It’s remarkable how patterns repeat themselves down the line of a family tree. But sooner or later someone comes along to break the pattern. I like to think of my great grandma – the story for this week – as breaking a cycle of women who marry tragic figures that leave them behind at the height of their vulnerability – pregnant, with many mouths to feed, and a farm to tend.
Christina Schleppenbach is the only of my eight great grandparents that I have any faint memories of. I remember a joyous celebration in 1985 for her 90th birthday. She was gifted a money tree with real bills hanging down from real branches, and this was pure magic to my 6 year-old self. Between that event and her last year in 1991, I don’t remember ever seeing her. Toward the very end of her days, she spent a little time in the home of her daughter, my grandma, and by that age, she was confused by me, trying to make sense of whose child I was, struggling to decipher whatever polite, shy thing my parents prompted me to say to her.
So my two fuzzy little girl memories don’t much contribute to her story.
Christina was the first born to 30 year old Johann Schleppenbach and 24 year-old Johanna Rakovitz. Johann had arrived from Bavaria, Germany (I suspect Deggendorf was his village, but I have to verify) to the US at the age of 20, and made his way to the German immigrant farming community of Albany, Minnesota. 1885 census records find him starting his young life in America by helping on the farm of an older brother, Ferdinand. The neighboring farm had a familial connection to the woman who’d become his wife, Johanna. She was first generation born of German immigrant parents, and her father’s life was cut short by suicide. This event left Johanna’s mother alone with ten children and a farm. Johanna, as the oldest, surely must have shouldered a great burden.
Christina was the first child of Johann and Johanna, and as was typical of their farming community, many children followed in quick succession. By 1905, 10 year-old Christina shared her household with her farming parents, 8 and 6 year-old brothers Johnny and Frank and 4 and 2 year-old sisters, Johanna and Franciska.
For now I can only surmise that the home was very musical. It was quite typical of German communities to be gregarious, and musical. Christina’s children and grandchildren remember her as playing the piano and their family was raised very musical, and so I can only guess that Christina’s love of music started in her childhood household.
However, as it had for her own mother, the music would be cut off suddenly in 1910 when their father Johann died suddenly and tragically.
In 1910, Christina’s parents were 18 years into their married farm life. Eldest daughter Christina was 14. Two year-old and one year-old Joseph and Ferdinand brought the total number of children to seven. They were also joined by 15 year-old “hired laborer” Joseph Lesser. When I overturned his stone, I found that he was Johanna’s nephew. His mother, being Johanna’s sister, had also lost her father to suicide when they were growing up. After she started her own family and while her children were still quite young, she disappeared from the census records. Then she came back. And so I can only wonder for now about her whereabouts when she was missing. In any case, in 1910 this 15 year-old nephew Joseph was part of the Schleppenbach household.
Father Johann “drank too much.” These were the words scribbled by a family member on a newspaper clipping about the accident. These were also the words whispered by 100 year-old Lou, his living granddaughter. I can only imagine what that meant exactly. I know the temperance movement, which was steadily rising to a boiling point, was formed in direct opposition to the chronic alcoholism that was damaging the peace, safety, and finances of families at the time. The extent of Johann’s drinking problem is something I can only guess at, but what I do know is that it was alcohol that led to his unseemly and untimely death.
This is translated (Google) from the German that ran in the local paper Der Nordstern :
“After a requiem held on Friday morning in the local parish church by the high-priest Father Andreas, the earthly remains of Johann Schleppenbach who had fallen asleep the previous Wednesday, were buried with great sympathy for the final rest. The deceased fell one week before his death from a heavily laden with lumber car whose wheels went over his body, where he suffered internal injuries that caused his death. He used his short time of suffering to a dignified preparation for the difficult journey into eternity…”
A horse-drawn drunk driving incident. That sounds awful. He remained alive with his injuries for one week. That must have been an awful, awful week for the family. And then long years getting on with things.
One Sunday Christina would spot young Christian Fuchs, another child of German immigrants. He would catch her eye again playing the fiddle at a barn dance. The two met and I can only imagine that music returned to her life. Christina began working as a nanny in a neighboring farm in order to help her family, and Christ would travel to spend long afternoon visits with her. I am told by their daughter, Lou, that the logistics of this courtship weren’t easy by today’s standards. There was always work to be done and long walking distances that separated them.
They were married in June of 1916. This is the (Google translation) announcement in der Nordstern: On Monday of last week at a wedding ceremony held at 9 a.m. by Rev. P. Andreas, O. S. B., Christian H. Fuchs and Miss Christina Schleppenbach were married for life.
I just love discovering ancestors getting married on weekday mornings. Let’s just be real about the long life of service that is marriage. They even add “for life” in the announcement.
However, Christina’s and Christ’s marriage was one of true love. Daughter Lou notes how well “mom took care of daddy.” Maybe she harbored a deep fear of experiencing the loss that her own mother felt (loss of both her father and then her husband, each around the age of 49 at the height of the responsibilities of family life).
I wrote a long account of Christ and Christina’s married life in Christ’s story of which I will only summarize at this time. Christ traded his farm for a blacksmith’s shop, and the two had a prosperous and peaceful life together. They had one son and five daughters, and all were a musical family. They played music all around the St. Cloud community including on local radio and sporting events.
For the fullest account of my findings, Christ’s story should be included with Christina’s. However, there are a few details I will add that are specific to Christina:
According to their daughter Lorraine, my grandma, Christina “sewed like a charm.” She was always sewing clothes for all her children. Also, she quilted and my father recalls an old antique quilting loom in her house (also an organ). Also, my grandmother spent summers gathering berries and mother Christina kept jars and jars of preserves in the basement for the long, cold winters.
Christina’s daughter Lou remembers her mother as the more effusive of the two of her parents, and she speaks with a great deal of love and tenderness for both of them. Indeed, my own grandmother was a bright ray of sunshine and I can only imagine that so much of her joy was a gift from her parents and siblings. I remember my grandma once saying in regards to love and relationships something to the effect, “It might not seem obvious, but it’s the woman who chooses.” Whether or not that’s always the case, I feel like in Christina’s case it was. I think she chose with true intention a solid life partner and together they worked hard to provide a happy life for their children – one that wasn’t cut off prematurely. I believe she reversed a pattern, and I am grateful for her.
Christina Schleppenbach Fuchs died on July 29, 1991 at the age of 96. Her husband preceded her, but he lived to be 80. In her later years she was quite healthy, living independently in a tidy home in Albany, tending with care to a lovely garden. In her last few years she stayed with family and then a nursing home in Albany. Her life was long and full with plenty of music.
5 thoughts on “Ancestor Stories: Christina Schleppenbach (1895-1991)”
It is sad that we only get to know many of our older relative when we are so very young and they so very old, and neither are operating at full capacity. However by your research you have over came that block of very young and old age a got to know someone very well. Well done and a good job at telling family history.
Thank you for reading. I am just beginning the process of remembering my ancestors and telling their stories and it is a joy to discover that there is a whole community out there that gets it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Interesting story. How wonderful to have such old photos–and the memories from your grandmother.
I am a distant relative of yours who grew up in Albany, MN. I remember visiting Christ and Christina as a young girl. I recall the sign that hung on the light post in their front yard near the post office you referenced in the Christ Fuchs story. The sign, no doubt made by Christ in his blacksmith shop, read “Christ Fuchs” and, yes, many small minds snickered at the sight.
I don’t remember Christ as well as “Aunt Dina.” She was a wonderful, sweet woman who always offered a young child a piece of candy from the dish on her coffee table. Her home was always well kept with tatted and lace doilies on the furniture. Everything neat and tidy. I was enamored by the foot pump organ and the weaving loom. Seems to me my mother would bring tattered cloths to her so she could weave rugs. Christina would be kind enough to play songs on the organ when we visited and she was my inspiration for learning to play at a young age, taking lessons from Marie Tonyan, another Albany resident. Aunt Dina had a maroon Mercury Monterey sedan, circa 1963. It had a unique rear window that rolled down.
Your great grandfather, Christ, was a brother to my paternal grandfather, Nicholas. My father, Harold Fuchs, took over the blacksmith shop from Christ. That happened many years before I was born. In 1958, my father gave up the blacksmith shop. There wasn’t enough work to sustain the ever-growing family. He and my mother (Rose Welters) moved to a farm about 7 miles northeast of Albany on Two Rivers Lake.
My dad brought much of the blacksmith shop equipment to the farm and used his abilities to fix and build many things on our farm. There were always neighbors stopping by to have something fixed or welded. As a kid, I loved being in dad’s shop and watching him at his craft; the smell of the iron in the forge and the sizzle as he dipped the glowing red iron into water. After my father died in 1994, I heard from one of the neighbors that they had a saying, “Bring Harold Fuchs enough Hamm’s beer cans and he’ll build you a Cadillac.”
The blacksmith shop you speak of still stands in Albany, Minnesota. Most recently, it was a pizza parlor. You’re right about the blacksmithing that takes place at the annual Stearns County Pioneer Days. It’s a popular attraction. For many years, another family member, Peter (“Polka Dot Pete”) Fuchs of nearby Avon, MN was the blacksmith at the show. The SCPC has plans to build a bigger blacksmith shop so more visitors can enjoy watching the blacksmiths in action.
Thank you for sharing your stories. It’s obvious you did a tremendous amount of research.