Great Grandfather Georges Grunenberger

As Georges started the two hour drive home from Germany's Black Forest on a sunny winter day, he took a deep, invigorating breath of the crisp, cold air. Even though he had never traveled out of the area, he was convinced that the Alsatian scenery had to be the most beautiful in the world. During the summer the snow never disappeared completely from the high peaks, the forests and meadows were lush and green, and the flower lined streams of clear water flowed swiftly except where beaver dams had formed small ponds. And now, in early December, the mountains and meadows were completely blanketed in snow, and the streams were covered by ice except for a small trickle of water down the center. The snow had drifted almost up to the eaves of the small farmhouses along the way. Animal tracks by the hundreds crisscrossed his path, and he had actually spotted a pair of deer, a large buck with a huge rack, and his doe. Rabbits, raccoons and beaver were a common sight along his route, and one time he had even seen a bear. Life was wonderful.

During the summer he drove his high wagon with the seven foot wheels on his biweekly trip; today he was using the huge, four horse sleigh to replenish his stock of logs, which he sold from his home in Bergholtz.

The bright glare off the snow soon made him drowsy, but he wasn't worried since his horses knew the way home as well as he did. In that semi-dream state between consciousness and sleeping, he began reminiscing.

It seems like our wedding day was only last week . . . how pretty little Annie Meyer was . . . all the singing and dancing . . . all the neighbors feasting and celebrating all night . . . what a happy day that was . . . and then our sons came along . . . Emil in 1868 . . . Jules in 1870 . . . and Joseph, poor Joseph, in 1872 . . . was it 1873 that we were all sick with the flu? . . . yes, that was when Joseph died . . . Ah, but we had a second Joseph in 1874 . . . and Catherine in 1876 . . . such a pretty little girl . . . but so weak . . . she couldn't survive the croup a year later . . . strange how all the boys were born in the same house, but Joseph is German and Emil and Jules are French . . . we were so worried when the Germans took over Alsace Lorraine in 1871 . . . they ignored Bergholtz . . . they didn't think a town of 478 souls was worth bothering with . . . fortunately for all of us.

As he waved to a neighbor who was passing in the opposite direction, he suddenly realized that the sky had grown cloudy. Soon a few flakes drifted down, and before long the snow was falling rapidly. Still, he knew that he was close enough to home so that there was no danger of being stranded. The gathering gloom reminded him of that terrible day six years ago that his Anne had died at the age of 40.

Has it been six years already that my little Annie died? . . . the neighbors were so helpful . . . could I have survived if they hadn't helped? . . . I doubt it . . . especially my little Maria . . . only 22 years old but so mature . . . she understood the terrible loss I felt . . . I was so vulnerable . . . eight months later she was pregnant . . . three months later little George was born . . . the neighbors were not so charitable this time . . . how the tongues wagged . . . I have never regretted marrying her . . . she gets along so well with all the boys . . . she had a hard time with all the gossiping . . . I knew it would stop . . . but now my business is prospering . . .there is even talk that I may be the next burgermeister.

As Georges approached the village the daylight was fading rapidly; because of the dim light and the heavy snow, the trees appeared as black shadows, and the light from the windows of the passing houses was almost completely obscured. By the time he reached his house his teeth were chattering; whether it was because of the cold or the gloomy night he could not have said.

As he stepped between the horses and the sleigh to unsnap the traces, he slipped and fell, and his foot hit one of the horses on the hind leg, causing the whole team to bolt. The iron clad runner of the heavily loaded sleigh ran over both his legs. He screamed in agony.

Hearing his cry, Maria and the boys came running from the house. Quickly Emil was sent for the doctor, and the rest of the family, helped by the neighbors, managed to carry him into the house.

Because his legs were practically severed, the doctor decided to amputate them. The operation was performed on the kitchen table, and even though the doctor gave him morphine, the pain had to be almost unbearable. Day and night his moans filled the small house as neighbors and friends tiptoed in to help. After lingering for three days, Georges died of gangrene at the age of 49.

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The Courtship Of George And Mary

As twenty year old George Grunenberger drove his Uncle Celestine's grocery delivery wagon around south Philadelphia, he couldn't remember a hotter period than the summer of 1904. By mid-June the cobblestone streets were sending shimmering heat waves skyward, and the grass in Fairmount Park was already turning brown. He could actually see steam rising off old Jack, the horse, and in the open windows of the houses he passed he could see people fanning themselves as they tried to catch a breath of fresh air. Oh, how George longed for the pleasant summers, the green trees and the cool shade of the Black Forest, and the snow capped mountains back in Alsace-Lorraine, where he had lived until the death of his father.

In addition to scaring the horses (and some of the drivers), occasional horseless carriages raised great clouds of dust from the dry streets. George was always interested in mechanical things, and he had counted 27 of those noisy vehicles on Broad Street within the last hour. In George's opinion, the days of the horse and wagon were numbered.

The block of ice used to keep the produce from spoiling was almost melted as George approached his last delivery for the day, the second floor flat where Mr. Antoine lived with his family. The first floor was occupied by Mr. Antoine's dressmaking shop, and George had to carry the groceries through the shop and up the stairs at the rear.

Today there was a new girl working in the shop, and although George pretended not to notice, he quickly looked her over, and was very pleased with what he saw. She was short and slim, with dark hair and eyes, and her lips were full and turned slightly downward in a sensual pout. As she felt George's eyes upon her, her cheeks turned a beautiful pink. "Definitely not German," George thought. "Probably English or Irish."

After learning from Mr. Antoine that her name was Mary Hannigan, George stopped by her sewing machine on the way back and said, "Excuse me, Miss Hannigan, but I couldn't help noticing you are new here. Would it be alright if I called on you some evening?"

Now it was her turn to look him over. Only slightly taller than she was, he had dark hair and olive skin, a Roman nose and a Germanic bullet shaped head. "You will have to get my mother's approval," she replied.

Always proper, George asked, "What about your father?"

As she turned over the garment on which she was working, she replied, "He's my stepfather, and he doesn't care one way or another what I do. You need my mother's approval."

"And where may I find you mother?" With that she gave him her address.

By the time he knocked on her door that same evening, her mother, Mrs. Quinn, had been alerted to expect him, and after questioning him for several minutes she reluctantly gave her approval for him to visit.

He was allowed to call on Wednesday evenings and Sunday afternoons. The evenings were spent sitting on the porch swing (Mary's mother sat in the rocking chair at the other end of the porch), and the Sundays were usually spent walking in the park. One Sunday a friend of Uncle Celestine's took them riding up Broad Street in a horseless carriage; another time they enjoyed one of those new treats, ice cream in a cone shaped cookie. (The ice cream cone had been invented the previous year). By the time cooler weather forced them into the parlor on Wednesday nights (with Mary's mother in the next room), George was thinking seriously about marriage.

But there was a big problem: George was a Roman Catholic and Mary was a member of the Church Of England. There was no way that George would ever marry a non-Catholic. This meant that Mary had to change.

They discussed the situation several times, and Mary finally agreed to change if her mother approved. At first Mrs. Quinn said, "Absolutely not! Marry a Romanist! Never!" But after several days of Mary's tears and pleading, she finally consented.

George was ecstatic. He quickly arranged with his priest for Mary to receive instructions in the faith from the Baltimore Catechism. Depending upon how well Mary learned her lessons, they could be married early in spring.

Her instructions were given on Wednesday nights, and George took her to and from the church in Uncle Celestine's wagon. Sunday afternoons were spent discussing the lessons, with George answering any questions she had.

But another problem arose. George had never met Mary's stepfather, primarily because Mr. Quinn spent every evening at Kelly's pub until long after George had gone home. On one particular night Mrs. Kelly had become ill, and Kelly had to rush her to the hospital, forcing Mr. Quinn to go home early. George was just saying goodnight after the Wednesday lesson when Mr. Quinn staggered into the parlor, and in clear Anglo-Saxon terms gave his opinion of Germans, Catholics, all other ethnic groups, and young ladies who, in his opinion, spent too much time alone with young men.

Mrs. Quinn rushed in from the next room, where she had heard the whole thing, and she and Mary managed to get Mr. Quinn out of the room. By the time Mary returned, a very shocked George was gone.

Both young people spent a sleepless night, and the next morning when a red eyed Mary arrived at the dressmaking shop, a remorseful George was waiting out in front. Needless to say, they quickly made up, or this story would not have been written.

Although she could not take Holy Communion, Mary attended the Christmas Eve Mass with George. Upon coming out of the church, they found that snow had begun to fall.

In the morning, exhilarated by the soft blanket of snow covering the normally drab south Philadelphia streets, the bright sunshine, the crisp, cold air, and the anticipation of spending the whole day with Mary, George decided to walk the two miles to her house. Fortunately, Mr. Quinn was away on a drinking spree, and they both enjoyed a very merry Christmas. George gave her a gold locket with his picture inside, and she gave him a fine chain for his watch.

Mary finished her lessons at the end of February and her first Holy Communion was celebrated the following Sunday. They were married on March 25, 1905. The Grunenberger family tree had sprouted its U.S. branch.

The Wedding Picture (18K)

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