Take Me Home to Woodstock 2nd Edition

From Take Me Home to Woodstock

 John Wienke raised his cup and called out, “Frohes neues Jahr!” And those gathered responded in a shout, “Frohes neues Jahr!!” John imagined all the citizens of Woodstock, Illinois, gathered in groups like this one, counting down the 1800s and welcoming 1900, shouting “Happy New Year!” He watched as couples came together for the first kiss of the new year. No kiss for him again this year, his twenty-ninth, because he was not yet coupled.

The gathering was a small one of about twenty family and friends. The Woodstock fathers had bowed to the national scholars who said that the 1900s started at midnight at the end of the year 1900, not at its beginning. They announced in The Woodstock Sentinel that the citywide celebration of the new century, if there would be one, would not commence until December 31, 1900. So, everyone was left to celebrate in private or at church watches.

Protesting the decision of the authorities, John’s mother, Sophia, had gathered this company to her parlor to ring in the 1900s. John and two of his seven brothers still dwelt in his mother’s house, and they were put to work while she cooked the morning away.

By eight o’clock in the evening when the first guest arrived, the buffet was laden with all good things for Silvester. How silly it was to call New Year’s Eve “Silvester” after a fourth-century pope who died on this day, but all the German families in town did just so. John was designated keeper of the Glühwein, red wine warmed all day with cinnamon sticks, oranges, and other fruit, and then set theatrically on fire just after the first guests arrived. It was an old-country way of ensuring people would be prompt. Only those to the party on time were privy to the show.

Al, third to youngest of Sophia’s sons, was assigned the duty of overseeing the lead pouring. This prophetic enterprise required old teaspoons, a candle, chunks of lead, and a bowl of water.

Bob, second youngest of the eight Wienke brothers, was handling the pyrotechnics. The intent of loud fireworks at the dawning of a new year was to scare away the evil spirits for the whole year to come. Sophia insisted that they continue these old traditions brought over the seas from Germany.

Most of the guests were attired in formal Edwardian style with high collars and ties for both men and women. The women wore long skirts in dark colors of grey, green, or burgundy reaching to the floor with tight white or cream bodices covered by short jackets. The bustle, which John had thought was going out of style, was a part of several of the ensembles. Top hats filled the hat rack. The cold had necessitated capes and topcoats, which were piled on his mother’s bed down the short hallway.

A tremendous BOOM! knocked John back on his heels. It shook the house and china cups tinkled on their saucers. And then another one…BOOM! The seated guests immediately rose and went to look through the east windows.

Outside the showers of white sparks twinkled against the black sky sending light shimmering across the room, overwhelming the light from the three meager kerosene fixtures. John looked at himself in the dark window glass between fireworks. His face was pleasant, but far from handsome. His hair, what was left of it, was cut short. He was not ashamed of his balding pate, but he wished that it didn’t make his head look so pear-shaped. He was strong and tall, second tallest of his family at six foot; only Frank stood taller. His greatest strength was the color of his eyes. His father had had these striking Prussian blue eyes, as did his mother and brothers. He would take no awards at the county fair with his looks, that’s for sure. Tonight, he wore a stylish high-collared white shirt with a black waistcoat and continental cross tie. In the pocket of the waistcoat, he had placed a red handkerchief, for just the right dash of color.

Al Wienke walked over to where John was looking out the front window, and laughed, “I think Bob has found his calling – fireworks.” BOOM…. sparkle, sparkle, sparkle. The guests peered around each other to see out. Some of the men grabbed their coats from the pile and went out onto the side porch to watch the show.

John looked at his kid brother. Al had grown into a fine-looking man of twenty-five years. He was sporting quite a bit of wavy hair now. Maybe it was the styling. Al had allowed it to grow longer and then combed it forward to cover his receding hairline. It looked good. No wonder the girls were noticing him. Al’s eyes were an azure blue, not the paler blue of the older brothers, and tonight, they were attractively accented by his festive blue, single-breasted waistcoat with cloth-covered buttons over a white shirt. His au courant bow tie was black and floppier than what John would wear, but it looked modern and smart on Al. Both he and John were sans formal jackets, a bow to their “positions” as hired help for the party.

John took a sip from his cup. “Glad there is room between here and the cemetery to set them off,” he said. “I had considered going out to help him but decided that I’ll stay right here where it’s warm…and safe.”  

BOOM…. sparkle, sparkle, sparkle, some red this time. “Oooooooh,” said the appreciative crowd. 

“Ja, me too,” Al shivered. “This cold snap doesn’t seem to want to end, and I spend enough time out in the cold.” 

John laughed, “Oh, you’re painting outside this time of year, are you? What a Kätzchen you are!” 

Al tapped him lightly on the shoulder with his fist, careful not to spill the wine. “I’m no kitten!! You work inside all day, you are the Kätzchen!” They chuckled together for a moment. “So, what are you up to these days at the typewriter factory, brother?” BOOM! Those gathered, sighed with pleasure, “Aaaaaah.” 

“We were on furlough last week, so I went over to see what trouble I could get into in Rockford. I’m still looking for a girl like yours.” They both smiled thinking about pretty Lena from Wisconsin. “Speaking of Lena,” said John, “I thought you’d be in Beloit tonight.” 

“Ah, well. Ma needed me for the pouring, and I must work tomorrow. We are completely engaged with the city hall renovation, don’t cha know, and now Wienke and Davis have a new contract to repaper all the rooms at the Hotel Woodstock starting next week.” 

“Both city hall and the hotel? At the same time? Need help? I’m free tomorrow.”

BOOM! BOOM BOOM BOOM!

“Ah, the finale!” said John. The commotion in the sideyard ceased, and the crowd began clapping and moved away from the windows and back to their seats and conversations. 

 “Albert?” their mother called out. “Mrs. Ohme vill da pourink do.” 

“OK, Ma, be right there,” Al called. “Sure, come on over – wear old clothes.” Then he asked, “Have you done a pouring yet?” 

“No…I suppose I should.”

“Come on. You can pour after Mrs. Ohme.” 

John followed Al into the kitchen where the lead pouring was set up. Al broke a small chunk of lead off and put it in the spoon.

“Be careful. Touch only the wooden handle,” he said, handing it to Mrs. Ohme.

 Mrs. Ohme put the spoon over the candle and watched as the lead quickly melted. She looked at Al who nodded that it was ready to be poured. She carefully poured the molten liquid into the water. While she was doing this, John began melting his own portion of lead. 

Al waited until the lead in the water was again solid and then using wooden tongs reached into the water and retrieved the piece of lead now in the form of…. of what? The three examined the shape, and Mrs. Ohme proclaimed, “A fish!” The others nodded. “A carp!” she modified her answer. Al looked up “carp” on a list that was as old as the old country.

“Karpfen. Unerwartete Gehaltsergogung,” Al said, in less than perfect German. Luckily, Mrs. Ohme was looking over his shoulder.

Mrs. Ohme laughed. “Unexpected raise in salary? Oh my, do you think Mr. Ohme is going to give me a ten-times raise? I get paid nuttin’ now and ten times nuttin’ is still nuttin’.” They laughed with her. 

“A windfall from an old uncle?”

“Maybe, but I only have old aunts,” said Mrs. Ohme.

John’s lead was ready to be poured. He poured the melted liquid quickly in a glob. Al waited and then retrieved the lead. “Oh my,” said Mrs. Ohme.

“Wow!” said Al. A glob with gossamer wings.

“A bug,” said John.

“A beetle,” said Al.

“A bee,” said Mrs. Ohme. 

“Yes…a bee…let’s see....” Al looked over the list, trying to remember the German for bee.

“Beine,” said Mrs. Ohme, somewhat disapprovingly. These young people were losing the language.

“Ho, ho!” shouted Al. “Perspektive der Ehe! Good news, brother! This is the year! Did you hear that Ma? John’s pouring is “Prospect of Marriage!” 

The whole crowd burst into spontaneous applause. John reddened. He hoped so; he really hoped so! He raised his cup in salute! “Prost!” he said, and they answered with the same.

Bob burst through the back door into the kitchen, face blackened with soot and smelling a little burnt. “What’s all the clapping about?”  

“You, my brother, and your fine fireworks display!” John said, raising his cup again. “To my brother, Bob. May he always have a way with fire.” 

The others responded, “To Bob!” and broke into applause, which Bob accepted with a deep bow and a wide smile on his handsome face. His bright blue eyes sparkled like the exploding caps he had provided for the entertainment. His hair was black and thick with no sign of thinning. As he removed his overcoat, John wasn’t surprised at the roguish paisley waistcoat he wore with a matching satin tie in reds and golds. Around his upper arm was the gold garter of the player that he was. His perfect white teeth glinted in the gaslight each time he broke into a smile, which was often.

“Any of that Silvester wine left?” Bob asked. He made his way to the buffet, eyed the food, and found the Erbensuppe – Pea Soup – another good luck charm for the new year. 

“Ah, soup! I’m freezing!” He ladled a bowl and added pieces of Silvester bread to it and then examined the rest of the buffet. Sauerkraut and schnitzel, and oysters, several kinds! And smoked carp with the scales removed. The scales were displayed nearby for guests to pocket for good luck in the new year. He loaded up a plate with oysters…good for virility! And added pretzels which surrounded a kuchen wreath. Both symbolizing togetherness. He helped himself to portions of each dish and claimed a seat at the kitchen table near the lead pouring. A large stein of hot wine had been set at his place.

He held it up in a toast to his benefactor, John, and said, “Looks like you furnished the food.”

John nodded. He seemed to have an eye for quality when it came to foodstuffs. “Looks like you furnished the wine,” said John.

Bob nodded. “You should open your own grocery shop. Then we’d always eat like this.” 

“You just love the oysters,” said John, smiling.

“I admit it, I’ve never met an oyster I didn’t like nor a girl,” Bob laughed. 

John snorted. “Well, I imagine you meet quite a few down at your establishment, girls, not oysters.” 

“Ja, ve got Madchen und Austern. Aber, I hem not sure vhich ich love mehr,” Bob said, with a mock German accent that had a Norwegian lilt.

John had to laugh. The oysters were quite good at Wienke and Schneider’s Saloon. “We haven’t crossed paths at the Pleasure Club lately,” John changed the subject. “You still working hard on the weights?” 

Bob dropped his fork and stretched out his arms making muscles with each. “You bet I am! What do you think?” 

John looked at the bulging sleeves of his twenty-three-year-old brother and took in his slim build and handsome face under a mop of dark hair. He was without a doubt the best-looking of all the brothers, and he knew it. The Wienke boys all had tall slim bodies, except for Emil whose body was more compact and athletic. At nineteen years, Emil was the shortest at five foot ten, but with those piercing blue eyes, he was good-looking on his own account, especially in a baseball uniform. But, except for Bob, the rest were losing or had lost their hair. Bob, of course, with his good looks was rakish even with soot smeared on his face.

“Hm…better work harder, I’d say,” John said, sober-faced. 

Bob lowered his arms and did his best to look hurt. “Heck, and I thought I was surely making progress.” 

John laughed, shaking his head, “You are such a Mensch. How is business?” He thought a change of topic was in order. 

 “Not bad; not great. Enough to keep the place running with a bit of cash for the proprietors. I love the hours and the freedom with both of us serving. Albert Schneider is easy to work with, and we both try to be flexible. So, I’m happy enough. I might have to change professions if I meet the oyster of my dreams.” 

 John laughed. “You do have a way with words, Bob Wienke. No wonder people like to drop in for a snort at your place.” 

“You should come down sometime,” said Bob, “on a day I’m serving, and I’ll give you a snort on the house.” 

“Not much for the hard stuff,” admitted John. “A little wine is about all I take. Well, and beer, of course.” 

“Unt ve got wine unt bier!” Bob shouted. He stood, raised his cup, and called out, “To Glühwein unt Bier! Happy New Year!” And the crowd raised their cups saying, “Happy New Year!” 

Bob continued, now the center of attention, “My friends, here’s to the 1900s. May we spend it in as good company as this night finds us. May our houses always be too small to hold all our friends.” 

“Zum Wohl!” called out those gathered, the German equivalent of “Here, here!” It seemed an appropriate end to a very pleasant evening.

 Later, after the last visitor was hugged, after that last sleigh had slid away into the darkness after the booming of the fireworks across town had diminished into a few rifle shots in the air, after the food was packed up and stored in the back-porch locker where it would freeze for another day, after Ma and his brothers headed for bed – John sat at the kitchen table and thought about the coming year. He had always looked forward to 1900. He would be thirty years old this year, and it was time to settle down. He was making good wages at the Oliver Typewriter factory. With his salary and investments, he could start thinking about opening a business, most probably a grocery shop or a café or a bakery. But most of all, he wanted to find a wife. Not quite yet, but soon. He hoped this would be a year filled with Wohlstand und Liebe…with prosperity and love.