Grandpa Myers

Grandpa wrote this short biography in 1976 for Susan. Again, I assume it was a class assignment. Mom must have digitally transcribed the original letter; or maybe one of the kids:

When my mother came to this country she was 15 years old. She went to work as a cook for a boarding house in a place called Rock Lake. That’s when she met my father. He was hauling timber to a place called Forest City and it took him 12 to 15 hours to make a trip with horses; that’s all the power they had them days. So he would always be telling tales. I remember a couple of them. There was a barber that committed suicide so when he passed this place he wanted to hear some one say “do you want a shave.” Another one was he had to drive through a woods and he seen something cross the road as big as a telephone pole. The horses were so scared they ran until they got home. In the Depression of 1930 It was very hard you see at that time there was no welfare, no unemployment compensation, no Social Security. Not until President Roosevelt was elected. But the people shared what they had. The people then were much closer together than they are today.

People who could picked coal. They had gardens and then they put all men who were able to work on what they called the W.P.A working on high wage and also working around hospitals or other public buildings and they done very good work. You can still see some of their work along secondary highways. There were no crimes those days like there are today, the people of today don’t have what it takes they are used to soft living. We have progressed too fast for the good of our own people. We should never have to be dependent on other nations for oil or gas. We have thousands of acres of coal in Pennsylvania and in other states.

The influenza broke out in 1918. All of our family on both sides survived it, but others did not.They could not bury them fast enough so they piled the dead bodies in the morgues and the only thing seemed to help the people that had it was whiskey. I was in the army at this time.

My father was a deputy sheriff of Wayne County. He caught the first man who was hung in that county. This man was wanted for murder. Them days they worked in the woods cutting timber and taking bark off hemlock trees. These two men were friends so they got drinking very heavy and they got quarreling and one of them hit the other one over the head with the axe. They were also a friend of my father’s. He hid in a cave for a week. My father knew where he was, so he told him if he would give himself he would do what he could for him because they were both chums. So he took him in. But at the trial he was convicted of first-degree murder and was hanged. My father turned in his badge because he thought he didn’t get a fair trial.

My Grandfather on my mother’s side came from Gloucestershire, England also my Grandmother. My father’s parents came from Germany. When my grandparents on my mother’s side came here, my grandfather worked in the coal mines. In them days they worked long hours. They lived in a company house and traded in a company store and no matter how much they made they still owed the company store.

A typical day: Back them days going too school and remember the old hickory stick that was in the corner of the schoolrooms. And that’s what we need now. After school we picked coal. On vacation days we would pick berries and work in the garden. I also sold papers after school. My father died when I was 7 years old. I got as far as 5^th grade when I was 11 years old and then I went to work in the coal mine. I went to 9 o’clock mass on Sunday morning, went to Sunday school in the afternoon, and came home and played baseball. My big day was on a Sunday when I played ball. I was not the only one who went to work so young. Not very many boys or girls went through high school them days. The boys got jobs in the coal breakers picking slate out of the coal or working in silk mills. Those were the days of child labor. I worked in the mines tending door for 90 cents a day. I worked in the silk mill at night 11 hours a night for 10 cents an hour.

They were a lot of contagious diseases those days. It was just a matter of the strong lived and the weak died. I remember they had what they called the Black Maria. It was a black ambulance pulled by a pair of mules they used for mine accidents and there were a lot of them those days and we only had one hospital and if a man got killed in the mines before they took him out,if his shoes were any good some one would take them off him. And also his lamp and his water bottle. I remember a story one poor fellow was taken to his home on Electric Ave. He had a wife and 4 children and when they took him home his wife met them at the door and told them to take him out of their a dead was no good. The Coal Co. was very ruthless them days they thought more of the mules than they of the men. Mules cost 300.00 a piece the men didn’t cost them anything. Those were the days when they used mules in the mines for power. I worked in them before it was electrified, but we had some good days.

We would save a 1.50 a month and get a horse and buggy from the livery stable and go on picnics out to Crystal Lake for the day and my mother in the evenings would put her shawl on and go visit the neighbors. I can remember my father and mother was in big demand at house parties. My father was one man band. He played a mouth organ and a violin. He had both around his neck so he played the mouth organ and violin at the same time and my mother would call off the square dances. She would also sing. So you see they had good times in the good old days. There were no cars them days so they made use of their legs which God gave them.

Dear Susan I hope you can read this letter, and get something out of it, your mother and your Dad will help you, they are the last of the old generation. You must be a big girl now, looking forward to see you in the Summer. Please excuse this writing I am getting a little shaky.

God Bless You,
Grandfather Myers

Written in January, 1976, Arthur Myers, age 79, DOB 1896

In Remembrance of Elizabeth A. Myers Hernquist

Elizabeth A. Hernquist passed away peacefully on January 18. 2011 in her home.

Born May 30, 1925 in Carbondale, PA she was the daughter of Elizabeth Moran Myers. On January 12, 1957 at St. Rose Church in Carbondale she married E. Theodore "Ted" Hernquist, Jr., who survives.

Mrs. Hernquist was a graduate of St Rose High School in Carbondale and of St. Joseph's School of Nursing in Carbondale. She was first employed as a registered nurse in Indianapolis during the polio epidemic. In 1954 she enlisted in the U.S. Air Force where she served as a Registered Nurse First Lieutenant for the 388th Fighter Bomb Wing at the Air Base in Etain, France. She then worked for a short time for the former Allegany Nursing Home and the Cattaraugus County Nursing Home in Olean after which she stayed home to raise a family.



She was a member of St. Mary of the Angels Church and the Olean American Legion Post #530. She was a charter member of the Women in Military Service for America. For several years she volunteered for Meals on Wheels. Along with her husband she traveled to Florida each year for seventeen years until 2008.

Surviving besides her husband are two daughters Mary (Don) Chuboff of Watkinsville, GA and Anne (Bob) Rueppel of Lancaster, PA; five grandchildren, Derek Chuboff, Sarah Chuboff, Kelly Chuboff, Katie Rueppel and Colleen Rueppel; one brother Arthur Myers of Owego; one sister Sister St. Gerard, IHM of Scranton, PA and several nieces and nephews.









She was predeceased by two sisters infant Mary Myers and Clare Jones and three brothers Leo Myers, Joseph Myers and Gerard Myers.

Memoirs of Uncle Joe

These first stories presented below were written by Uncle Joe regarding his father, Arthur Thomas Myers (Grandpa Myers).  I'm not sure what order they should be in, but here they are:

Hard Times

He went to all the saloons in Carbondale every evening selling newspapers after his Father died. It must have been a terrific shock for a 10 year old to lose his Father; I know it was for me and I was past 56. Grandma made him a little moneybag with a shoelace for a drawstring on top so he wouldn’t lose any change. When he came home at night they would count it together on the kitchen table and decide what they could afford to buy. There were so many young ones in the family to feed and care for; now he had become the provider.

The bars at that time were many and well occupied, mostly with black covered coal miners washing down the dust; no women were allowed. Saw dust covered the floors and cuspidors were placed here and there to catch finished tobacco chews. They served schooners of draft for a nickel, with huge trays of sandwiches spread around at various points to eat when desired.  He was not allowed to linger in any saloon too long, just one pass around the bar, after which the owner showed him out, shoving a handful of sandwiches inside his shirt. He would eat one or two and still had plenty to carry home.

Later, when he grew enough to lie about his age, he was able to find steady work in a silk mill. Whenever she could Grandma would send him to Uncle Henry’s farm to stay overnight, or perhaps a weekend. He told me, years later, he believed she did this because she felt he needed the companionship of a Father. As soon as he arrived he would begin asking his Uncle, “When are we going fishing?” His Uncle would say “As soon as the moon is right in the sky, we will go.” Whenever the fish question would arise, his Uncle would look at the sky and say “The moon is still not right.” Then one day while he was there, his Uncle said “Now the moon is right.” They caught so many; they were up most of the night cleaning fish. When Uncle Henry’s dog dropped her first litter, he was presented with one of the pups. This dog became not only his constant companion, but also a hard worker. The dog hauled all the coal he picked for the fires at home.

The Courtship

He said he worked for John Booth at that time between 1920 and 1922. He operated and maintained a large steam powered roller when the roads were being paved between Finch Hill and Clifford. He walked back and forth to the job every day, past the four corners toward Clifford. When he passed the Moran farm he could see this young girl working in the fields with her large sunbonnet and shiny black hair flowing in the wind. He looked for her every day as he passed the farm. He would see her driving the huge team of horses, walking the cows into the barn for milking, or working in the gardens. Then there were days, perhaps, when he did not see her at all and wondered if she were sick or had gone away.

He was determined to see this young lady close up, at least one time. One day, when he was sure she was in the house, he knocked on the door, introduced himself to his future father-in-law, and asked to borrow a tool he was in dire need of. After this incident, there began a constant borrowing and returning of tools (which he perhaps never used). Eventually, after a reasonable length of time and Grandpa's approval, he walked to the house in the evenings and sat in the parlor with Mother. She would play the piano for him and at times, Uncle John and Aunt Gert, the youngest of the Moran’s, would help entertain by singing. Dad always carried gum and candy with him on these visits; when he passed it to the young ones, they knew it was time to leave the parlor. At 10 p.m. every night Grandfather Moran would take the raker and shake down the fires, probably creating as much noise and hee-hawing as possible. Dad knew it was tine to leave the house.

Apparently after some time elapsed, Grandpa decided to take advantage of this strong, red headed light heavyweight. At the time, aside from farming, Grandpa was also a fight promoter and trainer. Whenever he needed a sparring partner for one of his fighters, he would take Dad into Carbondale with him and put him in the ring. Dad wasn't particularly interested in this sport, but he certainly wasn't about to disappoint his future Father-in-law. His game was baseball. On his tour of duty with the Army in the Panama Canal Zone, he was a very accurate fastball pitcher; he threw no fancy curves, just a quick fastball over the plate.

As time passed, and most likely after their engagement, they would walk together across the fields—a short cut, as Mother said, to the dances at Newton Lake. Mother liked to dance but Dad wasn't too interested. He would move away from her a little, at her request, so the other young men would ask her to dance. Sunday always seemed to be their special day together. Dad had a fast horse and a surrey he was very proud of (the story was he sold the car he had and bought the horse and carriage). They drove this surrey into Carbondale to Mass at St. Rose, sometimes racing other young drivers coming or going. Most of the time they would take the long way home around Crystal Lake. Dad always left the house an hour or so earlier for work so he could stop at the Moran's barn to help mother milk her cows. Each of the five elder Morans had their assigned cows to milk before school. He told me once I wouldn't believe the language and bickering he heard as he approached the barn, and Mother and Uncle Bill, the two oldest, trying in vain to keep peace.

In the Spring of 1922, Grandpa gave Mother a piece of land to use for herself. She put in potatoes and with the money she made in the Fall of that year was able to buy her complete outfit for her wedding. With her brother, Uncle Bill, and Dad's sister Loretta in attendance, they were married in St. Rose Church on November 22, 1922.
Many years later, as I drove our little Mother to Carbondale down Fallbrook Street, she would point and say, “Look Joe, there is the first house your Father and I lived in after our marriage. It is still there.”

The Dry Cow

He had an old cow in his dairy herd whose milking days were over. She still looked good for her age and moved with the quickness of a young calf. Somehow he heard of a man from Jermyn who was looking for a dairy cow. After the deal was made and before the buyer arrived to pay for his cow, Dad took a bicycle pump and pumped air into the cow's udder. When the man arrived Dad cautioned him to walk the cow home very slow, and again stressed this point as he was leaving. The next day the man claimed he couldn't get milk from the cow, only air.  Dad appeared very upset at this saying, "I told you to walk that cow slow – now you have ruined a good milking cow!”

The Churn Dog

He told me making butter from that top cream of the milk in a small churn took a lot of time and effort. One summer day, a salesman came along with a churn dog, and naturally, all the necessary equipment to make butter the modern and efficient way. He made the sale and unloaded the harness, treadmill and dog, with instructions to set it up. Grandma and Dad put the dog on the treadmill and when they elevated the treadmill the dog had no choice but to run and churn the butter. I suppose they would leave him on there for the one or two hours it would take, while they devoted their time to other chores. As she did with every chore, a certain day of the week was scheduled for this particular job. Everything went smoothly for several weeks. The old dog would hang around outside, following Dad around, perhaps in and out of the house, sometimes becoming a nuisance under foot. As time passed, however, the dog became harder to locate on churn day. Eventually he became lost for the whole day and churning had to be postponed until his return. This would upset Grandma's entire schedule. I can imagine that poor dog running continuously on that treadmill for perhaps two hours. Dad said it was uncanny how that dog knew when churning day was approaching. To solve this problem the dog had to be tied up the night before the scheduled day, and eventually, butter was churned on different days each week.

Measure of Wealth

He told me this was the measure of a man's wealth; I never understood why canning and preserving every Fall was so important. The cold cellar, built beneath the ground and house in a special way, maintained the same temperature all year.  Nothing froze during winter or spoiled in summer. The potato bins were full and the winter apples stored in the same manner. Quart and pint canning jars were neatly arranged on shelves with the date and contents.  Everything possible was cooked and carefully preserved, such as beans, beets, tomatoes, chili sauce, sauerkraut in crocks, pears, peaches, applesauce, berries, jellies and much more. Grandma was almost totally blind from cataracts. She would set up her jars on a worktable near the window in direct sunlight to pour. She would point with her finger to a line on the jar and tell me "When I reach here, tell me to stop." I was too young to pour the hot contents of the pots for her, during those early years, but pleased to be a part of the fall canning.

Thanks Tom...

Here's a hug from Mom. Very nice post...