The Goertzen homestead, Part Two
Last week I shared the story of my Goertzen ancestors who immigrated to America from Russia in 1874. The story kept growing as I went along, to where—late Sunday evening—I decided to break the story into two parts. Anything of this importance to my own life story is worth a thousand words. (No, I’m not counting!) Thousands of immigrants had emigrated to America where they could worship God as they wanted without fear of death. My great-great-grandparents were among this crowd. They brought with them a very precious possession: bags of Turkey Red Wheat. As soon as they could, they started planting these precious seeds into the soil, anticipating their first harvest. Along with farming, my great-great-grandfather, Heinrich Goertzen, was also the neighborhood blacksmith, sharpening the plowshares for the English-speaking people.
In last week’s story, I introduced you to Jacob Goertzen, the youngest son of Heinrich; and I said he didn’t know it yet, but he would become my great-grandfather. Seventeen years after coming to United States, on April 7, 1891, Jacob married Helene Schmidt, who, as a little girl, had also come to America on the S. S. Cimbria, the ship that brought over 500 Mennonites to America. Over the next 38 years, Jacob and Helene had nine children— six boys and three girls. Two of the infants (a boy and a girl) were stillborn. One of their sons, the second child born to Jacob and Helene, was Henry S. Goertzen, born in 1894. Years later, other people called him H. S. Goertzen; I got to call him “Grandpa.”
My Goertzen grandparents, Henry and Mathilda, lived in Newton at 508 W. Broadway, just a few houses down from Sand Creek. They were married May 25, 1922 and lived in this house their entire life together. Not only did my dad and his two sisters grow up here, but it’s also the wonderful house—filled with many memories including the smells of freshly-baked cookies, zwieback or cherry pie—where my cousins, my brothers and I grew up. I can still picture the beautiful back yard: the cherry tree, the snowball bushes, the lush garden, and the small, green oasis of soft grass where the swingset stood. I loved the front wraparound porch, a porch swing (which heard and saw a lot!) and the bathroom closet where all the toys and games were stored along with everything else. At least twice my grandparents were flooded out by Sand Creek, but they didn’t throw much away other than couches or chairs that could not be cleaned. One of the floods ruined the big upright piano that my cousins and I played on, and I was sad about that.
In 1955, Grandpa Goertzen and his brother Jacob did some swapping of land, and my parents took over the Goertzen homestead: the place my great-great-grandfather, Heinrich, had homesteaded in 1874 when they immigrated from Russia. The large two-story farmhouse was built in 1913 and is located three miles east and one mile south of Goessel. It is a grand farmhouse with wrap-around porches and railings. When we moved to the farmhouse, I was one-year old, so I didn’t yet care about not having an indoor bathroom; but it was a rough-go for everyone else. Eventually an indoor, modern bathroom was added. The farm came with some tillable ground, but the majority of the farmground was pasture. I loved the pasture and would take long walks down the field road to the junkyard of old, tossed and lost treasures.
In 1996, my parents made the difficult decision to sell the family farm and move to Goessel in their retirement years. It was not an easy decision—the farm had been home to only those with the Goertzen name for over 100 years. While we all mourned turning over our family farm to someone else, none of us five siblings or anyone else in the Goertzen family was in a position to buy the property. By virtue of the Internet and good advertising, the farm was purchased by a couple from Pennsylvania, and they have loved the farm as much as everyone in my family did for over 40 years. I am glad that my sons had the opportunity to love and enjoy the Goertzen Family farm.
The farmhouse, the amazing two-story barn and other outbuildings, plus a large pasture with a pond, is where my life story really began. My four brothers and I are the 5th generation of Goertzens in America. I have often thought about the fact that my ancestors came from Russia to escape persecution and threats to their very lives, based on their belief in God and how they could worship God without fear of torture or death. If they had not risked everything to come to America, it’s hard to imagine what their lives would have been like, and if they would have even survived much longer in Russia.
And I would not be sitting here, typing this story.
