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Anton Chvatal Family

Above picture: Anton Chvatal and his wife Frances with their son John and daughter Frances, picture dates sometime between 1915 and 1920 and taken outside their home in Calmar, Iowa

ANTON CHVATAL'S DIARY ABROAD THE KRONPRINZESSIN CECILIE, JOURNEY TO AMERICA 1909

The Anton Chvatal’s diary aboard ship was a pocketsize booklet published by the Bremen Line consisting of 15 pages. The booklet is in the Czech language and I believe F. Missler Bremen was a travel agent or some kind of intermediary for Czechs who were immigrating to America. F. Missler Bremen is clearly German and located at Bahnhofstrasse 30. The back page is interesting since it lists various countries served by the German ships. The first 6 pages were advertisements about the Bremen Line as follows:

Click on the below link to view the orginal images of the pocketsize booklet

ANTON CHVATAL'S DIARY ABROAD THE KRONPRINZESSIN CECILIE, JOURNEY TO AMERICA 1909

Bremen Line
Bremen to America, Australia, Africa and Asia
Trip by Boat
Bremen Line to New York
Tuesday and Saturday
Bremen Line to Baltimore
Thursday
Bremen Line to Galveston
Once a month

To whom it may concern
This voyage you must understand is an experience which everyone will enjoy to the utmost. It is an inexpensive voyage. A quick trip for everyone without worry.

Empress Ships
Kaiser Wilhelm II
Kronprinzessin Cecilie
Kronprinz Wilhelm
Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse
Trips 6 to 7 days
Bremen to New York

1909 calendar (1 page)
1910 calendar (1 page)

Anton Chvatal’s diary

We left our home in Podesin Bohemia with our baby son John and my wife Frances on the 10th day of October 1909

We boarded the train and were due to arrive in Bremen Germany. Our luggage was a trunk with feather bed and other clothes.

The first day on the water it was very clear and bright with sunshine. The ocean was calm. I did not seem to suffer from seasickness at all.

My wife Frances was very sick and had to stay in bed most of the voyage. Baby John cried day and night and I did not feel comfortable hearing the baby cry.

The escape for me was to take walks on the ships deck day and night. The second day on the water it rained, not a real heavy rain. I was here and there below deck and on the deck.

On the third day it is calm. The night is especially beautiful with the moon shining on the ocean.

We are hungry quite a bit of the time due to lack of proper nourishment especially for my wife Frances who is still in bed and very seasick. The baby is crying and I do not like to hear it so I will escape to the ship’s deck.

I am feeling bad for my wife and child. It will be a relief to get to New York. I am calling on God to help my wife so she does not suffer with the headaches and sick to her stomach.

We get coffee in the morning and something like a cracker wafer, some soup and in the evening a little more food.

I wondered many times during the trip if it had been wise to leave our homeland. I will trust in God.

Frances, my wife, is still in bed and I cannot help her. The baby is not getting enough food. He is crying all the time and my wife cannot rest.

We are getting near the end of the journey so I thank the good God it is coming to a close. May God be with us.

END OF DIARY

Anto Chvatal on the left at the Wagon Factory at Calmar Iowa

Anton Chvatal’s Story

This is a wonderful story of what it was like to immigrate to America in the early 1900’s. I received this story written by Anton Chvatal before he passed away. His grandson David Chvatal Bond sent this story to me a while ago and I have to admit when David sent it to me I didn’t have time to read it. When I finally had a chance to read the story I was struck at what a wonderful story it was. David’s grandfather’s story is so similar to so many of us who’s relatives also immigrated to America from Europe and I decided that it was such a wonderful story that I would share it with you. Below is an e-mail that I received from David Chvatal Bond along with the story of his grandfather. I would like to thank David for giving me permission the post this on the website.

Hi Greg

If you are interested here are some reflections written by my Grandfather Anton about his younger years. I had never seen this before because it was written in Czech and my mother and another relative paid a translator to write it in English. How many 15 year olds go alone to a foreign land these days? The story recounts his two trips and his service in the Czech army. He was in Bosnia. Because my father was only two months old when they came over on the Kronprinzessin Cecile they were in 2nd class not steerage.

Best regards

David (Chvatal) Bond

Coming to America

Every one of us elders who crossed the age of 70 years of our lives has many memories of the times gone by, from our youth to the time when one is already bending toward the west, and is not far from the time when he will travel from where there is no more return. I know that there are still many who had truly difficult beginnings, especially whose who had not money and claimed a forested homestead from which they had to get their daily bread with very difficult labor. Such were two families from the old homeland, just arrived, who upon arrival to this country bought land in the Minnesota forests.

I would like to write my memoirs for my readers and I hope that I will be successful even if my facts will be helter-skelter. All that I will write will not be anything fabricated but it will be pure truth, from my best memories. All what follows will be from the time back that my memory reaches and from the time when, as a small boy, I started to remember these things.

I was born in the village of Podesin, at the Czech-Moravian Highlands. It was about 15 minutes on foot to reach the border of our brotherly Moravia. Many times I crossed the border between Bohemia and Moravia. We often went to the villages Rudolec, Bohdalov, Veseli, Zdar – there we often took cattle to the markets, also Jihlava and other villages and small towns. Who would not know the Czech-Moravian Highlands? From there, around Zdar, Vlasta Javoricka Pitnerova wrote many beautiful stories and novels for our newspaper. The landscape is really beautiful to look at but the small fields bring mostly poor crops. Rye, oats, barley, but most of all we would plant potatoes. In the fall, when we harvested them, we immediately would take them to the starch manufacturing plant where they were processed into pure alcohol; and the farmer put into his cellar only so many to last his family over the winter and to have enough for the spring planting. From our place we took the potatoes to Nizkov where there was a starch manufacturing plant. Nizkov was a place where we went to church, about half hour on foot. The people there were hardworking and pious and everybody took good care of his little plot.

As a small boy I went there many times to a pilgrimage. We went with a procession. We went to St. Anna’s at Frantal, to Obyctov, to Kremesnik dedicated to the Holy Trinity. Several of us boys always carried a banner in front of the procession. We suffered all day long and then they took a collection for us and then each of us got roughly five or six kretuzers. These religious processions were really beautiful. Our closest town was Polna, about 2 hours on foot. Msgr. Edward Kasal who is now in Owatonna, Minnesota, comes from there. Later I often went there to take grain to the market.

The reader will perhaps remember that Polna was the birthplace of the Jew Hilsner who murdered Anezka Hruzova from town on her way home, and that Tomas Masaryk, the future president of the Czechoslovak Republic, was his defense attorney at the court. Anezka Hruzova was a seamstress apprentice in Polna. She stayed always a whole week in Polna but on Saturdays she always went home. And this Jew Hilsner knew that Anezka always on Saturday walks home about half an hour on foot, and so he waited for her on the way. What happened next is not known but he killed her and hid the body in a small forest. People would see him walk in that direction often and so they started to suspect him. Anezka did not come home and so the next day there was a big commotion and a great crowd went to look for her. They found her murdered and her body hidden in the forest. There were many Jews in Polna, and after what happened there was probably a big uprising. But I was already here in America.

And now I must go back and start with what I remember as a small boy. As I have already written, I was born in the village Podesin, March 27, 1880, it was just before Easter. Our village comprised of 58 numbers. My dear deceased parents owned a smaller farm, perhaps 70 acres of pastures and fields. When I was six, I started school. At that time I already had the duty to attend to the geese, to take them to a pasture daily, before I went to school every morning, and before nine o’clock when the geese were full, I had to drive them home. And at 9 o’clock I had to be in school.

I had a little of potato soup or “kyselo,” a type of simple soup made of sourdough starter for breakfast and I hurried to school. And when I came back from school, the geese were already waiting for me in the yard, there was a clamor. Mother gave me a slice of black bread and again I took the geese to the pasture. And that went on or two or three years.

Then I advanced and instead of geese, I was taking cattle to the pasture, and the geese were minded by my younger brother Alois. It was not an easy work to herd cattle, there were no fences anywhere to keep the 10 or 12 heads of cattle together; the pasture was bad, the cattle had nothing to chew on. And when the weather got warm, the animals started to run in all directions, the flies were biting them – it was a lot of hardship.

Sometimes it rained in the morning and I had to drive the cattle to pasture early so that they would eat enough but often I brought the animals home hungry. I remember once, it was already beginning to get cold, I was starting to drive the cattle barefoot, and so I made a hole in the manure pile and put my feet there to warm them. Warm steam was coming out of that manure pile.

And so, between the school and the cattle I reached 14 years. The school was in our village but instruction was of all sorts. I learned to read and to write well but I struggled in geography and history. I do remember that the teacher praised me a few times in front of the other pupils in arithmetic. When I reached 14 years, I was done with school. At that time I already knew how to plough and how to get everything ready for sowing.

I have to mention that there we were 9 brothers, all healthy boys, but no sisters. The worst thing was that we all slept in one room in three beds: Father and Mother slept in one bed and we boys could not fit into the two other beds. Father made some sort of box that could slide under the bed. During the day it was pushed under the bed, and in the evening Mother pulled the box out, put on the bedding, and we slept well. I remember that when I was supposed to get up early in the morning I did not feel like it. Father came, pulled me out from the bed, stood my on my feet, and up you go, Father went to let the cattle out and Thonda, perhaps even crying, went after them.

And so it continued. My brothers and I helped with the farm till the year 1895 began. I was 15 years old. That year before Christmas, my uncle – my mother’s brother – and Vaclav Chalupnik, father of Vaclav Chalupnik who is now in Verdegre, Nebraska, decided to sell their farms – they both had families and that they will go to America. Both of them had rather nice farms in our village, and so in 1984 had sold out everything before Christmas. People knew that they were getting ready to go America but the departure date was kept secret. Until that time nobody from our village had gone to America. At that time I was 15 years old. The uncle asked my parents to let me go with him and I myself agreed. My uncle’s name was Anton Rosecky. At that time he had three children, I was the fourth one. Also a sister of Mrs. Rosecky went with us. She later got married in Beroun, Minnesota, to one Vondracek.

They had a farm about 4 or 5 miles from Beroun, to the south and west. They had several children whom I do not know but both their parents are dead now. I don’t know where the children are. So there were 7 of us. The family of Vaclav Chalupnik had, I believe, 5 children. Vaclav Chalupnik who is now in Verdegre, Nebraska, was the oldest of the children. They were also a family of seven. During the time before our departure, my uncle and Mr. Chalupnik were receiving from America various little booklets with information about where and what kind of sections of land are for sale. We received a booklet from some agent in St. Paul, Minnesota. His name was Skluzacek, I think I can even remember him. And so they wrote to him and he wrote back and they exchanged several letters. He was just selling lots for some company in Minnesota and a settlement was just being established. It was Beroun, near Pine City, about 6 miles to the north. Therefore they agreed that they would go to him, and then that they will buy some land.

My uncle and Mr. Chalupnik agreed that the two of them and I with them will start out one day earlier and the women and children will start three days later. Everything was packed, everything was ready and every child who was able had to carry something needed for the journey. Trunks with bedding and clothing had been sent earlier. And so everything was ready, and the three of us in the evening of February 2nd, 1895, got into a buggy and my brother drove the horses to the railroad station Polna – Stoky, at least 3 hours away. We had agreed to wait for them, for the families, in Leipzig. Both my uncle and Mr. Chalupnik were subject to the military draft, and so they thought that in case they would be sent back from the border they would join their families at home. But everything turned out well. We came to Leipzig in Germany and waited there for the families. The rest of the families came also without any problems, and so now, all together, we set out on our journey to Bremen, Germany. We were like when the procession was going to a fair pilgrimage. But more likely we looked like Gypsies. In Bremen after about two days everything was ready for the voyage across the sea. Our trunks were waiting for us and so we got into a carriage again and went to the harbor. Every one of us who crossed the water probably knows what one has to go through before he boards a ship.

And so finally we boarded and went toward the new-to-us world. It was a postal ship, and an older one, and it took 15 days to get to New York. In New York – I forgot to mention that before we got on the ship, we were all immunized – in New York after we went through all the official steps we were taken to a hotel. There was a man who was already waiting for us and the next day we were on the way to Chicago. In Chicago they again took us to a hotel, and again in 2 or 3 days we were going by train St. Paul, Minnesota. After we arrived at the railroad station in St. Paul, they took us again to a hotel not far from the railroad station. We had time to rest. Mr. Chalupnik and my uncle had the address for Mr. Skluzacek, so they called him on the telephone to come to get us. He was just at home and so the next day he came. Both families decided that for the time being they will rent a house and will travel around and look at some lots of land. Because exactly during this year the town Beroun was being platted, we went with the agent about 60 miles from St. Paul to Pine City, and Beroun. It is a fact that the lots had been covered with forest but at that time, after a big fire, the lots did not look great. About half a mile from Beroun, there was a lot of 160 acres for sale. That must have been the best piece of land they had seen. So they agreed to buy it and split it into two, 80 acres for each family. The sale was completed and it was agreed that the families will stay in St. Paul and we, my uncle, Chalupnik and I, will to Beroun and start building, and in about a month the families were to follow us. At that time there was plenty of timber for construction.

And so one day in February 1895 I found myself in Beroun, Minnesota. Beroun, my God, this is where my suffering starts. This is where the life struggle for a chunk of bread begins for me. Before I go on I will mention briefly that today’s’ refugees who had suffered in camps in Germany and elsewhere, don’t have any notion about what the earlier immigrants had to suffer during their early years, and nobody expected any help from anywhere.

It was at the beginning of February when we got on the train in St. Paul to go to Beroun to prepare some living quarters for the families. About an hour and a half later, the conductor calls out “Beroun,” and I immediately jumped up and wanted to see our new home. The train came to a stop, spilled us along the tracks, and moves on. The three of us stayed alone. Across the road were two houses and that was the entire Beroun, in all its glory. In one house lived a certain Moravian named Schiller, and the other was supposed to be some sort of a hotel. We went to the hotel and booked lodging, room and board, for about a month till we put up something and the families will be able to join us. And so our construction labor began.

I remember that during that time all Czech newspapers had announcements that a Czech settlement named Beroun is being started in Minnesota. Continuously, every day, someone would come to examine a lot. Right at that time when we wanted to start building, a man from Nebraska – I don’t know from where – arrived, his name was Klein – I don’t remember his first name. He came with his wife; his son was a little bigger, perhaps 12, years old, his name was Ladicek, and two smaller girls, twins. This Klein was a carpenter. It was convenient for us and for him and so he started building for us. We were helping with the construction as much as possible. He had nowhere to go and so when we already had something built, he stayed with us all summer. And so when we had a roof on our house, the families came from St. Paul to join us.

It was about the middle of April. We built a horse barn, and my uncle bought a team of horses and a cow. The spring was beginning and it was necessary to start clearing the land so that at least a few potatoes could be planted. Everyone who went through this, the old groundbreakers, knew well how difficult this work is. To clear the stumps, cut them with an ax and a saw to shorter pieces, throw them into piles and then burn. It must be said that the large and strong trees, pines mostly, had already been harvested by a lumber company and milled into boards for construction.

And so this heavy labor started for me, a fifteen-year old kid. I had to work hard day after day, and also in the evening because in the evening what was in the piles had to be burnt. There were many piles and so we walked around all the time and kept adjusting the fire so that most of it would burn down. I worked for my uncle because my parents gave him the authority over me.

The landscape behind Beroun was rather poor because only recently a huge fire passed through here and burnt all the top soil, all the nourishment. Many people farther south were burnt out.

That year was very sad for me and many times, when nobody saw me, I had a little cry. I had no friends, there was no one nearby except the family of Jan Chalupnik. Vaclav Chalupnik, who is now in Verdegre, Nebraska, was about 5 years younger than I. He was the oldest child in his family. As I have already written, there were two houses, and that was the whole Beroun! To the west side was the railroad and opposite, on the other side, the land belonged to some bachelor, perhaps a Frenchman. It was a well situated land, perhaps 160 acres. At that time many buyers came to examine the land. A buyer came supposedly from New Prague, Minnesota, Josef Chalupsky, and bought the land from the bachelor. He built a house and next to it a grocery store and the railroad company asked him to sell its lots.

They had a large family, perhaps 8 children. And so that year I worked and did not know anything else besides clearing the land. Only when it was necessary, I was sent to buy something at the Chalupsky store but I never made any friends. I only knew that they have in their family several adult sons and a daughter. If I went there to buy something, they always thought that I was the son of my uncle. And it happened later that I stopped by on a Sunday; there were the boys – Jan, the oldest daughter Marie, then Vojtech, Josef, Frank, and several small girls and we talked as boys do. I had a letter in my pocket which I got from my parents in Bohemia and somehow I told then that I received a letter from my parents. That was a surprise! They thought of me as the son of my uncle. Then Mr. Chalupsky came and the Mrs. and everybody was so surprised. Then I became friends with them.

As I found later, Mr. Chalupsky was a very good man and to this day I remember him with respect. Their son Josef was about my age. So after the daily hard labor I had a place to go to on Sunday. And so the summer passed and the winter came, rather brutal one such as they often are in Minnesota. It would be even 30 below zero and I had to go everyday to the woods to haul wood. We were cutting cord wood for sale. We drove it to the railroad and when we had about 25 cords, they loaded it and sent it to St. Paul. Soft wood was $1.00, sometimes less or more. Hard wood was $1.25 – $1.50 but it was hard work. I was not dressed sufficiently in the winter, and footwear was bad – I had only rags and bags tied on my feet. Even in the woods my feet were cold and I cried from cold. The house was not finished and it was cold. I used to sleep upstairs and did not dare to stick my head out from under the down comforter.

I was working for my uncle but I did not even know what American money looked like. The money we made from the wood we paid toward the credit in the store. There was no more money and nowhere any possibility to earn more. In the winter I went to snare rabbits. They had such nice paths through the short brush. I had several snares and every other morning I took with me a sack to my work in the woods and before I started working, I made my rounds around all the snares and I always caught a few rabbits.

There used to be many wolves and elk there. My uncle and Chalupnik would go to a blind to wait for an elk. Chalupnik was a fanatical smoker, lit his pipe and smoked and they never brought home anything. The first autumn I would have liked to go hunting rabbits. My uncle was not at home, so I took the rifle and went to the woods. This was the first time I held a rifle in my hand. The rabbits were running around, I wounded one and he was sitting still but every time I tried to catch him and reached my hands after him, he moved away from me a little bit. That happened several times and when I came closer to him again I wanted to hold him down with the rifle but as I pressed down on it, I broke the butt. I had two pieces.

My uncle had it brought from Bohemia; it was a very nice rifle. So Thonda quickly ran home, stuck the two pieces together and stood the rifle in the usual place. So the uncle never knew it. Only a few years later I told him.

And so the whole year 1895 passed, and we started writing 1896. I continued working for my uncle but I looked around and learned more. Harvest came and I was told that many people go to the Dakota for harvest and earn good money. During the year 1896, many new settlers came, some bought lands and others came.

During the spring, a large family came with about 9 children, the Broz family. I became friends with their son Josef and we decided to go together to the harvest in North Dakota. It was something new for me; we made the arrangements and when the harvest was supposed to start, we went. I don’t remember much any more, only that we stopped at Breken and Wahpeton and then continued.

I don’t remember anymore the name of the small town where a farmer, a German, hired us for a few days to build shocks of wheat. Never before have I seen such enormous expanses of wheat fields as he had. At that time, the cutting was done with horses. When we finished, he had his own threshing machine and was going to start threshing later. So we went on – and I remember this well – the town was Casselton, there a man hired us to work on the threshing machine and we went with him from one farm to another and threshed till late autumn. My work was to toss the sheaves into the rack wagon. After the threshing season, we went again by train, without much thought, till it stopped in the town of Hinckly, about 8 miles from Beroun.

Then we went on foot to Beroun and I went back to my uncle. With the money I had earned I bought some clothing for myself and the rest I gave to my uncle. Then the heavy work in the woods started again.

The year 1896 passed and 1897 began. One day I came to the Chalupsky store, and Mr. Chalupsky came and asked if I would want to work for him for the whole year. He would give me $150. Also, he says, “I have a nice 160 acre piece of land for sale, you can choose 80 acres, whichever lot you want, and you can may payments on the land. I see that you are sedulous and this way you will save your money.” And so I started working.

As I have written, the family of Joe Chalupsky came from New Prague, Minnesota. It was a very kind family. At that time Chalupsky owned already some 1,200 acres there, so there was more than enough work. Not to forget, a new railroad depot was built, and also, on Chalupsky’s land, a small church on logs.

A priest from Pine City would travel there; if I remember correctly, it was Father Rabsteinek. He came only once or twice a month. In the winter I always fired the stove but the chimney pipe went through the side wall instead of the roof, and it so happened that the fire in the stove did not want to burn and the church was filled with smoke. It depended on the wind. And so we already had our own little church but nothing in it.

And again many people came, bought land and settled. Of course many people did not like it here. Mr. Chalupsky was an agent now and so I had a good opportunity to meet new settlers, to learn their last names and places where they settled.

Jan Sebesta came from somewhere near Montgomery, Minnesota, and bought the grocery store from the Chalupskys, and Chalupsky built a new house for himself. I remember that at that time Joseph Chalupsky was the chairman of the First Central Union. I think that he was also the Central Administrator of the Catholic Worker.

And so I worked there for one year and bought 80 acres about 2 – 3 miles from Beroun and I put down the first payment. It was a nice 80 acre plot, it had enough wood but also enough stumps, and the big trees were already cut and taken by loggers to the sawmill. I finished my agreement to work for that year. Mrs. Chalupsky asked me many times to stay and continue working for them but I did not accept, it was a very hard work. Then for some time I helped again my uncle.

It was already 1898. I was again ready to go to the harvest to earn some money. Two brothers Motycka had settled here, they were from Olivia, Minnesota, and so I went with one of them to the harvest in Olivia. There I worked for a man named Harazim, he was renting a farm. When I finished there, one Gerhart hired me, several miles from Olivia, but he did not have much land and therefore after about a week I left.

I started to work there for Gerhart. They had a small house. The farmer had with him his elderly mother. That granny always cooked and used straw for the fire. She would bring an armful of straw into the house, sit down by the stove and push the straw into the stove to keep the fire going. There were no screen doors and so the small house was crawling with flies. For lunch there was some soup and it looked like it had raisins in it. I could not stand looking at it so I left. (That’s gospel truth.)

And so another year went by and 1899 started. In the fall I was hired by John Chalupsky, son of Joseph Chalupsky, who got married and lived in Beroun where he had his house. He bought 160 acres of land with a small shanty built on it. He wanted me to stay there and cultivate the land. There was not a living soul around. I was like a hermit there, I did not see another person a whole week. There was a bed and a small stove for cooking. I did my own cooking.

The bed was so close to the stove that I fed the fire lying down. I had the stove going so that I would not freeze, it was a severe winter, 30 below. In Minnesota, this is a daily routine. The wolves were howling around my shanty but I was not afraid. Every morning I made coffee and went to chop wood and in the evening I read by a kerosene lamp and went to sleep.

It was rather late toward winter when John Chalupsky came and wanted to burn the wood piles. There was no snow yet so we began the fire; there was new grass growing, it was close to the meadow where he had some 10 –12 haystacks. The fire escaped from us and all the hay in the stacks burned down; in the meadow there was still some wood here and there and so it all burned like sulphur.

For some time I used horses to drag stumps into one pile for the lumber mill. All of this was a very hard work for me. I did not eat well and worked a lot, so I left them I worked only where it was possible. The wages were miserable, everything was cheap and the local settlers were mostly poor laborers.

There would be much more to tell what I lived through there but I have to finish about Beroun and start another chapter.

The fifth year there I met many new settlers. Also the boys and girls got together many times. And so it seemed that better life was beginning.

A family of Joseph Korbel had been settled on a farm for four years, ever since we came there. This family came from Iowa, from Calmar near Spillville. I visited them often and did all sorts of work there. Their father, Frank Korbel, would often come to visit them. I came to visit just when he was there and so we talked and he asked if I would want to go to Iowa, that there would be some work for me. I promised to come in the spring. This Frank Korbel liked to be happy and liked to drink.

Before I say goodbye to Beroun I have to write that after all the troubles and the experiences of five years of my young life, I always remembered and still now remember, Beroun with respect because it was my first home here in America. I think that nobody there remembers me any more except the families of Jan Chalupnik’s children. Vaclav Chalupnik now settled in Verdegre, is his oldest son and my good friend. We will return to it later. Father and mother Chalupnik have rendered up their souls to God.

And so the year 1900 started. It was sometime in the spring, March perhaps, that I went to Iowa as I had promised to Frank Korbel. He wrote that he will wait for me at the Conover station. And he was there when the train arrived. Conover is only a few houses; and he led me into one of them, there were already several buddies of his, drinking. After a while we went to his farm, I think it was 160 acres. He had a large family and some of his sons were already married.

Having stayed with the Korbels about two days, I arranged to work for Matthew Tuma. The Tuma family had three children; son John was older than I. I was 20; and one girl, about 12, and the youngest son was 7. Then there was the grandmother, mother of Mr. Tuma. The farm was large and nice looking. It was something new for me. And so again a new life started. It was a more cheerful life. Only there I learned about the life of a farmer. Everything went well, they all liked me, and I was like reborn.

I made a few friends and we would get together on Sundays. Every Sunday we went to church in Spillville. Mrs. Tuma and Grandmother Tuma saw to that. There were plenty of horses; I always got the young ones ready, made sure that they were rested for Sunday. When I harnessed them to the buggy, they could barely wait and trotted all the way to Spillville. The priest serving there at that time was Father Joseph Broz.

And so everything went on very nicely. Son John bought a lot of land near Odesa in Washington State, he married during the summer and went to his farm. The farm work was a joy, and Grandmother never forgot. She lived alone in her own house and always when I unharnessed the horses, she would call “Thonik, come here,” and she would already have a gallon bottle ready and poured me some liquor or wine.

I must not forget, often Mr. Tuma went to Calmar and stayed there the whole day. And Grandmother would say “Thonik, when you tidy up, go get Mike.” We had one horse, perhaps one of those from horse races. When I was taking him out of the barn only with his halter he already new what was going to happen. He was already wiggling and I had to lead him to something so that I could get up on him. But then he was like a bird in flight. Most of the time I found Mr. Tuma in the saloon.

Once John and I were looking for something. There was a small machine shed, he sent me there, I was searching it and found high over my head something like washers in a tobacco pouch. I untied the pouch and there were gold dollar coins. I showed it to John and went one more time to search. I found another pouch with only 20-dollar bills. Grandmother had left for Spillville for a week – there was some religious feast there, and she also had a sister there, Mrs. Panoch. We guessed that she must have hidden the money there. It was true, later when we brought her home, she went to get her money but the poor thing was surprised when the money was gone. When I came back from the fields she came to ask me, “Tonicek, don’t you know anything, I had money there and it’s gone.” “Oh yes, Grandma, you have it safe with me. Never again hide your money like this. Many times strangers come here and they would not return it to you.”

And so the year went by and it was 1901. I finished my year’s contract and they wanted me to stay on.

So I agreed to stay another year. Everything went with the same pace except this year we were one man short for the work, since John, the son, had left. And so Mr. Tuma arranged for help from his daughter-in-law’s brother, and we kept going but it did not go as well as the first year. He had not worked much on a farm before and also he thought that because he is a relative he has more rights than I. Then some acquaintances of theirs came from Bohemia, and so, when I finished my year’s contract, after some time I got ready without anyone knowing that I was getting ready to go back to Bohemia.

I never mentioned that my parents wrote to me all the time, and I wrote to them. Often they said, if you don’t like it there, come home. We have beside you eight sons, we all hope that you can find livelihood here, if not we could feed you too. Nobody can be surprised that I decided to go back. I left as a fifteen year old, I was now alone here and it seemed to me that it is not as bad there now as it was at that time. I decided then to go because even though I knew that if I stay there I will have to be conscripted into the military. Now it was exactly my year. If I wouldn’t like to be conscripted into the army, I would have gone back to America; it was still possible at that time.

Near Calmar, which was our nearest town, was Spillville where everything was Czech; Protivin – Czech settlement, Little Turkey – Czech, Fort Atkinson – Czech. Beautiful country. As I wrote earlier, we drove to church in Spillville. Exactly in those years, in 1901, there were holy missions there. I received a rosary from Father Dostal. Today, 50 years later in February 1951 when I am writing this, I still pray with it. The rosary had always been with me. The three years in the military, even though I did not have time to pray often, I still carried it with me. It is made of bladder wood and so I think it will last me till the grave. Because it is getting late. Yesterday I received a letter from Bohemia that my oldest brother died on New Year’s Day, and so it is my turn now.

And so I went back. I never wrote home that I will be coming, not even one word. After about 15 days I was suddenly at the railroad station in Stoky – Polna. It is about 4 –5 hours on foot. Now the line has been extended all the way to Polna. I look around to see if there is any transportation toward Polna. I asked and was told there is the Polna Post Office carriage which collected the mail from the train. This carriage took me about two and a half hours closer to my home.

In Polna I paid for the ride and immediately I asked where one Sazavsky lived. He married the woman who was working for us before I left. So I went there, of course nobody knew me, I said who I was and said that I would like to get to my home in Podesin, if there is any transportation. They asked me to stay till the morning, that he (Sazavsky) will make sure that I get home.

The next morning he came back from town and said, “A man from your village came here to get beer at the brewery, he will start back in about half and hour, and you can go with him.” I had asked him in case he finds someone from my village, not to mention even one word about who it is that wants a ride. He did not mention anything. I had a small hand luggage and so I sat next to the driver on the boxes and we went for about two hours. But I knew who he was; Sazavsky told me who will drive the horses. It was Adolf Rosecky, he was my age, and we used to be friends and went to school together. He did not know me but I knew him. He would not even think of that possibility. We started talking about all sorts of things,

I told him that I happen to be going this way and that when he lets me off in Podesin, I will continue on, I named some little towns nearby where I will be going. At the same time I was asking him for news from our village. I told him that I was coming from Prague and had traveled much and that I had spent about two years in America. After a while he says, “Yeah, from our village, a guy, the son of the Chvatals, is also in America, he must have been there for about seven years now, I went to school with him.” I say, “You would not recognize him after all those years if he by chance came here.” We were already close to home. “Oh yeah, I would recognize him right away, he used to be so strong, and I still have him in front of me.” “Oh well, Adolf, do you remember how once Chvatal’s Thonda gave you a good beating? And now he sits here next to you and you don’t know him?” His speech was always slow; sometimes it took a long time for him to get a word out. And this time he was so surprised that I thought he completely lost the ability to speak. He wanted to say something but he couldn’t, he kept opening his mouth, his eyes filled with tears. “You see, Adolf, you and Thonda will be friends again.” I was sorry for him and my eyes were wet too.

He drove the beer to the tavern and I went inside. He promised me not to say a word about me. He was now very happy. He would not take any money from me but I gave him some, I don’t know how much anymore, and he went home. He was a hired man for a farmer who delivered beer to the local tavern.

How many times did I think of my parents and my friends in the village at the Czech-Moravian Highlands during those 7 years! How much I used to long to see those places one more time! It is true what I learned in school: “Father’s house is a paradise which God gifted to you, and even if you travel the wide world you will not find another heaven.” And so while he was letting me off at that tavern I was thinking how it will turn out when I come home. I did not want to be recognized. The small suitcase in which I had some underwear I left in the tavern saying I would come back for it, and I went across the village to our house. I had some documents in my pocket, and nobody would believe how I felt.

I opened the little door in the farm gate, I did not see anyone in the yard and so I went in. I had to cross the hallway. I open the door and see a flock of tiny chicks – it was spring time. I recognized Mother immediately, she was feeding them. I said hello and I asked if I was at the right address, at the Chvatals known as “from the lower end of the village”. She said, “Yes.” I continued, “Is Mr. Chvatal at home?” She said, “Yes, he is, go ahead, he is sitting in the front room, he may be reading.” I continued through the kitchen. Father was sitting at the table; he had two slim books in front of him. One was a journal titled Cross (Kriz) and the other was titled Mary (Maria). At that time they were published somewhere around there. At the table stood a small statue of Virgin Mary which was carried in the procession at the pilgrimage. Father used to be a singer in the church. And so I greeted him and of course I also recognized my father immediately. Mother remained in the hall and continued feeding the chicks. I shook hands with Father and I said that the weather is nice outside, that I come from Polna and that a local man was hauling beer from there and gave me a ride. I meant to come here for some time to bring you greetings. Because I came from America not long ago and there is a man from here, from your village, by the name Anton Rosecky who sends you his regards.

And you spoke with him? He is the brother of my wife. And one of my sons went there with him at that time, you haven’t seen him?” I saw that my father did not recognize me and I did not want to deceive him any longer because I had my eyes full of tears. I said, “Father, you do not recognize me, I am your son Thonda.” The poor man started crying and could not even speak from surprise. He ran fast out of the room, Mother, come here, see here, our Tonik from America.” Yes, it was a joyful reunion. It was something new for our village because so far no one from America had ever come back. My parents imagined me to be much larger because when I was leaving at 15, I was strong and they thought that when I grow up I will be like my grandfather.

Everything seemed a little different. Some things were new in some places, some hills were bigger, and some were smaller, and so on. And people kept coming to ask about America. Some slandered it and some praised it, and so it went on.

I was 22 years old and I was to register for the conscription examination the previous year. I had my American documents, they could not do anything to me but if I wanted to stay there, it was time to register for the examination.

Because I told my parents how I suffered those first 5 years in the woods and that I got nothing for it, they asked me not to go back – I can find my livelihood here as well. And so it remained like that. I reported to the official and about a month later I received an order to report on such and such day in Caslav for the conscription examination. There were 12 of us that day and two of us were drafted. And so time passed and in the fall I was supposed to join the army. In the meantime I kept thinking if it would not be better for me to leave even if my parents did not wish it.

Time was flying and it was necessary to decide. At that time is was perhaps still possible to dodge the military service. One day I say to Mother: “What do you think should I go back or stay here?” “Oh, stay, you know how much you suffered there, and here you will be alive just as well.” And so I decided. I will stay; there are others here who also have to do their military service, “therefore you can stand it as well.” In the autumn I was called up and so I went to Caslav, there was our military division. On the way there more and more recruits were getting on the train and we did a lot of singing.

Anton Chvatal in the Czech army

Only two from our village, Jan Stransky and I, were drafted. In Caslav during the examination we were separated and he went to serve with horses, with the dragoons, and I joined the 21st foot regiment. At that time one battalion of the 21st regiment was in Bosnia, in Sarajevo, and I was attached to the 1st battalion, 3rd company. This battalion was stationed in Bosnia, in Sarajevo, and so for a few days we were still in Caslav and then we traveled to Sarajevo. On the way, naturally the boys were merry, and a little bit of the drink was still left. We went in box cars used for transporting cattle. In Vienna we stopped for lunch and then we went all the way to Sarajevo. At times, between the hills the train went so slowly that one could run beside it and keep up.

Finally after about two and a half days we arrived and were billeted in the barracks. The barracks there were huge. I can describe it as a field of about 40 acres, and on all sides it had four-or five-story high, nice buildings for the troops. There were perhaps only two gates with guards posted all the time so that no one unauthorized would enter. A soldier could enter without any trouble but at 9 in the evening the gates closed. And everyone who had a leave and came after 9 o’clock had to report in. Whoever came after nine without having an authorized leave was written up and could be sure that he will receive some punishment.

And so the new life began. Everything settled down in about two days and the military training started. On about the third day, the highest non-commissioned officer called out our company and asked who was at home any kind of a writer or worked at any office. About 8 boys raised their hands. And he says, “Of those of you who know how to write and count well, you, here, take a broom, and you take a rag, and you take a bucket with water, and go over there to clean the latrines. And the rest of you will have a turn tomorrow and keep that job the whole week.” The boys were surprised but could do nothing about it. After eight weeks the basic training was done, and only then the old soldiers who had served three years went home. And so it was a little easier now for the new recruits. Even today I wonder why the experienced soldiers, instead of advising the new recruits or helping them, were many of them – like dragons; they thought that they were something better and made life more difficult for the new ones. It is well known how it used to be in the Austrian army.

When the training was over, we often had guard duty, at least twice every week. There were big hills so that we had to grab a bundle of grass or a bush to climb higher. Sometime the watch was rather dangerous. As you know, Bosnia and Herzegovina used to belong to Turkey, and the Turks remained there and did not like our soldiers very much. And so it happened when the post was unprotected, several soldiers were shot dead. Sarajevo was mostly Turkish, with some of our people beginning to settle there, who did not go into the Turkish quarter. Always on Sundays we went to where there were Turkish stores and really, there was much to see. Carpets, embroidered and others, what cannot be seen in Bohemia. Women had their faces covered; you could see only their eyes. They had their own churches, mosques, and instead of ringing the bells a Turk went up the tower and called them to prayer. The Turks were tall people and every one of them had a wide belt around him with a knife. Among them were settled many people we called Bosnians, probably Serbs, and they liked us Czechs.

There was not much to grow; now and then a tiny piece of a field the size of a palm, but there were many sheep and grapes grew there in abundance. Nothing was better than Bosnian wine. We often went to drink wine, we pooled the money, and everyone paid 9 kretuzers for a liter of wine. And if we had yet another liter, the head would go spinning. We said we will transfer to the 36th.

Italian plums and pears as in Bosnia perhaps don’t even grow in Bohemia, as I later found out. Nowhere have I seen a larger piece of land, at least 1/2 of an acre; everywhere there were only small patches of fields on the slopes. Small horses (mules) carried everything from the fields on their backs. They climbed on those slopes like mountain goats. Cattle were rarely seen, but sheep and goats were plentiful.

We had kind officers in our 3rd company except for the highest non-commissioned officer by the name Charamza. Many times he tortured us without any reason. Once he had a command over us and one soldier was sort of dense (his name was Kotera) and he executed all commands late. The captain was present but he did not say anything. As soon as the captain left on his horse, old Charamza took us to a muddy spot and, “I will teach you,” and it was down and up, several times. We were dirty, rifles full of mud, and when he did it the fourth time, one half of us remained lying on the ground; we showed him what we thought of him. One soldier said, “Wait till the maneuvers,” and he heard that and he knew why the soldier said it, that it was meant for him, that he had something coming; and since that time he did not allow himself anything toward us.

At that time Sarajevo was full of military personnel. Besides us there was the 38th Hungarian Regiment and the mountain machine artillery. Everything was transported only on those horses (mules). Machineguns had to be taken apart and loaded on the backs of the mules.

The first Sunday of every month we had to go to church, except those who were Jews. The 38th Regiment had its band there and they always accompanied us with music, to church and back. It was a long way to go. Once I was guarding a prisoner; I was supposed to bring something from town. Along the road behind the barracks was a huge pear tree, very tall. We are walking past it, he is ahead of me, and suddenly he jumps to the side and in no times starts to climb up the tree. I called to him, I ordered him to come down otherwise I had the right to shoot him but he did not care, climbed all the way up, started to pick pears, threw some down, and then quietly climbed down. I was afraid at that moment that someone saw me. I was transferred for two months to a place called Pala, all the way at the Serbian border. When we were supposed to go the maneuvers about one month later, I was sent to Kalinovik. They were building a dam on a creek there to hold water for watering horses. It was at the Serbian border. I saw them requisitioning horses for the military. I saw also horse races and outdoor dancing of the Bosnian girls and boys.

There was an old soldier with us there by the name Sedivy, and once on a Sunday he says, “Who wants to see a stalactite (or stalagmite) cave can come with me.” So I and one other person went with him, I was interested in everything. We walked about 2 hours. At the edge of the forest, there was nothing, no building, only a hole into the ground straight down. I can say that it was about 12 – 14 feet deep and we had candles and matches. It was for me an interesting sight. A piece of that stalactite (or stalagmite) I brought home with me. We started to walk toward home and suddenly there was a hole in the ground, surrounded by shrubs. We threw rocks down the hole; it took 2 minutes for us to hear a rock to hit the ground.

The country was poor, uninhabited, hilly; you climb up a hill and think that this is the highest one and when you reach the top of it, you see another, higher one; and so it went on and on and you never reached the highest one. The snow stayed on the tops of the mountains the whole year.

Our battalion was almost always keeping watches. And it was strict. Once a soldier shot and killed himself during his night watch. It was a 1/2 hour walk from the barracks and it was my turn to go there and relieve him. Keeping watch at that place was the worst. There were several cellars in the ground where dynamite used to be stored and anyway, I don’t know what else used to be there. In front of the cellars was a levee overgrown with bushes and lit with an oil lamp hanging on a post. A soldier who had to walk on that earthwork, and so he was a clear target for the Turk. Many Austrian soldiers must have been shot there.

One could write much more about Bosnia, what went on there.

The second year I received 500 crowns from Mr. J. Chalupsky for the payment which I had put down for the land and it happened that just during that week I was going to the shooting range to correct something. During that week we had a weapon inspection, and one evening I cleaned my weapon well, hung it up, and the next morning again we left early to go to the shooting range. The weapon hung there and as they swept the hallway, the dust settled on it and because of it I had to go to the Sunday line up.

I reported to the captain that my gun was not clean and also that I received money. He gave me 6 hours of time in hand-cuffs as a punishment for my dusty gun and I was supposed to fulfill it on Sunday afternoon. The right hand was attached to the left foot and so the soldier had to lie down. It was not a terrible punishment in general, only it was always on Sunday afternoon and a soldier could not go out. That was the first and last punishment that I received during those three years.

I will add one more true story for the reader. Our company had a corporal who was in charge of writing down a list of things our company needed to buy. It was like a restaurant menu. We bought always 5 days in advance. The cook always took some prisoners with baskets on their backs to the store and according to a note from the corporal; they were supposed to get everything they needed. But the corporal always wrote down something that he knew the store keeper did not have, and so the store keeper gave him money so that he would go somewhere else to buy it. But nothing was ever bought for that money, and so it remained to the corporal and the cook. He always wrote something on the list that was not needed in the kitchen.

I write this because they were very strict there and because the punishment would be severe for this; but since the cook kept silent, nobody discovered it. I write this because I was a cook in Sarajevo for about 5 month with the same corporal. And I was very glad when rumors started, “Boys, we will be going to Bohemia soon,” and others will replace us here.

And so it happened. After about a year and a half in Sarajevo we went back to Bohemia, to Kutna Hora. What a joy! For about a month before leaving everybody was in a happy mood and the service was generally good. I don’t know the exact dates but it was in 1904 in September, in Sarajevo we got into the cattle cars and everybody carried a souvenir from Bosnia. There were many of us supplied with bottles of wine. The journey was merry. We stopped for lunch the next day, in a certain town. A military band was waiting for us at the railroad station and played for us the whole time. After about one hour we got back into the cars just as the band started “Where is my home?” Today, this is the Czech national anthem. I will never forget this. The cars were not moving yet but by the force of the banging of all the guys they were swaying side to side.

The next day we stopped in Nemecky Brod, now Havlickuv Brod, and afterwards only in Sedlec near Kutna Hora. There we were expected by a large crowd of people and soldiers. “These are the ‘Bosnians’,” people said. Of course I was there only a year and a half but some people spent full three years there. From Sedlec to Kutna Hora it is, I believe, about 30 min. on foot.

And so again there was something different. Also the military service seemed easier to me than in Bosnia. Watches were not held now, the people where different – over there they were all Turks and Bosnians, and here everything was Czech. The girls were looking us over but none of them liked me and so my military service passed without a girlfriend.

We got out of the barracks during our leaves and found something of interest. The barracks housed two battalions. The church of St. Barbara stands just across the street. The barracks perhaps used to belong to the Jesuits and had an underground tunnel to the church. I don’t know how much of this is true; they said that there are passages underneath the whole town of Kutna Hora.

Not far from Kutna Hora is a place with a few houses called Kank. I visited there a few times. Kank has underground mines where gold used to be mined. The town itself is a pretty one and if you get out of town, on one side there is a beautiful plane where you can see the towns Stary Kolin, Novy Kolin, Nymburk, Nove Dvory.

When I went from Kutna Hora, I saw Nove Dvory. When I went from Nove Dvory, I saw Kutna Hora.” This is a song, where each sentence rhymes. The town Caslav is about 2 hours away. Sedlec has a nice church, in its underground there is a grotto with an altar constructed of human bones, skulls and leg and arm bones. There is also a huge tobacco factory there, many women from Kutna Hora went to work there; they were called “factory girls.” We would sing, “A factory girl is a good-looking one, she does not want to love me; she has short skirts, and in the back, her shoe heels are worn out.” (Each sentence rhymes). Well, it was much more happy here than in Sarajevo. On the other hand for some boys who were looking at girls, it was much worse. Two of my friends, who went out with the girls often, died. When I came to Kutna Hora I continued for about another month as a cook. The other boy who used to help me never could wait: when evening came he had to go out. He died of a certain disease. His father came for his funeral and because he worked with me in the kitchen, he questioned me what was the cause of the death of his son. He cried very much.

I did not like being a cook anymore, and so I quit. The cook is better off because he does not have to go out with the troops. But he has to cook for a company of about 80 people, prepare everything, keep everything clean. So I let that go so that I could also participate in the exercises which were sometimes quite long. I got a leave (7 days), and so after two years once again I went to visit my home.

The third year they sent me to Kartouzy near Jicin for a months of guard duty. This is a large prison and the prisoners are there for hard labor of 20 years or perhaps even more. It was a guard duty like we used to have in Bosnia. A high wall surrounds completely the barracks on about 40 acres. Fifteen soldiers stood guard inside of the compound day and night and watched. I had a first shift; every morning they let me out together with 20 prisoners who had to walk in a single file in a circle; after about 15 minutes, other prisoners came. The soldier had to stand near them and as I watched it, I saw that easily any of the prisoners could jump up and subdue the soldier.

And also during the third year old reservists started to join us for two weeks of maneuvers. I was ordered to cook for them. There was a large courtyard where there were housed and I cooked for them. Cooking for them was a good job. They came for a short time only and brought enough money with them. And also I already knew how to get along with them.

About two weeks later comes a soldier comes to me and reports, “Chvatal, you are being ordered to go to the office in the barracks right now, I don’t know why, but you must go right now.” I was puzzled a little bit, I had done nothing wrong. Perhaps someone at home died. I report in the office, a captain is sitting there, and says, “Come closer, here is a thirty-day leave for you because you always behaved as a good soldier.” It surprised me because just now with the reservists I had a good life, but what can you do, I had to go home.

As I later learned, the Representative Klofac secured in Vienna that each year from each company two soldiers will be selected for a month leave. Immediately I packed a small suitcase and went on my way home. Again I surprised everyone at home because I came for one month leave. And so I helped my father a little and after 30 days returned again. After that it was time for the Imperial Maneuvers, and again I was chosen to keep guard for the Emperor Franz Josef. But that year we had a severe draught and the Imperial Maneuvers were not going to take place. And really, it was very hot and dry.

It’s a pity I lost my notes from my marches in Bohemia. I remember some towns and villages but many I don’t remember therefore I do not list any names. Except for Liberec where the commanding officer forbid us to sing Czech songs. We did not know why, only later they told us that there are Germans there and our government does not want to incur their displeasure. We went across the border to Germany, I think to Zitava or something like that. And then, when we were back again at our exercise, we were equipped like in a wartime.

And so after about 4 weeks we were back in Kutna Hora. It was almost the time for us, the third-year men, to get ready to go home. For about a week before we left for home not much happened; if anybody had any money left, he was drinking. And singing, in the mess hall over beer. I say goodbye to Kutna Hora even though there would be much more to write but maybe I will do it some other time, if I am still alive.

And so I am home again. Again I helped with the farm, and only now I was old enough to get to know Bohemia and to love it. We went to religious fairs and country markets and now and then there were some new events. The summers evenings were long, the boys were strolling through the village playing an accordion and signing. The girls sat together and waited for the boys to come. Again we would go to another village to a dance and most of the time there would be a brawl between us, the village boys and the visitors.

I will mention one case. It was Sunday evening, we boys were walking through the village. In the neighboring village, Jirakov there was a dance at the Broz’s. We went there just to look, it was about 20 min. walk. There were about eight of us. So we went in, of course did not dance but after a while the girls came and asked us to dance. So about three of us went. My cousin was there, he liked to make himself important. He danced and gave the musicians enough money for their drinks, and ordered music played just for him. He started singing but a boy from that village came to tell him that he has no business to order what the musicians should be playing. He did not want to yield, they exchanged a few words; then more of them came up to him. And when I saw that, what was I supposed to do – I went to help him. You should have seen it: we were defending ourselves, we had to flee but first we had to go through a long hallway toward a door; the door was locked and so we had to defend ourselves, even kicking them with our feet. Somehow the door gave way, I pressed the handle and out! Then some butcher’s apprentice caught me, I grabbed him and pushed him into a puddle of dirty water. Now there were several against me.

But at that moment a soldier came, he was from that village and was just at home on leave; he had a girlfriend in our village. And he says, “Enough, who will touch Chvatal will feel this bayonet in you,” and so he freed me. But I was wearing a new suit and it got all torn; I had only a half of my coat. This is the truth, it used to be like that in the village. Other boys ran away and left only the two of us there.

The next year after I came home from the service, in March, my father died. And so I started helping mother. My younger brother was also in the service, the older ones were married and had their own farms. When two years after me my younger brother came back from the service, I got married. The year after I had to go again for a thirteen days of military exercise. But we had decided that when it will be behind me, we will go back to America. The year was already 1909, and there were three of us: Jenik (Johnny), eight weeks old, my wife and I. We had arranged everything for the trip. It went well. Sometime our little son cried but otherwise he was not even sick during the journey. This time two large trunks of clothing, down pillows and comforters were sent about two weeks ahead to Bremen. We left home on October 22nd, and embarked the Crown Princess (German “Kronprinzessin”) Cecile on October 26th. Because of our little son we traveled second class. The voyage took fifteen days. Here we were, approaching New York. After the luggage inspection and a little rest, we took the train and went to Chicago and from there to our final destination, Calmar, Iowa. It was from there that I left seven years ago for Bohemia. First we stopped at my friend’s Mathew Gerhart. We were picked up by Mr. Mike Tuma, the very same one on whose farm I worked before I left for Bohemia. But we did not see again the former Mrs. Tuma, she was already buried.

And Mr. Tuma was married for the second time. And also the grandmother was buried already at the Spillville cemetery. And so already everything was changed, it was not longer as it used to be. Of course I did not count on staying there for a long time, and I knew that I will have to look for some work. And so my wife and I were helping out a little with whatever came our way during the winter and starting in spring, I did whatever was possible, and then I worked on the roads.

I must not forget that when we came to Calmar, I paid for express delivery of those two trunks and only a few dollars were left. So I had to try to earn some money somewhere. I was with Mr. Tuma the first winter and then over the summer I was at Mr. John Simek’s farm. In the autumn of 1910 we rented a house and I got a permanent job with Miller Wagon Co. At that time there were about 20 workers. More than one half of them were Czechs. House rent was five dollars per month and I earned 10 cents per hour, that is one dollar for the whole day. In winter we were working only 9 hours, and so a worker at that time had not much to be envied. The shop owners were of German nationality, Miller and son, and they were good people. Their foreman was also a German, Theodore Lutz, and after a few weeks, he drew a bead on me and took me always with him. I always had to do something under his guidance, whatever he was doing. I don’t know why he liked me so much because there were workers who have been employed there for many years. And I liked the work so much that I never even thought of looking for something else. My earnings were enough for only a modest living. I never missed even an hour.

At home my wife always took care of everything. I always bought everything for the household on my way from work. And so I worked and worked and I did not even think of anything else. I must not forget that Calmar at that time was half Czech and half German as far as the settlers belonging to the church. There were many Norwegians there.

After we came to Calmar, my old wife was most interested in church; she said that we will have to start attending the service. As a rule, every one looks at the greenhorns and most of the time they can recognize them from their clothing. I had only a short winter coat and I was little ashamed to go to church because of that. But I went anyway. It was the first time and so I remained standing in the back behind the pews. But nobody paid me any attention and stood there during the entire holy mass.

And so it continued. I did not sit in a pew. Only later I became bold enough and always sat in the back pew. My wife and I took turns. Later we got used to it and were felt like at home. I paid 12 dollars a year for the pew, in addition, there was a collection sometime. The priest used to be German, and from Fort Atkinson would come a Czech Father for confession. There were always many of us at the Czech confession, always half of the church. Even those who were born here went to confession in the Czech language. Today, 40 years later, it is sad as far as everything Czech goes. The priest will no longer bring a Czech-speaking priest because supposedly we can confess in English; they say that it also good. I told him that I and my wife never confessed in English and he said, “Oh, well, just confess as you are able.”

But I know why this is so. It is four miles from us to Fort Atkinson where there is a Czech priest, and also four miles to Spillville. If he would invite either of these Fathers to us, they would come very gladly. But the Fathers don’t like each other and so it happens that they give a man the brush-off. I believe that there are many priests who will have much to answer for to God. I don’t want to offend anyone by my writing but it is the truth that our Czech settlements are no longer Czech. But of course, yes, they are Czech but not in the church. I will not go into details but only this I will mention: a Czech Father who knows how to speak Czech correctly, does not say even one word in Czech to the old grandmothers who are longing for God’s word. How can such Father stand one day in front of God our Lord and give an account of his acts.

And because I quite liked the work, it never occurred to me to look for another one. In this shop they were making wagons, wagon boxes, truck boxes, truck racks and sleds, and all that farmers may need. All these wagons, sleds and boxes were shipped to the Dakotas, all around Iowa and also to Wisconsin. The First World War came and so we worked also a lot for the government. And so it went on and on, the time flew, year after year. Sometime we got a little raise but never it was very much. There was always a lot of work. During the First World War there were about 30 – 35 workers there, and we worked even at night. The owner Henry Miller was quite old at that time and wanted to sell his shop in shares. Because there were a lot of orders, everything went well.

Farmers bought the shares till some 60 thousand dollars worth was sold. That was probably the value of the property – the building, machinery and the large stores of wood. Everything continued well, those who had bought shares were receiving dividends each year. Until suddenly Hoover’s depression came and everything stopped. Nobody was buying anything, there was no money and so there was no work either. Everything stopped, only about three of us stayed there and finally I stayed alone to watch over the shop. The shop had not paid taxes for two years and so it was supposed to be closed. Two farmers who were supposed to supervise it came with the idea that it would be good for each of us three to put down one thousand dollars and pay the taxes. They said we would lose nothing. We did pay the taxes but everything afterward went very slowly. There were no orders and so we worked very little. There were only about four workers to keep the shop open.

And so it happened in 1937 that they wanted to sell the shop. They announced it in all the newspapers that by such and such time, whoever wants to buy it should send a sealed amount, and that on such and such day they will be opened in front of four directors. I kept thinking about it, “What if you also sent in a little sum. My old woman was trying to dissuade me, “You have no money, and those few dollars you do have, you will lose.” In those 28 years I have worked there I understood everything well and for several years I have been a supervisor over the other workers.

I could not get it out of my mind, and so on the last morning when the directors were to meet and open the envelopes to see what amounts of money were sent in, I told my wife, “Be what may, I will make my offer, but only three thousands.” I had $1500 saved but I was relying on taking partners in case I bought it. So I took a sheet of paper and wrote “Anton, $3000 dollars,” and sealed it and took it to the office. In the office was a young lady, a bookkeeper. When I was handing her the envelope I asked if there have been many applications. She says, “Well, yours is the first one and probably also the last one, the directors will be here in a moment; it’s the last day.”

The directors met and there was only my offer. And so they were debating what to do, they would not want to see it torn down. They said that they would like to see that business remain in town, and so they called me and said that since I am the only one who put in an offer, if I really want it, I can have it. If I worried some before, now I became worried for real. “How is it going to go, what will you do, you have no money to run such a big business.” The town had a blacksmith; he had a small shop. I knew that to continue I have to have a blacksmith. The previous blacksmith went back to the old homeland. I went to see this blacksmith and I say that I bought that business and that will need a blacksmith, would he want to join me, I would take care of all the woodwork and he would take care of all the metal work.

And so we came to an agreement and bought it together, 50 – 50. My partner was a Czech, born in Montgomery, Minnesota, where he still has brothers and sisters. His name is John Havel. It was already 1938, there was still little work but it was beginning to improve, and soon there was plenty of work. All the machinery and everything else was there, so there was no need to buy anything only wood for production. Most of the people nearby did not believe that we will have enough work but soon we did, plenty of work. The war came and it was difficult to obtain iron and lumber and the government required proper receipts for everything. Sometime we had troubles; the worst was that we could not make fast enough the sides for cattle trucks. I had many orders all the way from Wisconsin, there were many who begged me to give priority to their orders.

And so it went on, I kept working much more than the workers. The year 1947 came. I went one evening to Spillville to a meeting of Catholic Worker (“Katolicky Delnik”). It was the second Wednesday in the month of February, I stopped in Conover to pick Frantisek Kubousek, an association member, and after the meeting we went home.

When I came home I did not feel well but I thought it wasn’t anything. I laid down but could not sleep because of pains. I spent the whole night walking around the house and as soon as I laid down, I felt bad. I went to see a doctor and he gave me something but it did not help and so the next day I went to see him again. He examined me and said, “You have gallstones.” Nothing to do, I had to go have a surgery. I wanted to go to nearby New Hampton, there was a good and wise doctor there and also nuns running the hospital. The operation was rather difficult. I was able to go home after 15 days and so I spent some time convalescing.

After the operation, I did not feel well for a long time, and so both of us decided to sell if we have the opportunity. The buyers appeared – three brothers together bought it. I stayed there with them for a little while and then I stopped working.

After some time our married daughter who had a resort near Lake Mazaska near Faribault in Minnesota, wrote to us often to sell our house in Calmar and build a new house near them on land they would give us. So after a year we decided to sell the house in Calmar and built a new one there. In 1949 in the spring, I went to Minnesota, arranged for framers and started building. By the time fall came we had already moved and were living in Minnesota.

At first we were a little lonely, everything was strange, but it did not take long and we started liking it. Now only once in a while we remember our old friends there in Iowa. We left our son and his family of six children in Cresco, Iowa. And so after 40 years spent in Calmar, Iowa, we found ourselves farther west in Minnesota. During those 40 years we saved some money, so that we don’t need to bother anyone. But during the first years when I as earning one dollar per day, I was glad we had enough to eat. And so now our home is near a lake, hop skip and jump from it. I like to fish, sometimes I am lucky and sometimes I come home from the lake with empty.

We live on the main road from between Faribault to Montgomery, or onto Lonsdale. And not very far are New Prague and Veseli. And a little farther and all around are small Czech towns with strong Czech population. Everywhere are Czech priests. The landscape here is very nice, and around our place, within a short distance, are about seven nice lakes. In the summer, many people from many states, even from far away, come here for vacation. I cannot write much about the country here because I am not familiar with it.

And so let us return back to Iowa and I will tell you some more. It had to be in the year 1927, a friend of mine came to me asking if I would not want to be insured. “Well, if you have a good local organization, why not.” It was John F. Korbel who is still living in Calmar, Iowa. He explained to me how everything is functioning because at that time I was still ignorant of those matters. But the most important was for me to get to Spillville on Sunday because he did not have an application form on him but on Sunday, there was going to be a meeting there and everything was going to be taken care of there. Yes, I promised that I will come, about four miles on foot. But imagine, during the night from Saturday to Sunday, so much snow fell that it was impossible to get out. What to do? I promised to be there so I went to borrow a pair of horses, it cost me $2.50, and I went. It was a hard drive. At times, the horses were sinking in the snowdrifts up to their bellies. I got there but because of such bad weather, the meeting was not taking place.

I found two men there from the organization and they wrote an application for me and I went home again. I barely made it. And I often think about my many struggles before I became a member of the Western Bohemian Fraternal Association (ZCBJ). I started attending meetings once a month but I was also many times reminded by the secretary because I had no money to pay. I withstood everything and the financial struggles became smaller after some time. Often I went on foot to the church in Spillville and then on to the meeting. As it happened, a farmer with a wagon, also on the way to the church, would pass me but he never said, “Come, I will give you a ride,” he knew me well. Such people are still today.

Later I started attending the meetings regularly and was elected a chairman. In 1928, I was sent by the Chapter to the Congress of the Western Bohemian Fraternal Association to Cedar Rapids. At that time the Western Bohemian Fraternal Association and the Catholic Worker were preparing to merge. The Chairman of the Association was brother Kohoutek from Omaha. It was the first time I met brother Vaclav Jelinek who is now the Chairman of the Catholic Worker. We were staying at a hotel and slept in one bed together.

One evening when we came in to go to sleep, brother Jelinek kneeled and prayed. I followed his example. I kneeled and did not notice anything, and I did not even know that I am on my knees in front of a picture. After our prayer we went to bed and brother Jelinek started to kid me that I was praying in front of a picture of a nice young lady that was hanging on the wall. I said I did not even notice the picture. We started talking about our old homeland, where either of us is from, and the next day in the morning Jelinek say, “You see, Chvatal, I was laughing at you with the young lady in the picture and guess what, she is St. Cecilia.” We had a good laugh.

That was in 1928; and in 1930, a congress of both organizations took place where the merger of the Catholic Worker and the Western Bohemian Fraternal Association took place. I was a delegate also at this congress. During the Congress of the Western Bohemian Fraternal Association I met again my countryman and old friend Mr. J. J. Chalupnik who is now in Verdegre, Nebraska.

In 1933, I was a delegate in Omaha and at the State Congress in Iowa City. I did not know that he was sent here as a delegate till I heard his name, Vaclav Chalupnik, during the opening meeting. I look to see if it was the same one. Of course, in those many years we have not seen each other we both have changed. It was really very nice to meet him again. Since then we met a few times during the Congresses. He visited me in Calmar and I visited him in Verdegre. His whole family belongs to the Catholic Worker.

At that time, in 1926, I became interested in the Western Bohemian Fraternal Association and I was always very glad to sign a new member. Also at that time when the organizer Horacek came to work in Spillville at number 33 he was always our guest. Whenever I could, I would go with him; if not during the day, I would go at least in the evening after work. I will not write more but during all those years when he was organizing, he came two or three times per year, later, when the associations merged, we gained many new members. As our Czech folks usually are, somewhere they were not interested. As it happened once, we started out in the evening in his old Ford car to go to a farm about seven miles away, and we were caught in a rain. There was thunder and the road turned to mud. But we always were happy and we sang. Once we stayed too long at the Shindelar house, one of our nice members and brothers. Brother Hruska went with us at that time, and we had to pray the rosary with the family. The Shindelar near Spillville were a true Czech religious family.

After the associations merged, when I learned about someone, I would go alone. I always took care – and it was also my pleasure – to gain a new member. It was in 1935, Horacek and I went to Spillville on a Sunday afternoon. The road passes around a farm and I say, “I think there are not members of the Catholic Worker here.” We stop and go into the house. The Mrs. came to open and we say why we are here. She says, “My God, the Lord sent you to us, we are close to Spillville but so far nobody came from there to ask us to join the Catholic Worker, and we will be happy to join.”

And so brother Horacek signed, I believe, four or five adults, from this good family, and later even more. It is Mr. W. Riehle’s Family. The same year, 1935, in Spillville, 102 new members of the Catholic Worker Association were listed. In 1932, I was elected chairman and I can say that I did not miss even one meeting. The members always came in large numbers. It became a custom to have a bigger meeting every three months, we bought a large keg of beer, we had some snacks to go with it, and always a large number of members came. If a member owed dues for more than a month, he would pay at this meeting. In 1935, seventy new members were listed in Protivin. Many were present, even from Cedar Rapids.

In 1936, I was elected state president in Cedar Rapids. That year I was elected a delegate to the 20th General Congress of the Catholic Worker Association which took place in St. Paul, Minnesota, May 26th. The very same year in Spillville we organized an entertainment together with the branch from Protivin. Present was brother W. Jelinek and many brothers from Cedar Rapids. Father Hradecky came and many members from Protivin.

It was nice and good. Jelinek spoke, also Father Hradecky, Zobl, Dvorak. Later, on October 4, the Association held a celebration in New Prague, Minnesota. I must not forget to say that I always took care to participate as much as possible in gaining new members for the Catholic Worker but my job did not allow me to do it all the time – I extended my evenings or Sundays in the afternoon.

Kronprinzessin Cecilie 2

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