A. H. Stienecker

What was it the poet said about time making something-or-other uncouth? I would amend that to read—"NOT necessarily uncouth. But time may alter the mode of expression or transmission. This finds exemplification through results obtained by and through the efforts of August H. Stienecker in literally talking the new Knoxville Telephone Company and the resultant Telephone Exchange, into existence.

People at New Knoxville talked—before they had telephones. They talked after they had telephones. (They still talk!) But the telephone had suddenly increased the range of the human voice so that right from their own homes they could talk to their neighbor, or the store, or the relative, and the young man could date a lady friend right from his own home. That was wonderful! “What next?” sighed the oldsters.

Chuckling over episodes regarding which he said “But don’t put that in the paper!”, stroking meanwhile his grandchildren’s little Rat Terrier “Daisy” which was curled up on his lap and was enjoying being stroked, he talked and we asked questions until we both were exhausted. And I think we both enjoyed the process.

“The St. Marys Telephone Company already had about 10 telephones in this community,” Mr. Stienecker began in response to our first questions, “and I myself had one of them in my store. But when it came to having a local company and a local exchange, and so linking our local community together, the initial attitude was “It can’t happen here!” So Mr. Stienecker called the late William Haberkamp one day, and in the privacy of the Haberkamp home sold him the idea of a local telephone exchange, locally financed. Mr. Haberkamp was so thoroughly sold on the proposition that he immediately began selling the idea to his neighbors. Other farmers in turn did likewise. The folks in the village were non-committal at first and wouldn’t invest, but farmer enthusiasm and cooperation finally put it across. Stock was sold at $35 a share. As a stock-holder you got your telephone service free in those early years. If you weren’t a stock-holder you could however, rent a telephone for $1.00 a month, installation free, except that you had to pay for the poles and line on your own property. A company was duly formed, limiting to 100 the number of stock-holders. Construction of telephone lines began at the John Poppe farm at Lock 8. Stock-holders along the proposed line became so enthusiastic that they would transport and erect the poles on their own property or alongside it, in their eagerness to get telephone service. After the village folks saw that it would really be a going concern, they of course wanted telephones also, and Mr. Stienecker recalled further instances of which he said “but don’t put that in the paper!”

The stock was soon paying from 6 to 12 per cent dividend and when Mr. Stienecker not many years ago had a chance to buy an additional share, he had to pay $135 for it. At this point I was beginning to think—“Here’s where I can invest my own $135!” But before I could even say it he said “There is no stock available today, not unless, one of the stockholders dies. And the high cost of everything eliminates big dividends. For years we paid $5.38 per cwt. for wire. Today it’s $11.28. Years ago 20 foot poles cost $2.80 apiece. Today they cost us $10.80 each. Mr. Stienecker managed the company for 35 years, after which his son-in-law, Noah Katterheinrich succeeded him. “I didn’t know a thing about managing or about telephones, to start with,” he mused. “I did some sweating those first days.” Asked how the company was managing without him he replied, “Fine!” I don’t even attend stock-holders meetings anymore. I don’t have to. They’re getting along fine without me.” “Tell me something about the tribulations of a telephone manager!” I urged."My son-in law could tell you more about that than I” he began. “Of course, we had the initial problems connected with construction. And we always have headaches in the form of storms, crossed lines, broken poles, sleet tearing down long stretches of line by sheer weight of the ice, and sometimes it would be beastly cold sitting up there on a pole in the winter wind, like a wood-pecker. Sometimes also we had to go to people because of complaints. Although conversation was officially limited to 5 minutes, there were sometimes those who would put a “1” in front that five, or even a “0” after it. And sometimes there were complaints about listeners in. But our guiding rule was to render the maximum service to the maximum number of customers. Folks who couldn’t see it that way or who considered themselves privileged characters were sometimes angered by enforced regulations, but that was that.”

To appreciate the foregoing you must become acquainted with Mr. Stienecker’s background and personal life.

At the age of 14, while helping his father haul corn fodder, the lines fell from the wagon and under the horses’ feet. Both father and son were on the ground at the time. One of the horses stepped on the line, thereby giving itself a vicious jerk on the bridle which caused the team to turn and start off. His father ran in front of the horses, seeking to halt them by taking hold of the bridles. He was knocked to the ground in the process, one of the horses stepping on his chest. Death followed. Sometime thereafter the son met with an accident which he termed a narrow escape, while felling trees with his brother. Both of these accidents, coming rather closely together, implanted in young August Stienecker a certain cautiousness which he believes prevented many accidents to both himself and others during his life time.

He related how, since he was born in the month of August, and since his sponsor at baptism was named August, (the late August Stork) “they named me August, too.” After his father’s death his godfather August Stork came to young August and said “I promised to look after you in case anything happened to your pa. And I want to do just that.” Economic necessity resulted in the family life, Mr. Stienecker thereafter making his home with the August Storks. He attended Wapakoneta High School one year, boarding with a relative there. The next year he attended at New Bremen. While attending New Bremen High School he recalled with gratitude having roomed and boarded with a Mr. Buss, then a bachelor, who was editor of the New Bremen weekly newspaper, who had a fine library, and who gave him the help and courage needed toward taking the steps necessary for entering upon a career of teaching. A day or two after his second year of High School he hired a neighbor’s horse and buggy, drove to Wapakoneta and took the teacher’s examination. “About a week or so later we drove to New Knoxville to get the mail. There was a letter for me and all it contained was my teacher’s certificate. Now I was suddenly a teacher!”

He taught at the Hoelscher School for 2 years at $40 a month, one year at a school 2 miles south of the village which has since been razed, and three years in the New Knoxville school. While teaching at the Hoelscher school the daughter of the late Ernest Schroer fascinated the young teacher. “Two years I went with her,” he said “and then we got married.”

After 6 years of teaching he bought the property which today houses the Post Office, establishing a grocery and meat market therein. This was a profitable business for 15 years. “Then the telephone bug bit me” and he sold his store after having been elected manager of the telephone company, serving in that capacity until his retirement 35 years later.

But that doesn’t tell half the story of his interesting career. Although there was one fountain in the village and another one was accidently discovered while drilling nearby for oil that proved non-existent, Mr. Stienecker ventured the drilling of a 200 foot well which turned out to be artesian. That well is still running. “It cost me a dollar a foot, but it was worth it.” His numerous activities included Choir director at the Reformed church during Pastor Noll’s time, secretary of that congregation, board member thereof, Justice of the Peace in the village, (“That I didn’t like. Kept it only one term. I had to judge my neighbors when they didn’t behave and I just didn’t fancy that!”), was Notary Public for many years, settled numerous estates, was business counselor for many people, laid out Pilger Ruhe cemetery, was secretary of the cemetery association, member of the school board, Mayor of New Knoxville, council member, secretary of the Farmers Home Mutual Fire Insurance Company, and owned the first factory-built automobile in the village, creating thereby a first class sensation.

“James Slack built a three wheeled vehicle himself. Louis Meckstroth constructed a four wheeled one. But I bought mine at Wapakoneta” he recalled. He hunted and fished in season and just last year sold his boat at Lake St. Marys. He enjoys going to what he calls “My ten acres” which he has rented for farming purposes to Art Eschmeyer. “But the best crop I ever raised was my 8 children.” Others seem to have agreed regarding their merits, for all are married. They are: Ona (Mrs. Noah Katterheinrich; Albin (who was associated with his father until his sudden death in 1936); Lydia (Mrs. Adolph Henschen); Edwin (of Reeseville, Ohio); Gertrude (Mrs. Paul J. Wright of Columbus); Clement (teacher in the village school); Mary (Mrs. Gustave Hoge); and Reuben with whom he makes his home. All 8 graduated from high school, some continuing school thereafter. Mr. Stienecker’s next birthday will be his 80th. Mrs. Stienecker died in 1936.

I asked concerning his philosophy of life. “Keep on learning,” he replied, “there’s always something to learn. When we stop learning we begin going backward. Life is too short to learn everything by experience. Some experience is too costly to learn first hand, like an automobile accident for instance. Therefore we must use our heads and learn by observation and from the experiences of others. Anybody who knows it all, really knows nothing thoroughly,” he concluded.