The four siblings Violet
(born February 10, 1913), Mae (born October 12, 1916), Henry (aka “Bozo” to
family -born March 23, 1926), and Ocee (born June 7, 1928) were born and raised
on the Groppe Farm which has been detailed previously in this historical
record.
On July 23, 1996, Mae Groppe
Popp wrote (in a letter to my parents, Ocee and Peggy):
“A long time ago Bennie (Mae’s husband) started talking to
Violet and I about writing our memories of Papa and Mama, the farm, the
buildings, our lives, etc., but we just didn’t.
Then he and Bozo once got together and they decided that Bennie should
keep a tape recorder handy when Violet and I talked about our memories but that
didn’t work either because the minute we saw him with that tape recorder, we
would stop talking. Very recently, Bozo
mentioned that he wished Violet and I had done that because the younger
generation had no idea of what the farm looked like back then and what life was
really like in those days. So a couple
of weeks ago I started writing and as you can see I wrote pages and pages,
rambling on and on. There were probably
more important or interesting things I should have written about but I couldn’t
think of them. I’m blaming it on old age
or any other excuse I can think of. Yet,
I’m brave enough to send you and Bozo a copy.
Doug and I went to the farm recently and it was really hot there too, no
breeze. It seemed so unreal not having
Violet there. We always had so much to
talk about. She would come to the farm
or I’d go to her house . . . . ”
This
is Mae Groppe Popp’s story . . . .
I
remember so well the three room house where we four children were born. It had a parlor, bedroom and kitchen. The house had three open porches, one across
the front of the house with an entrance to the parlor and one to the
bedroom. The large kitchen at the back
had a porch on each side. The one on the
east side had a well nearby. The porch
on the west side had a wooden plank walk leading from it to a long narrow
building. This building was divided into
four sections. The first section housed
a stationary engine and a water pump.
Above this section was a wooden tower on which stood a large galvanized
storage tank which held our running water supply. It was filled with water pumped from the tank in the pasture. This storage tank had a round opening on the
top, about 18 inches in diameter, with a close fitting lid. Every so often, after sediment had collected
at the bottom, Papa would drain it completely and with a rope around my waist,
would lower me down through the opening.
He would lower a bucket and rope and I would scrape this slippery
sediment in the bucket which he would pull up and empty. We did this until we had gotten it nice and
clean. It was fun for me sliding around
inside. We, of course, had to do this on
a cool pleasant day so that it would not be too hot for me inside the tank.
Next
to the engine room was the wash room with a brick floor. In this room was Mama’s extra large washing
machine with a metal rack attached on which were placed two large galvanized
wash tubs. The washing
machine was run by pulley and belt from an overhead shaft powered by the engine. The washed clothes were fed through a wringer
into the wash tubs filled with rinsing water.
The
section next to the wash room was the milk room.
It had a wooden walk from the porch of our house which ran straight to this
room. The milk room played a big role in
all of our lives. It contained the big
milk separator and the large 50 gallon wooden butter churn. These were also run by the pulley and belt
from the overhead shaft. The ice box
with several doors was also in this room.
It held a 100 pound block of ice.
A lot of butter was churned here, and had to be molded and wrapped with
parchment paper on which was printed our familiar slogan, “Henry Groppe’s High
Grade Home Grown Dairy.” Papa molded and
I or Violet wrapped. Papa had a butter
route in Waco selling 100 pounds a week to private customers house to
house. These were some of the most
beautiful homes in Waco. Some were three
story, the top floor being a ball room.
Once I had the occasion to be invited by the “lady of the house” to go up
and see the ballroom. I was delighted
and impressed.
After
many years the butter route was discontinued and we established the milk route
in West, delivering milk to homes and business establishments. We practically supplied the town of West with
fresh whole milk, coffee cream and whipping cream from those Jersey cows. We children ran the milk delivery route in
different stages of our lives, quite an accomplishment since the milking, bottling and delivery had to all be done before school.
Next
to the milkroom section was the smoke house.
It had a concrete floor with rods above from which hung stuffed pork
sausage. Hog butchering time could be
another story which I won’t go into.
The
farm, the dairy and the horses all made for a busy life with lots of responsibilities
but I have fond memories and I like to think of the farm, the big barn with the
hay loft, the two tall round wooden red silos, the cowpen, the horse barn, the
chicken house, the hog pen and so on.
After
those precious little brothers were born, the three room house was no longer
large enough. Violet and I, however
liked sleeping in the parlor on that beautiful folding bed which when closed
was a pretty piece of furniture with a curved dark walnut front. There was also a pretty dark walnut wardrobe
with full length wardrobe with full length mirror. This room had a colorful room size rug on the
floor. But now there were two little
boys in our lives so in 1929 Papa and Mama hired a contractor and began the
building of our new three bedroom brick home.
Bozo was about three years old, Ocee one, Violet sixteen and I
thirteen.
Before
the building of our new home was begun, Grandpa and Grandma Groppe’s house was
torn down so that some of the lumber could be used. I have sweet memories of Grandpa and Grandma
and their home. Violet and I were two
lucky little girls to have had them living so near us. They spoiled us with their constant loving
attention. After Grandpa passed away,
Grandma lived with us. During the day
she often took us with her to her house and while there always talked to us
about Grandpa. She did not hide her
feelings or tears, sometimes lying on their bed hugging his pillow. We cried with her because we missed him too.
While Grandpa and Grandma were living we spoke German. After they were gone we gradually
discontinued speaking German and Bozo and Ocee never learned the German
language.
In
the fall of 1929 when our new house was being built, Violet started to high
school. She and I had gone to a little
one room school house, near our church, about a mile from our house. Here we received our grammar school
education. Going to West High School was
no small undertaking. There were few
gravel roads. Papa and Mama bought us a
new 1929 Model A Ford coupe with a rumble seat.
Papa always being a bit of a show-off, had an awning type top with
fringe installed above the rumble seat.
So, after not having gone to school for two years, Violet was off to high
school. I followed a year later. When it rained a lot, those black mud roads
could be bad. When this was the case we
tried to make it to the Tours road, which was graveled, instead of going the
regular road to West. That way Papa
could keep us in sight and if we got stuck in the mud, he would come with a
team of mules or tractor and pull us out.
If we were late for school it was no problem. Mr. Cantrell, the superintendent, admired our
efforts. We were told to always go to
our class even if it had already begun.
Papa and Mrs. Cantrell became friends.
I remember Mr. and Mrs. Cantrell coming to see us and Mama making
homemade ice cream and peach cobbler. It
was said that friends and relatives came often; Papa always entertained and
Mama always had good things to eat.
One
day Papa came back from Waco with a portable Victrola. Our new house was coming along nicely by now
so Papa and Mama told Violet that she could invite her high school friends for
a party, which she did. They danced to
music from the new Victrola in the new house on the floors which had not yet
been finished. That Victrola played a
big role in our high school days. Since
no one else had one, we were always asked to bring it to outings and
parties. During my senior year in high
school I had my friends over almost every Friday night.
Papa
and Mama were always ready to give us lots of pleasure to make up for all our
responsibilities. The relatives would
sometimes make remarks about Violet and I running around with “that wild crowd”
in West. Papa and Mama completely ignored
those remarks. They knew all of our friends
because they were at our house a lot. We
often had friends spending the night with us.
We could never spend the night anywhere because of the dairy. We had privileges almost unheard of in those
times. They always told us to have a
good time when we went out, that they did not worry about us because they had
taught us right from wrong and if we got in trouble it was not because we did
not know better. They also told us to
pick our friends for what they were, nationality or religion did not matter. We were never spanked as children and rarely
punished for anything we did but when we had not fulfilled our responsibilities
we were reminded.
I
remember one time seeing Papa check the oil in the car – I cringed because I
knew I hadn’t checked it recently. A bit
later he came into the house, not angry but said, “that’s right just keep
driving that car as long as it has gas, don’t bother checking the oil or
water.” He then went back outside. You can bet I checked the car regularly after
that. It was easy enough since we had a
fifty gallon drum of oil with a spigot and oil can at the back side of the
garage. Of course, that gasoline pump
was right there, too.
I
want to add here that Violet, by taking extra subjects, finished high school in
three years instead of four and was the valedictorian of her class. Then, quite a few years later those two
little brothers went to West High School and were valedictorians of their
graduating classes. At Ocee’s graduation
the superintendent announced that this was the third of Mr. and Mrs. Henry
Groppe’s four children to be valedictorian.
Guess who was not. I did skip the
fifth grade at that little country school but then I went to high school and
had a good time. Papa told me that he
didn’t want us all alike – so there.
Papa
and Mama often remarked that they had to send someone off to school over a long
period of time. When I was a senior in
high school Bozo was in the first grade at West Grammar School. The little country school that Violet and I
attended was long gone. I still feel bad
when I think of Bozo waiting for me to pick him up while I fooled around after
school. A dear lady, Mrs. Haidik, who lived
across the street from his school felt sorry for that little fellow sitting on
the school steps and invited him to wait for me at her house. He liked her.
She was a loving person.
During
summer and early fall before school started we all had other
responsibilities. One of mine was to
hitch a trailer to the car and drive through the part of town where the black
people lived blowing my horn. Those who
wanted to work in the fields came out of their houses and climbed into the trailer. There was probably standing room in the
trailer for about ten and others would get in the car with me. We knew many black families back then. I would drive them out to the field. In the early part of the season, to chop
cotton and in early fall to pick cotton.
During cotton picking time, I would stay in the field, sitting in the
car reading, eating snacks or whatever.
When the pickers had their sacks full, they would come to the trailer to
weigh on the cotton scales which hung on the back of the trailer. I wrote down the number of pounds each had
picked. They emptied the cotton in the
trailer and went back to pick more. They
were paid by the number of pounds they each picked. When the trailer had about 1500 pounds on it,
I often hauled it to the gin but Papa did most of the time.
While
I was weighing cotton out in the field, Violet was at our house helping Mama
with those two sweet little brothers of ours, and all the many other things
that had to be done. As I write this we
no longer have our dear sister. We miss
her so terribly much and always will. I
wish I could talk to her right now as I’m writing this. She could add so much.
When
those little boys came along, Violet and I were beside ourselves with
happiness. No one can possibly know how
much we loved them. They were better
than dolls to play with. We would dress
and undress them in funny clothes, curl their hair with curlers and goodness
know what else we did. We often talked
about how vividly we remembered all the phases of their little lives. When they were little they would, of course,
get into things and make a mess. If Mama
ever wanted to perhaps scold them, Violet and I would quickly grab them and run
outside. I can still see Mama’s look of
frustration. If we were all going
somewhere we liked dressing them in their pretty clothes. Mama always shopped for their little outfits
at Cox’s and Goldstein Migel’s in Waco because they carried the nicest
clothes. I believe about that time we
had the big Franklin car and we four would all go with Mama to Waco. As time went on those little boys grew by
leaps and bounds and it seemed that Mama was making more shopping trips that
ever because they were out growing their clothes so fast. Papa insisted that his boys never wear “high
water pants” as he called them. I might
mention here that Violet and I never wore slacks. Papa disliked women or girls in pants. He made it quite clear – his boys dressed
like boys and his girls dressed like girls.
However, Mama allowed me to sew a pair of slacks to wear to the skating
rink. After dark I would hang those
slacks on the front yard gate then I would walk out by Papa in a skirt and then
change to the slacks outside. Mama sewed
beautifully. She made mine and Violet’s
dresses when we were small. As we got
older she encouraged us to sew. I took
sewing in Home Economics in high school.
She suggested I make my prom dress as my home economics project which I
did. She refused to help me sew it but
was willing to show me how. Mama had a
flair for clothes which she came by naturally from her mother. Grandma Heitmiller dressed her daughters
beautifully, one need only to look at her daughters’ wedding pictures. Grandma Heitmiller came from a prominent
family in Germany. Mama told us that
there was royal blood if one went back far enough. She didn’t seem to be much interested in that
but she did tell Bennie she would one day put it all in writing. That was when Bennie was trying to research
Mama’s side of the family. However, she never did. Grandpa Heitmiller was known to sometimes
teasingly say “I beg your pardon, your royal highness” to Grandma.
Mama
was so pretty. When I was a gangly skinny
teenager I was always wishing I was pretty like her. Papa was handsome in that Stetson hat and his
bolo tie. He courted quite a few girls
in that fancy buggy with matched ponies.
Some of my friends’ mothers told me that they had dated my dad. All of that was before he met and fell in
love with Mama. He was twenty-seven and
she was seventeen when they married. He
liked for Mama to wear pretty dresses. I
remember two dresses, in particular that he bought her, one a black satin the
other a beige georgette. He also bought
her a double fox neck piece. He would
surprise her with these gifts. He did
this during the time he was delivering butter in Waco. He also bought some of the Christmas presents
for Violet and me. If they were big,
like the double wooden glider swing or Violet’s bicycle, he would drop them off
under the trees in the corner of the pasture near Rosie Mae’s house. Then he and Mama would get them after dark
and hide them in the shack near the tank.
Before
the Franklin, before the Model A Ford and before the two Terraplanes, we had
Model T Fords. I started driving those
model T’s at a very early age. I was
eleven years old when I was allowed to drive to town to take dancing lessons
which were taught on the stage at the City Hall. I was told to go straight there and afterward
to come straight home, but once in a while I would stop at the Old Corner Drug
Store for an ice cream soda. Those ice
cream sodas make me think of Hilda Groppe.
She reminded me of them and other things when Bennie and I visited her
and her husband in Hillsboro a few years ago.
Uncle August had lived in Hill County with his five daughters; their mother
had died. Hilda was the youngest and it
was decided one summer that she come stay with us so that the two of us could
go to confirmation school at our little church.
We went to this class every day for six weeks. When Bennie and I visited her she talked
about Papa and Mama so much. She told us
that those six weeks at her Uncle Henry and Aunt Annie’s house were one of the
happiest times of her life. She reminded
me that after confirmation class we always went to the Old Corner Drug Store
for an ice cream soda before going home and that even though were very young,
Uncle Henry and Aunt Annie approved of almost anything we wanted to do. She talked about Mama taking the two of us to
Waco to buy our white confirmation dresses and shoes saying she felt like a member
of our family. She paid so many
beautiful tributes to Papa and Mama.
Bennie remarked after our visit that he wished he had a recording of all
the things Hilda talked about. She was
always so full of life and spirit. We
all loved her but sadly she passed away in early 1994.
Not
very long ago Violet reminded me of the time I ran into our iron yard
fence. I was driving but she said that
we were both at fault because we were fighting over who would drive. Papa told us it was no problem, that he could
remove that section and straighten it with a sledge hammer, which he did. The Model A wasn’t damaged. I also had an accident one Sunday morning when
I bumped into the Willigs’ car as I was coming out of our entrance The Willig family was on the way to
church. I bumped that Model T and it
very slowly fell on its side. I was
petrified but thank goodness no one was hurt.
Papa, of course, came and they up-righted the car. A rear tire was ruined but unbelievably no other
damage was done. Cars must have been
much more sturdy back then. Papa removed
a tire from a trailer to replace the ruined tire of their car and they were on
their way. I was terribly upset. Papa and Mama didn’t fuss at me, they felt
sorry for me. Their patience with all of
us was almost unreal.
When
Violet and I were in high school, we knew how to keep the car in running
condition. If we needed tires we bought
them at Hlavaty’s Garage. One day
something was wrong with the car so I took it to the Capitol Garage where Papa
traded. After I was told what needed to
be done, I asked them to go ahead and fix it, but Mr. Gerik told me that he
had better first call my dad. I tried to
tell him that wasn’t necessary but he insisted.
When he came back after calling, he started working on the car without
saying a word to me. When I got home,
Papa told me that I would not have that kind of problem again because he told
Mr. Gerik that whenever one of his daughters came in for repairs that he need
not call because we would write him a check for the repairs. Apparently, it irritated Papa because Mama
had to call him to the phone from wherever he was outside. He often mentioned that just because we were
girls, we were not to be treated any different.
I
was on the road a lot running errands, having plow points sharpened at the
blacksmith, going to the bank for money to pay the hands working in the field
and getting things Mama needed. Those
two little brothers were always eager to go with me and I very often did take
them. What a sweet memory that is, one
on each side of me holding my hand, going with me wherever I had to go and
getting a lot of attention from people.
Mama always reminded me to drive carefully because I had the
responsibility of those two little ones.
I suppose I was known to drive a little fast but I was careful when I
had them with me. Occasionally Papa
would come back from town and tell Violet and I things, such as Frank Hlavaty
remarking that we probably would not have to buy so many tires if we would slow
down crossing those railroad tracks.
Papa would smile a little telling us but I’m sure he felt it served a
purpose. Doug things it’s funny that
people still come up to me at Sulak’s Cafe and other places saying they still
remember me racing around in that Model A.
He says it’s unbelievable how often he hears things like that about
me. So it was not too surprising to have
a man walk up to me at the cemetery after Violet’s funeral to say he remembered
me as the girl in that Terraplane with my blond hair flying. I have no idea who that man was. Doug was again amazed.
Those
two little brothers grew up to make us all proud, in spite of Violet and I
spoiling them rotten. Papa and Mama made
no secret of how proud they were of them.
Violet has often told of the time she visited Papa and Mama and was given
a letter to read which they had received from a Blume relative. Apparently, this letter was in response to
letters received from Papa and Mama.
After reading the letter, Violet looked at them and jokingly asked, “did
you ever tell them that you also have two girls?” With no hesitation Papa looked a Mama and
said, “I don’t remember, did we?”
Hay
baling time was always an important time on the farm. Papa and Uncle Will purchased a power hay
baler, a big improvement over the mule operated kind. It still took several days and lots of
manpower to bale all that hay. In good
years that huge loft in the barn was filled to capacity with those rectangular
bales and sometimes extra space was needed elsewhere. True to her reputation, Mama cooked great
noonday meals for all those men. I can’t
remember, but think there must have been about eight or ten men around her big
dining room table laden with fried chicken, potatoes and many different kinds
of vegetables.
There
were always meringue pies and lots of
iced tea. They always told her how much
they looked forward to her meals. They had
big appetites, in fact, they once had fun weighing Armen on a cotton scale
before and after eating. They swore he
gained ten pounds. I’m not sure that was
true but possible. Armen was the largest
and strongest of all the men and had the hardest job. With a pitchfork he fed the hay into that
power baler. At about 4 p.mm. a lunch
was prepared, sandwiches made with Mama’s homemade bread, cookies and cold
grape juice. This was taken out to the
field for the men. One year at hay
baling time Ocee became ill and had to be taken to the hospital in Waco. When that hay had been cut and dried, no time
could be lost for fear of rain which could ruin it. We were all so concerned about our little
Ocee. Mama of course, stayed at the
hospital night and day with him. Papa, reluctantly
went on with the hay baling and told Mama he would take the men to a restaurant
in town but Mama assured him that was not necessary because Violet and I were
capable of cooking for those men. Which
we did. We cleaned and dressed fryers,
baked pies, etc. I don’t recall any
compliments on our food but I don’t think the men left the table hungry. Mama called frequently from the hospital to
tell us how Ocee was doing also giving Violet and I instructions. We were all hospitalized at one time or
another. None life threatening except
for Ocee. We almost lost that little
fellow two different times. I vividly
remember how terribly frightened we all were.
Thank the good Lord, he made it and we could all be happy once
again. Mama always went to the hospital
with each of us and came home when we did.
We
were not wealthy by any means but we had a wonderful, happy and comfortable life
on our farm. If we did not have a good
cotton crop it was all right because we had the dairy and Papa had Tony, that beautiful
black stallion and also the jack. Many
farmers and others brought their mares to be bred to either Tony or the jack
for a fee. We had every convenience that
was available at that time. In the three
room house we had running water, telephone and overhead carbide gas lighting. In the new house the bathroom had the indoor
toilet, something new for us. Mama had a
gas range with fuel provided by bottled butane gas which she really liked. If any new convenience became available we
had it. I would not ever have wanted to
trade places with any of my friends in town.
At
some time during my teen years, a man from Waco, who was quite a character,
came to West and organized a “Little Theater” which I and a few other girls and
guys joined. He directed us in a
three-act western play. We performed on
the city hall stage and also in two or three small surrounding towns. There were seven or eight of us and I played
the part of a young Mexican girl. I wore
a black wig and had grease paint all over my face and arms. To advertise our play we rode horses all over
town. Papa furnished all the
horses. I rode Tony, who Papa dressed up
with all his fancy net and tassel rigging.
Afterward we all lined up and Urbanovsky Studio took our picture. I have that picture but I’m not sure if I
would want to show it to anybody.
In
my time there no school bands but an older man from Waco, Mr. Allessandro, came
to West twice a week to teach music. He
organized quite a large brass band which I joined. Papa suggested I play slide trombone; why, I’ll
never know. They bought me one. It was almost bigger that I was. It turned out to be pretty good band as there
were quite a few talented young people in West.
Not me, I never really learned to play that trombone but since there
were two good trombone players in the band, I could just fake it. Papa was so talented. He played the violin, the organ and the French
harp. He was always singing around the
house. I remember many of those old
songs he sang, one in particular called “When the Clouds Roll By I’ll Be Coming
Back to You.” I still love that
song. Mama couldn’t carry a tune. I thing we four all took after her. Violet, however, played the piano. She took private lessons. I don’t think any of us will ever forget here
theme song, “Red Wing.”
I could go on writing much more about many
things like Lollypop, my beautiful registered Jersey cow who won first place
and grand champion in so many shows. She
was well known. When she died it appeared
in the West News which I saved.
I could
also write about Linda and Alfred, the black couple who lived in our three room
house for many years, and Mansy and Dara, another couple who lived there. Perhaps, Bozo and Ocee have things they’d
like to add since this is mostly about my fond memories. But as for memories, my sweetest and dearest
memories of course are of Bennie and my precious Doyle.
