MONROE - Monroe residents Nate Roth, Kathryn Etter, Lois Kaster, Dave Deininger and Martha Bernet brought back the good old days, if only for an hour or two, Thursday at the Monroe Arts Center.
The residents reminisced about what it means to live in Monroe for the first in a series of Sesquicentennial Evenings. The next events are scheduled for Nov. 6 and 20.
"It's like the sign says, "Monroe brings you back,'" Helen Stauffer, Monroe, said after the presentation.
Roth began the evening with stories about Solomon Levitan, Wisconsin's state treasurer from 1923 to 1933.
Roth was only 4 years old at his grandfather's home when he first met Levitan, then a back peddler. Levitan worked around Clarno and Twin Grove, and saved his money until he could afford a horse, and then a "democrat wagon" - a politically humorous term for what poor people drove, Roth said. When Roth met Levitan, he was driving a touring car.
Eventually Levitan bought retail stores in New Glarus and Blanchardville, before moving to Madison and running for state treasurer.
"He was the epitome of honesty and hard work," Roth said.
Roth also spoke about Sophie Becker, a Jewish lady who "wore an old black dress that looked like a potato sack."
"But inside that potato sack was a heart of gold," Roth said.
One day, Becker asked a little girl where her coat was. The little girl told Becker she had no coat.
"A couple days later, the little girl had a coat, and you just know where that coat came from," Roth said.
Kathryn Etter remembered coming to town when she was 4 in a bobsled which was hitched in front of the store that is now the Dilly Bean.
In 1920, her family moved to Monroe, and lived in the house where she still resides.
Etter said fireplaces were becoming obsolete, and they "felt lucky" to have a Rudy furnace in their home. The family had a cow, chickens, a garden and drank water from their well. They also had a telephone.
"When you picked up the phone you heard, 'Number please,'" Ethers said. "But nobody made long distance calls - it was too expensive." Instead, people sent penny postcards.
Etter recalled picking up ice chips when the ice man came, and having milk and groceries delivered. Her father occasionally would walk to Ruf's to buy the family ice cream and walked home quickly before it melted.
Etter also remembers when an airplane landed in the field east of their home during the 1920s. About 100 people came to see it, she said.
Later, when she was in high school, Etter got to ride in an airplane, for a penny a pound.
In 1925, she got to see Charles Lindbergh in Madison after his famous flight.
"It's very clear in my mind," she said.
Lois Kaster's stories revolved around the Square in Monroe.
Saturday nights were when rural folks came to town, she said. They traded their eggs for groceries. And while the adults were shopping, the kids got to walk around the Square.
On the way home, her family would stop at Brennan's to pick up fruit or something special.
One Saturday evening, Kaster's father gave her a dollar.
"I thought I had everything," she said. Kaster spent 10 cents to see a movie, and 5 cents each for popcorn and a soda. With what she had left over, she went shopping.
Kaster also recalled her father taking her to town to buy her a red velvet dress for Christmas. It cost $5 at Sophie Becker's store. Her mother wasn't very happy about it, Kaster recalled, because it was shortly after the Depression and that was money that couldn't be spent on something else.
Saturday nights were social nights for rural folks to see their friends, family and relatives. The sidewalks were busy, she said. There was two-way traffic around the Square and no parking meters.
Entertainment was traveling shows, roller skating at the armory, and dances and bands at Turner Hall.
"I really enjoyed those days. It was different, but I think we're much better off today," she said.
With a father as the sheriff, Judge Dave Deininger had stories about growing up in the living quarters of the county jail. The Deiningers lived in what is now the Jailhouse Tap, and starting in 1962, in the present jail.
Deininger's mother and grandmother cooked for the prisoners, and his mother even acted as a sort of matron for female prisoners. The women raised a white flag on the jail when there were no prisoners.
In the early days, only two to three people were jailed, "mostly for drinking, driving or both," he said. And he remembered playing in the dungeon, where chains were still on the wall.
The place was dark and dank, but it was "a fun place for kids to play," he said.
The only major crime Deininger remembered was when two men tried to steal a safe from the second floor of the old Monroe Clinic.
"They dropped it, which is what, I think, led to their apprehension," he said.
Deininger also recalled the day his mother's car blew away during the 1965 tornado. He had used the car to go play basketball with friends downtown at the high school, but left it to go to Ruf's until the storm blew over.
"I guess it really did 'blow over,'" he said. They found the car near Twining Park.
Martha Bernet realized she was one of the two oldest living immigrants from Switzerland left in Monroe. She still carries an accent, and reasons that it is because so many people spoke Swiss.
"You could hear more Swiss talk than English," she said. "In every store there was someone who could talk Swiss."
Coming to Green County in 1947, Bernet said she was "very, very homesick."
She and her husband Werner made cheese at the Dutch Hollow factory, where they also lived and raised their children Hans and Kathy.
"I was the hired man," she said.
But Bernet said it was fun to be able to work together. In the summer, they would "park the kids" in the fenced yard. But in the winter, they would put the kids in a large cheese kettle with a quilt and their toys.
"We knew where they were," she said.
Bernet talked about raising her children in Green County.
Proud to be Swiss, Bernet's son told his teacher his name was Hans, not John.
"Please remember that," he told her.
Another time, a classmate, who was allowed to play with only Catholic children, asked Hans if he was Catholic
"Hell, no," Hans told him. "I'm Swiss."
Every year, there are fewer people who can speak Swiss, Bernet said. In 1951, the Swiss Club had 400 people; three years ago there were only 12 left.
The residents reminisced about what it means to live in Monroe for the first in a series of Sesquicentennial Evenings. The next events are scheduled for Nov. 6 and 20.
"It's like the sign says, "Monroe brings you back,'" Helen Stauffer, Monroe, said after the presentation.
Roth began the evening with stories about Solomon Levitan, Wisconsin's state treasurer from 1923 to 1933.
Roth was only 4 years old at his grandfather's home when he first met Levitan, then a back peddler. Levitan worked around Clarno and Twin Grove, and saved his money until he could afford a horse, and then a "democrat wagon" - a politically humorous term for what poor people drove, Roth said. When Roth met Levitan, he was driving a touring car.
Eventually Levitan bought retail stores in New Glarus and Blanchardville, before moving to Madison and running for state treasurer.
"He was the epitome of honesty and hard work," Roth said.
Roth also spoke about Sophie Becker, a Jewish lady who "wore an old black dress that looked like a potato sack."
"But inside that potato sack was a heart of gold," Roth said.
One day, Becker asked a little girl where her coat was. The little girl told Becker she had no coat.
"A couple days later, the little girl had a coat, and you just know where that coat came from," Roth said.
Kathryn Etter remembered coming to town when she was 4 in a bobsled which was hitched in front of the store that is now the Dilly Bean.
In 1920, her family moved to Monroe, and lived in the house where she still resides.
Etter said fireplaces were becoming obsolete, and they "felt lucky" to have a Rudy furnace in their home. The family had a cow, chickens, a garden and drank water from their well. They also had a telephone.
"When you picked up the phone you heard, 'Number please,'" Ethers said. "But nobody made long distance calls - it was too expensive." Instead, people sent penny postcards.
Etter recalled picking up ice chips when the ice man came, and having milk and groceries delivered. Her father occasionally would walk to Ruf's to buy the family ice cream and walked home quickly before it melted.
Etter also remembers when an airplane landed in the field east of their home during the 1920s. About 100 people came to see it, she said.
Later, when she was in high school, Etter got to ride in an airplane, for a penny a pound.
In 1925, she got to see Charles Lindbergh in Madison after his famous flight.
"It's very clear in my mind," she said.
Lois Kaster's stories revolved around the Square in Monroe.
Saturday nights were when rural folks came to town, she said. They traded their eggs for groceries. And while the adults were shopping, the kids got to walk around the Square.
On the way home, her family would stop at Brennan's to pick up fruit or something special.
One Saturday evening, Kaster's father gave her a dollar.
"I thought I had everything," she said. Kaster spent 10 cents to see a movie, and 5 cents each for popcorn and a soda. With what she had left over, she went shopping.
Kaster also recalled her father taking her to town to buy her a red velvet dress for Christmas. It cost $5 at Sophie Becker's store. Her mother wasn't very happy about it, Kaster recalled, because it was shortly after the Depression and that was money that couldn't be spent on something else.
Saturday nights were social nights for rural folks to see their friends, family and relatives. The sidewalks were busy, she said. There was two-way traffic around the Square and no parking meters.
Entertainment was traveling shows, roller skating at the armory, and dances and bands at Turner Hall.
"I really enjoyed those days. It was different, but I think we're much better off today," she said.
With a father as the sheriff, Judge Dave Deininger had stories about growing up in the living quarters of the county jail. The Deiningers lived in what is now the Jailhouse Tap, and starting in 1962, in the present jail.
Deininger's mother and grandmother cooked for the prisoners, and his mother even acted as a sort of matron for female prisoners. The women raised a white flag on the jail when there were no prisoners.
In the early days, only two to three people were jailed, "mostly for drinking, driving or both," he said. And he remembered playing in the dungeon, where chains were still on the wall.
The place was dark and dank, but it was "a fun place for kids to play," he said.
The only major crime Deininger remembered was when two men tried to steal a safe from the second floor of the old Monroe Clinic.
"They dropped it, which is what, I think, led to their apprehension," he said.
Deininger also recalled the day his mother's car blew away during the 1965 tornado. He had used the car to go play basketball with friends downtown at the high school, but left it to go to Ruf's until the storm blew over.
"I guess it really did 'blow over,'" he said. They found the car near Twining Park.
Martha Bernet realized she was one of the two oldest living immigrants from Switzerland left in Monroe. She still carries an accent, and reasons that it is because so many people spoke Swiss.
"You could hear more Swiss talk than English," she said. "In every store there was someone who could talk Swiss."
Coming to Green County in 1947, Bernet said she was "very, very homesick."
She and her husband Werner made cheese at the Dutch Hollow factory, where they also lived and raised their children Hans and Kathy.
"I was the hired man," she said.
But Bernet said it was fun to be able to work together. In the summer, they would "park the kids" in the fenced yard. But in the winter, they would put the kids in a large cheese kettle with a quilt and their toys.
"We knew where they were," she said.
Bernet talked about raising her children in Green County.
Proud to be Swiss, Bernet's son told his teacher his name was Hans, not John.
"Please remember that," he told her.
Another time, a classmate, who was allowed to play with only Catholic children, asked Hans if he was Catholic
"Hell, no," Hans told him. "I'm Swiss."
Every year, there are fewer people who can speak Swiss, Bernet said. In 1951, the Swiss Club had 400 people; three years ago there were only 12 left.