Euren, "Oy-ren" and the Bottkols.........

 

Known far and wide because of its unusual sounding name, the Kewaunee County hamlet of Euren is just west of Algoma on County Highway S. Originally called Bottkolville after the Bottkol family, the name was eventually changed to reflect the family birthplace in Euren, Germany, a suburb of Trier located on the German-French border. And, in German, what became Euren sounds like "Oy-ren."

Born in 1805, patriarch Michael Bottkol served in the Napoleonic Wars. His older sons were compelled to serve in the Germany army. Bottkol despised war, and it was Germany’s glorification of it that prompted the decision to immigrate to America.

Letters said that military service in the United States was not compulsory and that forested lands could be purchased for $1.00 an acre. Possibilities of purchasing 100 or more acres, freedom of speech and religion, and thoughts of equal opportunities were overwhelming. It was even said that in America one could have meat daily. Meat consumption for those of Bottkol’s station was reserved for Christmas and Easter in Germany.

Bottkol was denied the right to immigrate, possibly because he had sons who would be eligible for military service. Whether a guard was paid off is anyone’s guess, but the Bottkols escaped across a bridge over the Moselle River and eventually sailed from France. Canal boats and steamers finally got the Bottkols to Milwaukee where they bought four 40-acre tracts, one with a stream, on the Door County Peninsula. On arriving at the tiny settlement of Kewaunee, Bottkol hired a land cruiser so inexperienced that he was afraid of the thickly forested area thus necessitating Bottkol return to Kewaunee to hire an experienced cruiser to search the blaze marks and finally locate Bottkol’s property.

Bottkol built a store, saw and grist mills, a tavern, cheese factory and more. Bottkols applied for a post office at Euren and when the post office was approved, the Bottkols ran that too.

Kewaunee County residents fondly remember Euren’s most prominent citizen, Dr. Edward Kerscher who delivered thousands of Kewaunee County babies before his retirement in the 1960s. He was married to Helen Bottkol. Though the Bottkol name is one that has disappeared from Kewaunee County directories, the family and its descendants have had a major impact of the county’s residents.

The above 1908 postcard was taken from Here Comes the Mail, Post Offices of Kewaunee County. By then Bottkol's mill had been destroyed by fire. The building on the right in the 1908 card was the Bottkol store. The building still stands and was Mel Hucek's tavern when the photo at the left was taken. Today the popular spot is called Tippy Canoe.

Kewaunee County: Here Comes the Thrashing Crew, Fire Up the Cook Stove!

Grandma always said they ate like a thrashing crew. "They" were the boys. And the thrashing crew? It's hard for the non-retired - especially the city slickers - to understand.

Thrashing was just about the year's biggest farming event. Like so many other things, it was a man's domain.. Thrashing was hard work and neighborhood men went from farm to farm working together to get the shocked grain off the field, into the thrashing machine and finally the granary. Men, often referred to as "the menfolk", did all the outside work, but it was the women who fed them and the esteem in which women were held was often determined during thrashing.

The crew would show up at a farm right after the previous farm was finished. Whether it was morning or afternoon, the farmer's wife had to be prepared. In addition to meals, the women provided morning and afternoon lunches that were more like a meal than a snack. Roasts, chicken, pork chops. Cake, pie and more cake and pie. Bread to be baked. As the saying goes, the men worked from sun to sun but the women's work was never done. Often a woman's sister or friend came to help make the huge amounts of required food and wash the mounds of dishes for which water had to be hauled and heated.

Friday had moved to her husband's farm following their marriage. A few months later her mother-in-law suddenly died. Nobody told the city girl about thrashing. Her husband just figured she knew what to do when the crew showed up. That first early morning Friday thought she'd bake a cake for dinner, but when the men came for mid-morning lunch, they not only ate the cake but they ate most of her dinner too. Luckily her sister had chosen that day to visit. Seeing the men at the table four times in one day convinced Sis to stay and help for the next few days.

Friday's neighbor on the next farm was most impressed by the men who  worked so hard and so fast that they rarely had to come in for a meal. They even brought sandwiches and water for mid-morning.  After the crew's first year at that place, they knew they'd never go back to the house. Diapers hung from clotheslines criss-crossing the kitchen right above the table. Flies were thick on the diapers and were floating in the water pail. Running water had yet to be a rural luxury and drinking water was dipped with a common dipper from the pail.

Pity the poor woman who set a good table. The men rushed to get there and then slowed down to get one last good meal before moving on. Good cooks were exhausted. Everybody on the farm was glad to see threshing done, but maybe the woman of the house more than anyone. She had twelve months before she had to do it again. For Friday, thrashing came faster than Christmas.

Note: The photo is from Cousin Marie, an historian whose dad used his camera to chronicle so much early 1900 history.