The Wilhelm Banek Story
by Ida Karlin (daughter)
(Transcribed by RB, with permission from the Mellette County Historical Society, from "Mellette County 1911-1986" published by the Mellette County Historical Society)
My parents, Wilhelm and Wilhelmina Banek, leased a half
section of Indian land, belonging to the Kills Plenty family, in
Mellette County, four miles east of the Kary Store in the Surprise
Valley Township. They moved out in May 1928 from Tripp County,
near Winner. There was a four-room house and a barn on the new
place but no fences.
A 1928 Chevrolet truck was loaded with most of the furniture and
personal possessions. There were seven of us children in our family.
Father and two of my sisters, Mary and Agnes, drove the truck. My
three brothers, Reinhold, William and Berthold, drove the cattle.
They had four horses hitched to a hayrack, and two saddle horses. A
small shed was put on the hayrack, and there they put the small
calves that were not able to stand the long drive.
My brothers left on the seventh of May, while my father and my two sisters left the next day with the truck, leaving my sister Alida and me alone. We had to stay behind to take our final examination, which was a test over the subjects for the entire year. We had to take them to be able to pass from the eighth and seventh grades. We spent a lonely week until my father came back to get us and the rest of our belongings.
The day my father and sisters left with the truck and its load, it began to rain. They took Highway 18, which went through Rosebud and was not paved at the time. Everything went well until they began going up the Rosebud Hill on the west edge of town. The roads by that time had become very muddy and slippery. The truck began skidding and sliding—just couldn't make it up the hill. My sister Agnes became very frightened and began to cry; she even wanted to walk. A dentist from Rosebud came upon the scene, put Agnes into his car, then helped Father get the truck up the hill. The dentist gave Agnes a ride up the hill, She then returned to the truck and they continued the trip. She tells about how cold and miserable it was when they got to the new home. It, too, was cold. All they had to eat was a cold lunch packed by a neighbor lady, Mrs. Johnson, before they left that morning.
There seems to be a question as to the whereabouts of Mother. I think she was taken to the new home earlier and left there to clean and prepare the house to live in.
The following is the story of the cattle drive as told by my youngest brother Berthold: "I'll never forget the cattle drive from Tripp County to Mellette County. The first day went well with brother Reinhold driving a team of horses hooked to a hayrack whose purpose was to haul newborn calves. Brother Bill and I drove the over one hundred cows. At the time, I was 9 years old. The first evening we stayed at the Moseman farm near Carter.
"The second day I shall never forget because we had a cold rain all afternoon and we were soaking wet. About a mile or so east of Mission we put up for the night at the William Hartman farm. Was I glad. Before eating, and getting into dry clothes, we had to milk over thirty cows. Since I was miserable and tired, my brothers gave me the job to carry the milk to the separator room in the basement. I decided to sit on the step for a minute. That's where they found me, sound asleep, when they came looking for me. The lady of the house wanted to give me supper but I was so tired I couldn't eat, so she tucked me into a feather bed. That is all I remember till the next morning, when I found my clothes dry and a delicious breakfast ready.
"The third day the weather was nice and we arrived at our destination without any problems. [They were still about four miles from home but due to the late hour spent the night with the John Wilds. The next morning they completed the drive.]
"After we got settled in, my job was to herd cows, since there weren't any fences. My brothers used a Fordson tractor to break up the prairie on which we grew corn and flax."
My brother Berthold remembered his first year of herding experience. He was somewhat afraid and watched the cows from high ground. I also had to herd the cattle at times. What an experience—out in the open spaces. Since it was summertime, the cattle would run into the creek and trees. It was difficult to get them all together and headed for home. Then there were times I wasn't quite sure what direction to take.
My youngest sister. Agnes, only about nine at the time, had a terrifying experience. One day while she was out with the cattle several miles from home, the sky darkened and heavy storm clouds came up. The farmer, Bill Collins, helped her put the cattle in the fenced ground and sent her towards home. Hail way home she neared the John Elk Looks Back house when it began to rain. He ran out, grabbed the reins of the horse. She became frightened as she'd been told terrible stories of what the Indians did to white people. She tried to get away; she could not understand the Indian language. Finally he just lifted her off and took her into the house until the storm subsided. When she reached home my worried mother gave her a spanking. What an end to a frightening day!
After school started in the fall the chore of moving cattle to various fenced pastures fell to my older sister, Alida, who had been prone to accidents since childhood. One day she had just gotten as far as the schoolhouse with the cattle as we were being excused. She asked me to finish the drive as she hurried home. She had her right hand clenched lightly to stop the bleeding. To get the cattle out of the pasture she had stopped in a steep draw, taken the barbed wire in her hand, raised it high enough for the cattle to pass safely underneath. Then she urged the horse to pass underneath, thinking it high enough, but the horn of the saddle caught the wire, pulling it through her hand and cutting it severely. It was a three-mile ride home, but by clenching her hand tightly she prevented severe loss of blood.
Her next accident happened about a mile from home. Again she was on horseback riding too close to a barbed wire fence. The horse shied, bringing my sister's leg against the wire, cutting a deep gash just above her ankle. She rode to the porch of the house, calling for help. There was no bleeding from the wound until Mother helped her from the horse. I took charge of the horse while Mother tended to the cut.
Another interesting experience—my sister Alida and I had to close the small chicken coops. Since we didn't do it while it was light, we had to go out in the dark and I ran into a rusty pitchfork protruding from the ground. I didn't tell anyone, but before morning my foot began to throb and was red and swollen. Mrs. John Littau, our neighbor lady, happened to stop by our house. Mother had me keep my foot elevated. When Mrs. Littau examined my foot, she suggested boiling flax, placing it in a bag and covering the swollen foot with the hot pack. It really worked—within a short time, the swelling began going down and the throbbing stopped. We used home remedies, as it was too far to go to the doctor.
Then came the dry years when the dust would blow so one could scarcely see or breathe. I remember pulling the sheet over my nose to filter out some of the dust. The air was heavy with it. If clothes were on the line, they would turn red, yellow or black depending on the state the dust came from. The dust and dirt blew from the fields into drifts, covering the fences in many places. There were no crops or grass for feed. The Russian thistles grew and were put up for hay. It was poor feed. The cattle got thin and so weak that when they would go to the mud hole to get a drink, they often got stuck and would have to be pulled out. My mother and Mrs. Littau, our neighbor lady, with the help of one of us, would do this whenever the men were out in the fields. Often the cow would die in spite of being pulled out and nursed.
During the drought, the grasshoppers came and ate everything in sight—even the wooden fence posts. As we harvested what little grain we could, the hoppers would sit on the machines and on the person riding on it. Occasionally they would even bite.
The grain in that day was cut with a header. The header was either pushed by four horses or if the farmer had a tractor it was used to pull it. A hayrack drawn by horses pulled the rack alongside the header, which elevated the grain onto the rack. When the rack was full it would be unloaded and the grain stacked. Later the threshing machine would be set between the stacks to thresh the grain. Flax, especially, had to be headed as was most other grain until 1935.
After that the grain was cut with a binder, shocked, then later loaded onto (he rack and hauled to the threshing machine. Neighbors would gather to do the threshing and move from farm to farm until everyone was finished. Sometime in the forties, farmers began using combines to harvest except in cases when they wished to have straw for feed and bedding for the animals, especially the oats straw.
Times were hard but my parents never gave up. Their faith in God and hard work kept the family going. They instilled honesty, integrity, hard work, and the habit of saving in all of us. We were taught not to buy anything unless we could pay for it. We never went hungry, as we raised and canned vegetables from the garden which was irrigated from the well. We raised chickens, so had our own eggs. What we didn't use was taken to the store and traded for groceries. We also raised turkeys, ducks and geese, which helped to keep the grasshoppers down in the garden. They also furnished meat to eat and feathers for pillows and feather beds. Feather "ticks" were a necessity since the homes were not heated at night. They were often given as gifts—I'm still using a down quilt made by my mother. We always milked about thirty cows, so had milk, cream and butter. What we didn't use was also sold. The money was used to buy groceries, clothing and repairs.
Even though times were hard, certain traditions were carried on in our home. Mother made kuchen (coffeecake) for special holidays such as Christmas and Easter. She made it from a special sweet dough. On Christmas Eve, we would just have fresh kuchen with coffee and milk for supper. Then the family would attend the special Christmas Eve program at church given by the children. At Eastertime, besides kuchen, Mother would bake baska. This was also made out of sweet dough with raisins. The loaves were baked in round cans such as coffee cans. Later a frosting would be drizzled over the top. For Easter breakfast, we would have sliced baska with colored, soft-boiled eggs.
Each year, in January or February, while it was still cold, we would take a couple of days to butcher a beef and one or two hogs. At times friends would help us, then in turn my parents would help them. Some meat was hung in a cold building to be used while fresh. Then a portion was cut up for canning, and the rest ground up for sausage. The ground meat would be put into casings and then hung to be smoked. Some was eaten while fresh and the rest canned. This homemade sausage was really tasty and such good eating. Liver sausage and head cheese were also made. I have recently learned that some farmers are still carrying on this tradition of their parents in the year of 1985 (families of German descent). We worked Monday through Friday, but on Saturday a trip was made to town to sell the eggs and cream. Then groceries and other shopping was done for the week. Sundays were reserved for attending church and visiting. The parents would gather at one home to visit while the young people gathered at another place to visit and play games. Dances were held in the homes, accompanied by violin music furnished by the Huber brothers, Otto and Bill. There were school programs, box suppers and pie socials. These would be lively events as the men would want to buy the teacher's box, especially if she had a boyfriend. They at times had to pay dearly. Every spring at the end of a school year, a picnic would be held, which was always well attended and enjoyed by everyone. There was always plenty of food and homemade ice cream. Chocolate ice cream made with dark syrup was especially delicious.
During the "Dirty Thirties" the family income was also supplemented in various ways by all members of the family. Father worked as others did on WPA. He helped build what has become known as the Deiss Dam. All the work was done by hand and with horses. It was hard work and the weather at times was cold and miserable. My oldest sister, Mary, worked for the O. A. Hodson family in Norris. Sister Alida gave up her dream of becoming a nurse, to help Mother raise the turkeys, ducks and geese, many of which were dressed and shipped. At times she also worked away from home. Brother Reinhold did a lot of hunting and trapping. Fur-bearing animals were plentiful, making it a good source of income. He and brother William went east to Tripp in the fall to pick corn by hand. Even I worked for board and room while attending high school and college. Yes, everyone pitched in and did what they could, and it paid off. We made it and were proud of it.
The three youngest of us were fortunate enough to go to high school and college. After graduation from Winner High, I attended Southern at Springfield and began my teaching career in 1934. My first job was the Prairie View School southeast of Norris—16 pupils, grades one through six at a salary of $50 a month for an eight-month term. I received a $25 check from the government each month and the rest in warrants, which I could not cash until the economy improved. I lived with my brothers, Reinhold and William, who were batching at the time. From there I rode horseback six miles to school each day. During the three coldest months, I boarded with school patrons.
The spring of 1935, I signed a contract to teach the Petranek School with five pupils and five grades. I boarded with a family just a short distance from school, going home on weekends. One Sunday evening about a month after the opening of school, I returned to find that the family had moved. All I could do was to return home with my brother. We put together food and housekeeping supplies. Early Monday morning my brother helped me move into the schoolhouse. Now I had only two pupils, Lillian and Joe Petranek.
That winter was a stormy one. It began snowing January 20 and lasted into March. Was it ever cold! The roads were blocked for six weeks. I ran out of food and had no way of getting any. Finally, Oswald Jarl rode to White River on horseback and brought back food supplies that my sister Mary helped put together. I certainly was grateful to Mr. Jarl and my sister. It was a long, lonely winter. I spent much of my time watching the rabbits playing in the snow at night, and I read anything and everything I could find.
My brother Berthold, after graduating from White River High, attended agricultural college at Brookings, working in the agronomy department to pay for his education. After graduation he joined the armed forces to fight in World War II. He had graduated as 2nd Lt. from ROTC and after completing his training at several army bases was sent overseas. He had been stationed in Hawaii, New Guinea, the Philippines and Korea. He was awarded the Bronze and Silver Star and the Purple Heart.
Items concerning his service during World War II read as follows: "U. S. Sixth Division, Luzon, Lt. Berthold Banek returned Thursday with a 'Lost Patrol' after having been forced to leave wounded men behind in a Jap surrounded ravine. The Japs had turned machine guns on the patrol after having concealed themselves in the brush as the Americans passed. Banek said though weak and famished, their thought of the patrol members was to return for the men they had left, not knowing if they were alive or dead."
A second article reads: "Lt. BERTHOLD J. BANEK AWARDED SILVER STAR with Sixth Infantry Division on Luzon. —(Delayed)—First Lt. Berthold J. Banek whose wife lives in Huron, S. D.. has been awarded the Silver Star by the Commanding General of the Sixth Infantry Division for gallantry in action on Luzon, April 17.
"Wounded in the shoulder, side and leg by machine gun fire. Banek continued to assist in evacuation of casualties suffered when his frontline rifle company advanced on a heavily fortified hill."
After graduation from Mission High, my sister Agnes entered nurses training at St. Joseph in Mitchell. She became a registered nurse and a year later as a Lieutenant served in the Nurses' Corps during World War II. She was stationed in Hollandia, New Guinea. My parents, Wilhelm Banek and Wilhelmina Helber, were born and married in Russia. While in their twenties they immigrated to the United States in November 1907, leaving parents and all relatives behind except my father's sister, Maria, who came with them. Her fiance, my mother's brother, was to join her later, but was not able to. She returned to Russia but fate intervened; each married someone else. My parents settled on a farm near Naper, Nebraska, until 1915. They then moved to Tripp County, where they lived until 1928, when the move to Mellette County was made. They continued in farming and ranching, later entering into partnership with my two brothers, Reinhold and William.
My parents retired from the farm in the fall of 1944 and moved to Pontiac, Michigan. My father began working the night shift at the General Motors plant as a janitor. Father passed away of a heart attack on October 8, 1946, and Mother passed away on March 8, 1964.
My oldest sister, Mary, married Fritz Kasat, November 10. 1929. They lived and farmed northeast of Earl Adrian's, then moved to White River and Fritz became a rural mail carrier. Later they moved to Pontiac, Michigan, where Fritz worked for General Motors until his retirement. They have one son. Larry, who lives near them. Larry will graduate from computer training the spring of 1985.
The year of 1938 was a rather eventful year for my parents as three of us got married. First my brother William (Bill) married Marie Karlin in April. Next it was my turn. John Karlin. Jr.. and I were married in June. My oldest brother. Reinhold (Roy), was not to be left out. He married Sophie Schaefer in September.
The six of us did many things together; some were rather unusual and maybe a little strange. For instance, one Sunday in October, we went rattlesnake hunting. The den was located a mile north of our place. It was a warm day so the snakes came out of the holes to sun themselves, yet not warm enough to make them too active. My sisters-in-law and I were game to go along but wouldn't volunteer to help with the killing—in fact we got out of their way. The men were kept busy for a while. They killed about thirty rattlers that day. John and I collected the rattles and at present have sixty-eight. The biggest snake had ten rattles, counting the button, while the smallest had four.
Brother William and Marie settled on my parents' farm, the former Wall) Claybough place, after my parents retired from farming. They have three daughters. Bernice and her husband, Robert Sandal, live in Chipley, Florida. They have two sons, Shane and Justine, and a daughter, Dawn. Diana and her husband, Terry Zieman, live near Lincoln, Nebraska. They have a daughter, Nikki, and a son, Shawn. Carol and her
husband, Bobby Hutchinson, live on his parents' ranch near White River. They have two sons, Ryan and Cole. My brother William died in a tractor accident on the farm February 25. 1977. His wife, Marie, lives in Winner. South Dakota.
My husband John and I lived on the former Ferdinand Littau farm. We have two daughters, Eunice and Agnes, and one son, Paul. Eunice Carr lives in Pierre, South Dakota. She has three children: a son, Glen, who is in the Air Force stationed in Florida, where he and his wife, Pamela, and two children are making their home; Valerie and husband, Rodger Livermont, who live in Vermillion where they are attending the University; and Laura, the youngest, living at home. Our daughter, Agnes, lives in Sonoma,California, and our son Paul lives in Rapid City.
Brother Reinhold and wife, Sophie, lived on the former Merritt farm. They had a daughter and a son. Their daughter, Anita Madson, lives in Aurora, Colorado. She has one daughter, Kimberly. Their son
Reinhold lives in Aptos, California. Brother Reinhold passed away March 19. 1947. His widow. Sophie,
remarried.
My sisters Alida and Agnes went to live in Michigan. Alida married Elves Decker, June 1946, and lives in Caseville, Michigan. They have a son, Wilhelm, and a daughter, Maryetta. Wilhelm and his wife, Linda, live
in Sterling Heights, Michigan, and have a daughter, Melissa, and a son, Matthew. Maryetta and husband,
Michael Manell, live in Mt. Clemens. Agnes married Randolph Guess, and lives in Lake Orion, Michigan. They have two daughters, Teresa and Deborah. Teresa and husband Preston Brazee live in Lansing, Michigan. Deborah and husband George Barnawsky live in Lake Orion and have a son, Bradley, and a daughter, Lisa.
My brother Berthold married Elizabeth Dunbar, July 23, 1942, at Fort Benning, Columbus, Georgia. While
Berthold served overseas during World War II, his wife Elizabeth completed college and taught home economics in the DeSmet School. After his return from the war, Berthold and Elizabeth settled on a farm near Menno, South Dakota. Their first daughter, Margaret, was born October 8, 1946. In the spring of 1947, Berthold and family moved to Parmelee, South Dakota, to operate the farm for our brother Reinhold, who was ill. Their second daughter, Marilyn, was born January 16,1948. In the spring of 1949, Berthold and family moved to a farm near Kimball, South Dakota, where they farmed until he retired in December 1984. They now reside in Kimball.
Berthold and Elizabeth have five daughters and one son. Margaret and husband Rodger Williams live in Manhattan, Kansas. They have a daughter, Bronwyn, and a son, Lloyd. Marilyn and husband Jon Braswell live in Arkansas. They have a daughter, Laurel, and a son, Jason. Katherine and husband Charles Mausbach live in Willmar, Minnesota. They have a daughter, Katrina. Son Timothy and wife, Cindy, live in LaMars, Iowa. They have a son, Matthew. Joyce and husband, Kevin Ness, live in Savage, Minnesota. Virginia and her husband, Kevin Wookie, are living on and operating her parents' farm near Kimball, South Dakota.
.
by Ida Karlin (daughter)
(Transcribed by RB, with permission from the Mellette County Historical Society, from "Mellette County 1911-1986" published by the Mellette County Historical Society)
My parents, Wilhelm and Wilhelmina Banek, leased a half
section of Indian land, belonging to the Kills Plenty family, in
Mellette County, four miles east of the Kary Store in the Surprise
Valley Township. They moved out in May 1928 from Tripp County,
near Winner. There was a four-room house and a barn on the new
place but no fences.
A 1928 Chevrolet truck was loaded with most of the furniture and
personal possessions. There were seven of us children in our family.
Father and two of my sisters, Mary and Agnes, drove the truck. My
three brothers, Reinhold, William and Berthold, drove the cattle.
They had four horses hitched to a hayrack, and two saddle horses. A
small shed was put on the hayrack, and there they put the small
calves that were not able to stand the long drive.
My brothers left on the seventh of May, while my father and my two sisters left the next day with the truck, leaving my sister Alida and me alone. We had to stay behind to take our final examination, which was a test over the subjects for the entire year. We had to take them to be able to pass from the eighth and seventh grades. We spent a lonely week until my father came back to get us and the rest of our belongings.
The day my father and sisters left with the truck and its load, it began to rain. They took Highway 18, which went through Rosebud and was not paved at the time. Everything went well until they began going up the Rosebud Hill on the west edge of town. The roads by that time had become very muddy and slippery. The truck began skidding and sliding—just couldn't make it up the hill. My sister Agnes became very frightened and began to cry; she even wanted to walk. A dentist from Rosebud came upon the scene, put Agnes into his car, then helped Father get the truck up the hill. The dentist gave Agnes a ride up the hill, She then returned to the truck and they continued the trip. She tells about how cold and miserable it was when they got to the new home. It, too, was cold. All they had to eat was a cold lunch packed by a neighbor lady, Mrs. Johnson, before they left that morning.
There seems to be a question as to the whereabouts of Mother. I think she was taken to the new home earlier and left there to clean and prepare the house to live in.
The following is the story of the cattle drive as told by my youngest brother Berthold: "I'll never forget the cattle drive from Tripp County to Mellette County. The first day went well with brother Reinhold driving a team of horses hooked to a hayrack whose purpose was to haul newborn calves. Brother Bill and I drove the over one hundred cows. At the time, I was 9 years old. The first evening we stayed at the Moseman farm near Carter.
"The second day I shall never forget because we had a cold rain all afternoon and we were soaking wet. About a mile or so east of Mission we put up for the night at the William Hartman farm. Was I glad. Before eating, and getting into dry clothes, we had to milk over thirty cows. Since I was miserable and tired, my brothers gave me the job to carry the milk to the separator room in the basement. I decided to sit on the step for a minute. That's where they found me, sound asleep, when they came looking for me. The lady of the house wanted to give me supper but I was so tired I couldn't eat, so she tucked me into a feather bed. That is all I remember till the next morning, when I found my clothes dry and a delicious breakfast ready.
"The third day the weather was nice and we arrived at our destination without any problems. [They were still about four miles from home but due to the late hour spent the night with the John Wilds. The next morning they completed the drive.]
"After we got settled in, my job was to herd cows, since there weren't any fences. My brothers used a Fordson tractor to break up the prairie on which we grew corn and flax."
My brother Berthold remembered his first year of herding experience. He was somewhat afraid and watched the cows from high ground. I also had to herd the cattle at times. What an experience—out in the open spaces. Since it was summertime, the cattle would run into the creek and trees. It was difficult to get them all together and headed for home. Then there were times I wasn't quite sure what direction to take.
My youngest sister. Agnes, only about nine at the time, had a terrifying experience. One day while she was out with the cattle several miles from home, the sky darkened and heavy storm clouds came up. The farmer, Bill Collins, helped her put the cattle in the fenced ground and sent her towards home. Hail way home she neared the John Elk Looks Back house when it began to rain. He ran out, grabbed the reins of the horse. She became frightened as she'd been told terrible stories of what the Indians did to white people. She tried to get away; she could not understand the Indian language. Finally he just lifted her off and took her into the house until the storm subsided. When she reached home my worried mother gave her a spanking. What an end to a frightening day!
After school started in the fall the chore of moving cattle to various fenced pastures fell to my older sister, Alida, who had been prone to accidents since childhood. One day she had just gotten as far as the schoolhouse with the cattle as we were being excused. She asked me to finish the drive as she hurried home. She had her right hand clenched lightly to stop the bleeding. To get the cattle out of the pasture she had stopped in a steep draw, taken the barbed wire in her hand, raised it high enough for the cattle to pass safely underneath. Then she urged the horse to pass underneath, thinking it high enough, but the horn of the saddle caught the wire, pulling it through her hand and cutting it severely. It was a three-mile ride home, but by clenching her hand tightly she prevented severe loss of blood.
Her next accident happened about a mile from home. Again she was on horseback riding too close to a barbed wire fence. The horse shied, bringing my sister's leg against the wire, cutting a deep gash just above her ankle. She rode to the porch of the house, calling for help. There was no bleeding from the wound until Mother helped her from the horse. I took charge of the horse while Mother tended to the cut.
Another interesting experience—my sister Alida and I had to close the small chicken coops. Since we didn't do it while it was light, we had to go out in the dark and I ran into a rusty pitchfork protruding from the ground. I didn't tell anyone, but before morning my foot began to throb and was red and swollen. Mrs. John Littau, our neighbor lady, happened to stop by our house. Mother had me keep my foot elevated. When Mrs. Littau examined my foot, she suggested boiling flax, placing it in a bag and covering the swollen foot with the hot pack. It really worked—within a short time, the swelling began going down and the throbbing stopped. We used home remedies, as it was too far to go to the doctor.
Then came the dry years when the dust would blow so one could scarcely see or breathe. I remember pulling the sheet over my nose to filter out some of the dust. The air was heavy with it. If clothes were on the line, they would turn red, yellow or black depending on the state the dust came from. The dust and dirt blew from the fields into drifts, covering the fences in many places. There were no crops or grass for feed. The Russian thistles grew and were put up for hay. It was poor feed. The cattle got thin and so weak that when they would go to the mud hole to get a drink, they often got stuck and would have to be pulled out. My mother and Mrs. Littau, our neighbor lady, with the help of one of us, would do this whenever the men were out in the fields. Often the cow would die in spite of being pulled out and nursed.
During the drought, the grasshoppers came and ate everything in sight—even the wooden fence posts. As we harvested what little grain we could, the hoppers would sit on the machines and on the person riding on it. Occasionally they would even bite.
The grain in that day was cut with a header. The header was either pushed by four horses or if the farmer had a tractor it was used to pull it. A hayrack drawn by horses pulled the rack alongside the header, which elevated the grain onto the rack. When the rack was full it would be unloaded and the grain stacked. Later the threshing machine would be set between the stacks to thresh the grain. Flax, especially, had to be headed as was most other grain until 1935.
After that the grain was cut with a binder, shocked, then later loaded onto (he rack and hauled to the threshing machine. Neighbors would gather to do the threshing and move from farm to farm until everyone was finished. Sometime in the forties, farmers began using combines to harvest except in cases when they wished to have straw for feed and bedding for the animals, especially the oats straw.
Times were hard but my parents never gave up. Their faith in God and hard work kept the family going. They instilled honesty, integrity, hard work, and the habit of saving in all of us. We were taught not to buy anything unless we could pay for it. We never went hungry, as we raised and canned vegetables from the garden which was irrigated from the well. We raised chickens, so had our own eggs. What we didn't use was taken to the store and traded for groceries. We also raised turkeys, ducks and geese, which helped to keep the grasshoppers down in the garden. They also furnished meat to eat and feathers for pillows and feather beds. Feather "ticks" were a necessity since the homes were not heated at night. They were often given as gifts—I'm still using a down quilt made by my mother. We always milked about thirty cows, so had milk, cream and butter. What we didn't use was also sold. The money was used to buy groceries, clothing and repairs.
Even though times were hard, certain traditions were carried on in our home. Mother made kuchen (coffeecake) for special holidays such as Christmas and Easter. She made it from a special sweet dough. On Christmas Eve, we would just have fresh kuchen with coffee and milk for supper. Then the family would attend the special Christmas Eve program at church given by the children. At Eastertime, besides kuchen, Mother would bake baska. This was also made out of sweet dough with raisins. The loaves were baked in round cans such as coffee cans. Later a frosting would be drizzled over the top. For Easter breakfast, we would have sliced baska with colored, soft-boiled eggs.
Each year, in January or February, while it was still cold, we would take a couple of days to butcher a beef and one or two hogs. At times friends would help us, then in turn my parents would help them. Some meat was hung in a cold building to be used while fresh. Then a portion was cut up for canning, and the rest ground up for sausage. The ground meat would be put into casings and then hung to be smoked. Some was eaten while fresh and the rest canned. This homemade sausage was really tasty and such good eating. Liver sausage and head cheese were also made. I have recently learned that some farmers are still carrying on this tradition of their parents in the year of 1985 (families of German descent). We worked Monday through Friday, but on Saturday a trip was made to town to sell the eggs and cream. Then groceries and other shopping was done for the week. Sundays were reserved for attending church and visiting. The parents would gather at one home to visit while the young people gathered at another place to visit and play games. Dances were held in the homes, accompanied by violin music furnished by the Huber brothers, Otto and Bill. There were school programs, box suppers and pie socials. These would be lively events as the men would want to buy the teacher's box, especially if she had a boyfriend. They at times had to pay dearly. Every spring at the end of a school year, a picnic would be held, which was always well attended and enjoyed by everyone. There was always plenty of food and homemade ice cream. Chocolate ice cream made with dark syrup was especially delicious.
During the "Dirty Thirties" the family income was also supplemented in various ways by all members of the family. Father worked as others did on WPA. He helped build what has become known as the Deiss Dam. All the work was done by hand and with horses. It was hard work and the weather at times was cold and miserable. My oldest sister, Mary, worked for the O. A. Hodson family in Norris. Sister Alida gave up her dream of becoming a nurse, to help Mother raise the turkeys, ducks and geese, many of which were dressed and shipped. At times she also worked away from home. Brother Reinhold did a lot of hunting and trapping. Fur-bearing animals were plentiful, making it a good source of income. He and brother William went east to Tripp in the fall to pick corn by hand. Even I worked for board and room while attending high school and college. Yes, everyone pitched in and did what they could, and it paid off. We made it and were proud of it.
The three youngest of us were fortunate enough to go to high school and college. After graduation from Winner High, I attended Southern at Springfield and began my teaching career in 1934. My first job was the Prairie View School southeast of Norris—16 pupils, grades one through six at a salary of $50 a month for an eight-month term. I received a $25 check from the government each month and the rest in warrants, which I could not cash until the economy improved. I lived with my brothers, Reinhold and William, who were batching at the time. From there I rode horseback six miles to school each day. During the three coldest months, I boarded with school patrons.
The spring of 1935, I signed a contract to teach the Petranek School with five pupils and five grades. I boarded with a family just a short distance from school, going home on weekends. One Sunday evening about a month after the opening of school, I returned to find that the family had moved. All I could do was to return home with my brother. We put together food and housekeeping supplies. Early Monday morning my brother helped me move into the schoolhouse. Now I had only two pupils, Lillian and Joe Petranek.
That winter was a stormy one. It began snowing January 20 and lasted into March. Was it ever cold! The roads were blocked for six weeks. I ran out of food and had no way of getting any. Finally, Oswald Jarl rode to White River on horseback and brought back food supplies that my sister Mary helped put together. I certainly was grateful to Mr. Jarl and my sister. It was a long, lonely winter. I spent much of my time watching the rabbits playing in the snow at night, and I read anything and everything I could find.
My brother Berthold, after graduating from White River High, attended agricultural college at Brookings, working in the agronomy department to pay for his education. After graduation he joined the armed forces to fight in World War II. He had graduated as 2nd Lt. from ROTC and after completing his training at several army bases was sent overseas. He had been stationed in Hawaii, New Guinea, the Philippines and Korea. He was awarded the Bronze and Silver Star and the Purple Heart.
Items concerning his service during World War II read as follows: "U. S. Sixth Division, Luzon, Lt. Berthold Banek returned Thursday with a 'Lost Patrol' after having been forced to leave wounded men behind in a Jap surrounded ravine. The Japs had turned machine guns on the patrol after having concealed themselves in the brush as the Americans passed. Banek said though weak and famished, their thought of the patrol members was to return for the men they had left, not knowing if they were alive or dead."
A second article reads: "Lt. BERTHOLD J. BANEK AWARDED SILVER STAR with Sixth Infantry Division on Luzon. —(Delayed)—First Lt. Berthold J. Banek whose wife lives in Huron, S. D.. has been awarded the Silver Star by the Commanding General of the Sixth Infantry Division for gallantry in action on Luzon, April 17.
"Wounded in the shoulder, side and leg by machine gun fire. Banek continued to assist in evacuation of casualties suffered when his frontline rifle company advanced on a heavily fortified hill."
After graduation from Mission High, my sister Agnes entered nurses training at St. Joseph in Mitchell. She became a registered nurse and a year later as a Lieutenant served in the Nurses' Corps during World War II. She was stationed in Hollandia, New Guinea. My parents, Wilhelm Banek and Wilhelmina Helber, were born and married in Russia. While in their twenties they immigrated to the United States in November 1907, leaving parents and all relatives behind except my father's sister, Maria, who came with them. Her fiance, my mother's brother, was to join her later, but was not able to. She returned to Russia but fate intervened; each married someone else. My parents settled on a farm near Naper, Nebraska, until 1915. They then moved to Tripp County, where they lived until 1928, when the move to Mellette County was made. They continued in farming and ranching, later entering into partnership with my two brothers, Reinhold and William.
My parents retired from the farm in the fall of 1944 and moved to Pontiac, Michigan. My father began working the night shift at the General Motors plant as a janitor. Father passed away of a heart attack on October 8, 1946, and Mother passed away on March 8, 1964.
My oldest sister, Mary, married Fritz Kasat, November 10. 1929. They lived and farmed northeast of Earl Adrian's, then moved to White River and Fritz became a rural mail carrier. Later they moved to Pontiac, Michigan, where Fritz worked for General Motors until his retirement. They have one son. Larry, who lives near them. Larry will graduate from computer training the spring of 1985.
The year of 1938 was a rather eventful year for my parents as three of us got married. First my brother William (Bill) married Marie Karlin in April. Next it was my turn. John Karlin. Jr.. and I were married in June. My oldest brother. Reinhold (Roy), was not to be left out. He married Sophie Schaefer in September.
The six of us did many things together; some were rather unusual and maybe a little strange. For instance, one Sunday in October, we went rattlesnake hunting. The den was located a mile north of our place. It was a warm day so the snakes came out of the holes to sun themselves, yet not warm enough to make them too active. My sisters-in-law and I were game to go along but wouldn't volunteer to help with the killing—in fact we got out of their way. The men were kept busy for a while. They killed about thirty rattlers that day. John and I collected the rattles and at present have sixty-eight. The biggest snake had ten rattles, counting the button, while the smallest had four.
Brother William and Marie settled on my parents' farm, the former Wall) Claybough place, after my parents retired from farming. They have three daughters. Bernice and her husband, Robert Sandal, live in Chipley, Florida. They have two sons, Shane and Justine, and a daughter, Dawn. Diana and her husband, Terry Zieman, live near Lincoln, Nebraska. They have a daughter, Nikki, and a son, Shawn. Carol and her
husband, Bobby Hutchinson, live on his parents' ranch near White River. They have two sons, Ryan and Cole. My brother William died in a tractor accident on the farm February 25. 1977. His wife, Marie, lives in Winner. South Dakota.
My husband John and I lived on the former Ferdinand Littau farm. We have two daughters, Eunice and Agnes, and one son, Paul. Eunice Carr lives in Pierre, South Dakota. She has three children: a son, Glen, who is in the Air Force stationed in Florida, where he and his wife, Pamela, and two children are making their home; Valerie and husband, Rodger Livermont, who live in Vermillion where they are attending the University; and Laura, the youngest, living at home. Our daughter, Agnes, lives in Sonoma,California, and our son Paul lives in Rapid City.
Brother Reinhold and wife, Sophie, lived on the former Merritt farm. They had a daughter and a son. Their daughter, Anita Madson, lives in Aurora, Colorado. She has one daughter, Kimberly. Their son
Reinhold lives in Aptos, California. Brother Reinhold passed away March 19. 1947. His widow. Sophie,
remarried.
My sisters Alida and Agnes went to live in Michigan. Alida married Elves Decker, June 1946, and lives in Caseville, Michigan. They have a son, Wilhelm, and a daughter, Maryetta. Wilhelm and his wife, Linda, live
in Sterling Heights, Michigan, and have a daughter, Melissa, and a son, Matthew. Maryetta and husband,
Michael Manell, live in Mt. Clemens. Agnes married Randolph Guess, and lives in Lake Orion, Michigan. They have two daughters, Teresa and Deborah. Teresa and husband Preston Brazee live in Lansing, Michigan. Deborah and husband George Barnawsky live in Lake Orion and have a son, Bradley, and a daughter, Lisa.
My brother Berthold married Elizabeth Dunbar, July 23, 1942, at Fort Benning, Columbus, Georgia. While
Berthold served overseas during World War II, his wife Elizabeth completed college and taught home economics in the DeSmet School. After his return from the war, Berthold and Elizabeth settled on a farm near Menno, South Dakota. Their first daughter, Margaret, was born October 8, 1946. In the spring of 1947, Berthold and family moved to Parmelee, South Dakota, to operate the farm for our brother Reinhold, who was ill. Their second daughter, Marilyn, was born January 16,1948. In the spring of 1949, Berthold and family moved to a farm near Kimball, South Dakota, where they farmed until he retired in December 1984. They now reside in Kimball.
Berthold and Elizabeth have five daughters and one son. Margaret and husband Rodger Williams live in Manhattan, Kansas. They have a daughter, Bronwyn, and a son, Lloyd. Marilyn and husband Jon Braswell live in Arkansas. They have a daughter, Laurel, and a son, Jason. Katherine and husband Charles Mausbach live in Willmar, Minnesota. They have a daughter, Katrina. Son Timothy and wife, Cindy, live in LaMars, Iowa. They have a son, Matthew. Joyce and husband, Kevin Ness, live in Savage, Minnesota. Virginia and her husband, Kevin Wookie, are living on and operating her parents' farm near Kimball, South Dakota.
.
The Memories of Agnes Banek Guess
Submitted by Ida Banek Karlin
(Transcribed, with permission from the Mellette County Historical Society, from "Mellette County 1911-1986" published by the Mellette County Historical Society)
One of my first memories is living in Tripp County, about nineteen miles from
Winner, on a farm. This particular Sunday morning at about age 6, I heard my brothers
and sisters talking of going cherry picking. My parents had gone visiting some friends at
Norris. I woke up and found myself alone. The rest were out doing the chores. I became
frightened and in my nightgown and bare feet went down the road, passing
neighbors—the Johnsons, Shannons, Dodsons, Doughertys—and ending up at the
Williams home, and not being found until my brother Roy (Reinhold) was told while
taking cattle to pasture beyond the Williams home. Needless to say, everyone was
frantic looking for me.
At about age 7, I moved with my folks to Mellette County. It was in the spring of
1928. My dad bought a Chevrolet truck. Loading everything we could, Dad, sister Mary
and I started out for our new home. It had been raining, and the roads were muddy and slippery. We had to go through what we called the Rosebud Hills which to me were pretty steep and frightening. We got stuck. I got out of the truck and refused to get back in, saying I would walk up the hill first. A kind gentleman, a dentist, stopped to help, putting me in his car where it was warm. With his help. Dad made the hill. The dentist gave me a ride up the hill in his car and there I transferred to the truck. We then proceeded to our new home without any further incident.
Frightening it was to see the vast prairie land and only one farm near ours—that was the home of John Littau. My brothers Roy, Bill (William) and Bert (Berthold) followed in a wagon and on horseback, with the cattle.
The country school was one mile from the farm and we walked. Sometimes in the winter, snow would be so deep my dad would put hay or straw in the wagon and take us. (Well I can remember that the teacher didn't always get to school. After wailing an hour or so in the cold building, we would then walk home. How cold we got then!)
I can remember Mr. and Mrs. Kary who lived about four miles from us. That was our post office as well as general store and the cream station. I remember there was always a big 100-pound sack of roasted peanuts standing in front of the counter.
One day about mid-afternoon storm clouds began to gather, and the sky was getting dark. I put the cattle in the pasture and had started home when the storm broke. I had to pass Johnny Elks Back home, and as I was riding by, he ran out, grabbed my horse and took me into his house. I just knew I was going to be scalped, as he could not speak English. After the storm, he helped me back on the horse and I proceeded home, only to be reprimanded by my mother for not getting home before the storm. It was also my first contact with the Indians. Needless to say, many stories were told of scalpings and I believed them all.
My dad raised cattle and land was rented from the Indians for grazing—and not always near home. So we had to, as we called it, herd them. My brothers and sisters were usually busy in the fields, which meant I, at the age of 10 or 11, would have to herd the cattle. My mother would pack a lunch and send me off, usually crying.
My sister Mary married Fritz Kasat and lived on a farm several miles from us. She became ill and had to be rushed to the hospital in Pierre. At about the same time, brother Bert became ill and my parents and Roy took him to the hospital in Pierre, where he underwent emergency surgery for appendicitis. The day they took him, Mr. Hodson from Norris got a call that my sister was critical and needed a blood transfusion. He took my sister Alida and the rest of the family to the hospital, which left me alone to do the chores.
What had actually happened was that when the folks got to White River, Bert felt better so they stopped at some friends' house. Dad and Roy went to a filling station. Mr. Hodson and Alida had stopped at the farm, found the house empty with signs that someone had been ill. They drove on into town and found Dad and Roy, then went to the house to pick up Mother. Alida insisted on taking Bert along to Pierre even though he fell better. He then had his surgery. This information was supplied by Alida. Agnes had not known that the folks had not gone on to Pierre.
I was in the seventh grade. Again I was very frightened. The cattle on the range had to be watered; that meant pumping the water by hand for them. Then there were the chores, which meant milking the cows and separating the milk (we usually milked between 26 and 33 cows) and feeding the calves. But the kind neighbors, Edna, Fred and Martha Littau, came to the rescue and helped me. My dad and brothers came home sometime during the night.
There was also the drought and the Depression years. I can remember the grasshoppers covering the fence posts and wires and eating all the crops. I remember Dad putting up thistles with salt as feed for the cattle for the winter and letting the neighbors have some so theirs wouldn't starve. My mother sold dressed chickens for 50¢ and eggs for 12¢ a dozen to different homes. But we always had a garden, with Mother canning. We always had our own meat and plenty of food to eat.
We had what we called an ice house. In the winter, when the water was frozen in the dam, my dad and brothers would cut big blocks of ice, putting it in the ice house and covering it with straw. In the summertime, there always was delicious ice cream to be enjoyed.
Then there was harvesting time. The grain was cut with a binder and we would all have to get into the fields and shock it, sometimes getting frightened by rattlesnakes. Then came threshing lime. The neighbors would get together and help each other. To me it was great, for there was always good food to eat.
We worked hard during the week, but Sunday afternoons or evenings we'd gather at friends' homes for fun and games, finishing with either ice cream and cake or cookies.
After high school, I went to nurses training at St. Joseph Hospital in Mitchell, graduating in 1942. Some of my classmates had gone to Minneapolis to work, where I joined them. Everyone was talking of the war. My brother Bert had joined the Infantry, so my girl friend and I decided to enlist in the Army Nurse Corps. She backed out and got married.
My first station was to be Schick General at Clinton, Iowa; then to Fort Snelling in Minnesota where I was assigned to the 54th General; and ended up at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, where we made preparations to be sent overseas. We were issued winter clothing and in March of 1944 set sail from Oakland, California, on the USS Lura Line. It was a very quiet and sad departure as we watched the Golden Gate bridge disappear. After about two weeks of rough seas and a lot of Sea-sicklier, we landed at night at Milline Bay, New Guinea, in mud and pouring rain. We woke up the next morning to find our home was a tent in a coconut grove. My girl friend remarked, "Oh! how beautiful it is," and about that time a coconut fell at her feet. I also discovered, unbeknown to me, that my brother Ben was stationed only a few miles from me—and also discovered that the winter clothing we had been issued was not suitable for the tropics. But my brother parted with a couple pairs of slacks for us. He also told us that Tokyo Rose had been announcing over the radio that the USS Lura Line had been sunk, naming the hospital units on it and the different troops.
After a short time, two other nurses and I were sent to Hollandia on temporary duty with the field hospital, which was strictly a tent hospital. It was there that I really learned what rain and mud was. It seemed like you would take one step forward and two backward. I also saw my first and last Japs—which were prisoners. Our primary function was to observe and treat the wounded, then evacuate them to general hospital and the States. We were also near what had once been General MacArthur's headquarters. It was high on a mountaintop where the view of the jungle was beautiful.
After the 54th had set up a 1500-bed unit at Hollandia, which had cement floors and corrugated metal walls, I was called back to duty. When we were open for admissions, I discovered that some of the wounded men were from my brother Bert's unit, the 6th Infantry. Needless to say, I had anxious moments wondering if the next one would be my brother. I later learned that he had been wounded and sent to Manila.
While I was stationed at Hollandia a former classmate of White River High, Marvin Demarshe, visited me. Later I heard he was killed in action.
How well I remember my first Christmas without snow! My friend Inez and I found a dead tree branch which we decorated with cotton balls that had been dotted or dipped in mercurochrome, and with anything else we found to suffice for decorations. I must say it was pretty, and Christmas carols were sung—only we had to be called on duty as there had been an invasion. Still, through the night, we could occasionally hear carols being sung.
No, we weren't always busy and would become gravely bored and complain, only to be reminded by our commanding officer that it also meant less casualties. (Letters received from Agnes stated that it was depressing when the mail didn't get to them.)
Then VE Day—what rejoicing! Our hospital began closing down and the nurses were sent to Manila in the Philippines. To see, oh, so much destruction to a beautiful city. Some of us stayed at Sontu Tomas which had been a prison, and from there in October we were sent back to the States on a hospital ship, taking 30 days. We were discharged from the service in November of 1946 in Chicago, Illinois, with the rank of First Lieutenant.
First I went to Pontiac, Michigan, where my folks were living after selling out in South Dakota. They had moved to Pontiac to be near my sisters, Mary Kasat and Alida Banek. I was restless and did not feel at home so returned to South Dakota to visit my brothers Reinhold and wife Sophie of Parmelee, William and wife Marie of White River, and my sister Ida and husband John Karlin, also of White River. Finding that many of my friends had left and things not the same, I returned to Pontiac and went back to nursing.
I met and married Randy Guess in November 1949. We had two daughters, Teresa and Deborah, who both are now married and living in Michigan. We have two grandchildren. I have remained in nursing through the years and plan to retire in 1986. I also plan to enjoy our grandchildren and do some traveling.
Submitted by Ida Banek Karlin
(Transcribed, with permission from the Mellette County Historical Society, from "Mellette County 1911-1986" published by the Mellette County Historical Society)
One of my first memories is living in Tripp County, about nineteen miles from
Winner, on a farm. This particular Sunday morning at about age 6, I heard my brothers
and sisters talking of going cherry picking. My parents had gone visiting some friends at
Norris. I woke up and found myself alone. The rest were out doing the chores. I became
frightened and in my nightgown and bare feet went down the road, passing
neighbors—the Johnsons, Shannons, Dodsons, Doughertys—and ending up at the
Williams home, and not being found until my brother Roy (Reinhold) was told while
taking cattle to pasture beyond the Williams home. Needless to say, everyone was
frantic looking for me.
At about age 7, I moved with my folks to Mellette County. It was in the spring of
1928. My dad bought a Chevrolet truck. Loading everything we could, Dad, sister Mary
and I started out for our new home. It had been raining, and the roads were muddy and slippery. We had to go through what we called the Rosebud Hills which to me were pretty steep and frightening. We got stuck. I got out of the truck and refused to get back in, saying I would walk up the hill first. A kind gentleman, a dentist, stopped to help, putting me in his car where it was warm. With his help. Dad made the hill. The dentist gave me a ride up the hill in his car and there I transferred to the truck. We then proceeded to our new home without any further incident.
Frightening it was to see the vast prairie land and only one farm near ours—that was the home of John Littau. My brothers Roy, Bill (William) and Bert (Berthold) followed in a wagon and on horseback, with the cattle.
The country school was one mile from the farm and we walked. Sometimes in the winter, snow would be so deep my dad would put hay or straw in the wagon and take us. (Well I can remember that the teacher didn't always get to school. After wailing an hour or so in the cold building, we would then walk home. How cold we got then!)
I can remember Mr. and Mrs. Kary who lived about four miles from us. That was our post office as well as general store and the cream station. I remember there was always a big 100-pound sack of roasted peanuts standing in front of the counter.
One day about mid-afternoon storm clouds began to gather, and the sky was getting dark. I put the cattle in the pasture and had started home when the storm broke. I had to pass Johnny Elks Back home, and as I was riding by, he ran out, grabbed my horse and took me into his house. I just knew I was going to be scalped, as he could not speak English. After the storm, he helped me back on the horse and I proceeded home, only to be reprimanded by my mother for not getting home before the storm. It was also my first contact with the Indians. Needless to say, many stories were told of scalpings and I believed them all.
My dad raised cattle and land was rented from the Indians for grazing—and not always near home. So we had to, as we called it, herd them. My brothers and sisters were usually busy in the fields, which meant I, at the age of 10 or 11, would have to herd the cattle. My mother would pack a lunch and send me off, usually crying.
My sister Mary married Fritz Kasat and lived on a farm several miles from us. She became ill and had to be rushed to the hospital in Pierre. At about the same time, brother Bert became ill and my parents and Roy took him to the hospital in Pierre, where he underwent emergency surgery for appendicitis. The day they took him, Mr. Hodson from Norris got a call that my sister was critical and needed a blood transfusion. He took my sister Alida and the rest of the family to the hospital, which left me alone to do the chores.
What had actually happened was that when the folks got to White River, Bert felt better so they stopped at some friends' house. Dad and Roy went to a filling station. Mr. Hodson and Alida had stopped at the farm, found the house empty with signs that someone had been ill. They drove on into town and found Dad and Roy, then went to the house to pick up Mother. Alida insisted on taking Bert along to Pierre even though he fell better. He then had his surgery. This information was supplied by Alida. Agnes had not known that the folks had not gone on to Pierre.
I was in the seventh grade. Again I was very frightened. The cattle on the range had to be watered; that meant pumping the water by hand for them. Then there were the chores, which meant milking the cows and separating the milk (we usually milked between 26 and 33 cows) and feeding the calves. But the kind neighbors, Edna, Fred and Martha Littau, came to the rescue and helped me. My dad and brothers came home sometime during the night.
There was also the drought and the Depression years. I can remember the grasshoppers covering the fence posts and wires and eating all the crops. I remember Dad putting up thistles with salt as feed for the cattle for the winter and letting the neighbors have some so theirs wouldn't starve. My mother sold dressed chickens for 50¢ and eggs for 12¢ a dozen to different homes. But we always had a garden, with Mother canning. We always had our own meat and plenty of food to eat.
We had what we called an ice house. In the winter, when the water was frozen in the dam, my dad and brothers would cut big blocks of ice, putting it in the ice house and covering it with straw. In the summertime, there always was delicious ice cream to be enjoyed.
Then there was harvesting time. The grain was cut with a binder and we would all have to get into the fields and shock it, sometimes getting frightened by rattlesnakes. Then came threshing lime. The neighbors would get together and help each other. To me it was great, for there was always good food to eat.
We worked hard during the week, but Sunday afternoons or evenings we'd gather at friends' homes for fun and games, finishing with either ice cream and cake or cookies.
After high school, I went to nurses training at St. Joseph Hospital in Mitchell, graduating in 1942. Some of my classmates had gone to Minneapolis to work, where I joined them. Everyone was talking of the war. My brother Bert had joined the Infantry, so my girl friend and I decided to enlist in the Army Nurse Corps. She backed out and got married.
My first station was to be Schick General at Clinton, Iowa; then to Fort Snelling in Minnesota where I was assigned to the 54th General; and ended up at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, where we made preparations to be sent overseas. We were issued winter clothing and in March of 1944 set sail from Oakland, California, on the USS Lura Line. It was a very quiet and sad departure as we watched the Golden Gate bridge disappear. After about two weeks of rough seas and a lot of Sea-sicklier, we landed at night at Milline Bay, New Guinea, in mud and pouring rain. We woke up the next morning to find our home was a tent in a coconut grove. My girl friend remarked, "Oh! how beautiful it is," and about that time a coconut fell at her feet. I also discovered, unbeknown to me, that my brother Ben was stationed only a few miles from me—and also discovered that the winter clothing we had been issued was not suitable for the tropics. But my brother parted with a couple pairs of slacks for us. He also told us that Tokyo Rose had been announcing over the radio that the USS Lura Line had been sunk, naming the hospital units on it and the different troops.
After a short time, two other nurses and I were sent to Hollandia on temporary duty with the field hospital, which was strictly a tent hospital. It was there that I really learned what rain and mud was. It seemed like you would take one step forward and two backward. I also saw my first and last Japs—which were prisoners. Our primary function was to observe and treat the wounded, then evacuate them to general hospital and the States. We were also near what had once been General MacArthur's headquarters. It was high on a mountaintop where the view of the jungle was beautiful.
After the 54th had set up a 1500-bed unit at Hollandia, which had cement floors and corrugated metal walls, I was called back to duty. When we were open for admissions, I discovered that some of the wounded men were from my brother Bert's unit, the 6th Infantry. Needless to say, I had anxious moments wondering if the next one would be my brother. I later learned that he had been wounded and sent to Manila.
While I was stationed at Hollandia a former classmate of White River High, Marvin Demarshe, visited me. Later I heard he was killed in action.
How well I remember my first Christmas without snow! My friend Inez and I found a dead tree branch which we decorated with cotton balls that had been dotted or dipped in mercurochrome, and with anything else we found to suffice for decorations. I must say it was pretty, and Christmas carols were sung—only we had to be called on duty as there had been an invasion. Still, through the night, we could occasionally hear carols being sung.
No, we weren't always busy and would become gravely bored and complain, only to be reminded by our commanding officer that it also meant less casualties. (Letters received from Agnes stated that it was depressing when the mail didn't get to them.)
Then VE Day—what rejoicing! Our hospital began closing down and the nurses were sent to Manila in the Philippines. To see, oh, so much destruction to a beautiful city. Some of us stayed at Sontu Tomas which had been a prison, and from there in October we were sent back to the States on a hospital ship, taking 30 days. We were discharged from the service in November of 1946 in Chicago, Illinois, with the rank of First Lieutenant.
First I went to Pontiac, Michigan, where my folks were living after selling out in South Dakota. They had moved to Pontiac to be near my sisters, Mary Kasat and Alida Banek. I was restless and did not feel at home so returned to South Dakota to visit my brothers Reinhold and wife Sophie of Parmelee, William and wife Marie of White River, and my sister Ida and husband John Karlin, also of White River. Finding that many of my friends had left and things not the same, I returned to Pontiac and went back to nursing.
I met and married Randy Guess in November 1949. We had two daughters, Teresa and Deborah, who both are now married and living in Michigan. We have two grandchildren. I have remained in nursing through the years and plan to retire in 1986. I also plan to enjoy our grandchildren and do some traveling.
Mellette County, South Dakota
Family Histories & Biographies - Banek Surname
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Banek Surname
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Agnes Banek
(Mrs. Randolph Guess)
(Mrs. Randolph Guess)
Left to right: Reinhold Banek, holding his son Reinhold,
Mrs. Schaefer, mother of Sophia, Sophia Banek, holding
daughter Anita.
Mrs. Schaefer, mother of Sophia, Sophia Banek, holding
daughter Anita.
The Reinhold and Sophie Banek Family
Submitted by Ida Banek Karlin
(Transcribed by RB, with permission from the Mellette County Historical Society, from "Mellette County 1911-1986" published by the Mellette County Historical Society)
My brother Reinhold loved to read and was handy with his hands. He made frames for the Lincoln and
Washington pictures for the Surprise Valley School. He experimented with photography and he was good at design and drawing. He made the pattern for a pieced quilt and helped Mother put it together.
Reinhold and Sophie Schaefer were married September 1939 at Breckenridge, Minnesota. They moved onto the former Merrit farm, where Reinhold continued farming and ranching in partnership with our father and with brother William.
They, as did every farmer, raised chickens for the eggs and meat, milked cows for the milk, cream and
butter. The by-products helped supplement income for groceries and other household goods. They planted a
garden which was irrigated from the well. Reinhold and Sophie experimented raising vegetables not usually
raised in the area. They were successful in raising celery. Reinhold had set up a unique method so that the celery was bleached just like what was sold at the market.
Their daughter, Anita, was born July 1942, and their son. Reinhold—or Butch, as he was called—was born
December 1943.
Reinhold became ill in the summer of 1945. They were combining wheat, and he'd been riding on the combine all day. He passed out and his hired man, Leonard Schaefer, and brother William took him to Valentine. He was operated on at that time for appendicitis. Later he had surgery for a brain tumor in Omaha. He was never well after that and was unable to take care of the farm himself. He made arrangements with our brother, Berthold, to operate the farm for him.
Reinhold and Sophie moved their family into Norris. Berthold moved from Menno with his wife and daughter to Reinhold's farm March 1, 1947. A few weeks later, Reinhold became seriously ill and was taken to the hospital in Omaha, where he died March 19, 1947.
After Reinhold's death, his widow Sophie and the two children went with my mother to Michigan. They
made their home with my mother in Pontiac for a while, then returned to their home in Norris. In July of 1948, Sophie married Arthur Siegmund. Sophie sold the farm and property at a farm sale, October 1948. Brother Berthold and family remained on the farm until the spring of 1949, then moved to a farm near Kimball, South Dakota.
Anita graduated from White River High, spring of 1960. That fall she enrolled in Augustana College in Sioux Falls and graduated in 1964 with a Bachelor of Science degree in Elementary Education.
The following is in Anita's own words:
My first position was in Brighton, Colorado, where I taught fourth grade one year and third grade the next.
There I met James Madson and was married. The highlights of this marriage were a daughter, Kimberly, and the building of our dream home in southeast Aurora. Kim graduated from high school the spring of 1984 and works as a receptionist. I expect many changes in her life as she explores options. The house has been a hobby and an investment for me as I have enjoyed working to turn a large sandpile into a landscaped yard, and empty rooms into a comfortable and attractive home.
When Kim was four years old, I returned to teaching in a third-grade class in Bennett, Colorado. Bennett
is a small rural town somewhat like White River in its composition and style. It was a most challenging year!
My class began with 23 students and ended with 42 in the spring. There was no elementary school building.
The old one had been torn down and a new one was under construction, so classes were located in various
buildings around town. Each subsequent year had unique challenges and promises so I've stayed and we've grown together. I taught third and fourth grades for nine years, then became Library Media Specialist and have worked in that capacity for five years.
As a classroom teacher, I wrote a grant proposal and received money to implement a fine arts enrichment
program which enabled our students to attend symphony and ballet concerts in Denver and to have music
and dance artists perform in our school. As a Library Media Specialist, I wrote a grant proposal and received
money for Kids Kits (Kids Interest Discovery Study Kits). This program has been developed and is now funded nationally for teachers if they qualify. I am now part of a team working to establish a publishing center.
Trips to Hawaii, Canada and several to Europe have been highlights. The unexpected events are often the
most memorable. In the middle of cosmopolitan Berlin, we viewed the Brandenburg Gate, the Wall and the
Russian and East German soldiers. The horror of this situation and its past was softened as we watched a
fox run across the open, grassy area.
The Alps of southern Germany were made even more beautiful when on a Saturday morning our visit to a small empty church included a violin concert—maybe not too unexpected in Mittenvald, the Violin City, but unexpected to us. And so life goes.. .With unexpected and memorable times.
The following story is in Reinhold Jr's. own words:
I got a B. A. degree from Augustana in 1965 with a major in biology and a minor in art. I helped my art professor with a 22-foot-tall carving of Christ. When I graduated in 1965, I took a summer school course in marine biology at the University of Oregon's Marine Station in Charleston, Oregon. Mom and Artie drove to the West Coast that summer to visit me at the Marine Station. While at the station, I took up skin diving and after school was finished I drove down the West Coast with friends, diving as we went. It was then that I decided this would be a good place to return to. On that trip I went down into Mexico, still diving.
I got back to South Dakota around Christmastime. While in South Dakota, I took my physical examination for the Army and was rejected because of my hearing. With that behind me, it was time to get down to making a living, so I returned to California. I started looking for a Fish and Game job in San Diego. I didn't find it there. I didn't find it until I had traveled north to the Fish and Games Menlo Park office. I was able to live in the Santa Cruz area and work for that office until they set up an office in Monterey. Then I was required to drive to Monterey to work. I worked for the Fish and Game Department for six or seven years.
I moved into my house here on Day Valley Road in Aptos, Thanksgiving 1967. Mom drove out with the Boetchers that year and was here for Thanksgiving. I had been moved in about two weeks. I bought the place from the owner's widow in 1975. (She died a week ago February, 1985; seems like the end of an era.)
When I quit the Fish and Game Dept., I started a Volkswagen repair business. I did that a year or so, then started building furniture. In 1975 I built my first house with two partners. Since that time, I have designed and built about six houses. The last couple, I built everything—doors, windows, cabinets, etc. I have built lots of doors, windows and cabinets for other houses as well. For a while I have been working as a finish carpenter, but I'm tired of driving, so right now I'm trying to make a business of a Mill and Cabinet Shop. I'll build doors, windows, cabinets, trim and all manner of woodwork for houses, without doing the installation. That's where I am right now.
I am in the process of building myself a new house here. I'm going slow—as money is available; I don't believe in borrowing for something I don't need. It will come about in due time. My goal is to do all of the work myself and to build everything in it (furniture, etc). I think this year's building project is to add on to my shop, as I am real tight for space.
I have about 60 some fruit and nut trees and about 150 grapevines. [He named seven different fruit trees
and three kinds of nut trees and stated probably a couple of others.) The drip irrigation system is not spectacular, but it does go to each and every established tree and shrub around the whole one and one-half
acres. I have developed springs (water) on the property, and in a good year it will run 10,000 gallons of water
a day. So if I watch it or have time, I can grow up a pretty good batch of stuff around here.
I also have a pond, where I raise "koi," the Japanese ornamental carp. No, they're not good to eat; only cute
to look at. In terms of usefulness, they're about equivalent to house dogs.
For a while I was making spoons as a winter-sit-by-the-stove-with-my-feet-up project. After a hundred or
so spoons, I got bored and carved geese and then chickens. I was going to move on to dogs and cats, but we haven't had a winter for two years, so I haven't done much carving. All the things I do compete with one another for time.
About winemaking: My grapes produced enough for 50 gallons of wine. That will be the estate's home wine,
I guess. My winemaking partner and I became a commercial—legal—winery in 1979, which means that we are licensed by the U. S. Government, State of California, to sell wine, and our wine is available in local stores. The wine business is slow right now, but we are looking forward to some pick-up in the future. Our production is about 2,000 gallons a year; sounds like a lot but really is not.
It was cold in South Carolina when I was there [Reinhold was there the first week of February for his stepfather Artie's birthday! but the word was that South Dakota was real cold. I have to admit that I like
it here.
Submitted by Ida Banek Karlin
(Transcribed by RB, with permission from the Mellette County Historical Society, from "Mellette County 1911-1986" published by the Mellette County Historical Society)
My brother Reinhold loved to read and was handy with his hands. He made frames for the Lincoln and
Washington pictures for the Surprise Valley School. He experimented with photography and he was good at design and drawing. He made the pattern for a pieced quilt and helped Mother put it together.
Reinhold and Sophie Schaefer were married September 1939 at Breckenridge, Minnesota. They moved onto the former Merrit farm, where Reinhold continued farming and ranching in partnership with our father and with brother William.
They, as did every farmer, raised chickens for the eggs and meat, milked cows for the milk, cream and
butter. The by-products helped supplement income for groceries and other household goods. They planted a
garden which was irrigated from the well. Reinhold and Sophie experimented raising vegetables not usually
raised in the area. They were successful in raising celery. Reinhold had set up a unique method so that the celery was bleached just like what was sold at the market.
Their daughter, Anita, was born July 1942, and their son. Reinhold—or Butch, as he was called—was born
December 1943.
Reinhold became ill in the summer of 1945. They were combining wheat, and he'd been riding on the combine all day. He passed out and his hired man, Leonard Schaefer, and brother William took him to Valentine. He was operated on at that time for appendicitis. Later he had surgery for a brain tumor in Omaha. He was never well after that and was unable to take care of the farm himself. He made arrangements with our brother, Berthold, to operate the farm for him.
Reinhold and Sophie moved their family into Norris. Berthold moved from Menno with his wife and daughter to Reinhold's farm March 1, 1947. A few weeks later, Reinhold became seriously ill and was taken to the hospital in Omaha, where he died March 19, 1947.
After Reinhold's death, his widow Sophie and the two children went with my mother to Michigan. They
made their home with my mother in Pontiac for a while, then returned to their home in Norris. In July of 1948, Sophie married Arthur Siegmund. Sophie sold the farm and property at a farm sale, October 1948. Brother Berthold and family remained on the farm until the spring of 1949, then moved to a farm near Kimball, South Dakota.
Anita graduated from White River High, spring of 1960. That fall she enrolled in Augustana College in Sioux Falls and graduated in 1964 with a Bachelor of Science degree in Elementary Education.
The following is in Anita's own words:
My first position was in Brighton, Colorado, where I taught fourth grade one year and third grade the next.
There I met James Madson and was married. The highlights of this marriage were a daughter, Kimberly, and the building of our dream home in southeast Aurora. Kim graduated from high school the spring of 1984 and works as a receptionist. I expect many changes in her life as she explores options. The house has been a hobby and an investment for me as I have enjoyed working to turn a large sandpile into a landscaped yard, and empty rooms into a comfortable and attractive home.
When Kim was four years old, I returned to teaching in a third-grade class in Bennett, Colorado. Bennett
is a small rural town somewhat like White River in its composition and style. It was a most challenging year!
My class began with 23 students and ended with 42 in the spring. There was no elementary school building.
The old one had been torn down and a new one was under construction, so classes were located in various
buildings around town. Each subsequent year had unique challenges and promises so I've stayed and we've grown together. I taught third and fourth grades for nine years, then became Library Media Specialist and have worked in that capacity for five years.
As a classroom teacher, I wrote a grant proposal and received money to implement a fine arts enrichment
program which enabled our students to attend symphony and ballet concerts in Denver and to have music
and dance artists perform in our school. As a Library Media Specialist, I wrote a grant proposal and received
money for Kids Kits (Kids Interest Discovery Study Kits). This program has been developed and is now funded nationally for teachers if they qualify. I am now part of a team working to establish a publishing center.
Trips to Hawaii, Canada and several to Europe have been highlights. The unexpected events are often the
most memorable. In the middle of cosmopolitan Berlin, we viewed the Brandenburg Gate, the Wall and the
Russian and East German soldiers. The horror of this situation and its past was softened as we watched a
fox run across the open, grassy area.
The Alps of southern Germany were made even more beautiful when on a Saturday morning our visit to a small empty church included a violin concert—maybe not too unexpected in Mittenvald, the Violin City, but unexpected to us. And so life goes.. .With unexpected and memorable times.
The following story is in Reinhold Jr's. own words:
I got a B. A. degree from Augustana in 1965 with a major in biology and a minor in art. I helped my art professor with a 22-foot-tall carving of Christ. When I graduated in 1965, I took a summer school course in marine biology at the University of Oregon's Marine Station in Charleston, Oregon. Mom and Artie drove to the West Coast that summer to visit me at the Marine Station. While at the station, I took up skin diving and after school was finished I drove down the West Coast with friends, diving as we went. It was then that I decided this would be a good place to return to. On that trip I went down into Mexico, still diving.
I got back to South Dakota around Christmastime. While in South Dakota, I took my physical examination for the Army and was rejected because of my hearing. With that behind me, it was time to get down to making a living, so I returned to California. I started looking for a Fish and Game job in San Diego. I didn't find it there. I didn't find it until I had traveled north to the Fish and Games Menlo Park office. I was able to live in the Santa Cruz area and work for that office until they set up an office in Monterey. Then I was required to drive to Monterey to work. I worked for the Fish and Game Department for six or seven years.
I moved into my house here on Day Valley Road in Aptos, Thanksgiving 1967. Mom drove out with the Boetchers that year and was here for Thanksgiving. I had been moved in about two weeks. I bought the place from the owner's widow in 1975. (She died a week ago February, 1985; seems like the end of an era.)
When I quit the Fish and Game Dept., I started a Volkswagen repair business. I did that a year or so, then started building furniture. In 1975 I built my first house with two partners. Since that time, I have designed and built about six houses. The last couple, I built everything—doors, windows, cabinets, etc. I have built lots of doors, windows and cabinets for other houses as well. For a while I have been working as a finish carpenter, but I'm tired of driving, so right now I'm trying to make a business of a Mill and Cabinet Shop. I'll build doors, windows, cabinets, trim and all manner of woodwork for houses, without doing the installation. That's where I am right now.
I am in the process of building myself a new house here. I'm going slow—as money is available; I don't believe in borrowing for something I don't need. It will come about in due time. My goal is to do all of the work myself and to build everything in it (furniture, etc). I think this year's building project is to add on to my shop, as I am real tight for space.
I have about 60 some fruit and nut trees and about 150 grapevines. [He named seven different fruit trees
and three kinds of nut trees and stated probably a couple of others.) The drip irrigation system is not spectacular, but it does go to each and every established tree and shrub around the whole one and one-half
acres. I have developed springs (water) on the property, and in a good year it will run 10,000 gallons of water
a day. So if I watch it or have time, I can grow up a pretty good batch of stuff around here.
I also have a pond, where I raise "koi," the Japanese ornamental carp. No, they're not good to eat; only cute
to look at. In terms of usefulness, they're about equivalent to house dogs.
For a while I was making spoons as a winter-sit-by-the-stove-with-my-feet-up project. After a hundred or
so spoons, I got bored and carved geese and then chickens. I was going to move on to dogs and cats, but we haven't had a winter for two years, so I haven't done much carving. All the things I do compete with one another for time.
About winemaking: My grapes produced enough for 50 gallons of wine. That will be the estate's home wine,
I guess. My winemaking partner and I became a commercial—legal—winery in 1979, which means that we are licensed by the U. S. Government, State of California, to sell wine, and our wine is available in local stores. The wine business is slow right now, but we are looking forward to some pick-up in the future. Our production is about 2,000 gallons a year; sounds like a lot but really is not.
It was cold in South Carolina when I was there [Reinhold was there the first week of February for his stepfather Artie's birthday! but the word was that South Dakota was real cold. I have to admit that I like
it here.
All the data on this web site is © Copyright 2009 by Genealogy Trails' Host with full rights reserved for original submitters.
William and Marie Banek
by Marie Banek
(Transcribed by RB, with permission from the Mellette County Historical Society, from "Mellette County 1911-1986" published by the Mellette County Historical Society)
Bill and I were married April 15, 1939. That same year World War II began. Along with the war came draft registration, and the rationing of gas, sugar and coffee.
Our first home was the former Fred Littau place, which is now owned by John Karlin. In the spring of 1940, we moved to a farm west of Parmelee in Todd County. A year later it was back to Mellette County, about four miles east of Kary's store.
Our first daughter, Bernice, was born July 31, 1943. That winter of 1943-44 brought a lot of snow and cold
weather. Our water had to be carried in from the well, and wood was our only fuel. Those were the "good old days" before gas stoves and thermostats. I remember how the fire in the stove would go out at night and by morning the water was frozen in the buckets. My mother had made a woolen quilt for the baby. I would wrap it around her, pin it and put her in the bassinet, where she slept all night. By morning there would be frost on her blankets.
We milked about twelve cows the year around and raised chickens. The money from the cream and eggs
was our only income. Not all was serious; there were some lighter times too. One Saturday evening, we took
our eggs, in a thirty-dozen egg case, to White River to trade for groceries at Mickel's store. (Groceries were
cheap then, but we only bought what we needed.) This time I decided to get some bananas and intended to
ask for two pounds, but instead I said two dozen. What a surprise when we got home and opened the egg case
and found all those bananas! It took a long time to live that down.
In those days, before everyone had refrigerators and freezers, we had the usual cellar, which was a cave dug in the ground. This kept the food cool. I can remember how I dreaded going down in it because of the many snakes that could be found there.
In the fall of 1944, Bill's folks retired and moved to Michigan. We moved onto the place they had been living on for two years, the old Claybough place. This is where Bill and Chris Hutchinson now live. At this time, the war was ending and the economy gradually began to improve. We were still milking cows and raising chickens, but also usually had one or two hired men around.
The work was hard, winters were long and the feeding of the cattle was all done by hand. Bill had a trusty team of horses and a good hay rack, but the hay still had to be pitched off by hand to the cattle.
On June 29, 1946, our second daughter, Diana, was born.
I can remember the winter of 1949 as especially hard. Bill had surgery in Rochester, Minnesota, on December 12, 1948. He came home on December 26. Right after New Year's, winter really set in. Van Simmons was working for us then. We were isolated for weeks without mail or groceries. Finally in February, Bill was able to get to town and came home with a little Willys Jeep. With the use of the jeep, which could go over snowbanks, Bill and my brother John loaded all the cream and eggs in it and went to town. They were finally able to bring home groceries, mail and all the supplies we had been doing without.
The year 1952 brought a blizzard we will never forget. On January 21, 1952, which was a Monday morning, we took Bernice to school at Surprise Valley. Then Bill, Diana and I went to Valentine. Bill had a dental appointment and I had eggs and cream to sell and groceries were needed at home. Just after we left, the sky got darker and we thought about turning back but by the time we got to Mission the sun was shining. We decided to go on to Valentine. Bill went to the dentist, I got our groceries. We also luckily bought several pairs of wool socks and some warm gloves.
About the time we started for home the wind and snow started. We got about fifteen miles north of Valentine and couldn't see the road; unfortunately we got off to the side onto some ice and couldn't go any
farther. We stayed in the car, ran the motor for a while, then shut it off, the possibility of carbon monoxide
poisoning on our minds. Later, when we got cold, we tried to start the car again but nothing happened. The
snow had blown in on the motor, making it impossible to start.
We were dressed warmly and put the new wool socks on Diana's hands and feet. She slept some, but Bill
and I stayed awake, each of us keeping the other awake. We got very sleepy. We had no blankets, and the groceries we had gotten were frozen by midnight. We did have an empty juice can in the car and we burned egg cartons in it to thaw out juice and drink it, but the smoke got too thick and we had to quit that. I can remember how cold we got and how we kept moving to stay awake and keep from freezing. Bill tried to get out Tuesday evening but he went only a few feet from the car; it was still storming hard.
By Wednesday morning it had subsided and the sun came out. Bill then walked about four miles to the Paul Schemm place; they came with a tractor and got Diana and me and took us to their place.
It was 13 degrees below zero that morning. We spent the night at Schemms'. I can remember how wonderful it was to sleep in a warm bed and eat some hot food. The people were wonderful. We had spent forty-four hours stalled in the car. But our prayers were answered and we got through the ordeal without any frostbite or other bad effects. Many people were not so fortunate.
That afternoon the snowplows got out on the highway. The following day, after getting the snow out of the car motor, we drove back to Valentine and chartered two small airplanes to fly us home. Bill Collins was our hired man at the time and he took good care of things at home and came through the storm in fine shape. The schoolchildren, including Bernice, had been caught at school in the storm. They and the teacher, Bernice Hartmen, made their way to the John Karlin place, where they were snowed in for several days.
The summer of 1952 brought a lot of prairie fires. One evening after a day of 110 degrees, a few clouds appeared in the sky. Our hired man had just stepped outside when he came running back and reported smelling smoke. Lightning had struck about two miles west, and the wind was quite strong by then. Neighbors came from miles around; fire trucks and equipment came from Norris, White River, Mission and Rosebud. The
fire spread rapidly and came very close to our buildings, but luckily it was contained before it burned our home.
On July 15, 1954 our youngest daughter, Carol, was born.
Because of the generosity of our neighbors and friends, the fall of 1960 was easier on us all. In September Bill was thrown from a horse, and suffered a broken pelvis. He spent six weeks in the hospital at Kadoka, flat on his back there and for another two weeks after coming home. That was the fall when family, friends and neighbors came from far and near to help us get our fall work done. Feed was stacked and hauled for the winter. We were shown once again how wonderful people really are.
Our family is grown now. Bernice married Bob Sandal in 1965. They have three children, Shane, Justin
and Dawn, and live in Chipley, Florida. Diana married Terry Zieman in 1979; they have two children, Nikki and Shawn, and live near Lincoln, Nebraska. Carol married Bob Hutchinson in 1974 and they have two children, Ryan and Cole. They live near White River.
On February 25, 1977, Bill was killed instantly in a tragic tractor accident while out feeding cows. In
November of 1977 I retired from the farm and moved to Winner, South Dakota, where I now live.
by Marie Banek
(Transcribed by RB, with permission from the Mellette County Historical Society, from "Mellette County 1911-1986" published by the Mellette County Historical Society)
Bill and I were married April 15, 1939. That same year World War II began. Along with the war came draft registration, and the rationing of gas, sugar and coffee.
Our first home was the former Fred Littau place, which is now owned by John Karlin. In the spring of 1940, we moved to a farm west of Parmelee in Todd County. A year later it was back to Mellette County, about four miles east of Kary's store.
Our first daughter, Bernice, was born July 31, 1943. That winter of 1943-44 brought a lot of snow and cold
weather. Our water had to be carried in from the well, and wood was our only fuel. Those were the "good old days" before gas stoves and thermostats. I remember how the fire in the stove would go out at night and by morning the water was frozen in the buckets. My mother had made a woolen quilt for the baby. I would wrap it around her, pin it and put her in the bassinet, where she slept all night. By morning there would be frost on her blankets.
We milked about twelve cows the year around and raised chickens. The money from the cream and eggs
was our only income. Not all was serious; there were some lighter times too. One Saturday evening, we took
our eggs, in a thirty-dozen egg case, to White River to trade for groceries at Mickel's store. (Groceries were
cheap then, but we only bought what we needed.) This time I decided to get some bananas and intended to
ask for two pounds, but instead I said two dozen. What a surprise when we got home and opened the egg case
and found all those bananas! It took a long time to live that down.
In those days, before everyone had refrigerators and freezers, we had the usual cellar, which was a cave dug in the ground. This kept the food cool. I can remember how I dreaded going down in it because of the many snakes that could be found there.
In the fall of 1944, Bill's folks retired and moved to Michigan. We moved onto the place they had been living on for two years, the old Claybough place. This is where Bill and Chris Hutchinson now live. At this time, the war was ending and the economy gradually began to improve. We were still milking cows and raising chickens, but also usually had one or two hired men around.
The work was hard, winters were long and the feeding of the cattle was all done by hand. Bill had a trusty team of horses and a good hay rack, but the hay still had to be pitched off by hand to the cattle.
On June 29, 1946, our second daughter, Diana, was born.
I can remember the winter of 1949 as especially hard. Bill had surgery in Rochester, Minnesota, on December 12, 1948. He came home on December 26. Right after New Year's, winter really set in. Van Simmons was working for us then. We were isolated for weeks without mail or groceries. Finally in February, Bill was able to get to town and came home with a little Willys Jeep. With the use of the jeep, which could go over snowbanks, Bill and my brother John loaded all the cream and eggs in it and went to town. They were finally able to bring home groceries, mail and all the supplies we had been doing without.
The year 1952 brought a blizzard we will never forget. On January 21, 1952, which was a Monday morning, we took Bernice to school at Surprise Valley. Then Bill, Diana and I went to Valentine. Bill had a dental appointment and I had eggs and cream to sell and groceries were needed at home. Just after we left, the sky got darker and we thought about turning back but by the time we got to Mission the sun was shining. We decided to go on to Valentine. Bill went to the dentist, I got our groceries. We also luckily bought several pairs of wool socks and some warm gloves.
About the time we started for home the wind and snow started. We got about fifteen miles north of Valentine and couldn't see the road; unfortunately we got off to the side onto some ice and couldn't go any
farther. We stayed in the car, ran the motor for a while, then shut it off, the possibility of carbon monoxide
poisoning on our minds. Later, when we got cold, we tried to start the car again but nothing happened. The
snow had blown in on the motor, making it impossible to start.
We were dressed warmly and put the new wool socks on Diana's hands and feet. She slept some, but Bill
and I stayed awake, each of us keeping the other awake. We got very sleepy. We had no blankets, and the groceries we had gotten were frozen by midnight. We did have an empty juice can in the car and we burned egg cartons in it to thaw out juice and drink it, but the smoke got too thick and we had to quit that. I can remember how cold we got and how we kept moving to stay awake and keep from freezing. Bill tried to get out Tuesday evening but he went only a few feet from the car; it was still storming hard.
By Wednesday morning it had subsided and the sun came out. Bill then walked about four miles to the Paul Schemm place; they came with a tractor and got Diana and me and took us to their place.
It was 13 degrees below zero that morning. We spent the night at Schemms'. I can remember how wonderful it was to sleep in a warm bed and eat some hot food. The people were wonderful. We had spent forty-four hours stalled in the car. But our prayers were answered and we got through the ordeal without any frostbite or other bad effects. Many people were not so fortunate.
That afternoon the snowplows got out on the highway. The following day, after getting the snow out of the car motor, we drove back to Valentine and chartered two small airplanes to fly us home. Bill Collins was our hired man at the time and he took good care of things at home and came through the storm in fine shape. The schoolchildren, including Bernice, had been caught at school in the storm. They and the teacher, Bernice Hartmen, made their way to the John Karlin place, where they were snowed in for several days.
The summer of 1952 brought a lot of prairie fires. One evening after a day of 110 degrees, a few clouds appeared in the sky. Our hired man had just stepped outside when he came running back and reported smelling smoke. Lightning had struck about two miles west, and the wind was quite strong by then. Neighbors came from miles around; fire trucks and equipment came from Norris, White River, Mission and Rosebud. The
fire spread rapidly and came very close to our buildings, but luckily it was contained before it burned our home.
On July 15, 1954 our youngest daughter, Carol, was born.
Because of the generosity of our neighbors and friends, the fall of 1960 was easier on us all. In September Bill was thrown from a horse, and suffered a broken pelvis. He spent six weeks in the hospital at Kadoka, flat on his back there and for another two weeks after coming home. That was the fall when family, friends and neighbors came from far and near to help us get our fall work done. Feed was stacked and hauled for the winter. We were shown once again how wonderful people really are.
Our family is grown now. Bernice married Bob Sandal in 1965. They have three children, Shane, Justin
and Dawn, and live in Chipley, Florida. Diana married Terry Zieman in 1979; they have two children, Nikki and Shawn, and live near Lincoln, Nebraska. Carol married Bob Hutchinson in 1974 and they have two children, Ryan and Cole. They live near White River.
On February 25, 1977, Bill was killed instantly in a tragic tractor accident while out feeding cows. In
November of 1977 I retired from the farm and moved to Winner, South Dakota, where I now live.
All the data on this web site is © Copyright 2009 by Genealogy Trails' Host with full rights reserved for original submitters.
Wilhelm and Wilhelmina Banek standing near their Plymouth—taken in front of the Kills Plenty house
All the data on this web site is © Copyright 2009 by Genealogy Trails' Host with full rights reserved for original submitters.
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