jensen; educated Agricultural College, Jutland, Denmark; further studies in agriculture and horticulture at Copenhagen and later studied at Berlin and Hanover, Germany; married Anne M. Hansen, of Denmark, 1884. Came to U.S. 1884; Superintendent of Union and other small city parks of West Park System, Chicago, 1890-1894; Superintendent of Humboldt Park, 1894-1900; Landscape Architect and General Superintendent of West Park System, 1906-1909; Consulting Landscape Architect of same, 1909-1920. President of Friends of Our Native Landscape; Governing Member of Art Institute of Chicago (life). Fellow, American Geological Society, American Association for the Advancement of Science; Member, Illinois Academy of Science, Chicago Academy of Science. Club: Cliff Dwellers. Home: 1121 Elmwood Avenue, Wilmette, IL. Studio: Ellison Bay, WI.

* * *


(Mrs. Notz was the eldest child of Clara Uihlein Trostel, who was, in turn, the eldest child of Edward G. Uihlein)

This memoir was written in 1950-1952, describing a Summer visit in 1915-1919:

    "My fondest childhood memories are the weeks I spent at Lake Geneva. . . . In [about, 1900], Grandfather bought a summer house on Lake Geneva. The house overlooked the lake and was a fascinating Victorian structure with a circular tower, four stories high. . . . The entrance was an imposing one - stone posts and wrought-iron gates with "Forest Glen", the name of the estate, in iron letters attached. The house was set back from an oiled country road, and on the other side of the road was the "farm" - the farmer's house, the barn, the chicken house and vegetable garden. Above the vegetable garden and to the side was a vineyard. The property went back and back - there were 350 acres. The terrain formed a wooded valley, through which a lovely brook hurried to join the lake.

    "The brook began in the hills far back in the property, and, fed by springs, increased in size and speed because of the downhill slant of the property. My grandfather designed ponds and falls at intervals and stocked the brook with trout. The area was landscaped with an effort to look as natural as possible, with willows and spruce. The sound of the little falls and the rippling of the clear cold water was charming. Here and there a bridge crossed, and one could follow paths and walks for a good morning's stroll. As the stream approached the lake, it widened to approximately three feet and was kept within bounds by artificial banks. This made the water all the more noisy, and my impressions contain this constant rushing sound of water.

    "The ground on which the main house stood sloped down toward the brook on one side and to Lake Geneva on the other. There was a good deal of shade produced by huge elm trees. The lawns did not grow too well because of this condition. There were flowerbeds along the walk leading to the house and borders here and there in the open sunlight. . . ." ". . . Here it was that my grandfather's talents and horticultural hobby reached their most satisfactory expression."



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