Edward Katterheinrich

Edward Katterheinrich, Better Known as E. L. to Distinguish Him From Other Ed Katterheinrichs, Recalls Events of Long Ago; Had Plenty of Disasters in His Years of Experience on Farm

Whew! What a name! Katterheinrich! About as big a mouthful as Fleddeerjohann, Klopfenstein, Hasenjaeger, Fliegenfaenstein, Schornsteinputzer! His full name is Edward Ludwig Katterheinrich, until recently of R. F. D St. Marys, but currently of Indianapolis, Indiana. But those of you know him will think of him as E. L. Katterheinrich, thereby distinguishing him from among the various members of at least three brands of Katterheinrichs in and around New Knoxville. “E. L.” is among the prosperous retired farmers of Washington township whose farm, now owned by Gust Hegemier, is just across from the Ed Thielk farm now owned and operated by William Thielk, and just south of what was formerly “Stop 30” on the old Western Ohio Interurban, and just east of the former Henry Katterheinrich farm now operated by Arthur Schultz and his son-in-law Robert Nuss.

“Ed” Katterheinrich is the son of the late Henry Katterheinrich and Anna, nee Schroer. He had a merry twinkle in his eye when he related that he has the honor of having been born in the house in which the reigning mayor of New Knoxville, Woodrow G. Piehl, now lives. His father, at the time, was a carpenter. “Ed” is the oldest of eleven Katterheinrich children, two of which, Jacob and Sarah, departed this life in the long ago. His earliest recollections center around his father’s carpenter shop. After his father returned from work at night he would work in his own carpenter shop, manufacturing, of all things, coffins, and or, when there was no immediate need for coffins, various items of furniture. “Ed” watched him wield the tools of that trade in use at that time, and mother was glad that Ed was fascinated thereby, thus giving her a little freedom from dual duty. For Ed had a sister, Ida (Mrs. Fred Howe now of Wapakoneta) and she was a tiny mite at the time. Mrs. Howe recalled that her first recollections had to do with her and her brother Ed watching the mice which in those days had a habit of scurrying around in father’s carpenter shop.

When Ed was about six his father and mother moved to the farm just South of Stop 30 on the Western Ohio. Ed remembers moving day distinctly. He and his father and mother and his sister Ida and their worldly possessions, were loaded on their spring wagon. They were taking possession of his father’s newly acquired farm. On the way they had to cross “Muddy Creek”, which today is spanned by the “Howell Bridge.” But there was no bridge at the time. The spring wagon creaked and groaned and threatened to upset while crossing, but fortunately decided not to. Arriving at their future home, farm life began in earnest. Among the problems faced was that of water for themselves and cattle. Relatives lent a helping hand. The late Herman Holtkamp of New Knoxville, and W. B. Schroer came in due time and assisted his father in digging a well. They had no brick with which to wall up the well. On a certain day they had dug all morning. When they returned for further digging after dinner they found young Ed sitting at the edge of the well, his feet hanging into the well. All were horrified, for the well was by now 20 feet deep. “I got my pants dusted then and there, for father had warned me to keep away from the well. That was my first major licking,” Ed said laughing.

He attended what was the Longsworth School, just north of where Leonard Henschen now lives. Among his teachers he recalled Ernest Holtkamp, Alfred Steinbrey, Charles Weideman, and “a lady teacher whose name I don’t recall.” Like most of us he recalls the unusual and out of the ordinary, as regards school days. Friction matches were among the forbidden novelties of those days. Boys especially would filch them at home and bring them to school. One fall the leaves were unusually numerous (Here we should say that just back of the schoolhouse stood a little white house with a sign on it reading “Boys.” During the noon hour the boys quietly carried arms-full of leaves into it.) After the bell rang signaling that the noon recess was over, all the pupils promptly entered the schoolhouse. A few moments later, thick black smoke emanated from that little white house. The teacher of course knew what to do and immediately organized those of the masculine persuasion into a fire fighting brigade. He succeeded very well and the fire was extinguished, and in the entire process considerable school time was consumed. But when the fire was surely out, and all were back in their seats, the teacher’s tune changed. “WHO SET THE FIRE TO THOSE LEAVES?” teacher wanted to know. Ed was “just a little shaver” at the time, but had been warned of the consequences if he “told”, and so neither he or any of the older boys knew who the culprit was. The perennial discipline problem was present in school even in those “good old days.” (But Ed says those days weren’t all so good, and everybody wasn’t “good” all the time either!) The mode of punishment prevalent in the Longsworth School was as follows: (Note: Only the boys misbehaved in those days!) The culprit, by orders by the teacher, was required to crawl around the stove (located in center of the schoolhouse) on all fours, the teacher would station himself at one corner of the stove, paddle in hand, and every time the mischief-maker passed his corner he would administer a resounding whack to the posterior extremity of aforesaid culprit. The lads thus treated would crawl slowly as they neared that particular corner, but would suddenly become extraordinarily energetic as they rounded the corner where the teacher’s paddle was known to fall. After parents complained, a new strategy was evolved. “Shame the pupils! Make them wear girl’s apparel!” So—male misbehavers were compelled to stand in a corner and wear the shawl of one of the girl pupils. But one bright lad, (Ed says “It wasn’t me!”) stood in the corner and calmly chewed holes into the scarf the teacher made him wear. The pupil who owned the scarf was unhappy, her parents were unhappy, and when they encountered the teacher the next time, they made him even MORE unhappy. What was done to maintain discipline thereafter would take too long a time to tell.

But Ed recalled that before and after school and on Saturdays he had to help his father cut trees in the woods, that his sister Ida carried lunch to them and that he was glad when school days were over.

His first job was “working on the Henry Stueve Farm, East of Moulton.” For this he received 30 dollars total for 9 months work. Then he worked at the Fred Schroer sawmill for 75 cents per day from 7 a. m. till 6 p. m. for 2 years. Next he worked for the late George Wellman who at that time was the community “thrasher,” the thrashing lasting from July to Dec. 23. Then after grain thrashing was over, there was feed chopping (hexel), and prior to that clover hulling, etc.

But Courtship days are slightly important. Anna Thielk was her name. He footed it in semi-bad weather, but if the weather was really bad, dad’s horse named “Frank” would have to work the night shift. Not only Ed, but Frank also did quite well. When Ed arrived at Anna’s house he was invited to put the horse in the stable and somebody would feed it. Once, on the way over, the snow was so thick that a tug broke. Another, either he or the horse fell asleep, and the horse turned too short at Young’s corner on what is today Highway 29, and so hit the corner of the barn.

But anyhow—Ed and Anna were married in 1903 and continued faithful to each other until death did them part in 1943. That was a real blow, when Anna left him. They got up that morning as usual—Ed went to the barn to begin feeding the cattle. Anna, as usual, prepared breakfast. When Ed returned from the barn he found Anna slumped over the kitchen sink, in the grip of a cerebral hemorrhage which proved fatal. But the 40 years of their married life were, to each and both, eventful years. These included the usual domestic “Ups and Downs,” building both a new house and a new barn, the birth of their 3 children, the dredging of Muddy Creek back in 1911 “to prevent floods,” the biggest flood in the history of the county took place AFTER it was dredged (the flood of 1913), the cyclone of 1920 when their barn was completely demolished and when every window in the house was smashed except one in the basement, (and they had no windstorm insurance—loss $6500), and the loss of his parents in the 1930’s. After Anna died in 1943 he continued farming until he sold out in 1947. He says “I just came in on the tail end of modern farming. I did most of it the old hard way.”

He was confirmed by Rev. Noll at the New Knoxville Church, but after his marriage united with Zion Lutheran Church of St. Marys, later transferring his membership to the Moulton Church, where he served on the Church Council for many years. Of his present residence he says—“I am making my home with my daughter (Mrs. C. W. Clark of Indianapolis) most of the time, but commute between her home and those of my other two children, Alice (Mrs. James Petty of Columbus, Ohio,) and Rev. Emmanuel Katterheinrich of Bucyrus. Farming is still in his blood and he gets a thrill out of working part time at the 1400 acre Conner Prairie farm near Indianapolis. His living sisters and brothers are Ida (Mrs. Fred Howe) of Wapakoneta, Edna (Mrs. Ernest Feil) and Mahilda (Mrs. Arthur Shultz) of R. F. D. St. Marys and Charles, Henry, Gustave, Edwin and Reinhart. This interview took place while he was attending a family gathering at New Knoxville.

NOTE: The farm to which the Katterheinrich family moved is located at 13544 Glynwood-New Knoxville Road. The farm named as the Leonard Henschen residence is at 13174, and the William Thielk farm is at 13515 Glynwood-New Knoxville Road.

NOTE: Mr. E. L. Katterheinrich was the father of the late Edwin Andrew Katterheinrich (Pen name: Andrew Kay), the author of these “Living Biographies” interviews.