He laid the letter by his bed in his cabin, unopened. It was still there the morning after he had picked it up. After a long day in his field, walking beside a harrow, he was frazzled. He heated some beans, the main staple of his diet and picked up the letter. With a sigh of resignation, he opened the letter.
It read:
Dear #1892, I take pen in hand to answer your ad. I am a school teacher. I am an avid reader and enjoy mathematics and geography. I have never married. I am twenty-four years of age. I am 5’ 4” tall and weigh 110 pounds. I have blond hair and blue eyes. I don’t believe I am unattractive, based on the opinion of my parents. I would like to correspond if you have interest. Sincerely, #1968.
It is a nice letter, he decided. It is the only letter, so I will answer. He had no paper with which he could answer. Rather than ride into Oregon City again, he rode to his father’s farm instead. In so doing, he would have the luxury of eating a meal other than beans.
“I don’t know whether we have any paper or not,” his father said, “ask your Mama. I don’t have much use for paper. Your Mama uses it to keep track of what we need from town. I guess you do that too.”
Not wanting to give the real reason for his need of paper, especially with his brother and sister around, he simply nodded. If they knew, he would never hear the end of it, since they could be merciless in their teasing.
His mother gave him two sheets of paper. “I only have three, so I’ll keep one back for my list and get some more on our next trip into town.
“You look tired. Are you getting enough rest.?” She asked.
“Probably not,” he answered, “it’s planting time, and there’s no time in the day to rest. I’ll catch up after I get it all in and covered,” he answered.
After enjoying the evening meal with his family, he slid the paper inside his shirt, kissed his mother, hugged his father and siblings and headed home. It’s too late, and I’m too tired to answer it tonight. I’m going straight to bed.
Chapter 3: Katerina’s Ad
In 1873, Katerina Hauser completed the course of study at Columbus Teaching College. She was one of three females in the class. When the college president presented her diploma, he announced she had finished with the highest grades of any student in the ten year history of the college. Along with her diploma, she received a form certifying her as an accredited teacher in the state of Ohio. She accepted a teaching position with the Columbus school, as did most of her classmates.
After accepting the teaching position, Katerina told her father, “The school doesn’t pay enough for me to move away from home yet, as I wanted.
“Papa, the school requires female teachers to remain unmarried. Not being able to have a family and children of my own is not a life I look forward to.”
Adler Mercantile was the largest store in Columbus’s Das Alte Südende, a predominantly German section of town. Looking at bolts of fabric, Katerina found a newspaper someone had left on the fabric table. “Do you know who this belongs to?” she asked the clerk.
The clerk, a balding man in his thirties, had remained near the strikingly beautiful blonde young lady since she had walked into the store. At last, a chance to speak to her. “Why no, a lady was in earlier and left it on the table. If you want it, please take it, since it was abandoned.”
She smiled, revealing straight, white, perfect teeth. “Thank you,” she said. “I will take it.” She picked up several pieces of fabric and along with the buttons, ribbons and lace she had already selected, and said, “I believe this will be all today.”
“Yes, ma’am. Uhh, er… my name is Reinold Kahler. I wonder if I might call on you?”
“I don’t think so, Mr. Kahler, but thank you for asking,” she smiled again. “I really must be going, if you would get these things for me.”
* * *
The relationship between Katerina and her mother was such, she almost never engaged her in conversation. Instead, it was her father to whom she turned, as she did this day. “Papa, I was shopping for material to make some new clothes for school. Look in this newspaper I found in Adler’s yesterday. There is nothing in the paper except ads posted by men and women in search of someone to marry.” She handed the paper to her father.
Karl’s old country nature looked at the ads in disbelief. “Women do such things?” he asked. “What could bring someone to do this?”
“Desperation can cause a person to do desperate things. Someone circled several of the ads. Mama has never allowed a young man to call on me, let alone court me. All of the men my age are too intimidated to even try. I could do something like this, Papa.”
Her father turned back to his last and the shoe he was making. “Liebchen, I don’t know what to say or do. The thought of you going off to the frontier to make marriage with someone you don’t know terrifies me.”
“The thought of growing old without ever having lived life or felt love terrifies me, Papa,” she said.
Katerina had begun making dresses to wear to class. She was in a chair by the window one afternoon, taking advantage of the light, to sew lace around the edge of the sleeves of a new dress, when her mother came into the room, without knocking, as usual. “Where did this come from, young lady,” she asked, waving the tattered copy of The Matrimonial News in front of her.
“Mama, why are you rummaging around in my room?” Katerina asked.
“Don’t change the subject,” her mother said. “What are you doing with this… this rag?”
“My room is supposed to be private, Mama, you have no reason in here when I’m not here. I am an adult and entitled to privacy.”
“You are living in my house and I determine what you are entitled to,” her mother said.
Katerina had never stood up to her mother before and this is where she decided to make her stand. “It’s Papa’s house too, Mama, and I am paying for the privilege of living here now that I have work.”
“A pittance. You pay a pittance,” her mother said.
“As soon as I can make other arrangements, I will move, Mama. I hope you are satisfied. For your information, I found the paper in Adler’s store when I was getting the fabric. I didn’t buy it, someone left it there and I asked if I might have it. I find it interesting reading. Now, I would like to have my paper, please,” she said.
Her mother threw the paper on the bed and left the room, but not without a last parting shot, “You should show the proper respect to the mother that gave you birth, and after all I have done for you.”
Katerina went downstairs to the shop, where she found her father putting the finishing touches on shoes he had been commissioned to make for the wife of one of the community leaders. Upon seeing the expression on his daughter’s face, he stopped what he was doing to talk to her.
“What is it, my little Katerina? What is upsetting you so much you appear on the verge of being ill. Tell your Papa, and I will make it right.”
“Mama and I just had a bad argument. She’s been searching my room and found the newspaper I showed you the other day. She was furious, and demanded to know what I was doing with it. She said as long as I live in her house, I will do what she says.
“Papa, I’m an adult, working person. It isn’t much, but I pay to live here. She has no right to go through my room when I’m not here.
“I told her I will move as soon as I can make arrangements. I might be able to stay with Berta Sundheim. She was in my class at Teachers College and teaches in the same school I do. She’s a nice girl.”
“Ach, Gott, please don’t move yet. Let me try to talk to her again, will you?” her father pleaded.
“For you, Papa, I will do it,” she said.
Katerina had read and reread the newspaper until it was limp. She read all of the ads, for both men and women. She found the ads from women extremely interesting. Many were from widows, who had lost their mates in the recent war, and having no local prospects for a relationship, went beyond their local borders. Such courage to do that. Do I dare take th
at chance? I do. I’m going to place an ad. If I’m going to live my own life, I must take a chance somewhere.
After several attempts at writing the ad, her final composition read:
“23 year old lady, Height: 5’ 4”, Weight: 110lbs. She is attractive, has limited means and would like to hear from an educated, established gentleman of same approximate age, desirous of a wife. She is well educated, a successful teacher and affectionate.”
Read, reread, and rewritten, she placed the ad in an envelope and sent it off to the Kansas City office of The Matrimonial News. Two weeks later, she saw her ad in the paper and not without trepidations, she waited for the results.
Two more weeks, and she had a letter from the newspaper, with four letters answering the ad. The first one was from a man saying he was 27 years old, a miner in need of a grubstake, who asked about the extent of her means. This I’m not interested in, she decided. Two others were widowers, with small children looking for a wife and mother. I’m not ready for that kind of burden starting out. The fourth letter was from a man in his mid thirties. Too much of an age gap, she decided.
After another two weeks, with no promising results, she decided she might be better off looking at ads advertising for a wife. She went back to the original paper and carefully read through the ads by men searching for wives. Many were from widowers, most were from men beyond an age she found acceptable. One ad caught her eye: “Poor but honest and lonely farmer, homesteading 640 acres, age 25, 5’10”, weight 150 lbs seeking correspondence with a female of same approximate age. Object: Matrimony, if compatible. Reference #1892”
This sounds like an honest person might talk. It sounds interesting, but the paper is so old, he had probably found someone. The ad was missing from the next 2 editions of the paper, so she assumed his search was over.
After school, she had gone into Adler’s to see if she could buy the latest issue of The Matrimonial News. She was pleased it was a different clerk helping her this time. At home, after dinner, she settled back to read the ads in the new paper. Most were new, but she saw the same ad from the person she had come to think of as “the poor farmer”. He must have had no success so far. Without further thought, she began to write:
“Dear 1892, I take pen in hand…”
Chapter 4: A Correspondence Begins
In spite of the second thoughts she had about the wisdom of what she was doing, Katerina posted her letter to #1892. After describing herself, and trying to keep it light, she told of her interest in geography and mathematics. I hope this is not too heavy. I’ve heard men don’t like their women to be smarter. That’s too bad. If he’s that way, then I wouldn’t be interested anyway. She finished the letter by telling of her desire to correspond. On her way to work the next morning, she put the letter in the mail.
* * *
Patrick reread the letter… five or six times, then sat down to compose an answer. Trying to be as open as possible about himself, he began…
Dear #1968,
As the ad said, I am twenty-five years of age and am homesteading a farm in the brand new state of Oregon. I am the youngest of five children, with two sisters and two brothers. My family lives on a large farm nearby. My father came to America as a very small boy and was brought up in a culture where the oldest son inherits the family resources.
It is for this reason, I moved away from home and homesteaded my own claim. At the time I filed, you were awarded 640 acres. It has since been lowered to 160 acres. All I had to do to get clear title is live on the land for five years and prove it up. Proving up means you make improvements to show your intent to make it your permanent home. I have done that and the land is now mine. My farm is too small to raise cattle, but is a nice size for farming. My crops are wheat and strawberries.
With the help of my brothers, Papa and my neighbors, we built a log cabin, and a barn. Since you are a teacher, I suppose you come from a nice home. I also come from a nice home, but where I live now is basic. It is a shelter. I have two horses and a cow. I need to get fencing to protect the crops. I would like to make more improvements, but unfortunately, there was a plague of grasshoppers last year and I lost my entire crop of wheat. I had an entire years work with nothing to show for it. I am hopeful the good Lord will keep the grasshoppers away. I have to make it on my own. I have to.
I completed school at the Catholic school in the town closest to us. Did I mention I am Catholic? I thought I had better get that in the open. As my ad says, I am poor, but I am honest. In my letters, you will find nothing but the truth.
I apologize for the rambling nature of this letter, but I have no experience in letter writing. This is the very first one I’ve written. Hopeful for a reply, I am sincerely, #1892. The letter was mailed the next day.
* * *
The mail brought a reply from #1892. Reading the letter, Katerina thought, This is a fine man. He is not afraid to work. To go off on his own took courage. He seems to have a strong feeling for his family. Catholic? He’s Catholic. Mama would be shocked. I’ve never even spoken to one of the Catholic faith before. It isn’t that much different from our Lutheran church. The Catholic. Even though the Lord sent a Biblical plague of grasshoppers he did not give up. A strong man, this one. I want to hear more from him.
She replied, “Dear 1892, I am in receipt of your letter. I was most pleased to find you wished further correspondence. I am the only child of a shoemaker and live in Ohio. I am a mathematics teacher in the public schools in our town, and I especially enjoy geography. I sew and have learned to cook from my mother. There are limited prospects in our town due to the recent war and since they closed the Army camp, business hasn’t been too good. I would be pleased to hear what you do and the area in which you live. Sincerely, I am #1968.”
* * *
In Oregon City, the general store was also the post office. Patrick usually received his mail when he went to town for supplies. On a Tuesday, his mail included the second letter from #1968. He read the letter, then put it inside his shirt to be reread later.
After feeding and caring for his livestock, he drew some fresh water from the well, and heated a pot of beans and bacon for his dinner. As he reread the letter, he thought, She’s used to a nice home, and having people around. I wonder if she could adjust to the conditions here? I wonder why she went this direction for a husband? I would like to know about her, where she lives, her family and friends. I’m going to release my name and address. Since we have the railroad now, we could cut a week off the time for mail to be delivered. It was getting late and he started early in the mornings so he decided to wait until the next day to answer the letter.
“Dear #1968, My name is Patrick Murphy. I am the youngest of five children, with two brothers and two sisters. My family has a farm about two miles away. Both sisters and one of my brothers are married, farmers all. I was born in Greenfield, Indiana and we traveled the Oregon Trail when I was five. I’m sure it was a difficult trip but don’t remember much of it, other than it was long. I rode in the wagon most of the time because of my age, but the rest of the family walked most of the way. My farm is in the Willamette Valley, on the east side of the Willamette River.
I went to the public schools in Oregon City until the Sisters of Saint Marys allowed boys to enroll. I finished there, I have a good education. It doesn’t seem to do me much good as a farmer. The country side is heavily forested and the river is used to power sawmills. I look forward to receiving your next letter. Sincerely, Patrick Murphy.”
* * *
Katerina took the letter from Patrick to her room so that she could read it in private. The first thing she noticed was it had been opened. Her mother was the only one who could have opened it. She went looking for her mother and found her in the kitchen. “Mama, you opened my letter.”
There was no denial from her mother. Instead, she asked Katerina, “What are you doing corresponding with an Irish Catholic?”
“Who I correspond with is none of your business. I am an a
dult and you are not supposed to open my mail. It is against the federal law to do so. If you open, or destroy my mail once more, I will report you to the government for interfering with the delivery of the mail.” It was an idle threat, but her mother had a deep fear of the federal authorities dating back to her life in Germany, prior to their immigration to America. Katerina felt a tinge of guilt for threatening her mother, but she felt a need to stop the invasion of her privacy. She had promised her Papa she wouldn’t move to her friend’s after the previous argument. She also decided not to tell her Papa about this last argument.
* * *
Calmed down after the confrontation with her mother, Katerina sat by the window, watching the wagons and carriages roll past the shoe shop. She read the letter, pleased to see she now had a name for #1892. Patrick Murphy has such a solid sound to it. I wonder what he looks like? I’ll bet he’s handsome. He’s traveled halfway across the country and I’ve never been out of Columbus. I’m glad he’s educated. She ended her reverie and began writing.
In Search Of Love: The Story of A Mail Order Bride (Mail Order Bride Series) Page 2