Heintown was in an era of days gone by, but is still remembered by those who one lived near or in this village. Much has been heard of Heintown, but none was ever recorded in the history books.

Heintown was located five miles south of Loyal and to the west or in Sections 5 and 8 in the Town of York. It was once a bustling and thriving community with chief industry being a stave, heading and sawmill owned and operated by John Hein and his son, Tony.

This village was thriving in 1885 until the turn of the century. While Heintown was thriving, there were many business enterprises located there, including of course, the sawmill employing about 30 people; a general store owned also by John Hein; a post office; blacksmith shop; the Crystal Creamery, a cheese factory operated by the Seitz Brothers; a brick yard run by Norbert and George Schecklmann, Charles Meyer and George Meyer.

Most of the people residing in the community lived in small tarpaper shanties along the main street of Heintown, which had some wooden sidewalks. The residents had telephone service beginning in 1907, which was run from a switchboard in Wilcox (now known as York Center).

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Only a church and the Town Hall remain of the town of Wilcox. Mail supplies were brought from Neillsville twice a week by stage coach or supply wagon.

In about 1897, John Hein and family left Heintown for Deer Trail, a small town in Gates County now know as Rusk County where they continued to operate a stave, heading and saw mill.

Very few of the original buildings of Heintown remain. Heintown is now a prosperous farming community.

Tony Walter family

Route 2

Loyal, Wisconsin 54446

Back in the early 1900’s there was a railroad going from Fairchild and northeast into Clark County. It was called the F and NE or Fairchild and Northeastern. It was a very important line at one time as logs were hauled from the forested land to the mills.

About seven miles from Fairchild was the first station known as Mentor. This same location was also called Camp 16, after an old logging camp.

At this time the Town of Mentor consisted of three townships. Later the two northern townships broke away and formed the Town of Foster.

Somewhere between 1912 and 1926 I lived with my parents on his father’s farm near Mentor. Other farms were along the road coming out from Fairchild and the Ferguson School was also on this road.

At that time there were no milk trucks but cream was sold. Each farmer had a cream separator bolted to the floor on a porch or a small room off the kitchen or in the kitchen. The cream was kept in crocks on the basement floor to cool. It was then poured into the cream can. When the can was full it was left at the Mentor station and taken by rail to a creamery.

I can remember the tag on the can but not the address. It went east, possibly to Greenwood.

Most farmers had a few pigs and milk was fed to them and the calves. It was also used in the house where everyone had milk to drink and also cottage cheese. Our butter was made from some of the cream.

Another product sent from the farm by rail was the veal calves. I remember how we always had the heart and liver when a calf was butchered. The rest was tagged and taken to Mentor to be taken to Chicago.

Mrs. Alvin Schutte

Route 3

Neillsville, Wisconsin 54456

Ads the country was settled one usually found a country school and cheese factory on the same corner of the road or near each other. My father’s farm was located across from such a set up, three and a half miles southwest of Unity. Her I was born and raised.

In my younger days every farmer would haul his own milk. No one was living more than two or three miles from the cheese factory. This also enabled the school children to ride along to school in bad weather.

However the condenseries started operating in about the thirties and picked up some of the farmer’s milk with a truck. This, I presume, induced the cheese factories to start a truck route for those who wanted their milk hauled. During this time our cheese maker, Mr. Wm. Dehn, Sr., purchased a 1928 Chev. Truck and I got employment in 1934 as a milk hauler.

As I recall, in the flush season I would get the flat rack of the truck just about full of milk cans. If a farmer hauled 400 pounds of milk in the flush season he was considered a big farmer. After I unloaded the cans, the cheese maker emptied each patrons milk in a tank scale to weigh and sample it. Then I had the honor of washing them with a brush and then steaming them. After that it was loading each one back on the truck ready for the next day.

The roads in those days didn’t receive the care and granite that they do now and many times after a rain they became so slippery that I would have to put on chains to keep from getting stuck or sliding into the ditch. This sometimes had to be done right on the road and meant getting quite muddied up before they were on and fastened!

Some of the farmers raised pigs. They hauled their own milk and would have their cans filled with whey to haul back for feed for their pigs.

To empty the factory’s large whey tanks, many times meant hauling if down the road in cans where there was a good slope to dump it in the ditch. (Pollution in the 1970’s)

This truck served for many jobs. Sometimes we would haul granite from a pit. First we had to pick the granite loose with a pick and then shovel it on to the truck. If you were strong enough you used a scoop shovel. Some I know did. The granite was put around the factory to have a mud-free yard. The truck was also used for hauling cheese to market at Marshfield.

Now this all happened in the summer months. The winter was altogether a different story. Our Unity Township, at this time, had a small caterpillar with a snow plow and with this machine they would try to plow the snow. As they would plow, the roads would drift full between the banks and each time the snow was deeper. After a few times like this the snow was deeper than the machine could handle so the plowing ended.

Then the team and sleigh came into action. Of course, in those days most of the cheese factories only made cheese every other day. Having only one vat which held about 10,000 pounds of milk was filled in summer but in winter it would easily hold two days’ milk.

My father had a good team of horses and a logging sleigh with a gravel box. He allowed me to use this for hauling milk. I still have this rig stored in my shed today.

With this rig I hauled milk for maybe five farmers. The most milk the larger farmers had would be from four to six cans. Some of the patrons only owned 40 acres and maybe hauled two cans.

As many of you recall, cheese was down to 8 cents a pound which didn’t make an 80 pound can pf milk worth much. Likewise, wages were paid accordingly. I received fifty cents a day, every other day or $15.00 per month. Bit in those times it seemed like a lot for a young fellow who needed some spending money. I didn’t complain when I had to go out in 20 to 30-degree weather and many times tie up the reins and walk behind the sleigh for a half mile or more to keep warm.

However I was waiting patiently for the snow to go so I could get behind the wheel of the ‘28 truck again. In the year 1936 my hauling days came to a sudden halt. It was a -30 degree night and at two o’clock in the morning we were awakened by the hired man, Errol Huhn, yelling the cheese factory was on fire. It burned to the ground as the roads were impossible and no fire equipment was available. It was not rebuilt - so ended my milk hauling episode.

Merlin Justman

Route 1

Unity, Wisconsin 54488

“”Who would like to go to Ashland with me on Saturday? We’ll ride in our new Cadillac touring car and spend the day shopping.” The speaker was Mrs. Bartlett, a director of our school board.

Three teachers gladly accepted the invitation. We were reminded that we should tie our hats on with adequate scarf.

The chauffer found us excitedly waiting when he arrived Saturday morning. Being sunny, the rain curtain had been removed.

But-------!! Soon after we started our trip it began to shower so we all got busy buttoning on the curtains. We were almost dry. Soon the sun shown so we all removed the curtains and rattled along over gravel and some corduroy or even sandy roads.

Rain and sun alternated during our twenty-five mile trip. So did the chores.

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We rode home without a weather problem and really enjoyed a never-to-be-forgotten experience during my days as a teacher at Drummond.

Elizabeth Crothers

301 Grand Avenue

Neillsville, Wisconsin 54456

Route 2

Stanley, Wis.

April 14, 1938

Mr. James Clark

Minneapolis, Minn.

Dear Friend.

I was at the mail box when the mail man came this morning and he asked me if I knew anyone by the name of Wm. S. Warner. I told him that I once had an uncle by that name but that he had been dead for many years. He thought that the letter might be for me and asked me to open it to make sure.

So I opened it and sure enough it was for me. You see my uncle named me but instead of giving me his name told them to call me Bill and Bill is the only name I have ever had. I helped my sister Mrs. Allen to write a history of Eidsvold School to be read at a school entertainment a few years ago and I have since, furnished copies of this history to a number of people.

The one I am sending you is practically the same as the original.

Your brother Tommy and sisters Hannah and Katie were school mates of mine and my sisters in the old log school house. Later when I taught in the new frame building your sisters Euphema and Mary and brothers Hugh and Robert and cousins Danny and Phema were among my pupils.

Ox shoes are still to be had but not plentiful. I was looking for one for a friend last summer. One day my neighbor’s little boy found one in the barnyard. I got it from him and sent it to my friend. I had been looking for a flail for some time when I ran across one at a farm sale near Lublin a year ago and bought it for 15 cents. I have recently acquired an ox yoke but haven’t got it home yet. I am always on the lookout for these things and if I get a chance to help you to a flail or some ox shoes I will gladly do so. I am not so very well but able to do my few chores.

With best wishes for yourself and family, I remain

Your friend-

Bill Warner

R. 2 Box 23

Stanley, Wis.

S. S. Warner, now of Thorp, was a member of the School Board for 18 years; first as clerk and later as treasurer. The late Wm. Jerard was also a member of the Board for many years.

As the years passed by and the population of the District increased the little log school house finally became too small to hold the increasing number of children and a new building had to be erected. By this time the village of Eidsvold had come into existence and the mill company offered the district a site where the present school is located.

Here a suitable frame building was erected. Miss Mary E. Boylan taught the last term in the old building and Miss Marian Gwin, the first term in the new building. Sometime prior to the building of the new school house the district had been divided and a new district formed known as the Roger Creek School. A few years later another division was made and the Peterson School came into existence. Still later the Junction School was formed from territory taken from all three of the districts already mentioned.

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A few years ago the school building again became too small to hold all of the children. An addition was built and the school became a two-room state graded school.

Probably the largest pupil who ever attended the school was John Kearney, a boy 19 years old who was six feet tall and weighed about 150 pounds. One of the youngest was Lucinda Warner who started when four. Probably the oldest was John Warden who attended a winter term at 23. Others attended until they were 18, 19, 20.

1. Henry Baxter 32. David Crozier

2. Dick Craig 33. Bennie Buyette

3. Lulu Craig 34. Pearl Carpenter

4. Birdie Craig 35. Alta Carpenter

5. Myrtle Ruscher 36. Willie Jordan

6. Mabel Ruscher 37. Armand Christopherson

7. Elsie Jordan 38. Phoebe Jordan

8. Jin Jordan 39. Arthur Sayles

9. Mike Jordan 40. Anna Tornrose

10. Linal Cornwell 41. Rosy Jordan

11. Leona Cornwell 42. May Bruno

12. Susan Warner 43. Nora Harris

13. John Christopherson 44. Euphema Clark*

14. Anna Christopherson 45. Daniel Clark

15. Addie Nason 46. Mary Clark

16. Louis Baker 47. Hugh Clark

17. Stella Baker 48. Robert Clark

18. Rolla Baker 49. Verne Boardman

19. Glen Robeson 50. Ervin Boardman

20. Lyle Robeson 51. Ernest Boardman

21. Ray Robeson 52. Elizabeth Boardman

22. Ina Bell Carpenter 53. Vedal Boardman

23. Myrtle Hadley 54. Henry Miller

24. Eddie Nelson 55. Mary Miller

25. Emil Tornrose 56. Claude Miller

26. Mary Kass 57. Carl Miller

27. Alfred Kass 58. James Kealiher

28. Lucius Hadlock 59. Cora Boardman

29. George Eiler 60. Fred Crowley

30. Florence Eiler 61. Grace Thompson

31. Ed Carey 62. Pearl Thompson

* Euphema Clark was a cousin of James Clark. A sister by the same name attended at another time.

OWEN--A bright re, winking light observed nightly in North Central Clark County marks the location of a communication tower south of Owen at the pumping station of Lakehead Pipeline Company. The tower was put into operation late in 1973, to keep in contact with other stations at Sheldon, Vesper and Adams in the central part of the state and headquarters.

This pumping station was built in 1971 with two huge pumps and the past summer the size of the

building was doubled with two additional pumps installed. The project will not be completed until the weather is more favorable for painting the machinery but it is in operation.

A total of 5,200 miles of Lakehead lines carrying crude oil from the wells at Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, has three parallel lines to Superior. Two lines run from there to Sarnia, Ontario: one via the Straits of Mackinac and one via Chicago. From Sarnia, two 20-inch lines go to Port Credit in the province and two branch lines go to New York.

The construction of the Lakehead Pipeline Company was in progress across this part of the country in 1968. The scars on the soil of the giant “incision” have grown over with grass and have been forgotten by many. Landowners, where the line crosses, get a yearly progress report which keep them in closer touch with headquarters. The orange sign numbers indicates how far in miles that point is from Superior, maybe not as the crow flies, but as the pipe line goes.

Hugo Oja is in charge of the Sheldon and Owen stations while Chet Johnson is in charge of the Vesper and Adams stations as the electrical supervisors. Bob Mechelke is one of the mechanical supervisors who along with other technicians here are only a few to man the 67 pumping stations along the line.

Supervision means a close watch over the many computerized safety devices with a constant recording of temperatures, vibrations, flow and pressure and the like. Any faulty deviations will create an electrical shut down which requires “human supervision” and must be manually reset before the flow of crude oil will continue. To empty the line at any point would create an even greater problem.

Seeing the huge pipe in the pumping station, which one cannot reach around, makes it difficult to visualize how much crude oil is crossing Wisconsin each day while there is an energy crisis of mounting proportions. There is a total of 110 storage tanks with a capacity of 15,646,000 barrels at points along the line. Then the line fill is a mere 23,000,000 barrels. Among the five key locations storage capacities, Superior has 4,584,000 barrels. A rough estimate of deliveries per day for 1973 was 1,380,000 barrels. Then thinking the multiple of all the days of the year gives a figure beyond the average comprehension of how much crude oil is on its way to a refinery.

Seeing the winking red light in the night sky or the tower with the alternate sections in red and white is a visible reminder that there is crude oil on the way to the refinery to help relieve the energy crisis.

* Original article published in the MARSHFIELD NEWS-HERALD without a by-line on February 14, 1974; lifted for a front page story in the OWEN ENTERPRISE

“Communication Tower South of Owen Marks Location of Oil Pumping Station” on February 21, 1974. The editorial with a cover letter of authorship from the original publication, was entered in the Wisconsin Press Women’s Contest. Florence Garbush received a third in the state for her article as an editorial in weekly newspapers.

It was April of 1918. In the Armory at Neillsville 67 men of Company A, 128^th Infantry, 32^nd Division (Red Arrow), were training every day in preparation for combat duty. Rumor had it that they would be going to Camp McCoy soon, or to Waco, Texas. Every evening while the men drilled, the galleries were crowded with spectators. Girl friends of the guard members hung over the balcony railing to cheer their favorite soldiers.

Neillsville did not have many diversions during the “mud months” of spring, so the armory was a favorite place to go. There was target practice on the stage besides the colorful drills. As the time drew near to “ship out” the men were kept for the night on the large fourth floor area.

Mrs. John Miller was a widow with a large family to support, living on a farm in Pine Valley. With spring planting at hand she was attracted to a job-wanted ad in the Republican Press. With the war on, farm help was scarce. John Schmidt (not his real name) needed a farm job. Mrs. Miller drove into town with the team and picked him up at the Wiesner Hotel. He had just arrived from Canada, he said, and would be staying in the area. He was neat, polite, and friendly. The Miller family fell in love with him immediately. It was obvious that he knew nothing about farming, but he carried out orders with such diligence his ineptness was overlooked. He liked to go to the armory at night and watch the drills and target practice, walking several miles to and from town.

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William Buddenhagen lived on the farm adjoining the Carl Dodte farm on the north. His boys had grown up and gone and he wanted to sell. Mr. Brameld, a real estate agent, brought out a buyer from Chicago who agreed to take immediate possession. He was negotiating a property transaction in Chicago so there would be a slight delay in payment. However, Mr. Buddenhagen moved to town and the Duffey family came from Chicago to run the farm for Mr. French (not his real name). The Duffeys let it be known that their daughter, Margaret, an unusually pretty girl, was “promised” to the handsome and aristocratic Mr. French . She carried messages from the farm to his “office” at the Wiesner Hotel, or delivered the mail and telegrams that came from his Chicago office to him when he was busy at the farm.

Meanwhile, Mr. Buddenhagen was impatient to have the deal closed. Mr. Brameld was sure that his client’s impeccable manners and apparent prosperity were proof that as soon as the Chicago deal had been consummated the money would be forthcoming. These big transactions took time! Due to temporary lack of funds Mr. French had been forced to sell a few cows to pay the Duffeys and expenses of the farm.

Early one morning the quartermaster, John Southard, was busy getting out the supplies for the day’s activities. In a supply closet under the stairs he came upon a chilling sight. Centered in a box of pine shavings was the stub of a partially burned candle. The flame had gone out before the shaving ignited, probably from lack of oxygen in the small space. Had the shavings caught fire the wooden stairs would surely have burned in a very short time and the only escape for the men on the fourth floor cut off.

There was an immediate council of the military and the local authorities. This was certainly the act of German sympathizers or spies. Suspicion centered on Mr. French and John Schmidt, Mrs. Miller’s hired man. They had both come to town recently, and by their accent they were believed to be German. Harry Hewett, the sheriff, and William Campman, Clark County Counsel of Defense, went to the Miller farm and arrested John on suspicion of attempting to burn the armory. Among his few belongings were pine sticks which he had been whittling with a jackknife that had a nick in the blade. The shavings in the tinder box had been whittled with a knife with a nick. A few candles similar to the one in the box were also found in his belongings. John had a hearing in court, spent the night in jail and was taken to Wausau, where he was turned over to Federal authorities.

Mr. French was also taken into custody at the Wiesner Hotel. He appeared to be innocent of complicity in the plot and was released. But Federal authorities were not convinced of his innocence and an effort was made to rearrest him -- but he had fled. They pursued him to Chicago and pinned him down in a house surrounded by police. He escaped by jumping across the narrow alley onto the roof of an adjoining building. Eventually he was captured and both men convicted of being German spies.

Mrs, Miller and her family would never believe that their much-loved John was guilty of any wrong-doing. Mr. French, it turned out, was a German chemist, the brains of the conspiracy and had no property in Chicago. His farm deal was a cover for subversive activities. The Duffy family returned to Chicago, with the exception of Margaret (who now pronounced her name DuFay), who was adopted by the Louis Buddenhagens. Margaret’s sister was adopted by the John Charles family.

William Buddenhagen got his farm back.

Ester Dodte

Route 1

Neillsville, Wisconsin 54456

In the early 1900’s we young people used to have so much fun getting ready and giving a Home Talent Play. We played and charged for tickets. The money was given to school, church or other needs for the community - Columbia in Clark County.

For several years we had a man who had been a former actor. Hew would write our plays to fit the character.

The children in the school desired a toboggan and a phonograph with records. The actor was away so we sent for a play entitled “Not So Bad After All.” We had so much fun practicing a tragedy almost occurred.

We got permission from the school board to practice in the school auditorium. Therefore, we could only practice evenings and on Sundays. This particular Sunday it was below zero. All participating in the play were present. The boys built up a roaring fir in the hot air furnace. Soon someone smelled smoke. We all rushed downstairs and it was smoking around the register. That wall was asbestos and the boys kicked it open to get at the fire.

The school pump was frozen. The creek near by was frozen over and the only water available was at the store a block away. Several of us rushed to the store and took Dad’s saleable pails and started a water brigade. My brother was drawing water with a third off a pail full. The teacher, who was leading lady in the play, said, “Go with what you got! Go with what you got!” Brother said, “That will not be much good.” He went.

The boys rushed down and raked the coals out of the furnace onto the dirt floor. Soon there was smoke coming up from the basement. The boys had forgotten to pull the plank away that was used to walk on. It was on fire.

Finally the fire was out and we had to calm down and think about the heat for school the next morning at nine o’clock.

Dad was on the school board and he suggested we contact the other board members. One was three miles out and the other four miles but in opposite directions.

The boys walked the miles and they, with the school board decided that if workers could come the next morning at five o’clock that it would be ready for school time. School started at nine o’clock - even with a gaping hole in the wall. The next week all was back in good shape again.

The play was based on a couple living on a large estate in the country. They had a gardener and a maid. Although I had usually played a serious part, my boyfriend and I volunteered to play the comedy couple. My name was Sally Maybud and the gardener’s name was James Banks. (I might add, the old-timers still call me Sally!) We were dressed in home-spun clothes. Our master and mistress had company come from England with their butler.

The stage was made into a flower garden with trees at one end. The other end was a vegetable garden. Sally was taken up with the butler and his dress-shiny black boots, top hat and his flattery. James caught them talking in the flower garden and Sally received a kiss. This angered James who was in the vegetable garden. He picked up a cabbage and threw it at the butler. My brother was manning the curtains. He ducked and it missed him by an inch. This started the players giggling.

Company came which rattled Sally so that she was on the wrong side of the stage when se was supposed to faint. She ran across the stage and cried, “Catch me James, I’m faintin’.” By this time the players were all giggling - even the sedate Mr. And Mrs. The audience thought it was supposed to be that way.

Finally we had intermission. We had not planned what to do with the trees and flowers. The girls had made paper flowers for days and days. The boys opened a second story window and out went the trees and flowers into the snow. They sent me down off stage to play the wheezy organ and cancel some of the noise.

The second half went off smoothly and at the end we got a big hand from the audience who had sat on home made benches all this time.

There were several sleigh loads who came in from the surrounding area. They asked me if we could come to the several schools and play it again - but we thought we had better leave it as “Not So Bad After All.”

When our actor wrote the plays he would fit the character. We had a girl in our group who was a fast talker. In one of the plays he wrote her up as Smanthy Buz-buz, the town gossip who told things that happened or imagined that happened. Every time she came on stage she brought the house down.

We had fun and the needs were met, plus the toboggan and phonograph.

Mabel Jonkel (82 years young)

Roblee Road

Baraboo, Wisconsin 53913

Maple Plain, Minnesota

January 15, 1967

Dear Friend, Mr. Tainter:

It is getting late and the old school bell is ringing. The passing of the little red school house is on its way out of the world of progress. The school buses which shuttle daily up and down our highways - like huge bumble bees - make us aware of the fact that our children no longer walk to school. On a drive through the country we come upon a little one-room structure, sitting forlornly on its half-acre of ground, looking out from its blank window eyes at the abandoned playground around it. This heart of mine never fails to feel a pang at the sight of the deserted building that was the hub-of-life and learning for all the youngsters in the area. I ponder as my eyes wander over it, when the lusty singing by the children of “My Country ‘Tis of thee’ or “The Star Spangled Banner” - does it dream of those days? Does it recall in the loneliness of the days when the little freckled-faced girl in pigtails down her back who stood before the library shelves, and carried home armful of books? Her eyes shone with the enchantment she found between the covers of “Little Women” or “Hans Brinker and His Silver Skates”. Does it look back with affection on the small boys who threw paper wads at the back of his schoolmate’s neck? And when the teacher looked up were poring over their geography lessons? I wonder if the old school house stirs sometimes in the still nights when the ghosts of long-ago boys and girls come back and take their places at the scarred desks. Perhaps on bright moonlight nights phantoms in blue jeans and gingham dresses do sums on the blackboard that lines the silent walls. Some of the excitement of the Christmas programs must steal back on a snowy winter night. When the Star of the East shines forth and seems to beam directly down at boys and girls singing of the First Christmas to an audience made up of fathers, mothers, grandparents too and wide-eyed small brothers and sisters; all spellbound for a little while at the beauty of the season there on the stage in the small plain room. I am sure when spring comes, the lonely building dreams of small girls dancing in the doorway with armloads of fragrant flowers or recalls with glee the school boys displaying a mouse or putting something in the teacher’s desk to frighten her.

These memories are a part of our American Heritage which we will always remember. They will become part of the history of our country, when the little country school is no more. In the steady advance of progress, I am told, it is for the good of all, the old landmarks - the country school among them - shall depart from the American scene. But champion of all things, traditional as I am, I cannot help but feel a sense of loss in the steady disappearance of our country schools.

Now teacher says I must put on the Dunce Cap and stand in the corner for a while.

Sincerely - your friend,

Jim Clark

Our grandfather on my father’s side, came from Germany as a baby. The grandfather on mother’s side came as a young man. He skipped the army in Germany, only to be taken into the Civil War here, where he served four years without being hurt.

They migrated to Plymouth, Wisconsin, when it was all woods. They cleared up their farms and raised their families. They carried supplies from Sheboygan through the woods.

I was born in Sheboygan in 1895 and my sister, Ruth, who was four years younger was born there too. Our father, Robert Vater, moved to Withee in 1900 when I was five year old. He bought three eighty acres of land the year before.

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It was all woods with no road closer than two miles. He went by logging road to the Miller Farm about one and one-half miles through the mud in the summer time. The road went only two miles north of Withee. The land had beautiful timber.

Dad bought a new Russel sawmill and a small tractor engine which proved too small. Then he bought a twenty-five horsepower Russell skid engine. This was later sold to the Maplehurst mill and another stationary engine and boiler was installed.

He sawed lumber for the settlers but money was scarce and some saw bills weren’t paid. He hauled red oak and dry lumber to Withee for eight dollars per thousand.

About 1901 or 1902, a school house was built at the site of the White School. First a small building was erected which was used about one year and used as a woodshed when the larger building was built.

The lumber for the first small building was hauled from our place to the Miller farm on the Frenchtown road to Withee and then four miles north to the spot. We did this because there was a sink hole between our place and the school site for about a half mile. The roads came in about two years. Dad sawed the lumber for the building.

Some of the early settlers were as follows: Carl Dresdow lived one mile west of school; Guerkee lived one-half mile south of the corner at the end of the road; John Eppers lived on the corner one mile from school; and Cragg lived across the corner to the west.

On the road one mile north of the school lived Herman Karow; at the end of the road one-half mile east of school and one-half mile north lived Dell Delmater; Bill Atkins settled here in about 1902; Wm. Wood and family came in 1901, coming on the tote road from Miller’s Corner; Robert Robertson lived on the corner to the north; the next corner to the south was where Wm. Kaskin lived; and Sam Munson lived a short distance from the road.

One mile west from the Miller farm was where Louie and Bill Scherf settled. The Miller farm was bought by the Millers about ten years before this as it was a logging company farm and had several hundred acres of cleared land. The Frank Wenzels settled across the Black River without a road and sometimes had to carry supplies across the river.

Also about one mile north of Wenzels was the Fred Warns farm about one-half mile east of the corner which is Clark’s now. They walked up the river in winter and through the woods to Maplehurst Mill, which had a road from Medford. It took three years till they got a road from Maplehurst. They came from Milwaukee in 1905.

The Munson bridge was built on Black River in 1911, giving the Wenzels a crossing.

I was a charter member of the White School, having a report card from 1902.

Mrs. Herman Karow held a Sunday School in the White School building for years.

This has indeed been a long way.

Arno Vater

Route 1

Withee, Wisconsin 54498

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