I belong to a German genealogy group on Facebook where members are ready and willing to help in any way, many times by translating German text.
I also have a scan of a small piece of ephemera that is part of the collection of a Tapper relative. In 2008 this collection was sent to my mother to scan, catalog, and organize, which she did, and then returned the box to her cousin. While I found all the small bits fascinating, one piece, in particular, caught my eye as it had the name A. H. Klöfkorn written at the bottom. I grabbed my German/English dictionary and took a stab at translating the text. I didn’t get very far in creating a translation that made sense to me. I opened Google Translate and what it produced made even less sense. I put the image of the piece aside but would return to it now and again to take another stab at it.
The small piece is very pretty, with a bouquet of flowers on one side, with the text “Heartfelt Congratulations” written below, but scratched out with a strong line across it. This I could translate. Flowers, congratulations, the signature of A. H. Klöfkorn… All I could think ,was that this was a token of love given to my great-grandmother Gretje Folkerts Müller by her husband, Albert Heinrich Klöfkorn. I wrote about them in my post titled: “Strength at Christmas” which can be found here: https://www.outagamieandbeyond.com/2015/12/26/strength-at-christmas/.
A friend from high school is also a member of the aforementioned Facebook group, and I began to notice that she was having a lot of luck asking for translations of postcards and other items in her collection. A lightbulb went off as I remembered this piece and my frustration in translating it. I decided to ask the group for help. OH MY GOSH! Almost before I finished hitting send, the messages of help started to flow in. What I received that morning was not only a translation, but a link to the original poem it came from, a link to a good German to English translator, comments about the text, and me having the opportunity to tell everyone who helped why this was so important to me. It was a good morning.
Here is what I learned. The text includes words that there is no direct equivalent in English, so the wonderful translator included options:
You remain in your still/quiet/peaceful being/existence.
And I must travel on.
Let us remember with gratitude,
What we were to each other.
As a reminder/memory, A. H. Klöfkorn
I was both right and wrong in my thoughts about what this small piece was to Gretje. Albert did not give her the small card, he did not sign the small card, but in many ways, it is a small token of love, a memory of a person lost. It is an early form of today’s funeral card.
The text, (thank you to the wonderful translator) is the third stanza of a poem by Friedrich Rückert (1788-1866) titled: “Du hast mir hell in’s Herz geblickt.” The text has also been put to music.
A bit of Googling tells me that mourning cards date as far back as the 1700s, and stem back to the custom of using calling cards to announce your visit. Receiving a mourning card could serve as your “ticket” to attend the funeral.
While we may never know if this small card was created at the time of Albert’s death on 20 Dec 1870, or if Gretje found the card and many years later wrote his name at the bottom, I feel confident that this card with its stanza of poetry on the back meant something to Gretje. The sentiment reminded her of her first love, her husband, Albert Heinrich Klöfkorn who was lost at sea, going down with his ship the Drei Schwestern (Three Sisters).
A week ago today the weather was miserable in Wisconsin. After two days of 65° degree weather we woke to temps in the 30s, and an expected snowfall of 2-5”. Not the weather we had hoped for as we laid my mother to rest in Neenah’s Oak Hill Cemetery.
We met at the cemetery at 11:00 and headed to what shelter a nearby mausoleum entrance could provide from the snow and sleet. It was a beautiful service with readings and intentions from some of her oldest friends.
Upon leaving the cemetery we headed back to our hotel at the Home2Suites in Appleton. We had two rooms that were adjoining, and so allowed the 12 of us ample seating and room to move around. Mom loved a grazing meal in front of the fire in the library, a glass of wine in hand. We couldn’t provide the fire or library, and we didn’t offer wine, but we had warm coffee, cupcakes, and all the cheeses and charcuterie meats she loved.
As a genealogist, I love to tell stories. As the keeper of the photos, my mother loved to identify, date to the best of her ability, and gather them into an album of sorts for all to view. Last week we played on the room’s massive TV a slideshow I had put together of her life.
In the past, we have done photo boards where pictures are randomly tacked to foam core sheets, and placed along the receiving line. For my mother-in-law, I created a movie using actual footage from their wedding and adding images of her and my father-in-law through the years. I was a bit ahead of my time as it didn’t transfer to a form that would play well at the dinner after the funeral.
This time we had a bit more control as we sent the slideshow from my laptop to the Apple TV.
As people entered the room, the kids had it playing and the coffee brewing (we brought a 12 cup pot from home, along with a favorite flavored decaf). The images stopped people in their tracks. 51 images with captions flowed across the screen. Mom and her brother as young children, mom as a teen in red shoes, a 1947 selfie stating “Me ’47 taken by me,” when she was 14. An image from her days studying at the Art Institute of Chicago, graduation from Drake University in 1955. Her summer trip to Europe where she and two college friends traveled 2900 miles over 31 days in a small Renault, visiting France, Luxembourg, Germany, Austria, Italy, Switzerland, back to France, London, Scotland, back to London then the ship back to New York. Her days working at Quaker Oats in the Merchandise Mart in Chicago, meeting my father, their marriage and move to New York City. The birth of their first child, me, and the second, my brother. Images of us as a family, and her days working as the secretary at First English Lutheran Church in Appleton. Images through her life. A snapshot of time. A life. My mom’s life.
Because of COVID and distance, it took a year for this to happen. But I think she would have been pleased with how the day came together. Rest in peace mom.
Letter writing is a lost art. It is so easy to slam out a text or write that “quick email” that our penmanship is failing, and our ability to put together a proper complete sentence is suffering.
This past week I have been busy transcribing my mother’s travel journal. The summer after she graduated from Drake University in Des Moines, Iowa, she and two of her sorority sisters left to spend the summer traveling around Europe. They rented a 4-door Renault in Paris, a car so small that only one suitcase and the coats fit in the trunk, the other suitcases were strapped to the roof of the car. Leaving Paris, they would drive 2900 miles over the next 31 days, traveling through France, Germany, Switzerland, and Italy, before returning the car, and boarding a train to spend another week between London and Edinburgh, Scotland.
Mom was diligent about recording the Date, Place, and Weather for each day, along with a short synopsis of how they had spent their day, and what they had seen. I thought that this small journal was giving me a great insight into her trip, and all of the wonders she had seen. That is until I read her letters home. My grandparents had saved each letter and postcard that she had sent home, mom had saved all the letters that she received at American Express offices throughout Europe, and neighbors had “returned” to her the postcards that she had sent to them.
After I had finished the journal, I started to transcribe the letters, inserting the transcription of the letter following the date of the journal entry. Suddenly the trip came alive! From her journal entry I learn: “… ate a wonderful meal of snails, wine (Claret) & ice cream & raspberries…” From her letter home I discover that “… That evening we enjoyed a wonderful meal of snails & claret & ice cream & raspberries. They are served in their shells on trays, which look something like tiny, shallow muffin tins. Each snail is covered with melted butter, garlic, and parsley. You are given a small fork and tong like things (to hold the shell) with which you eat them. After you eat the snail you soak tiny bits of your bread in the garlic butter. It is really very tasty — of course you leave reeking of garlic, but happy.” As my grandma said in her August 7th letter to mom “You will never know how much your wonderful letters & cards mean to us. Am saving all of them & just to read about what you are seeing and such thrills us to death. Your letters are almost like a travelogue. Gosh but it sure sounds wonderful and we are so pleased that you are having such a wonderful time.”
Speaking of grandma. In the summer of 1955, Verna Amelia Gray Tapper was 44 years old. My grandfather, Roland John Tapper, Sr. was 45, turning 46 on August 1st. That summer, on August 6th, they celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary. They were so young!! And grandma was just full of news to share. Mom’s trip spanned ten weeks, and grandma wrote seven letters during that time, and mom sent 12 letters home, plus several postcards. For grandma and grandpa, they received a travelogue, and for mom, she kept up with all the news from home. And me? Well, I can sit down and “see” into the past. I can enjoy mom’s trip along with grandma and grandpa, and I can feel the heat of the 100° days, the happiness that grandma felt when “Dad had my diamond reset & got me a new wedding ring. So — for the first time I have matched rings…The settings are simple but dainty & beautiful & he is so proud of them he could just burst.”
Now I am scanning and organizing the letters, the postcards, the travel journal, and the book that mom put together at my request. In 2011 I had asked her to document her trip, which she did in the form of a photo journal, as she organized and captioned the photos that she had from the trip. I am working on putting this together in book format so that the whole summer can be savored in one bite, “The Summer of 1955.”
Yesterday I purchased a SHOTBOX. What is a SHOTBOX? The developer describes it this way: “The SHOTBOX is an all-in-one portable light studio that allows you to scan faster, capture amazing photos, and have fun unleashing your creative side all just using your smartphone.” Here is a link to their website: https://shotbox.me.
Why did I purchase a SHOTBOX? To photograph family objects so that they can be cataloged and packed safely away in an archival manner.
Until now I was not interested in owning a SHOTBOX. I found them fascinating, but you see, in my old house the kid’s bathroom made the perfect “studio” for capturing images of family objects, and there was no setup or storage. Well, maybe some clean-up of toothpaste residue, but that needed to be done anyway. But that house is no longer mine, and the new house does not sport a similar photo opportunity. So I decided to take a second look at the SHOTBOX and started to watch the videos that had been produced for Rootstech. The videos, combined with a conversation that I had had with my mother three weeks ago, sold me.
My in-laws wedding bands, photographed in the bathroom
Three weeks ago I was down in the basement amongst the yet to be opened boxes that we had moved from Appleton, and decided to open the box that contained my mother’s music boxes. I knew that many of them were not in the best shape having spent years in the basement, but they are full of memories. My mom had marked the bottom of each box with the month and year that she had received it, so I was looking for these dates as I unpacked each piece. I came across a box that had always been part of her collection but had no date marked on the bottom. I took it upstairs to ask her about it. This simple question of when she had received the box turned into an hour or more of conversation. And little did I know, it would be our last meaningful conversation, as she died last Sunday, February 21, 2021, from an aggressive form of kidney cancer.
Lying in her bed, she told me that she had purchased the music box with money from Uncle Norman (Norman Tapper), in Switzerland, while on her trip to Europe. In the summer of 1955 my mother and two college friends, sailed to Europe to spend 31 days traveling through six countries. She was 22 years old. She went on to say that she arrived in Switzerland knowing that she wanted to find a certain type of box, one that was similar to a piece that her father had brought home from his trip to Europe in 1929. I don’t remember the next question that I asked her, but she said that her journal for the trip was in her sitting room, in the blanket chest in a bag she had also purchased on the trip. I went to look, found the bag and journal, and brought it back to her bedroom. Inside the bag was an envelope that contained the pictures she took on the trip along with all of the letters that she had written – and family members returned to her – and her journal.
In the back of the journal was a “Cash Account” section where she noted every penny that she spent. The goal of each girl was to not spend more than $1,000, a goal they proudly reached. Looking through the book, I found the music box. She had paid 78 francs for it, and also included the conversion rate which was $18.09. Looking to see where she was on that day the “10th,” I find her in Geneva, Switzerland where the weather was “cool & clear.”
At my request, mom had put together a memory book for this trip, The Summer of 1955 which she had completed in June 2011. She wrote a great introductory page, with one of my favorite stories. You see, my mom never drove in my lifetime. Her early adult life was spent in Chicago, her early married life spent in New York City, and then Appleton, Outagamie, Wisconsin. In the first cities, she did not need a car, and arriving in Appleton, she and my dad only had one car, plus she could easily walk to what was then a vibrant downtown, from our little rental on Story Street. In her introduction, she wrote that her friends “…got their International Driver’s Licenses, but since I still hadn’t gotten my U.S. driver’s license I had to wait until we got to Paris to get mine. After I graduated [from Drake University] on June 7th I went home, applied for, took both written and driving tests, passed, and finally received my US driver’s license” My mother drove in the Swiss Alps, and took her turn throughout Europe, only to return to the United States, and never drive again.
While her book is amazing, with all of the photos organized and labeled, it does not include her journal. So that brings me back to the SHOTBOX and the video that decided the matter for me, “Journal Tips – Rootstech Live Stream” where Aaron Johnson talks about his mom’s journal and how he digitized it.
My SHOTBOX has been shipped, and while I wait, I am pondering how I will organize what I have. At this moment I am thinking that I will scan the journal, inserting the letters she sent home at the appropriate date within the journal. Once I reach the “Cash Account” I will photograph any items that we still have and add them to this section. In the final section, I will include the photo book she created in 2011, The Summer of 1955.
I am so glad that I decided to open the box that contained her music boxes, and took a look.
June 16, 1927 was the date that twenty-six-year old Gretje Sophia Tapper, daughter of Anton and Louise Tapper, and forty-two-year old Albert Juiius Warber, DDS chose as their wedding date.
Trinity Lutheran church in Hammond, Lake Co, Indiana was filled with 250 guests as she was escorted down the aisle by her father to Lohengrin’s Wedding March. Her brother’s Anton Jr., and Roland served as ushers, and her sister, Alice, served as her maid of honor.
The Lake County Times account of the wedding was filled with the usual language of the time as it described the wedding. The “attractive bridesmaids in yellow taffeta frocks made with bouffant skirts and trimmed with dainty rosebuds of taffeta.” They each wore a “large picture hat of horsehair braid, trimmed with yellow and orchid velvet ribbons and carried a vari-colored bouquet of spring flowers.” Fourteen-year-old Alice serving as maid of honor, wore “a bouffant frock of orchid taffeta with rosebud trimmings. Her becoming hat was trimmed with lovely flowers. Miss Tapper also carried a pretty maid of honor bouquet.”
The report continues: “The bride was lovely as she entered the church on the arm of her father in a wedding gown of white satin trimmed with brides lace and prettily beaded. Her cap-shaped headdress fell in soft folds of tulle to the hem of her gown and was touched with delicate flowers about her face. To complete her costume Miss Tapper carried a lovely bridal bouquet of lilies and roses en shower.”
Immediately following the 4:30 ceremony an enjoyable dinner was served at the Hammond Woman’s Club.[1]
The above article filled with vivid descriptions of what the bride and her bridesmaids wore was typical of the time. Every wedding was beautifully appointed and filled with “pretty” bridesmaids, and “lovely” brides. But it was a small item printed on the front page of The Lake County Times under the headline: “Did You Hear That” that really brought to life for me how big and “fancy” this Tapper wedding was.
The item reads: “This is a big afternoon for Tony Tapper. Aside from the marriage of his daughter, it’s his first appearance in a swallow-tail coat and a plug hat.”
A swallow-tail coat and a plug hat? Not knowing I turned to Google to see what I could learn. A tailcoat, for special occasions – think white tie, the coat has silk lapels and covered buttons with a single vent, with or without pleating at the back. The center vent rises up to the waistline and divide’s the coat’s skirt into two “tails,” thus inspiring the nickname swallow-tail coat, or claw-hammer tailcoat. These “tails” extend down to the bend of the knee in a straight line, with a curve the bottom.
As for the hat. Merriam-Webster defines a plug hat as a stiff hat, such as a top hat.
The out of copyright image to the left shows a man in a top hat at tails. AAHH I always think of Fred Astaire when I think of top hats and tails…
I wish that we had pictures of this wedding, but I do believe that this was not the first time that Anton appeared in formal evening dress. He was very well dressed at his own wedding twenty-seven years before his daughters.
But what I really love about these two articles is that together they provide a true look at how very formal this wedding was. The fact that it was a white tie affair is not reflected in the charming description of the bride and her bridesmaids.
Now if we only had a glimpse into what they served for the enjoyable dinner…
Anton & Louisa Normann Tapper, 15 Jul 1900
[1] “Miss Tapper and Dr. Warber Wed,” The Lake County Times, 16 Jun 1927, Thursday, p. 10, col. 2; digital images, Newspapers.com (www.newspapers.com : accessed 16 Oct 2017).
Nines were pivotal years for Roland John Tapper, Sr. On August 1, 1909 he was born in Hammond, Lake County, Indiana, USA to Anton Herman Tapper Sr., and Louisa L. Normann. Today marks the 110th anniversary of his birth.
On June 5, 1929, he proudly graduated from Culver Military Academy, which is located in Culver, Marshall County, Indiana. He and his older brother, Anton, attended Culver from 1926-1929, both graduating on that June day in 1929. Grandpa loved his days at Culver, and was proud to have been a part of their Black Horse Troop, serving as Second Lieutenant of the troop for the school year, 1928-1929.
Shortly after graduation he, his father, and his brother Anton, and sister Alice, left for a trip to Europe. They left July 6, 1929, returning to the United States, September 17th. They visited Germany, Switzerland, and possibly other countries (more research to be done), and the trip deserves its own blog post.
Sadly, not long after they returned from this amazing European adventure, his mother fell ill, and she passed away of an embolism on November 29th. She had entered St. Margaret’s hospital for an appendicitis operation, after which a blood clot had formed. The Times reported on November 30th that “…Last night members of the family visited with her in her hospital room until 9 o’clock and plans were merrily discussed for removing her within a day or two. Less than two hours later she was dead. It is believed that an unabsorbed portion of the blood clot was carried to her brain.
Mrs. Tapper was 50 years old and is survived by the husband, three sons, Norman, Anton and Rowland, [sic]and a daughter, Alice. She also leaves three grandchildren…”1
Fast forward to today, August 1, 2019, and as I am working to unpack our household from the move to Rhode Island, I came across a tube, which had marked upon it: “RJT Culver Certificates.” Thinking I knew what the tube contained, and curious at the same time, I opened it. Inside were my grandfather’s graduation certificates looking as perfect as they did that June day, 90 years ago.
So with unboxing still to be done, I felt I just had to take a moment and write this quick post about Roland John Tapper, and the 110 years spanning from 1909 to 2019.
Happy Birthday Grandpa. Miss you.
“Mrs. Tapper Dies From Embolism,” (Hammond)The Times, 30 Nov 1929, Saturday, p. 1, col. 6.
