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.