Ruie Road

RURAL NORTH TONAWANDA AT THE TURN OF THE CENTURY
by Walter Doebler

My great grandfather, Ludwig Doebler, came to this country from Germany in 1868, bringing with him his wife, Dorothea, and his two sons, Charles G. and William F.  He settled on 40 acres of land, 20 of which are on the north side and 20 on the south side of Ruie Road near what is now 1140.

A log cabin was erected to house the family while crops were planted, and necessary shelters were erected for livestock.

After some time, Charles elected to leave the farm and get into business. He became associated with Robinson Brothers who had a planing mill and box shop on Tonawanda Island.  The firm became Robinson and Doebler.  Subsequently, the Robinsons withdrew, and the firm became the Charles G. Doebler Planing Mill.  Charles was not content to sit in his office.  He could always be found in the mill, working along with his men.  This earned him the nickname of Rip-saw Charley.

His children, three sons and two daughters, were well known in N. Tonawanda.  All but one, Martin C. Doebler, are deceased.  Martin lives in the Town of Tonawanda.

My paternal Grandfather, William F. Doebler, stayed on the farm.  After the death of his mother in 1883, and his father Ludwig in 1888, he took over the operation of the farm.  In the meantime, he married Maria Gross.  This union was blessed with seven sons and one daughter, all of whom found plenty to do, even though the size of the farm is considered, by today’s standards, a small garden plot.

William was not destined to enjoy the fruits of his labors for any length of time as he passed away in 1693, leaving a wife and eight children.  It is interesting now to consider how a widow with eight children would fare today on 40 acres of land.  Surely she would not starve, but I am certain the daily menu would be somewhat different from what we are accustomed to.

Apparently grandmother and her children prospered.  When one considers that she had one son of 15 years, another of 13, one 10, it is understandable.  There were also younger children who could handle minor chores such as filling the wood box and weeding the family garden.

My father, who was 13 at the time of his father’s death, often told of the years when the potato crop was not up to par and they were bringing a good price on the market.  The total potato crop was sold and his family ate rutabagas, turnips, and other vegetables in lieu of potatoes.

There was no wood lot on the 40-acre home farm.  The only wood available was trimmings from the apple and pear trees in the orchard.  It soon became obvious to mother that she needed a wood lot to furnish the firewood to heat the home, which was erected sometime between the years of 1870 and 1880.  The log cabin was abandoned, and a large grape arbor set out in its place.  I can still recall my father and uncles explaining to me that the grape arbor was on the site of the original log cabin.

In addition, Uncle Charles G. Doebler made work available to any of his nephews not needed on the farm. During the winter months the boys could be spared from the farm, and so it was that my father, William A. J. Doebler, went to work at Doebler’s Planing Mill and learned the art of filing saws and grinding and sharpening planer knives.

As time went on, my father courted Ida Marie Linhurst, who was a partime maid at Uncle Charles’ home. They were married in 1902.  The offspring of this marriage were Arthur, 1903—1956, Elmer, 1910-1970, Lois, 1916, and myself.

Uncle Gustav, after taking a course in steam engineering, found employment with the city of N. Tonawanda, and considered the farm a secondary vocation.

After the death of my grandmother in 1906, some months before my birth, my mother and father settled in a house at 32 Ransom St., and Uncle Gustav and his wife, Minnie (Kolbe) built a house at 36 Ransom.

This left Helena, Charles, John, Theodore, Edward and Herman to carry on.  As time went on, it was inevitable that grandmother’s estate must be settled.  Uncle Gustav and my father, William, had already married.  Uncle Charles and John were courting.

Eventually the farm was purchased by Alfred Doebler, son of RipSaw Charley, having taken over as the operator of the Charles G. Doebler Planing Mill.  As executor of his father’s estate, he wanted to keep his grandfather’s estate in the family.

After purchasing the estate, he asked my father to give up his home at 32 Ransom St. and return to the farm. Thus it was that in 1910 my mother, father, brother Arthur and I moved to Rule Rd. This was perhaps more of a change for father and mother than it was for Art and me.  After all, the plumbing on Ransom St. was indoors, albeit in the cellar.

My memories of Ruie Road in 1910 recall a road with dust several inches thick, a drainage ditch alongside, and a bicycle path parallel.  There were a number of men who lived on Nash Road, north of Ruie, who used this route of travel to Buffalo Bolt or Buffalo pumps on Oliver Street.

Our home at that time was an eight-room house: Kitchen, dining room, sitting room, parlor, and four bedrooms. Brother Art and I slept on the second floor (no heat).  Father and mother used one of the bedrooms on the first floor.

I did not go to school the first year on the farm, but when I was five years old I accompanied my brother Art to Gratwick School.  This meant a walk of about one and a half miles.  We walked down Rule Road to a point roughly where North Ave. now intersects.  There was at that time a large drainage ditch which we followed as far as the power line, where we switched over to Schuler’s Lane and followed it over what is now East Stenzil St.  Henry Schuler Sr. was always around to greet us, either coming or going.

His son, Henry Jr., always kept a pack of chewing tobacco hidden in the mechanism of the manure spreader. As I view it now, this was a very appropriate place to hide it.  After Art and I learned his secret, the next step was to experiment.  As I recall, it burned the delicate inside of my mouth, and I was happy to forego any further contact with it.

I believe the North Tonawanda School District did not include our portion of Rule Road at that time, because I remember that my father paid tuition for us.  John and Henry Toellner, who lived next door, were enrolled at a school in the Town of Wheatfield.

Our principal at Gratwick School was a very stout lady by the name of Miss McKeen.  My teacher in the first grade was Miss Davis.  Our classroom boasted an abacus and I still wonder if any of the teachers were able to demonstrate the full potential of this Oriental device.

I must not forget to mention that the school had no cafeteria, so we carried our lunch each day.  On those rare occasions when mother was unable to prepare our lunches, she would give us a few cents so we could walk down to Kinzley’s grocery and meat market where we would buy a couple of sweet rolls and a few wieners, which we ate raw.  This was a lunch fit for a king, in our minds, but was to be avoided since it was more costly than lunches prepared at home with homemade bread and home prepared meat.

My formal education was supplemented with a weekly visit to our church school, St. Peter’s Lutheran, at Thompson and Bryant Streets.  The school was conducted by the pastor, the Rev. Salswedel.  I recall that he would walk up and down the center isle with his hands behind him clasping a yardstick with which he maintained order. (Bill Haeseler Sr. will be able to verify this.)

After the usual walk to Gratwick, we boarded a trolley of the Old Niagara Falls line at Payne and Stenzil St. After the ride up Payne Avenue, we got off at Thompson Street.

The fare for children was 3 cents, but half of the time the conductors would let me ride free, collecting only the 3 cents from Art.  When this happened, we invariably went to Mr. Parker’s grocery store at the corner of Payne and Thompson Street and invested the 3 cents in 3 fudge squares.  There were times when brother Art spent 6 cents on these candies, hoping the conductor on the return trip would collect only one fare.  I don’t recall that we ever faced a problem on the way home.

Although there were no children of my age within a half mile or so from our home, I felt that our stay on the farm was a happy time for me.  The Toellner boys, John and Henry, sons of George and Margaret, arrived home from school later than we did, and then had certain chores to take care of.  But they were much older than I, and I felt more content to find my own fun.  Father had bought me a small metal wagon, and I had a lot of fun imitating the use my father made of the farm wagons.

The buildings on the farm, in addition to the house, consisted of a large barn for the storage of hay, grain, etc., a stable to accommodate the farm animals, a large hen house which was built soon after our arrival, a tool shanty, so called, which was not a shanty at all but a well built building about the size of a single garage, a wood shed, a smoke house, another edifice about the same size as the smoke house, albeit used for a much different purpose, and a long wagon shed to accommodate the various farm implements and wagons. The family carriage was also housed there.   The stable was attached to the barn but at right angles to it, as was the wagon shed on the other side of the barn.  Thus the barn and stable formed two sides of the barnyard with a wood fence completing the square.  Built into the fence was a chute used to fill the long trough from which the pigs received their feed.  The center of the barnyard was taken up by a strawstack from which the animals bedding was taken.

As for utilities, we had a phone with the number 444 party R-2. Our water for drinking and cooking was drawn from a well and carried into the kitchen in a bucket.  The water for washing, etc., was obtained from a cistern, partially under the house.  This required a small hand pump at the sink.  The cistern was replenished each time it rained, as all of the gutters on the house were drained into it.

Electricity was not available on the farm, so kerosene lamps in various forms were used.  The lamp we used in the kitchen fitted into a wall bracket to which was fastened a large reflector to help spread the light to the far corners of the room.  However, I recall we had a second lamp on the table which could be transported to the spot where more light was required.

There was no automatic hot water tank.  Water was heated as needed on the cook stove which had a built in reservoir, and kept a small supply of water warm, but not hot.

Since there were no sewers, drainage from the kitchen sink was piped to a small ditch where it soaked into the ground or evaporated.  The outhouse presented only a long term problem when it had to be moved a few feet to a new location.

Since the farm provided many of the food items such as ham, bacon, sausage, milk, eggs, vegetables, etc., our needs of purchased food were very limited.

Also, Kinzley’s market sent out a supply wagon, perhaps once a week, with many of the staples and. perishable items a housewife might need.  This service was provided by a Mr. Witkop.

Also, a Mr. Hempel came around periodically, carrying two suitcases which contained thread and other sewing needs of various kinds.  He also sold lace and ribbon by the yard.  Correct measurement was obtained by holding the end of the ribbon to his nose, and extending his arm as far as possible.  This constituted a yard.  Shoe laces and polish were also available from him.  I have often thought that this must have provided a very meager living.

Both Mr. Hempel and Mr. Witkop brought news of interest; we also received rural mail service, provided by a carrier by the name of Knoell.

Our immediate neighbors to the east were the aforementioned George and Margaret Toellner and their two sons.  Their house was on the edge of the next farm owned by George’s father, John Toellner, and operated by another son, Henry and his wife, Lydia.  John’s daughter, Hattie, also lived there.

Some distance down the road, east of Nash Road, was the farm of Gustave and Lucy Demler.  Their two children were Wilbert and Irene.  This was the most modern of the three farms in the immediate area, and I believe worked most of the land.  They were always the first to have the latest implements.  Apparently hard work didn’t hurt Gustave, as he passed away in 1927, at the age of 98.  Son Wilbert has his own farm on Sweet Home Road.

The Demlers were a progressive family.  Brother Albert had a farm on Shawnee Road, and had one of the two threshing machines in the general area.  This thresher, along with the water tender, was pulled from farm to farm by a steam traction engine.  The soft coal to fuel the engine while it was threshing had to be furnished by the farmer whose grain was being threshed. He also paid a fee based on the number of bushes of grain processed.

This more modern machine had a large fan which blew the straw through a large pipe to the strawstack. The blower pipe could be moved from side to side, and the nozzle lifted or lowered, so t hat the straw could be spread evenly over the stack. This was a big help to the poor fellow who was building the stack.

Henry Demler, in addition to having a farm, operated a cider mill on Niagara Falls Blvd., near Ruie Road.  He also owned the other threshing machine referred to above.  His machine was similar to Albert’s, with the exception that straw was carried from the machine to the stack by a conveyor belt. He also threshed for farmers who had no machine.

I well recall threshing time at our farm.  It was most interesting for a young boy to watch the steam engine work, the wide heavy belt driving the thresher in the barn, the grain pouring into bushel baskets, and the straw blowing out of the pipe onto the stack.  Never a dull moment.

There was always a bustle of activity at threshing time.  The crew must be fed, and threshers had a reputation as big eaters.  Since at least eight men were required, much food had to be prepared.  Help was at hand, though, from neighbors and relatives for this work.

Harvest time also brought other interesting activities such as a trip to the cider mill with a load of apples, and the return trip with barrels of cider.  This was also the time to make apple butter. For this job, copper kettles were placed on three legged stands made to suit the size of the kettles.  A barrel of cider was tapped nearby and many apples, peeled and quartered, were brought up.

As a young boy I was always amazed at the amount of cider necessary, and felt that too much of this tasty liquid was being used in the apple butter.  However, later as a piece of homemade bread was spread with homemade butter and topped off with a generous layer of apple butter, I felt the result was worth it.

This was also the time to slaughter hogs.  Henry Schuler Sr. was called in for this purpose.  Once the meat was cut up, the time came to make the sausage.  Some of the sausage was smoked, while some remained fresh to be fried and served with pancakes or potatoes.  Delicious!  The hogs not only provided a supply of fresh meat, but also gave us smoked meats such as ham and bacon.

Charles T. Crance was our family doctor, and I recall that he made quite a few trips with his horse and buggy from his home at the corner of Payne & Robinson.  His first time came at the birth of brother Elmer.

On another occasion he came out to attend Art who came down with smallpox during the epidemic of 1912 or 1913.  The rest of the family was immediately vaccinated, but mine didn’t “take” and so I contracted the disease.  At one point during my illness, Dr. Crance brought a Dr. Fairbanks with him, who entered my room dressed entirely in white, while I slept.  I was partially awakened, and upon seeing this white figure, I was terrified.  It took a few minutes before I realized this was a man.

In the summer of 1912 mother treated us to a trip to Olcott Beach.  We arose early in the morning, and father drove us in the family carriage to Gratwick where we boarded a trolley on the Niagara Falls line and rode as far as the Lockport junction on Payne Avenue, near Sommer.  Here we transferred to a car on the Buffalo, Lockport and Rochester line.  While at Olcott, a photo was taken, showing Art holding the horse, Elmer on the sulky, me on the horse and mother standing by.

Our carriage was not used a lot other than to drive us to church.  I do recall several occasions when mother had Bessie hitched to the grocery wagon and drove the two miles to her parents home on Niagara St.  I don’t recall why the carriage was not used, as it would have provided more comfort.

I recall two occasions when the carriage was used in a funeral cortege.  Neighbors would offer their carriages as we now do our cars, and if more were required, they were available from Wattengel’s livery stable on Sweeney St.  If I am not mistaken, they were called “hacks” and were also available for other purposes, perhaps just for a ride in the country.

Ruie Road was treated to a layer of slag from the Tonawanda Iron blast furnace during our stay there.  This was not graded slag as we knew it later, but “bankrun”, which was partially crushed when the city steam roller ran over it and packed it down.  The steel tires of the grocery wagon rolling over the rough slag left much to be desired as a smooth ride.

The horse “Bessie” mentioned above was paired with “Barney” for all work requiring a team, such as plowing and hauling the heavy farm wagons.  A third horse, whose name I can’t recall, was used very little, probably because he was old.  In fact, he died of old age.  I remember that sad occasion very well.  A grave was dug in the field - the one nearest the barn.  Then the horse was placed aboard a “stoneboat”, which all farms had, and Bess and Barney toted the animal to his final resting place.

In addition to the horses, the farm boasted two cows, a number of pies, many chickens, ducks and geese.  I recall how the ganders would run at a person “Thithing.”  I must not forget father’s dog named “Mups.”  That was father’s name for a dog, any dog, anywhere.

Most winter evenings were spent in the “sitting room” with our parents reading, we children playing with whatever toys were available.  I recall playing with dominoes, not the usual game, but standing them on end and placing them so that when one was given a nudge, the whole line would fall over.  We also had a good supply of blocks of various sizes with which we could build forts or whatever came to mind.

On occasion we would very this procedure.  Father would bring in a big bag of dry beans, and we would all sit around the kitchen table and sort out the culls.  These discarded beans were used in the bean bags we played with.  While we were working at this, bricks were being warmed in the oven.  These were covered with a heavy piece of rug, and they were taken to bed with us and used to keep our feet warm.  During the day, they could be used as door stops.

Early in 1914 the farm was taken over by my father’s brother, and the sister who had married by this time. We left without too much regret, knowing our new home would have electric lights, hot and cold running water, central heating, and all the other conveniences we now take for granted.

In retrospect, however, the rural life we knew had many compensations for the city conveniences we did not have, and we thought of it as a good life.