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The Montpelier column in Stutsman County Record reported some school news: "New pupils beginning school for the first time are: Jack Schmidt, Lucile Nolan, Gordon Coffell, Eugene Coffell, Dorothy Clemens, Josephine Cumber and Ruby Cooper." (SCR., Vol. 27, No.4, Sept.. 11, 1930.) Eugene had started the first grade in the fall of 1929 but missed so much school that he was, held back in the first grade.
Gordon did not start school in September of 1930. His report card strongly indicates that he started in September of 1931. The above item may have two explanations, the first is that it may have depended upon information from a school census taken in the spring. The second, and Gordon suggests this, that he may have started in 1930, but only attended a few classes and then was kept home.
Mother had a baby that was dead at birth. We have not found any items that help date this event. The evidence points strongly toward the 1930 date. Gene's fall from the slide was definitely in 1929. The baby was born in the fall or early winter.
Preceding the birth, things were not going well. Lois, Eugene, and I came home from school and Grandma and Aunt Lucille or Aunt Fern were at our house. Mother was in bed and we were not allowed to see her. Doctor Green had been there earlier. It was late afternoon or early evening that Grandma showed us the baby. It was wrapped in a blanket and one of us asked her if the baby was dead and she said it was. It was all that I saw of this child. Gordon says that he remembers the small white coffin that was brought by Uncle Arthur and Uncle Byrl. The baby was taken to Edgeley and interred in the Cofell Plat in Mount Hope cemetery. Gordon has had a stone placed on the grave. Dad made an entry in the family Bible but that document has apparently disappeared over the years. Mother said a few times that if the child had lived she would have named it Kenneth.
In 1930's, 1920's and earlier such a loss of a baby was not an uncommon thing. There were those nights when someone pounded on our door and sought mother's help. We might have known where she was going but not the purpose except there was a crisis of some kind at one of the neighbors. The loss of children is a great tragedy for a mother. It was what we experienced with mother's fierce determination that brother Gordon should live in 1924-25. Lorraine and I experienced the loss of a child that lived seventeen hours in 1953. It is an event that shakes the very being of a parent, mother or father, but far more intense for the mother. We had neighbors that lost children at birth and also at ages two, three, four, five and six and older. Mother related from her own experiences stories in which families lost four, five and even six children from scarlet fever, diphtheria or other diseases. Accidental deaths were also frequent causes of death of children in the 1920's and earlier. My research suggests that falls, scalding and fires were frequent causes.
It must have been after the above events but it also resides in memory: "The car owned by John Seiler was burned Monday night, so Floyd Cofel1 took his place on the school bus Tuesday." (SCR., Vol.27, No. 16, Thur. Dec. 4, 1930.) We were alerted about this by telephone and Dad made the route in our Model T Sedan. It was the only day that our Dad ran the school bus. John must have had some sort of insurance and quickly purchased a new car and continued to make the route daily.
While of no great importance to our story, another item of change was demonstrated by an event in 1930. On June 5 and 6 of 1930 the Harness dealers of North Dakota held their convention in Jamestown, North Dakota. I suspect it may have been about one of the last conventions of that group. The automobile, truck, and the tractor were invading the farms and towns and from this time on there was diminishing demand for horses and harness. We fantasized about the steam engine and played on the first large heavy two cylinder Twins City tractors. The trend was toward smaller farm tractors. We saw the introduction and use of the smaller Oil Pull Rumely, Fordson, McCormick Deering 10/20 and 15/30, the John Deere model D. This trend was followed by" some still smaller tractors and after World War 11 back to very large machines.
We were farming with horses and Dad pretty well repaired his own harnesses. There were other events that occurred in our family and community. At some time in 1928 or 1929 or 1930 Dad was engaged in spring planting and was harrowing a rather large field. The harrow had six sections and he was driving a six horse team. Before going to the field he told mother she should send Lois and I to the field with a bottle of beer. It was the home brewed kind. A beer that is carried about half mile by a couple of kids has been highly energized by the time it reaches its destination. As our father opened the bottle it hissed an arch of foam quite a few feet into the air with a loud pop. The team of horses took off at the unfamiliar instruction. They were tired and fortunately did not run far and our Dad was able to catch up with them.
On another occasion we had a corn crop that grew faster than usual. It needed one more cultivation that could not be done with the two-horse cultivator. Dad decided he was going to cultivate it with a one-horse cultivator. I was given the tasks of riding and guiding the horse down the rows. Dad walked behind guiding the cultivator. He must have walked twenty five miles that day. His son who had begun the study of geography and had some misguided notions about the position of the sun was also the timekeeper. It must have been about five or six o'clock when Dad began to ask what time it was. Well, I knew that at noon hour the shadow should point north and south. At six o'clock the shadow should point east and west. In summer, however, that rule does not apply because of the inclination of the earth on its axis. When the shadow was at what I believed to be three o'clock, Dad said, "my feet hurt, let's go home." It was well past six o'clock by the clock. We did however finish quite a bit of cultivating on that day. Dad and the horse were both tired.
On Monday, July 13, 1931, a more serious event occurred at a free movie in Stott's Opera House in Montpelier. Mother was pregnant with Elizabeth and I was elected to stay home with her. Dad, with some of the younger children, went to the movie. I suspect now that Dad wanted to give mother a quiet evening. I can remember sitting up at home and talking with mother. I also remember reading by our Aladdin Lamp. We had a very bad storm that passed over our place but did no damage. It rained very hard with lots of lightening and thunder.
Upon return of the others from town there was an exciting discussion as they reported on a lightening strike on the opera house. That experience had to be debriefed and it was some time before we went to bed. Everyone had a story to tell and it was not about the movie. It was stated that Dad and David Naze blocked the door. They then let people through the door, in order, one at a time, to prevent panic on the stairs. The stairs going down from the Opera House were long. It is probable that a tragedy would have occurred with the number of children present. Dave Naze was a very big man hardly anyone else could have held that crowd in that dark hall.
Gene and Gordon have always said they were the first out of the Hall and that they got out before Dad and David got to the door. They were in the car when the rest of them came down. It was fortunate that no one was injured or badly shocked. This building was covered with iron sheeting on the outside and that may be the reason so little damage was done to the interior.
The newspaper report stated: "The show Monday night which was well attended came to a sudden close, when the hall was struck by lightening. The fuses were burned out and the audience left in total darkness. Several persons were shocked but none seriously injured." (SCR., Vol 27, No. 48, Thursday July 16, 1931.) Likewise in the same issue it was reported, "A valuable cow belonging to Robert Getty was killed by lightening during the storm Monday evening." (Ibid) I imagine that there may be other memories of that bolt of lightening and mine are second hand. I spoke to Gordon about that event and the memory was very vivid with him. Being close to a lightening strike is usually a memorable event, if for no other reason than a loud noise that accompanies the flash.
We suffered a fire tragedy that struck us on August 15, 1931. Dad had gone to Jamestown, with Jack Roscoe on some kind of veterans business. They left early in- the morning. Dad had told Gene and I to go out to the alfalfa field and rake and bunch hay we had cut and get it ready to be picked up. We had not been working too long when we looked toward the buildings and saw smoke coming from south end of one of the haystacks in our hay yard. They were at least a couple of hundred feet from the nearest building but the wind was also blowing rather hard from the south. Gene and I both got on the hay rake and raced for home. The flames had made good progress by the time we got there. There were also two hayracks on wagons between the stacks of hay. Our first thought was to pull them out of the way of the fire. We did not succeed--we were excited and the horses were excited both from the run home and from the smoke and fire. We had to give up and simply stand and watch the wagons, racks and hay burn up. I was eleven years old and Gene was eight years old. Hardly the best ages to handle a tough situation. It was a great sinking feeling. Gene and I had helped our father haul in that hay and stack it. There were two long stacks and there must have been a hundred to one hundred fifty tons of hay. It was a good thing that we had not put any of that hay into the barn. We must have stacked it either too green or too early in the morning when it was still moist from dew. It must have been started from spontaneous combustion. Most of that hay was from the first two cuttings of alfalfa.
The Stutsman County Record reported: "While Floyd Coffell was in Jamestown Saturday, two loads of hay and 100 loads of No. 1 alfalfa in the stack were destroyed by fire. The cause of the fire is unknown." (SCR., Vol. 28, No.1, Thurs., Aug. 20, 1931.)
There were, however, several people who asked or stated that we children had set those stacks afire. I know that Gene and I did not go into the hay yard that morning. I do not think any of the younger children did either. They didn't have time. The smoke that Gene and I saw from the field was coming from the top of the stack and not from the ground. If one of the children had set the fire there would eventually have been some admission and there never has been one. A couple of years later Louis Delair lost seventy tons of hay and 35 pigs as a result of such a fire. (SCR., Thurs., September 28, 1933) It is probable that both fires were caused by spontaneous combustion. We were in school at the time of the Delair fire and were able to watch from the school room.
For us it was a terrible loss because we had been anticipating a good feeding season for our livestock. The cutting of alfalfa, probably the third that Gene and I were working on was to be about all the good hay that we would have. We supplemented hay with straw and a good deal of corn fodder that winter. We hauled in a lot of corn bundles which is hard work and not the best feed in that form. About the only thing worse than a hay fire or a barn fire were those fires that took farm houses and sometimes the family with them. One of these occurred in 1939. The buildings at that time were very dry and they burned just about as fast as hay did. Our neighbor lost not only the house but four children who died in the fire.
Both Mother and Dad spent time cautioning us in regard to fire and matches. There was no rural fire department and no way to call one if a fire or other tragedy occurred. A great many farmers who rented land did not even carry fire insurance.
While on the subject of this haystack fire it reminds me that during these years especially 1930, 31 and 32 was the time I probably talked most with my father. I wish I could remember the topics of all of those conversations. They were conversations that we had particularly when stacking and hauling hay. We would load a rack with hay and when the load was topped out haul it to the stack or the barn. Riding on a load of hay is comfortable, the horses move at an easy gait and it is easy to talk while resting. The other conversations would take place while we were unloading hay onto a stack. Dad would be on the stack and I would be pitching hay up to him. I must have been full of questions about a lot of things and dad answered my questions and would tell me about things that he thought were important. It was a time of learning that Dad had a life before I was born and that he had dreams and hopes that had not been fulfilled. Dad's talked about some of his army camp experiences and how anxious he was to return from France and be back home. He must have been desperate with homesickness. He talked about the day he and the soldiers of his battery were marched to observe the hanging of a black man. He became sick to his stomach and vomited as the event took place. There were conversations about why we were going to be better off. There was a conversation about the benefits of feeding alfalfa hay and how well the cows would produce when it was their feed. He told me how much better off we as a family would be because there was such and abundance of forage. In terms of the price for butterfat or a market animal, alfalfa hay would have made some difference. It would make a difference in having plenty of good hay so those animals would be well fed. I know now that hope is a very important virtue for every human being. I realize today that it was not only our work that went up in smoke that day but a dream my father had about improving the family lot.
Today, I believe that fire and the effects of the depression followed by the dust storms seemed to have sapped my Father's spirit. It was during these days that he quit singing for may years. I believe he continued to make an effort to be responsible and he certainly remained a force in our lives but as I think about it now he never seemed to quite have the verve and vitality that was present in those earlier years. There was a time in the late nineteen twenties, it was right after either Thanksgiving day or Christmas that Dad became desperately ill. At the time the illness was attributed to a fat goose that had been cooked for the holiday celebration. There were several days that the cows didn't get milked. I was old enough to turn them out for water and I could put down hay but I was not able to milk them. I remember asking mother if I should go over to Davis's and ask them to come over and milk the cows. She would not let me go. I suspect that by the time that Dad recovered that the cows had gone down considerably in milk production.
I believe now that illness may have been a mild (?) heart attack and a prelude of what would come later. I asked my mother about this years later when she was still in Montpelier and she thought this could have been part of the situation and she then said, "I wonder whether Dad was in good health at any time after his return from France."
I might have been at the age when boys begin to suspect their parents are not the heroes they once thought them. I do not think this is the case. I think my father felt he was a failure. Yet when I remember those times, the sickness, the being in debt, he was at the same time a man of the community and was treated with respect by others in our community. Other people in the community always seemed to enjoy and value his company.
As a veteran of World War II and viewing my own life how different it has been. The veterans benefits have made a great difference. My college education was paid for by the citizens of this country and I am grateful. I did not have to fight for it as did the Veterans of World War I who had to bring so much pressure to bear to even collect the promised Soldier's Bonus. Had the decision been made to go into farming or some other occupation the Veterans Benefits would still have been available. The availability of guaranteed loans so veterans could build or buy homes is another decent thing done for us. It is my belief that neither our Dad or Uncle Oliver came back from France in a good state of health.
Elizabeth was born September 22, 1931, just a little over a month after the fire. Eleanor Ratts death was reported in the newspaper on September 24, 1931. Dad and all of us children attended the funeral which took place at the Ratts home. She died as a result of a ruptured appendix. The Ratts family was plagued with appendix difficulties. Another daughter subsequently died of the affiiction and several of the older children had operations in a short period of time. Mother was in Edgeley at the time of the funeral with our new sister. I remember being in the yard at the Ratts' home and when the funeral was over the casket was placed on a carrier of the Franklin car owned by Mr. Cone. It was then taken to the cemetery.
Walter Reer the son of another neighbor died that same summer. I attended services at the home with my father. We were not the only family that was having difficulty. Our neighbors had their problems and somehow we knew we had to share and that we were not the only ones with hardship.
Sometime in October or November many of our neighbors descended on our home. They brought lunch and each one brought some canned goods or something for the family: five pounds of sugar, ten pounds of flour, a jar of pickles or a couple of jars of sauce, canned com, peas, beans and a sack of rice. It was a fire shower. They spent the evenings playing cards, games and talking. It was a fine gesture of neighborliness. We had some of the same kinds of canned goods in the cellar. The result of that gesture was not so much the additional supplies but the compassion that was so appreciated. We never had any doubt that our neighbors cared about us--and that is an awfully good feeling.
The situation that winter was bad for us since we had lost the feed, the number of cattle we could feed declined. The cream check was the main source of ready cash for most farmers at that time. We struggled through the winter on a more limited income.
In the fall of 1931 we started attending school No.2 which was about three and half miles from our home. Mr. Runt still drove us in his car. There was still the period in which we rode in sled. I have a couple of lingering memories of this year. The first one was the day that school was dismissed for Christmas vacation. The evening of that day I went outside to play, there was snow on the ground and some pretty big drifts. It was so warm that evening that I did not need a coat. There were some days right around Christmas that were particularly warm.
The other memory of an event occurred the spring of 1932. It was again during the period preparing for the end of school picnic. It was the day and evening before the picnic that we had a heavy snow fall. It was not very cold. We had a call on the telephone for the neighbor who lived north of us just a bit over a quarter of a mile away. I was selected to carry the message to them. It was still partly daylight but .the snow was already about six inches deep on the ground. It was not very cold and the snow was wet but it still persisted the next morning and our picnic was held in the school gym.