VILLAGE WRITERS GROUP
One of the up-and -coming groups of the 2013-14 season is the Writer's Group which meets in the Library on Friday evenings from 6:30 to 8:30. Spearheaded by Lana Swearingen #2014, the group is open to everyone, whether you are an aspiring writer or just an inquisitive resident. Lana and co-author Christa Hedrick have written a delightful book called We Were Army Wives.
Mary
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The Shanagolden Entrepreneurs
“What am I bid for this interesting replica of Amelia Earhart’s plane, Old Bessie the Fire Horse?” questioned my Dad who had been hoodwinked into the job as auctioneer. “Do I hear 25 cents? Anybody for a quarter?”
“I’ll bid a quarter,” quipped a burly old bachelor at the back of the hall.”
“I’ll bid 35 cents,” came a rapid retort from George Heyel.
“We have 35 cents,” reminded our auctioneer. Do I hear 40?”
“I’ll give you 40,” shot back the hungry old bachelor. He did not know the identity of the lady who had brought in the airplane box-lunch, but he could tell from the size of it that it must contain a hearty meal.
“We have 40 cents,” called my Pa. “Can we hear 50?”
“I’ll give you 50, cents,” shouted Mr. Heyel.
“We have 50 cents,” called the smiling auctioneer, knowing full well that the Old Bessie creation had been made by his wife. “Do we hear 55?”
“Nah,” chuckled the bachelor. “I ain’t that hungry.”
“Sold to Mr. Heyel for 50 cents,” announced Dad as he handed the airplane box-lunch over to George.
Now we had all suspected that young single George had a crush on Mama. Occasionally, he came to our house in an evening and played three handed Smear with our folks. Mama would serve coffee and a piece of unfrosted cake, much like she would do for anyone who came over for an evening of cards. This night, George would have the pleasure of Mama’s company as they shared the box-lunch. And the 50 cents he had paid was considered top dollar in those depression times.
The year was 1937. The nation was buzzing with the news, that while attempting to be the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic, Amelia Earhart had been lost at sea. She had been flying a Lockheed Vega 5-B plane, after having previously flown many record breaking flights . Government and private search parties were involved as they searched relentlessly for some sign of the famous woman pilot and her plane. No definite sign of them was ever found.
In the tiny Hamlet of Shanagolden, Wisconsin, population approximately 200, neighborhood ladies were busy coming up with unique ideas to decorate their box-lunches to take to the Saturday night Box Social. The lunches would be auctioned off to the highest bidder, who would then get to share it with the lady who had prepared it. A special prize of $1.00 would be awarded for the most original creation.
Shanagolden boasted of its two room school. The “Big Room” housed grades 5 thru 8, while the “Little Room” accommodated grades 1 thru 4. Often times, the door separating the two rooms was left open to give some air circulation. A youngster in the Little Room, seated near the door and eager to learn more, could keep an open ear, and absorb what was being taught or discussed in the Big Room. I was in the Little Room, and totally in tune with what my three older brothers and their peers were cooking up.
My older brothers, Teddy, Kenneth, and Bernie, and others from the Big Room had come up with a plan to raise money in order to purchase a piano for their school. Miss Snyder, their teacher told the kids that the school needed a piano. She was rather tired of playing her Ukulele for music class. “ A piano would cost about $25.00,” she informed them. The kids from the Little Room promised to talk to their mothers about making up a decorated box-lunch as the money maker. The older kids made arrangements with the Township Clerk to open the Town-Hall for the family event, to be held on the first Saturday of October.
The sky had turned a cobalt blue with the on-coming Autumn, and the air was crisp and fresh. Summer crops were in; blueberries had been picked and canned, potatoes, onions, and carrots dug and stored in the fruit cellar.
Mama had sewn a pair of pants and a shirt for each of her sons, and a pretty black and yellow dress for me. School was in full swing.
“Mama, will you make a decorated box-lunch for the Box Social?” I asked one evening as we kids sat around the kitchen table doing school work, while the Aladdin kerosene lamp flickered softly on the center of the table. You always make such pretty things.”
“We don’t have the money to buy the supplies to make such a thing,” Mama replied wistfully. “We’d need a frame, and paper, and glue and paint. And a unique idea.”. We don’t have any of those.”
“We have a nice boot box,” offered Bernie.
“And I could build a frame,” said Kenneth.
“We could make a replica of Amelia Earhart’s plane,” Ted volunteered.
Mama’s eyes lit up. “What a great idea Teddy.” “Maybe, just maybe we could do it. You get out the boot box , Bernie. And you can build some wings, Kenneth. It’s your job to find something to use as a couple of small wheels, Teddy. Yes siree. I believe we can do this.” And so, the family project was born.
Kenneth found some fine wire and attached wings to the boot box. He then shaved paper- thin slats of balsam wood to fill in the wings. Ted scrounged around in the tool shed and found two “O” rings for wheels. Mama looked through her sewing and craft supplies and discovered one whole sheet of yellow crepe paper. She made paste by mixing together white flour with a little water. As we kids crowded around her, she carefully fitted the crepe paper around the boot box, making sure the cover could be opened to pack in or remove the lunch. Covering the wings was more difficult. The paper had to go on both sides of the wings. “I hope that this one sheet is going to do the trick,” Mama worried to herself, almost out loud. “I don’t know what we could use if we run out of the paper.” Luckily, she came out even with the crepe paper. She made a propeller from two chips of balsam wood, and drew on a windshield. She drew windows with her fountain pen. With her finest printing, she lettered on the sides of the plane, OLD BESSIE THE FIRE HORSE. As she straightened up and stood back to view her handiwork, we kids all cheered, “Hip, hip, hurrah, for Mama.” She couldn’t help but be proud of her creation.
That evening George Heyel came over to play cards. He saw Mama’s creation, but promised not to let on that he knew a thing about it.
The Shanagolden Township Hall was situated in the center of the Hamlet, just down the dirt road from our forty acre farm. It was heated by two fireplaces, one on each end of the structure. Kerosene lanterns hung throughout the one large room, giving ample light. There were built -in benches on the sides of the room, which seated fifty or sixty people. The affairs, such as the awaited Box Social were always family oriented. Baby sitters were unheard of, thus the kids got to attend the doings as well. If the older kids were given the privilege of staying up late that night, they spent as much time out doors as in. They played Tag and Hide and Go Seek, while the adults partied indoors. If the kids were younger, the mothers brought blankets and put the little tykes to sleep on the wooden benches. Many a lasting romance was born of the games and challenges of the kids outdoors. And most events included dancing. For a small donation, and the promise of free beer, one of the older Heyel men could be persuaded to play his accordion for the dancers. And he was pretty darn good, at least in the eyes of we uncomplicated farm folk. In their kids estimation, our Mama and Papa would be the best dancers on the floor.
The morning of the Box Social broke with low temperatures, but crisp and sunny. My brothers could see their breaths in the air as they finished their morning chores in record time.
“Hurry up Bernie,” Kenneth urged as they walked the quarter mile to the Township Hall. “The other kids will probably be there ahead of us,”
“I can’t help it,” complained Bernie. “I had more wood to carry in than you did.”
“I could have helped you,” offered Kenneth. “No matter though. Let’s get going. Ted is probably already there, running the whole show.” And Kenneth was right. Ted was there as were a crew of workers, both boys and girls, ready to clean the Hall for the party. “We’ll sweep the floor first,” said Ted . “Then we will dust all the benches so the ladies don’t get their skirts dirty. Somebody needs to go out and sweep out the toilets. Make sure all the spiders and cobwebs are gone. And make sure there’s plenty of paper in both.” The girls took water and rags and washed the windows on the inside. They decided it was too chilly to do the outdoor ones. The huskier boys set up a long table on which to place the box-lunches. A spot was saved for the accordionist. Wood was brought in, and a fire was laid in both fireplaces, ready to put a match to before the first guest arrived.
When all was clean and dust free in the Hall, the tired cleaning crew locked up and went home to get cleaned up for the big party.
Back home there was excitement in the air. Mama had fixed an early supper for we kids, knowing she and Papa would be eating a boxed lunch. My brothers swished a little water over their faces, dried them on the community towel, and dragged a comb through their wetted down hair. They were ready for the party.
Jimmy was my beautiful baby brother. He had red hair, (we all did) and curls. Mama said he should have been a girl. I had straight red hair and was a Tomboy. I loved to hang around my three older brothers, though most of the time they tried to get rid of me. Mama dressed Jimmy up and got him ready for the party, knowing that he would sleep through most of it. She packed the box-lunch with care, and placed it in the airplane. She had fried chicken, blueberry muffins, a carton of her own home made cottage cheese, meat loaf sandwiches made with her freshly baked bread, carrots sticks, dill pickles and two large slices of apple pie.
When the doors opened at the Township Hall, it was like Christmas. Beautiful box-lunch creations began to appear at the auctioneer’s table. Along with Mama’s, OLD BESSIE THE FIRE HORSE, there was a box all covered with fresh flowers. We were certain that this particular lunch must belong to Olga Swanson, as she was known for her lovely flower gardens. There was a rural mailbox, a sunflower hat, a valentine, a lunch pail, a box covered with newspaper, and many more. The ladies in the community had gone all out to raise money for their kid’s project.
Soon all the lunch-box contributors had arrived. They greeted one another with excitement. Many had not seen their neighbor since the day of the school picnic in June. They found an empty bench and were seated.
Papa in his loud voice shouted, “Let the bidding begin.”
Mama’s replica of Amelia Earhart’s plane sold first, to George Heyel. That sale helped to set an example for the other bidders, though if the truth be known, George no doubt would have bid higher just for the opportunity to buy Mama’s lunch. Papa bought Olga Swanson’s flower covered lunch for 50 cents, and undoubtedly feasted on some hearty Russian food. The burly bachelor bought the newspaper wrapped lunch for 35 cents, but one can bet, the food inside was real comfort food.
When all was said and done, our auctioneer had lost his voice, but the monies taken in totaled $12.00. A vote was taken by the entire audience, and Mama won the $1.00 prize for the most original creation. She stood up and said, “Thank you for that vote, but our kids helped me, and so the dollar goes to their project.”
The Hall grew quiet as the hungry couples ate their lunches. The aromas wafting up from the lunches made me feel dizzy. Or was it perhaps the temperature which the room had reached with all the warm bodies and the roaring fires in the fireplaces? From outdoors you could hear the older kids' cheerful yells as they enjoyed their time together. I was too young to hang out with the older kids, and too old, I thought, to be with the younger ones. And so I roamed around taking in the whole scene, knowing I would remember it forever. Finally, the excitement and the warm room got the best of me. I curled up on the wooden bench next to my brother Jimmy, and fell asleep.
I do not know how long I slept. I awoke to the sound of music. A shiver went through me as I rubbed my eyes and sat up. Mama and Papa were the lone couple on the dance floor, as they waltzed gracefully to The Waltz You Saved for Me. I smiled as I watched our parents, at the end of a very long day, dancing to their favorite tune. “Someday, I’ll dance to that song with my favorite person,” I imagined.
The older kids had drifted in-doors and most were sitting quietly, now quite worn out from their big day. When the music ended and the older Heyel man had put away his accordion, my brother Ted stepped up to the empty auctioneer’s table.
“Could I have your attention please?” he asked. When all was hushed he said.
“We kids from the Shanagolden School wish to thank all of our parents for the great effort you put forth to help raise funds for the piano. We have raised $12.00, enough to pay half of the cost. In the Spring, about Easter time, we plan to put on a Pie Social to raise the other half. By that time, you will be tired of winter, and hopefully will be thinking of what pie recipe you can bake for the event. Again, thanks a lot.”
The party was over and families began packing to go home. Sleeping babies were bundled up. The Hall was straightened up, and the lanterns doused. I do not recall what became of the empty decorated box-lunches. I suspect OLD BESSIE THE FIRE HORSE still sits on George Heyel’s dresser, reminding him of that special night.
For me, more than 75 years later, I still fondly remember that wonderful night, of the 1937 Box Social, put on by the Shanagolden Entrepreneurs.