CONRAD ZIMMERMAN

By Brandy Shattuck

It takes precision, creativity, persistence and a love of beauty to design a bridge spanning swiftly moving water, and Conrad Zimmerman is a man with all those qualities. A traditional man with inventive ideas, Conrad has never been afraid of hard work, and he has left his mark in the bridges and roads that crisscross Newaygo County.

As Conrad sat at the dining room table with me and his daughter, Marcia Vandeerleest, surrounded by collectors plates depicting Michigan history and various bridges, he told me about his life. Born in 1905, he came to the United States from Mamorak, Hu ngary, in 1910. On the trip over, the family's ship was hit by an iceberg. This greatly frightened the passengers, especially 5-year-old Conrad. Everyone was safely transferred to another ship to continue the trip, but the adventure didn't end there.

"When we were almost to the United States, another ship ran into us and we caught fire!" Conrad said, however, that even after all the trials getting here, the freedom the United States

America represented, for his family like many other immigrants, the land of opportunity. "Newaygo was the only place I could've lived to become as successful and as happy as I am," Conrad said. He explained that this was because Newaygo County didn't r esent its immigrants. "Most people came from somewhere else anyway. As long as you worked hard, you were accepted."

The Zimmerman family worked hard. Conrad, the oldest boy of 13 children, worked on the family farm. The fields were plowed with horses and manpower. All the milking was done by hand and so was the weeding of the garden.

"Us kids did all the farming while Dad worked at the cement plant," Conrad recalled. One's children run the farm was normal in the "old country," but this was America, not Hungary. Conrad wanted an education. He believed in working hard, but he saw tha t an education could give him more possibilities than farm work ever could. His father, a product of the "old country," didn't agree, so Conrad moved out of the family farm near Croton when he was 17.

"I wanted to go to high school in the worst way," Conrad explained. "I couldn't do that at home. I was the 'off-suit' of the family for leaving." Conrad moved in with a gentleman called Rozzie who helped Conrad through high school. He graduated in 1925 , and through Rozzie's generosity, was able to attend Michigan State University to study what he loved: building.

Building was something Conrad had always enjoyed. As a child, he built toys for his younger brothers and sisters, because store bought toys were expensive and hard to come by. "It was something I had to do. I built sleds and wagons. I also played footb all and basketball, and ran track in high school. We won championships my junior year of high school. But it was school I loved. I was always good at math, art and science."

"I wanted to get away from home, and engineering was challenging and demanding. I liked that!"

Conrad was an excellent student. His professors noticed the ingenuity of his designs. His mind worked faster than his hands on many of his assignments. He graduated from Michigan State University as a Civil Engineer. His degree equipped him to survey, design, and build just about anything.

Returning to Newaygo, Conrad married his high school sweetheart, who lived next door to him in high school. A teacher, gardener, poet and naturalist, Gertrude often gave presentations and toward the end of her life published a book of her p oems called "Zimmy's Nature Notes."

Family is very important to Conrad. His daughter Marcia told of the times she and her brother went to her father's work sites. "It was always funny. He was building a bridge, and he hated water. I've never seen him set foot in a river all of my life. I think the trip to America gave Dad his fill of water," she laughed. She also remembered Conrad sitting in his study, surrounded by reams of handwritten calculations, all done without the aid of a calculator.

Rozzie had given Conrad 30 acres of land near Newaygo, which his brothers farmed. Conrad worked for 20 years for the Kent County Road Commission. One of his more interesting projects was building M-37 from the East Belt Line to Caledonia.

"It was hard work, but it needed to be done. We built the road through swamps, fields, and forests so people could get to where they wanted without any trouble. I drained swamps, cleared fields and forests to make roads. That was my job!"

After this, he worked for the Newaygo County Road Commission, designing bridges and roads, surveying land, drawing maps and assisting in building his projects. One of the more interesting surveys was of Devil's Hole off M-82. Conrad had to be diplomati c when he needed to ask for right-of-way. "Most people were more than happy to let us. They got a better road, and we got the land. It was a win-win situation."

Conrad was an efficient worker who set an example of working in the summer and making maps in the winter. "It was no big idea. I just didn't want to take surveys in the cold snow."

After surveying and mapping most of Newaygo County, he left the Newaygo County Road Commission after 20 more years of engineering. Conrad next went to work for Isabella County's Road Commission. After each job he retired, but some project would come up and call him out of it.

"Whenever the state had a bridge to build around here, they called me," Conrad said. The most interesting bridge he built was right below Croton Dam along Croton-Hardy Drive. "It was around 300 feet from shore to shore, but we didn't have chains long e nough to measure. I had

to use some of my math and triangulate the distance using angles. I also had to decide the best and safest place to place the dam for the people on the bridge and for the fishermen in the river."

Although he loved to build, Conrad also loves nature, a love he shared with Gertrude, who besides her poetry and nature talks, enjoyed keeping very active with Girl Scouts and Garden Club. "I was always outside when I was younger, and my work placed me outside all the time, too!" His years on the farm and building outside made Conrad a dedicated nature-lover, but his true love was always bridges.

Conrad designed the White Cloud Waste Treatment Plant, a church along M-37, surveyed many roads in Kent, Newaygo and Isabella Counties, and drew the map of Newaygo County. He also helped design the 1991 improvement of Felch Avenue. These projects didn' t excite him as building bridges did, however.

In honor of his many achievements in bridge building and design, the new bridge on Water Street in Newaygo was named the Conrad F. Zimmerman Bridge in 1994. It was a touching moment in Conrad's life. Coming out of retirement once again, he had worked a s a consulting engineer on the bridge, and it is beautiful. It is the perfect tribute to this man who loved his Gertrude, his wife of over 60 years, passed away almost two years ago. Conrad's daughter Marcia and her family now live with him. Besides Marcia, the Zimmermans have one son, Nathan, seven grandchildren and one great-grandchild. The Zimmermans have bee n members of the Newaygo United Church of Christ for over half a century.

Conrad said, about changes in Newaygo recently, "They are all right. They did the best they could with what they had to work with."

As I drove back over the Conrad F. Zimmerman Bridge, I thought about how Conrad saw

It is hard to comprehend the changes over the last 100 years, but Lillian Jones, who now resides at Transitional Health Services in Fremont, can tell you about them. The oldest living African-American woman in Newaygo County, she is more than willing to share information about her life over the past century.

Lillian was born in November of 1896 to Joshua Jones and Pearl Morton in Detroit, Michigan. When she was still a baby, she was adopted into a family who moved to Canada. After living there for a number of years, she moved to Lansing, Michigan. When she was 17, Lillian fell in love and married William B. Jones. After a number of years in Lansing, the couple moved to Battle Creek, where Lillian worked at Kellogg Hospital. The two also purchased land in Woodland Park, Michigan.

Lillian and William moved to Woodland Park in 1928. When they first moved into the community, there was an abundance of wildlife, such as deer, wildcats, fox and bears, but not many people. "There were only about six families in the area at the time," Lillian says. Three of the first families in Woodland Park, besides the Jones family, were the Atkinsons, the Whitneys, and the Edwards. When it was time to go shopping for food or any other supplies, it was necessary for families to go into Bitely, White Cloud or Baldwin. The local children in Woodland Park attended schools in Walkerville or Woodland Park.

The Jones family built three houses and a tourist home from cement blocks they made themselves. "I made more blocks than he did," Lillian laughed, saying this was because her husband was working a full-time job. During this time, Lillian also worked as a maid and a cook, while William worked as a conservation officer.

During the Great Depression, the Jones family survived off of their land, as many others did. In 1940, Lillian became the first African-American elected to the office of Merrill Township Clerk, a position she held for 13 years. Also during World War II , Lillian became the first African-American elected to serve on the Selective Service Board. She was also the only African-American on the Office of Price Administration.

Of those days Lillian said that there were "race troubles" in the beginning, but that once people got to know her as an individual, everything was okay. In fact, Harry Hoover told her that she was one of the best township clerks they ever had.

Merrill Township grew quickly. Lillian said that many people moving up from down south didn't understand that they had to pay property taxes, and that she advocated with the state on their behalf, saving their homes.

Over the years, Lillian also worked as a secretary in the Church of God in Christ, as a librarian, and was secretary of the Community Club, which was located in Woodland Park.

Tragedy struck the Jones family in 1957 when, after 41 years of marriage, William was shot and killed in the line of duty. At the time, William worked as a deputy sheriff in Newaygo County and was called to a domestic dispute. The father shot through t he deputy's car windshield, hitting William in the face and blinding him in one eye. Lillian nursed William for 11 years, but he never fully recovered. The Joneses had no children of their own.

CHRISTINE DEWEERD

By Valerie Looy

In the year 1904, a Dutch immigrant family arrived on Ellis Island. Kees and Neeltje Kole, herding their four small children before them, informed the immigration officer they wanted to reach Fremont, Michigan. The family was direct ed to the train station and sent on their way.

Kees' older brother, Pete, had come to America some time before, and had settled in Fremont. There he met a man named Mr. Hollowell, who needed laborers on his farm. Pete knew of Kees' desire to come to America, and it was arranged that Mr. Hollowell w ould lend the money for the fare and Kees would come to work for him. So Kees and Neeltje sold most of their belongings and moved their family to Michigan.

When the Kole family arrived, none of them spoke English, but they had a fierce determination, faith in God and a hope for a better life. On the Hollowell farm, Mr. Hollowell was building a new house. When it was completed, the Koles would live in the old one. But for the first months, they lived in the farm's old granary. It was filthy, and stood rotting, with exposed beams and studding. At night, bedbugs dropped from the walls. Neeltje cried for two weeks for her clean, modest home in the Netherlands . The family felt that God was leading them, and Kees assured them that things would get better.

Kees worked for Mr. Hollowell for years, and had long past paid off his debt when Mr. Hollowell passed away. During their time there, the Kole family grew to include two more children. (All together, the six children were Susan, Benjamin, Nellie, Jenni e, Andrew, and the youngest, Christine. Sadly, Jennie died on the Hollowell farm.) Not long after Mr. Hollowell died, Kees bought a 40-acre farm on the edge of Fremont.

I visited with Christine (Kole) DeWeerd there, on that farm, not long ago. As we spoke, she remembered her family and their lives in Fremont. This story is a collection of her childhood memories as she grew up in Fremont, Michigan.

The farm had a wooden house, a team, and a windmill behind the house that pumped water to the kitchen. Two grape arbors stood on either side of the house. Kees planted crops and Neeltje planted a garden. A fruitful year went by; then a tragedy struck t he family.

One day in early September, the girls were in the pickle fields, picking pickles, when the house caught on fire. Kees was also away, helping a neighbor thresh wheat, and he was unable to see the house. The barn stood between the house and the pickle fi elds, so the fire went unnoticed until it reached the roof. Some of the first floor furnishings were saved, but all the beds and bedding and children's clothing on the second floor were destroyed. Men from the threshing crew came to carry canned goods out of the basement through the cellar door, and someone rescued the 12 freshly baked loaves of bread from the trunk in the front hall, where they had been placed to cool. A bucket brigade was formed to carry water from the windmill, and in that way, the bar n was saved.

Christine remembered, with a laugh, the old fashioned cupboard that was carried out of the fire, full of china dishes, without a single one being broken. The cupboard was set in a field across the road, and an onlooker, excited to see the fire, ran his horses over it, smashing the china to pieces. Another memory of the fire was of her sister Susan's disappointment because she had just bought a new hat the day before, and now would not be able to wear it. The manager of the plant where Susan worked boug ht her a new hat. All the townspeople and neighbors were very kind, and as the Koles rebuilt their home, they were given donations of household goods and clothes for the children.

A couple of local carpenters helped with the house, and by the fall of 1912, the house was ready for the family to move in. Just a few months later the Kole family became American citizens. In 1911, Kees had walked all the way to White Cloud, the coun ty seat, only to be told by the judge that he was a year too early. So on December 9, 1912, Kees repeated the 12-mile trip and was issued the Certificate of Naturalization #107590. The certificate listed Cornelis Kole, Neeltie, and thei r children Susanna, aged 17, Benjamin, 12, Nella, 9, Andris, 6 and Christina, 5.

As Christine described Fremont in her growing-up days, I could almost picture her in a long cotton dress, walking home at noon for dinner. The streets were dirt, with wooden boardwalks lining the shops on Main Street. The school stood where Fremont Hig h is today. The single building held all 12 grades. There was no gymnasium, but above the livery stables on Main Street was a large room used for plays and local entertainment. Once, a musical group came to town, and Christine remembers them singing, "The re's a bald-headed man in the second row," and the man was her father! Sometimes, in the winter, she would stay with a family in town after a play or concert, because it was too cold and too far to walk home in the snow.

Another building on Main Street fascinated Christine -- the blacksmith's shop. She loved to watch the blacksmith take the red-hot iron out of the fire, cool it in water, and nail it to the hoof of a horse. The street was busy with farmers coming to tow n in their horse-drawn wagons, perhaps picking up supplies or taking their grain to the co-op, or cream to the creamery. The creamery was south of town, and cream was collected daily from area farms.

From the time she was in eighth grade, and on through high school, Christine delivered milk. She remembered this with a laugh, thinking how things would be if milk was delivered the same way today! She carried the milk in pails, and scooped out however much a family wanted into the dish they left on their front stoop. On Fridays, the money to pay for the milk was left in the dish.

In those days, people used iceboxes, instead of refrigerators. In winter, Christine's father joined other farmers in hauling 2X2 foot blocks of ice from the lake with their horses. These blocks were stored in sawdust so they would not melt.

In the eighth grade Christine started working at Gerbers. She had to get permission from the board of education, and her place was a capping machine on the assembly line. Gerbers was still a cannery of sorts then, and had not started to manufacture bab y food yet. They canned fruits and vegetables from neighboring farms. Christine loved to watch things happen, and on her breaks would sit on the steps near the machines that shelled peas and watch the different processes.

Gerbers was not the only processing plant in Fremont at that time. There was also Hilliard's Beanery, near the railroad tracks, where farmers took their beans to be sorted and cleaned. Christine's sister Susan worked at the beanery. Christine and her sister s also picked pickles for the pickle plant, which stood on the east side of town, near Gerbers. There was also a tannery in Fremont, where hides were cured and made into leather.

Life was not all work for the farmers of those days, however. Christine told of social events that included the whole town: Sunday School picnics at the lake, when her mother, Neeltje, would pack a giant washtub with sandwiches to share; and events in the evenings such as singings and plays. The children played in Misner's Woods, and a favorite game was blindman's-bluff. Once a year, the Kole children were allowed to ask their schoolteacher home for dinner, and they would always have great fun walking their teacher through the woods. Another site for entertainment was the "millpond," where children swam, fished, and ice-fished in winter. Christine remembers when the millpond became a parking lot for Gerbers.

The Koles were a very religious family, and were very involved in the Reformed Church. The entire family played a part, whether in Sunday school, choir, or some other role. They attended every Sunday, and on Christmas of each year, the family sang Dutc h hymns for the church. Kees taught some of the Dutch families who preferred to hear sermons in the old language, and he also filled in when the pastor was away.

Christine inherited her political and religious beliefs from her father. She remembers him once saying to a man, "If you do not vote, you have no right to criticize the government of America." She also has memories of a time when the family would sit d own for meals together, with Kees at the head of the table, reading a newspaper. Her father also loved listening to the radio, and Christine remembers the first radio the family ever had. Kees would get very upset when there was a distasteful program on, and Christine would tease him by saying, "But Daddy, you could always turn it off!"

Christine's mother was a kind, very Dutch woman. She had to learn to bake bread in ovens when she first came to America, and Christine remembers that she was a wonderful cook. They hosted church picnics in their yard on Sunday afternoons, and Neeltje b aked "good, plain food." She always believed in having a large garden, a strawberry patch, and a raspberry patch. The Koles also had a gooseberry patch, and even when she was in college, Christine came home for the harvesting of the gooseberries. It requi red special skills, and Kees had taught Christine just how to pick the berries without being stuck by the thorny hides.

During World War II, Gerber's served as a POW camp. German prisoners worked in the cannery, and sometimes they escaped and hid in Kees' fields or even in the team. Christine also remembers the entire town scrounging up scrap metal for the government to use.

Christine Kole graduated from Fremont High School and went on to nurses' training at Butterworth Hospital. While she lived in Grand Rapids, she met Gerrit DeWeerd, who was the brother of Christine's sister's husband. He was the man she would eventually marry. Her devotion to her family was very strong, and she delayed her wedding until after her mother's death so she could nurse her to the end.

Gerrit and Christine were married in 1936, and they lived in Detroit and Ann Arbor for a number of years, until they resumed to the house in Fremont. They bought the farmhouse in 1948, and Christine still lives there, but the 40-acre farm looks very di fferent today. They had no children, and the farm has been subdivided and sold. Some belongs to Gerber, and crops are still planted on sections of it. In 1972, Christine and Gerrit donated five acres for the building of the Church of the Living Christ as a memorial to Kees and Neeltie Kole.

Many things have changed in Fremont since the Kole family first arrived in 1904. There are no more boardwalks or blacksmiths, and iceboxes are a thing of the past, but one or two things have not changed. Fremont, for all its hustle and bustle, is still a rural community, and its roots go deep into the families that made it the community it is today. I was thankful for the opportunity to talk to Christine, and it has helped me learn about my own heritage as well.

By Staci Somerville

A tightly huddled cluster of eager young scholars made their way through a relentless torrent of nose-freezing wind and snow. Little could keep this group from cutting a path to the small brick school waiting perhaps two miles ahead . Among these devoted students was a small but dignified young man, nearly buried beneath the layers of scarves and coat and shirts, with small stature and sad blue eyes, an individual filled with curiosity, integrity, and a love of knowledge. This work-i n-progress was Arthur Nelsen.

Arthur (Art) Nelsen was born April 1, 1918, to Gustave and Marie Nelsen of Grant. He was born in the same house as his father, on the 31st anniversary of his grandfather's purchase of the homestead.

Arthur and his brother Bob spent their early years like most young boys in Grant, helping on the farm and attending the local school. However, Arthur soon became familiar with the term "survivor." His young life was plagued with illness, including the so-called Spanish flu, typhoid, fever, measles and a series of lung infections. When he was 6 years old, Arthur's family relocated to New Mexico in hopes of conquering Marie's tuberculosis. However, the spring of 1927 brought the tragic death of Arthur an d Bob's mother. The family resumed to their home in Grant; Arthur was raised by his father and Bob by an aunt and uncle.

An author once said that an individual is not made by his circumstances, but rather how those circumstances are reacted to. Arthur chose to take hardships in stride and move on. He was a dedicated student with a strong inquisitive streak, who also freq uented the local folk dances, played mouth organ and called square dances. He also made a name for himself in his portrayals of elderly men in Grant High School theatrical productions.

After his graduation from high school, Arthur remained hard at work on his father's farm. He continued his devotion to education by taking correspondence courses in various fields of interest. During World War II, he saw his brother Bob and two cousins sent off to battle; Arthur remained in Grant, knowing that farmers were also necessary to the war effort.

As time progressed, Arthur's inquisitive mind led him to venture into the world of politics. He took great pride in his first office as constable, and in 1966 was elected to the Board of Review. The next term he resumed as Township Supervisor. After a n upheaval in local government, Arthur was elected chairman of the first County Commission on Newaygo County in 1969. Over the following 23 years, he served 14 as Newaygo County Commissioner. During these years, he saw the building of the new jail, the se nior center, the county office building, the Department of Social Services building and many other developments. He also served on the board of the Co-Op Creamery in Grant and on the Parks Commission, was treasurer of Soil Conservation for 28 years, and w as a member of the Mental Health Board for 20 years.

Among Arthur's fond memories are those of a long-gone institution of the Grant area, the Danish Folk School. Arthur had a special interest as three of his grandparents were Danes, and the fourth was a Swede. A tradition started by a Bishop in Denmark, the Folk School provided essential educational training for the financially disadvantaged. This idea was first brought to America by Hans Jorgen-Petersen, first pioneering in Elkhom, Iowa, then making his way to Ashland, Michigan, in 1882. After his depar ture to Minnesota, the Folk School of Ashland changed hands many times. Often the schoolmaster served also as a minister in the Danish Church, working for less-than-generous wages. In 1914, the school was expanded to include 30 new rooms.

In 1938, the Folk School was renamed Ashland College under the direction of Chester Graham. Later, the same building was sold and utilized as a nursing home, the Hall Home under John Hall. After bankruptcy and a dispute over ownership, the building was acquisitioned by the Kent City Bank, from whom Arthur purchased it around 1970 or 1971. The building, by then decrepit, was soon torn down for safety reasons.

Politics, farming and travel, as well as membership in the Mamrelund Lutheran Church, made Arthur Nelsen's life a full one, but not too ideal to be improved upon. In early spring of 1980, Arthur was introduced by a mutual acquaintance to Virginia Johns on. The two courted for about seven months and were married in November of that year. It may have seemed that they had too late a start to have a family of their own, but that didn't stop Arthur and Virginia.

They extended their family to include three children of a friend as their "adopted grandkids," and also sponsored a girl from Costa Rica through an outreach program. Arthur and Virginia have thoroughly enjoyed watching their kids grow up. Both unquestionably state that the best was worth waiting for.

Arthur continues to make valuable contributions to Newaygo County through MRP, the Newaygo County Historical Society, Newaygo County Commission on Aging Board and Farm Bureau, and is a Golden Sheaf member of the Grange. He and Virginia have traveled to many destinations around the world, including China, North Africa and the Middle East, and are enthusiastic campers.

Recent illness has somewhat limited Arthur's activity, but will never limit his mind. He still clearly recalls the dreaded diet of ice cream, Jell-O and quinine during a bout of typhoid fever; the folk/square dances in a hall rented for $2; a trip to t he fortress of Masada where Zealots fought to hold out Silva's legion in 70 AD; and much, much more.

has; for the last 16 years, my two sisters and I have been proud to call Arthur and Virginia

Nelsen "Grandpa Art" and "Grandma Ginny." We have been the recipients of unwavering love

and support, and a vast wealth of understanding of life. Arthur Nelsen, among all his many

other accomplishments, has given three girls a place in his heart, and he will always have a place in mine.

GLADYS BROWN by Melissa Holmes

Gladys Brown was born September 26, 1899, and has spent her entire life in Newaygo County. Her grandfather, Alexander (Alexandier) Etiene Lamorandier (Lamarandier), was a Canadian pioneer from Quebec, the first white man to canoe do wn the Muskegon River. He established a trading post at Old Women's Bend on the Muskegon River two miles from what is now Newaygo, married a Native American bride from the Ottawa tribe, and settled permanently in Newaygo County.

Both Gladys and her father, Thomas Aiken (Etiene) Lamorandier, were born in Newaygo County. Her mother, Evangeline, came from Indiana in a covered wagon as a small girl.

During the time that Gladys' parents were growing up, Newaygo County was covered with trees. Thomas became a logger who spent six months out of the year "working with the trees" on the Muskegon River his grandfather had traveled. Loggers cut down trees , shoved them into the river, and floated them down river to the mill. Sometimes the logs got stuck and formed

a dam. When this happened, the loggers would stick dynamite on the dam and "blow them trees away," Gladys said. The loggers then used poles to loosen the logs and send them down the river.

Being a logger was a tough life. The men lived on floats - log cabins that floated down the river. Inside there were bunks for the men. Thomas had one of these floats and used to tell Gladys how the men always had to look in their beds each night befor e they settled down to sleep. This was because black water snakes would come up on the floats while the men were out working and curl up in the beds. Gladys once caught one of these huge snakes and, with her sister, took it over to show the new neighbor b oys. "The boys were scared to death," she chuckled. Gladys was proud that no matter how tough it got, her father never complained.

Life on the river was also dangerous. At the age of 18, Gladys' aunt tried to cross the river. She had done it numerous times before, jumping from log to log. This time one of the logs rolled, and Gladys' aunt fell in and drowned. The loggers risked th eir lives each day trying to clear the land.

Gladys remembers a time when she was only a toddler, before she realized she was part Native American, looking fearfully out her bedroom window at the Indian camp half a mile across the river from the family's 1200-acre Felch Road farm. She heard the n oise of a pow wow and couldn't sleep. One time one of the older Indians, introduced as "Grandpa Jackson," came across the river to visit.

"I hid behind my dad's legs," Gladys said. "He didn't look like a grandpa to me!" When her brother was invited to attend a pow wow, she feared the Indians would kidnap him. However, listening to his fascinating stories, she realized that her fears were g roundless and, in fact, that she had Native American blood, too

As the land was cleared and people settled in, more and more schools had-to be built. As a child, Gladys was often sick, but when she felt well she attended a school in Newaygo. Gladys and her eight brothers and sisters had to walk over two miles to ge t to school each day. The only means of transportation was by horse and buggy, and some families didn't even have that. This made getting an education tough.

Along with school, Gladys and her siblings also had to work on their farm. The children picked pickles and string beans to sell to the factories, and they also tended to the chickens. Gladys also ran errands for the neighbor. She was paid with a pound of honey and an old wedding dress to be cut up and made into a school dress. Unfortunately for Gladys, her mother gave the dress back.

Medical care was much different then. Because of Gladys' poor health, she needed to see the doctor many times. To get the doctor to their house, her brother had to walk to the doctor's house, hitch up his horse, wait for him to get ready, and drive him to their house. Her brother would then have to take the doctor home, unhitch the horse, and walk home after the examination. This was because there were no cars and very few doctors in the area.

Gladys' father worked hard as a logger and river man, and her mother raised a big garden and kept the household running smoothly. One summer, Gladys helped her father dig a drainage ditch, moving rocks by horse and wagon.

In 1918, the family bought its first car. Every seven years, Gladys remembered, they purchased a new one. It was always a Ford.

Gladys married Ernest Brown in 1916. Because of her poor health, she wasn't supposed to have children. However, she had a daughter, Keola Convertini, and a now deceased son, Madison.

"I'm God's guinea pig!" Gladys exclaimed, having been given up for dead several times with her chronic, serious illness, and her long life has baffled doctors. Ernest died in 1975 after 67 years of marriage.

Gladys kept busy raising her family, baking her own bread, caring for relatives and neighbors, and being active in the Newaygo United Church of Christ. She watched the nation struggle through several major wars and make many technological advances. She remembers when airplanes changed the travel scene forever, and when the invention of the first television set changed the way we communicate.

New technology led to many new jobs. Her son Madison worked in a factory with such new technology that he had to travel to Germany to learn more about the machines. All of this technology was confusing to Gladys. It was quite a change from the time whe n she was growing up.

A LIFETIME OF DEDICATION: BERT DEYOUNG

by Amy Graeser

"What do you say to a man who is going to be 100 in November?" I wondered as I drove up to Bert DeYoung's mobil home on the west side of Fremont. The passionate strains of "Unchained Melodies" floated out of the door, which was flan ked by a gorgeous rose bush vivid with blossoms. Although Bert "retired" to the mobil home park in the late '80s after living most of life on the family farm near Fremont, until this year he kept a garden at the farm. He loved the work so much that even t hough he can't keep a garden anymore, he won't quit. Instead, he grows rose bushes.

Bert's father, Tenes DeYoung, came to America from the Netherlands in 1888. He traveled to Fremont where his uncle lived, but instead of being greeted by his uncle, he was first greeted with a long walk. The train ticket he had purchased was not valid past White Cloud, so "Tenes had to walk from White Cloud to Fremont," Bert said. Tenes stayed with his uncle briefly, then moved to the Hamilton area where his sister lived. He went to work for a farmer named Brown. Brown's first grade child taught Tenes English after work by candlelight.

In 1894 Tenes married a girl named Johanna and, with a wedding present of a rooster and a hen, which Tenes once said was the best present he ever received, they started the DeYoung farm, which still flourishes today. In no time they also started a fami ly. Their first child, Henry, was born in 1995, with Bert following in November of 1896. Next was Lou (who still lives in Traverse City), then Gerrit (who still lives in Oklahoma), and three who are deceased: Fred, Mary and Anne.

In the 1890s, Johanna was the only nurse in the neighborhood, and she had no one to help her deliver Bert. He was born prematurely and was so small that his mother put him in a shoe box on the stove to keep him warm.

Bert spent his childhood helping his mother in the house. He didn't learn English until his brother Henry went to school and began to learn it. Bert went to school in a one-room schoolhouse near the farm. He said with a smile that he had repeated eight h grade, embarrassed that four girls in his class had passed but he hadn't.

Bert still remembers the family's first car. It was a 1911 Model T with just a lantern for a headlight; the carbide lamps were used on the 1912 model. The car broke down shortly after they had purchased it and Tenes, not wanting to deal with it, sold i t to a neighboring farmer. That farmer restored the car and drove it all the way to Califomia. When the DeYoungs heard about the trip, they were amazed the car traveled that distance.

In 1915, Bert heard the call to " 'Go west, young man, go west!"' He and three other young men followed the call and went to Iowa, where they farmed for two summers.

Bert was training to be a signal man in the U.S. Army at the University of Michigan when the Armistice was signed. He moved to Grand Rapids and took a job with Michigan Hardware, which distributed hardware for western Michigan, and worked in packaging and shipping.

While in Grand Rapids, Bert met and married Anne Derks, who had come from the Netherlands with her family and was also working in Grand Rapids. After they had been married for a time, Anne died in childbirth along with their baby.

In 1927, Bert resumed to Fremont and took over the family farm. Originally the farm was 40 acres. At its peak, it was 180 acres, and now it is 60 acres.

Bert was remarried in 1931 to Laura Derks (no relation to Anne Derks). In 1932 their only child, Marv, was born.

When Marv showed me a picture of Bert, himself, and the last horse they had on the farm, Bert fondly recalled that Marv used that horse to drive the local teacher to school when the roads were bad. There were bells on the horse in the picture. All the horses wore bells in those days, Marv explained, "Just as a sort of novelty."

The family farmed with horses until 1941, when Bert purchased their first tractor. They kept one of their horses for two or three years after that because some farmers thought tractors couldn't do everything, like cultivating corn. "It took a little ti me to get used to the tractor," Marv said, but it saved a lot of time. Because the farm was self-sufficient and successful enough to support the family, Bert said they had not felt the effects of the Great Depression.

The farm and his family were the core of Bert's whole life. They had never been able to take vacations, and sick days weren't allowed.

"The cows don't understand what a sick day is," Marv said. "They just understand that they need food and water. . .Farming takes a lifetime of dedication, and that's something my dad had."

One thing they did have time for was family. Bert's family was extremely close, and Marv remembers visiting with Bert's brothers and sisters frequently. Both Bert and Marv said that family was more important in earlier years than it is now.

Bert recalled the heifer Marv had owned when he was seven years old. When the Newaygo County Fair came to town, Marv entered his heifer and won first place. Bert is still proud of the title after all these years.

Faye Deur welcomed me into her home, sharing stories of her past as I watched brilliant orange flowers gently bobbing in the summer breeze by a nearby window. Several cats curled up on chairs and others napped quietly on the floor a s Faye began sharing a lifetime of memories stories told from the viewpoint of a hard-working farm girl, a loving and dedicated daughter, a collector, world traveler, caring wife, gardener and Sunday School teacher.

Faye was born to Henry and Helen Oosterhouse on November 20, 1910. From the time she was a small child, she was a farm girl at heart. "The farm was a busy place," recalled Faye, whose Dutch parents owned a farm just south of Fremont. Her father was a t hresher and her mother kept busy with sewing, gardening and canning. "I can remember coming home from school and smelling ail those spices and vinegar. And there was all that butchering, canning and packing into jars. . . sausage, homemade liverwurst and cured ham."

Work on the farm continued well into the evening. On Sundays, "While Dad was doing the evening chores, Mother would sing to me from the hymn book. I know she didn't hit all of the right notes, but she got the message across. Today when I hear those hymns it brings back fond memories."

As a child, Faye helped her father by driving the horses during haying season. With one set of reins in her hands, she would sit in the front of the wagon to manage the horses, while the men on top of the load of hay handled the other set. There were d itches that needed to be crossed on the way back to the barn, and it was a great responsibility for a child to drive the horses slowly and carefully over the bumps, making sure the load of hay was not thrown off the wagon. After the hay had been unloaded into the hay loft, Faye was rewarded for her hard work. She was paid 1 cent for loading and 2 cents "on a hay fork."

Animals were a fun part of life on a farm. "When I was a little kid, the folks got a lamb that the mother wouldn't accept, and I can remember them getting up in the middle of the night and going to feed it. They had it in the basement of the house because they didn't want to go out to the barn in the middle of the night. That lamb grew up with me, and we had a lot of fun together," Faye remembered. In the winter, when the playful lamb spotted Faye coming out of the house on her way to the team, it would run up and bump her into a snow bank.

Faye also enjoyed raising ducks. One time, she and a cousin loaded all of the little ducklings into a washtub and took them on an outing to the creek. The two girls had carried the washtub because they thought that the ducklings would not be able to wa lk the quarter-mile to the creek. The next day, however, the babies surprised them by walking the whole way by themselves

Another farm animal that Faye remembers is a horse named "Ol' Ned." When she was eight years old, Faye drove this horse. She recalled, "I drove a horse and buggy to my grandparents' house, and I walked the rest of the way (to school). My grandpa would take the horse and use it to cultivate his garden, and then he'd have the horse ready for me when school was out."

For one year, Faye attended a country school, Van Korlaar School. She still clearly remembers the old water pump and the outhouses. She laughed as she recaptured a humorous event that had taken place the day the "gypsies" came to town. She and the othe r school children were frightened of the gypsies. "We just ran for cover," Faye chuckled, "and I remember finding myself in the boys' toilet. . . with a couple of boys."

Patrons Day celebrations were special events at school. Faye laughed when she remembered taking part in one of the plays for this annual event but adamantly refusing to kiss a neighbor boy as part of the drama.

Christmas was another memorable time at the country school. Faye remembered being pulled to the Christmas program on a sled and hearing the cold snow crunch crisply beneath her sled. A stage that was stored in the basement was brought up for the annual Christmas program, and a tree was decorated with real, lighted candles in metal holders. "I received two gifts that year - a cup and saucer for the exchange gift at school and a locket at home," she said and grasped the golden chain around her neck. She proudly held it out to show me.

"This is the locket."

When winter arrived, the children had to bundle up to stay warm on the way to and from school. Faye remarked, "Another thing that this generation don't know anything about is that long underwear we used to wear. A lot of kids would wear it to bed, you know." When the children wore the long underwear out into the cold, they wore long socks and rubbers over top of them. "My mother made 'sateen' bloomers for me of different colors, so if we were playing you couldn't see my underwear." The end of winter si gnified the end of wearing long underwear. Faye reflected the excitement of spring's arrival, saying, "When spring really sprung, boy what a treat!"

Being sick was much worse than wearing long underwear. Faye remembers the cure-alls of the past with not-so-fond memories. "Way back, castor oil was the remedy for anything you had and Watkins liniment and vapor oil. I detested it, and they didn't know at the time that I was allergic. They would put that stuff on my chest with a wool cloth, and I was allergic to wool. . . I would have rather had the cold than all that junk," she said emphatically.

After attending Van Korlaar School, Faye attended the newly-built Fremont Christian School. She drove the horse and buggy to her grandparents' house, then walked the rest of the way. "This horse that I drove to school was a pet, and he was my mother's driving horse. One day my dad decided he was going to sell it, and he never told her about it. He sold a couple of other horses, too. I looked all over the farm, and I could not find those horses. I came back to the house, and I remember seeing them go ba ck over the hill, and I cried." It made her mother upset, too.

One day a short time later, her mother decided that, since her husband had taken her horse, she was going to take the car. When her father went to town, her mother put Faye

her brother in the back-seat of the car. Faye remembers the surprising event with clarity. "She backed it out. I didn't even think she could back it out of the garage. The fellows were out in the field, and if they had false teeth they certainly would have fallen out because they stopped right there, and they couldn't believe it! Mom just tooted at them, and we just went on."

After the horses had been sold, Faye had to walk three miles to the school. That was quite a walk, so Faye devised a plan. "I carried my roller skates to the city limits, and then I skated all the rest of the way to school," she mentioned with a girlis h grin.

Faye remembers when the family got their first radio, a big rounded one. "There were a lot of political speeches on, and I was so thrilled." Her political interest was not only captured by speakers on the radio, but also by live speakers. "I went with my dad to a couple of meetings (at the community building in Fremont) and I was so thrilled." One of the speakers that Faye said she believes that she listened to was William Jennings Bryan.

At election time, people gathered at Brookside Township Hall to cast their vote. "I can remember when the ladies were allowed to vote. My mother and a neighbor lady were the only two that voted of the ladies in the neighborhood. And when I got old enou gh, I voted, too."

Faye remembered the last day of World War 1, Armistice Day. "My grandpa walked from Fremont to the farm with some homemade sausage links. He stopped outside a little ways from the house, and there was another man cleaning the ditches. There was an alar m, and this other man just danced in the street. . . and I can still see him. But that was a false alarm. A real one happened a few days later."

In the summers, she went with the family to the Mission Fest and with her dad to the Farmer and Merchants' Picnic in Fremont. At the Mission Fest, Faye sat sandwiched in the grandstands, listening to interesting talks given by the missionaries. She exp ressed the excitement of the day. "I was given a dime. . . a whole dime! I finally spent it; 5 cents for crackerjack and 5 cents for an ice cream cone. What a treat! It was an all-day affair. At noon we spread a blanket on the ground and a tablecloth and sat down for a real picnic. . .apple pie, chicken, potato salad and lemonade." At the Farmer and Merchants' Picnic, she wandered around the grounds while her father stood talking to fellow farmers. Her father always carried his pocket watch with him, and would time how long it took her to cover the area. She said that it usually took her about 20 minutes to see everything. After a few years, the picnic became more exciting because she met Leon Deur, the man that she would later marry. "We didn't go out a s often as they do today.

After marriage, Faye and her husband lived in Grant awhile, and finally settled in White Cloud. Many White Cloud residents have come to know Faye Deur as "the flower lady." Her love of flowers stemmed from her mother's interest in gardening. From her c hildhood garden of forget-me-nots to her flower beds of today, Faye has proudly exhibited her gardening expertise. Beds of flowers, including hybrid lilies and hundreds of dahlias, now bloom around Faye's White Cloud home. Roses, pansies and lilacs are so me of her favorites. Faye's floral knowledge has extended into the community. She was one of the original members of the Garden Club, which officially began in 1956, and has served as the club's president various times throughout the years. She has won bl ue ribbons in flower shows around Newaygo County, has made many floral arrangements, and was featured in an article in "The White Cloud Eagle."

Faye's interest in flowers carries over into another hobby - keeping scrapbooks. Her mother also was an influence in this hobby, encouraging Faye to save pretty pictures from calendars and keep them in a homemade scrapbook. The hobby that she started a s a child has grown into quite a large collection.

Faye's other hobbies include collections of salt and pepper shakers, spoons, and dolls. She put salt and pepper shakers into a cabinet until there was room for no more. Several spoon racks hang on a wall in Faye's living room, displaying the many spoon s she has accumulated from trips around the world. Her doll collection is scattered throughout the house, and several of the dolls are gathered together in a chair in the front living room. Among them is a doll from Moscow and a doll that Faye had been gi ven as a 6-year-old child. This doll, wearing a pink dress that was hand-sewn by tiny fingers long ago, looked as if it had seen many years of love and play. In fact its porcelain face and limbs have survived many tumbles, bumps and falls.

"One time we had a surrey (a two-seated buggy), and the back seat was very narrow. We went to town, and it slipped away from me. When I got home I didn't have my doll." Later a lady called to say that she had found the doll, and it was given back to it s rightful owner. Another time, Faye's brother and a neighbor boy were playing catch with the doll, and one of them dropped it. "Boy, did they scatter!" Faye exclaimed, as she remembered how they ran when they realized that they had broken a finger off of the doll.

Much of Faye's life centered around the church. She remembers her church, First Christian Reformed Church in Fremont, having two services. The morning service was always conducted in Dutch. Since she was not able to understand much of the service, she usually attended the afternoon service. "There were catechism classes and young people's classes through high school. Once a year the young people would have a banquet." Every year delegates were chosen from several local Christian Reformed Churches, incl uding Fremont, Grant, Reeman and New Era. There were five churches in total and, at one time or another, she had been a delegate to each one.

For 62 years, Faye taught preschool and kindergarten classes in Sunday School. In 1994, the First Christian Reformed Church presented a gold clock to the devoted teacher. An inscription on it reads, "For all the precious time you spent teaching us and our children." Now Faye spends "precious time" in visits with their son, Lonnie, and three grandchildren.

As my visit with Faye drew to a close, I looked around at the living room, which had been brought to life with the memories of Faye's past. The clock that the church had presented to a loving Sunday School teacher stood on a round cloth-covered table n ear the couch. An antique lamp, her parents' wedding gift from 1902, stood there embellished with painted, pink roses. It reminded me of the enjoyable moments Faye spent as a child on her family's farm, and the love of flowers that she had shared with her mother. I saw the spoon collection, a flower arrangement, dolls and scrapbooks symbols of Faye's life. As I said good-bye and walked out onto the porch, I looked at the cheerful colors of the flowe rs surrounding the house, the signature of a remarkable lady, Faye Deur.

DORA MATA by Kim Flintoff

When in school, the boys and girls played separately at recess. The boys played baseball, and the girls jumped rope and played hopscotch and jacks. Sometimes they got a chance to play baseball with the boys. In school only Spanish was spoken. The teach er taught the girls embroidery, and they made towels, tablecloths and pillow cases.

When Dora was 7 years old, the Great Depression began. Her father worked for the city at the time, making 25 cents an hour at $5 a week. They were also given $7 a week for groceries. Her mother would buy material for 10 cents a yard to sew clothes for her family, and the girls had only three dresses that they could wear to school. There were 12 people living in their house, so whatever money they had didn't go far. Suppl ies were very cheap. The family could buy a 5-pound bag of beans for 25 cents, a 25-pound bag of flour for 25 cents, and shoes were 25 cents a pair. Water and lights only cost 50 cents a month.

Dora married Tony Mata while still living in Texas. Tony had been sent into the service when he was a teenager because he could not read or write; he had always had to work with his parents. When Dora and Tony's daughter, Rosemary, was only three month s old, Tony was sent to fight in World War II and was in the service until 1948. During this time, Dora said she was very scared.

The young couple moved to Michigan in 1948. Dora was very excited about this move and the prospect of having a permanent home. After a brief stay in Kent City, they moved to a house in Grant. Tony's father worked in Grant and helped them put down roots .

"Newaygo County is a great place to raise kids," Dora said. They both wanted their children to have an education and had heard that the Newaygo County schools were very good.

At the time they moved to Grant, the only stores in the area were in Bailey and Gene's Market in Grant. Gene's was about one quarter of its present size.

Tony worked for about 10 years for Cherry Hill, a fruit company in Bailey. He then worked for National Fruit for 23 years. Dora worked for Half Moon Lake Storage Company for nearly 22 years.

The Matas raised their seven children - Tony, Robert, Richard, Carlos, Sylvia, Diane and Rosemary in Grant. The first three were born in Texas, and the last four were born in the old Grant Hospital. They all attended Grant schools, and all four sons played football and basketball. Their daughters helped out at home with meals, dishes and laundry. Their oldest daughter is a registered nurse, another daughter works for the government, and the third works in the court system. Three out of the four boys joined the Air Force; one is a physical therapist, and another has worked for the telephone company for 30 years. "I am very proud of them all, for making something of themselves."

Tony died three years ago, but Dora still lives in the house where they raised all their children. "I will live here until I am gone," she said. Dora still has two sisters in good health, along with her grown children and 13 grandchildren.

Dora said that God is the number one person in her life, next to her children. She enjoys swimming and boating, but the best day in her life was when her children and grandchildren were born. She loves Michigan and misses it very much when she goes to Texas in November. She also misses her friends and family in Texas when she returns to Michigan in April. She hopes to visit Spain with her children before she dies.

Dora feels that people helped each other more in the past than they do today. She said it would be harder now to raise children than it was 50 years ago. Her advice for the younger generation is to stay in school and to be involved with their church. D ora is active in Our Lady of Guadalupe and St. Bartholomew's Catholic Church. Although she feels that families are not as close as they used to be, she feels that her life is moving in the right direction.