Your card recid and was glad to hear that you were coming Thanksgiving. Come on the eight(?) in afternoon and get off at Hammond. Will be there to meet you on the 24th.
Henry and Mary Rothgarn (?)
There’s a lot that I love about this card, from the upside down stamp to the beautiful front of the postcard, to the fact that friends were traveling to see friends for Thanksgiving. I wonder if these were young people traveling to see other young people, or older friends and family. I also imagine they took the train, which gives everything a bit of nostalgia.
Driving over this highway to-day it is beautiful thinking of you,
Mrs. Wanack (or Wamack)
In 1935, Franklin D. Roosevelt was president, “Black Sunday”, a devastating storm that ravaged the dust bowl, took place, the WPA (Works Progress Administration) was created, Babe Ruth appeared in his last career game, and the Barker Gang (including Ma Barker) were killed in a shootout with the FBI. Prohibition may have been lifted, but it’s effects were far reaching.
The Multnomah highway and adjoining Benson Bridge were built between 1914-1916. The footbridge shown in the postcard gives up close access to the falls — the second tallest year round falls in the United States — while the highway takes motorists across the creek. It’s one of the most photographed historical structures in Oregon, and it’s easy to see why. Even in black and white the image is breathtaking.
Despite being smack in the middle of the Great Depression, people still had cars, and they still enjoyed driving those cards to see America. From only this postcard, we can’t possibly know if Mrs. Wanack was visiting family, or simply on vacation for fun, but the views she would have seen are clearly breathtaking. It’s also touching that she thought of Mrs. Peck on the bridge.
As often happens when researching, I struggled to find these women. With only last names, it’s fairly impossible. Especially somewhere like Los Angeles. There were a multitude of Pecks, many of them women, so it’s hard to say who was our Mrs. E. Peck. I went through a large number of them, hoping I could find a married sister with the last name that matched or was close to Wanack. Alas, no luck.
I hate not finding a first name for women obscured by their husband’s last name. However, it’s clear the two carried a strong bond of friendship, and at least we can tell that story. May you all find bonds of sisterhood today.
You will be somewhat surprised when you find I am in Chicago but am here in the interest of music. If it is overnight(?) for me to stop at your place on my way home please let me know.
(flipped) I expect to be here another week or so. Address me 267 Michigan Ave
Lovingly,
Lizzie
Chicago in 1909 was a melting pot of industry, progressive ideals, tax dodging and mob bosses. In this illustrious year, the first men’s march supporting women voting occurred in Chicago, voters pushed to end “white slavery” (it was a fear that white women were being kidnapped and sold into sex slavery overseas), and various smoke bombs were deployed in theaters by striking workers.
It was also the era of Ragtime. I can’t guarantee that when Lizzie found herself in Chicago in 1909, she was there seeking out Ragtime. I don’t know if she played an instrument, sang, or studied music at a conservatory. But, Ragtime filled dance halls and paved the way for the Jazz age of the 1920’s. If you haven’t heard ragtime — yes you have. Simply search it on youtube and you’ll immediately recognize the syncopated (or “ragged”) melodies and the staccato piano notes. There’s a promise to ragtime. It’s like a hot August day but with the sweet, crisp smell of fall on the wind.
For Lizzie, the Chicago music scene must have been scintillating. But Aurora was nothing to sneeze at, either.
Situated 44 minutes outside of Chicago (by car), Aurora, Illinois was dubbed the city of lights, because it was the first city in the United States to use electricity to light the public streets. Now, it’s the second biggest city in Illinois (next to Chicago). It’s no wonder, then, that Lizzie hoped to stay with friends or family.
As for Lizzie and S.W? Unfortunately, I couldn’t find either of them. As is so often the case, the postcard addressee is hidden behind the name of her husband. Now, if I knew a first name for certain, I may be able to find her. However, with only the initials, and since I’m not entirely certain with the spelling of the last name — it’s like searching for a needle in a haystack.
Nonetheless, this card seems filled with breathless anticipation. It’s the turn of the twentieth century. Music is becoming more lively, and dark nightclubs cater to young clients. Lizzie is in Chicago for music. What an exciting adventure that must have been.
Front of postcard is an image of “The Auditorium” the largest theater in Chicago at the time. Saved from demolition, the auditorium still hosts a variety of events.
…dining room girl and tomorrow I expect a woman to help in the kitchen, then I will have fixed out for the summer. Ruth is not with me this summer. How. wish you could come and see me this summer. I think it would do you good. Can’t you come? My address at the lake is:
My Lake Cousin
Grass Lake
Michigan
Write me. With love to you and Ted.
Grace P
The village of Grass Lake is a small community nestled in the mid-west corner of Michigan. As of 2020, just over 1000 people lived in the village. In the early 1900’s, the main industries would have centered around the railroad, as well as the lake. Possibly tourism as well.
Unfortunately, I can only guess as to the origins of this postcard. It’s got no divided back, which would date it prior to 1907. However, it also doesn’t have a “Post Card” or “Private Mailing Card” stamped anywhere. While the cursive on the card is beautiful, it’s not the sweeping loops we’d see on a postcard from 1900-1905.
There are a few other clues as well. The somewhat laid back and conversational tone (“it would do you good”, “can’t you come”) of the card indicates to me that it wasn’t written during he first decade of the 20th century. Grace also mentions that she’s “fixed out for the summer”, which tells me it’s an extended vacation. My gut tells me this was written somewhere in the decade of the 1920’s, although I suppose it could have been anywhere between 1920-1940.
Who was Grace? Without a postmark, date, or even last name, I couldn’t research her, or her cousins. But, I have a few guesses.
My primary guess is that this is a young(ish) wife who’s family is at the cabin for the summer. Grass Lake is close enough to larger cities that it’s feasible Grace stayed at the cottage while her husband traveled back and forth for work. With her husband gone, she’d want another adult as company — hence the card sent to her cousin.
My other thought is a teenager. However, it seems unlikely that a teen would say “I expect a woman to help in the kitchen”. She’d probably say “Mama expects a woman to…”. So, while I guess it’s possible, I don’t think that this card was from a teen.
Poor Grace. I hope she found company in her loneliness. I sure wish I had the other part of her letter.
My hearty sympathy to you in your sorrow and hopes for a bright ending.
Sincerely,
O. Fred Letts
In 1910, William Howard Taft was president, Hallmark Cards was formed by Joyce Hall, and the first unofficial Father’s Day was observed in the United States. Theodore Roosevelt had just returned from his African tour, and the US Parole Commission was created which allowed those convicted of federal crimes the chance at early release.
My search for Reverend A.A. Forshee turned up gobs of information. He was a prolific pastor and missionary and I managed to find a slew of documents that traced his career in the Baptist church. It seems that in 1899 he had a congregation in Michigan. In 1901 he and his wife served a mission in the Philippines where, at least according to the document he helped create, he had moderate success at building a church, a church school, and conversions.
I’m a little unclear how long he was there. At least 9 years, as this postcard is dated 1910 and addressed to the Philippines. But by 1913 it seems he was living in New York City, though still traveling to Michigan to preach.
After 1913, however, he sort of disappears. Because I don’t have a full first name, I’m struggling to confidently locate him through Family Search and, frustratingly, all the documents linked above mention his wife as “and wife.” No first name…just “wife”. Talk about women being obscured in the record! I guarantee she was doing as much missionary work as him, but getting none of the credit.
O. Fred Letts was just as easy…if not easier to find. His first name was Oscar. Born in 1883, by 1910 he was 27 years old, married to a woman named Molly Vorhes and working as a conductor on the Railroad. At some point, he and Molly must have divorced, because Fred married Bertha Huffman in 1929.
Since we know that Rev. Forshee previously lived in Michigan, we can assume that he was either friends with Fred Letts, or, as I think is the case, Fred Letts had been part of his church prior to the Rev. leaving on his mission work. It’s possible that this card was part of a larger package that included various other messages from the congregation. That would explain the lack of stamp and postmark.
But what was the event that caused the outpouring of sympathy? My first thought is either the sickness or death of his wife. The strange part of this postcard is “hopes for a bright ending.” It’s feasible that there was some sort of long sickness affecting one or both of the Forshee’s. It’s also possible that there was some sort of natural disaster or event that caused damage and/or destruction to the mission grounds themselves.
It’s also possible that Fred Letts didn’t know exact circumstances. At some point in our lives, we’ve all been asked to write a card for someone we don’t really know. Perhaps Fred wanted to cover all his bases.
For now we will simply have to allow our imaginations to run wild with the possibilities. I do wish that I could have found more information on the Rev., simply because I would have liked to name his wife properly in this blog. Especially if she passed away. Alas, the historical record is a harsh and stingy mistress. She works much harder to conceal than to reveal.
Front of Postcard. Glitter detailing along the card. Picture of the Horticultural Building in Detroit, Mich.
We are in Underwood now and are going to the Gaywall’s(?) for dinner. We’re invited to Mr. Jennings tomorrow.
Your own,
Lueila
If you’ve been a connoisseur of my blog for more than a day, you probably know that I love me a 1908 postcard. 1908 was firmly in the postcard golden age (which ran from 1905-1915) and in fact, by the end of June of that year, over 7 million postcards had been mailed in the United States since their inception. Lueila and Rachel were a part of that movement.
Dropping this postcard into history a bit, let me review. In June 1908 the Progressives are in power with the great Theodore Roosevelt as President. He was nearing the end of his tenure, and the election that followed would be the battle of the Williams: with William Howard Taft defeating William Jennings Bryan. The world was days away from the Tunguska Event in Russia, Henry Ford rolled the Model T’s off the production lines, and the Wright Brothers were perfecting flight.
Meanwhile, Lueila and her sister Rachel “Rae” Blakely lived in Canisota, South Dakota. 30 miles away from Sioux Falls, Canisota was incorporated in 1900, but built in 1883 as a railroad town for the Chicago Northwestern Railroad. I expect it was a small town then, but it’s small today as well, with just under 700 full time residents. Needless to say, the sisters were probably both isolated and free ranging all at once.
When I first started researching this postcard, I was pretty sure the name on the card was Louis, or maybe Louie. I made the mistake of making an assumption and thinking this was some sort of letter from a man to his girl. I guess that’s what I get for reading too many romance novels. I was set on the right path by a simple query in the Family Search database where I found Rachel.
Born in South Dakota in 1899, Rachel lived her whole life in either Canisota or Sioux Falls. The youngest of four daughters, Rachel was fifteen years younger than her eldest sibling, and ten years younger than Lueila. She was never married, and in the last census I have access to (1920) she was still living with her parents and unemployed. It’s possible she was attending some type of school or assisting her aging parents.
I knew I had the right person, because Lueila was attached to the record, but it read “Lue?La” because the census was difficult to read. A little more digging (what like it’s hard?) and I found another — more legible — census that clearly shows Lueila as the name. This is awesome because I couldn’t read the name initially.
Born in 1889 in Canada, Lueila emigrated with her parents and elder sisters to South Dakota in 1897. Like Rachel, she was single and living with her parents in 1920. She was 32 years old. The census indicates that she’s a wage worker of some sort, but for the life of me I can’t read the job title.
Since Rachel was only 9 years old in 1908, it stands to reason that Lueila, possibly with some or all of her older sisters, were traveling during the summer and visiting friends or relatives. Canisota was also a deeply rural and agricultural town. It’s possible they were “hired out” to another family member to help with chores like sewing and weaving.
What’s exiting about this postcard was that I was able to fix a little bit of the record for Lueila in Family Search and include her name and residence in 1920. This extends the record by a decade. It’s also very special when I can uncover women’s history. Even in 2024, there’s so much of our lives that remain “unseen”. When we’re gone, the only things that trail us are the documents that made up our lives. Many of these are official government records; cold and impersonal, they can’t possibly breathe color into a life fully lived.
It’s small, but this project helps do that. Rachel probably was bummed she didn’t get to go with Lueila. Like a good older sister, Lueila took advantage of the postcard craze and wrote to Rachel, probably more than once. We are lucky that we get to share in that moment.
*It is possible that Lueila is actually Louila. However, two of three census records show Lueila, so that’s what I’m going for.
A somewhat chilly image of the South Dakota Badlands. Real Photo Postcard
Come over Sunday and see our new man and we will go swimming. Haven’t much time guess I’ll stop. Good by till next time.
Your friend,
S.D.
In 1922, Warren Harding was President, the tomb of Tutankhamun was discovered by Howard Carter, the Lincoln Memorial was dedicated, and the California Grizzly Bear was hunted to extinction. It was a time of prohibition, speakeasies, flappers, consumerism, and a relative softening of social standards. You might even say it was the bee’s knees.
I imagine it must have been a thrilling time to be a young person. Although pay was still low and working hours were still long, the uptick in production in the wake of World War I meant that things were affordable. A young person could afford to live on their own and had free time to spend co-mingling with friends.
S.D. and John Henker (though it could be Henher?) likely wanted to take advantage of everything that the “roaring” 20’s had to offer them, which is evident in the note. It seems S.D. lived with roommates and got a new one, as he’s telling John to come over to see “our new man”. S.D. had a new buddy and he wanted to introduce the new buddy to the old.
Hugo is only twelve minutes by modern car to Forest Lake. Yet, S.D. chose to send a card by post on Monday, June 19. This tells me that despite their proximity, both men were probably busy working or maybe even going to school. They also lived far enough away that they wouldn’t cross paths. And, although there were telephones, it was probably difficult or annoying to use one. Thus, the postcard.
As for the actual people involved, I couldn’t find them. Since all I have are the initials, S.D. will forever remain a historical mystery for us. Same with John. I tried a few variations of the last name. Henker, Hencher, Henher, even Herher. Alas, it was to no avail.
There is a current John Henker living in Minnesota and I’m inclined to think that the last name is Henker, but I can’t be for sure. Especially since S.D. didn’t have the clearest handwriting. He frequently made spelling mistakes (tim instead of time, gesss instead of guess, fridend instead of friend). I don’t think that he was a bad speller, I think he was writing quickly and simply muddled some words.
Ah well. Maybe I’ll have better luck finding people tomorrow. As it stands, I think this is a wonderful postcard to a friend, and conjures images of warm summers, cool swims, and a gang of jolly fellows enjoying one another’s company.
Front of Postcard: Successful Farming’s Modern Fire Proof Plant
Snow and frost and bitter cold cuts deep into my skin, breaking open long healed scars that were once gaping wounds.
Barren trees tremble and the ground cracks with ice.
You came. You came.
Alone and needy, you smell my fire and melt into a smile.
And despite the crows warning, I give you refuge. I shelter you in my soft depths and keep you warm in the dark winter.
A sparrow sings. Snowdrops dip their heads above ground. On the first day of March, the moon blots out the sun. In the darkness, you slip away, leaving only petals in your wake.
I could never hold you. I am winter reborn. Frost and starlight, cold nights and silver moons. I sparkle like icy frost, but you glitter like morning dew.
You always leave. But this time you left a seed.
I feel it changing my body from within. Planting roots. Budding like a shy violet in the light of the day.
Hipstory 