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Pioneer Czechs
In Colfax County

An historical sketch compiled by Rose Rosicky, Omaha, Nebr., from matter furnished by Joseph Sudik (Schuyler), Emil Folda, J. Mundil and Anton Odvarka Sr. (Clarkson), Jos. B. Sindelar (Howells), Rev. B. A. Filipi (Clarkson), Rev. K. Z. Petlach (Clarkson), Rev. Anthony Folta (Heun), Rev. Joseph Drbal (Howells) and Rev. Jos. F. Vitko (Schuyler) and others.

Written in 1926.

——CHAPTER 20——
(Continued from last week.)

In the spring of 1873 we had the ten acres, broken the spring previous, prepared for seeding wheat, but no money to buy it. Father set out to the Tabor settlement, five miles south, to see if he could borrow the seed wheat until he could raise some. It happened that on that day there was a wedding at Tom Sindelar’s place and Tom at once filled a sack of wheat, saying: “Here, I donate that to you”, and the other present followed suit, each one there giving us a sackfull. Never was anyone happier than my father, and I myself can never forget their kindness and am grateful for it. The Bohemian settlement known as Tabor was established in 1870, for at the time we located in Colfax county, they had already raised crops and had horses, something not known in our locality. Later they built a church there and dance hall. Up to 1875 there was no church within twenty miles of us, so we had to attend the St. Charles church near West Point until the church in Olean was built, four miles west of us.

There was no school within many miles until 1876, something I missed very much I had attended school for some time in Wisconsin and then for two years in West Point, reaching what perhaps now would be the third or fourth grade, but from the time we settled on our claim in 1876, I saw no book and scarcely a newspaper. I had forgotten the letters of the alphabet. When the school was built two miles from us, I began to attend as a beginner, and continued until I was twenty-one, but never more than three months in the winter, for I had to run the farm.

During the first few years there were no social gatherings except on rare occasions, for there was no gathering place and no refreshments to offer. A wedding now and then was the only jollification. My first vacation from the farm work in three years was to participate in a fourth of July celebration in West Point, 1875. I was obliged to walk the whole distance there, but was glad to do it.

Prices for farm products were very low. In 1874 we got $1.80 for 100 Ibs. of dressed pork and we had to haul it twenty-four miles to market, West Point. In 1874 we bought our first cow. Unfortunately, we soon lost her, she fell head first into a cave on Joseph Pimper’s place and it took another year before we could buy another, so that we lived three years without milk. And yet in those days no one thought we were undernourished, because we had no milk, for many others were in the same condition.

It was not until 1877 or 1878 that we bought our first team of horses by trading them for a yoke of oxen and giving a mortgage of $150.00 on the team. The neighbors told us if we did not pay the mortgage when it fell due, we would lose our horses, and we believed them. We had just finished threshing grain, so father began to haul it to market, to be able to pay the mortgage within a week. For six consecutive days he hauled wheat to market twenty-four miles each day, starting with a load at four in the morning and returning at ten at night. It was a strain on him, but a greater one on the horses, for toward the last they would fall asleep as soon as they stood still.

Winters were most dreaded, for we had to provide shelter for ourselves and the animals too. We had to depend, for fuel, on sunflowers, cornstalks, weeds and straw. One winter there was so much snow and our cattle shed was built on the side of a hillnd this was so covered with snow we could not gain entrance. As fast as we dug the snow away, the wind would blow the drifts back. So we decided to dig a hole through the top of the covering of the shed. As this was of straw, it was soon accomplished and I was let down. Then father got a basket filled with hay and let it down by a rope, and I fed the animals. Snow also completely filled our open dug well one winter and we were without water until it was hauled out.

In summer snakes would invade our dug-out. I remember one of them got into a neighbor’s bed. One of the boys cried so and would not stop, so when his parents began to investigate and threw the covers back, they found the reptile, which had bitten the child. This boy was the son of George Nagengast.

When one travelled over the prairies by night, one was never sure of reaching his destination, for there were no roads or anything else to guide him, unless it was a starlit night, or the horses knew the way. One dark night I lost my way, so I unhitched the team, straddled one of the horses, trusting to his common sense and we all reached home, leaving the wagon behind. There were some provisions in it and as a light rain came on, my parents did not like to have them spolied. I knew the way had been short and felt I could surely retrace my steps back, but we could not find it. The next morning I discovered the wagon in an opposite direction. Had it not been for the natural instinct of the animals which led them home, I would have had to camp out or wander over the prairies. Had I not stopped and unhitched where I had (on top of a hill) we would have rolled down and wrecked the wagon and perhaps been killed.

When we went to town with products or for provisions, it required a day and a half, that is, half the night, and our food supply while on the way was apiece of bread and some hay for the horses. If we were obliged to stay in town over night, we looked up some acquaintance or friend for lodging, for we did not have the means to stop in a hotel. During the first two years there was so little food that we could not supply our needs. I recall an incident in regard to our neighbor, Mrs. Kopac. Her husband, like other homesteaders, was away working in town, to buy supplies for his family. It was in the fall of the year, her provisions were gone, nothing was available but the melon patch. The poor woman lived on it during the whole melon season. She had a small baby to take care of and grew so weak they could scarcely walk. She knew that her neighbors were short of rations, so she did not even let them know of her condition, hoping for the arrival of her husband.

In the summer-time we all went barefoot. In winter men and boys wore boots with rags in place of socks wrapped about their feet. The women and girls managed to knit stockings for themselves and later made them for the male folk. When the men were out driving in the cold days, or afoot too, they wrapped gunny sacks over their boots, to keep from freezing. For light at night we used the old fashioned tape soaked in a plate of grease, or an oil lamp, if we happened to have oil, However, we used but little light for illuminating purposes. It was early to bed and early to rise, very little artificial light was wasted on us.

Finally, those who had put in three or four years on claims began to get some income, so that a dollar or two could be spared for social purposes. Granaries and barns began to appear and these, whether the owner wished it or not, had to be dedicated. The boys and girls knew as soon as one of these buildings was going up that something would be doing and spruced up for the occasion. Dancing of course was the chief attraction, and Lord, how we did go to it! You

(To be continued.)