September 1941 - three months prior to Japanese bombs falling on Pearl Harbor - my mother took me to town to join 14 other kindergarten kids at the old North School.
Because of low birth rates during the Great Depression, there weren't many 5-year olds in 1941. There were a few others at the East, South and Lincoln grade schools, and others would be attending St. Victors, the old Normal School, and the one-room schools around the countryside.
We were too young to remember the Great Depression, but our parents were shaped by it - that and the big war. Once those Japanese bombs fell, the war dominated everything. Some stuff was rationed and people talked of shortages. But unlike our counterparts in Europe and Asia, we never knew hunger or the terror of bombs dropping on us. By the time we hit fourth grade in autumn of 1945, the war that killed some 51 million people was over.
We had own wars on the school playgrounds. Little League and its bureaucracy had not yet arrived. We never could have imagined meddling parents telling us who could play, who to play, and when. We organized our own teams and negotiated terms of engagement - with some slippage here and there.
At North, we had tough little Freddy Studer, whose dad had a small farm implement shop on the corner of 6th Street and 17th Avenue. Our lineup included Kenny Baker; Lowell Stuessy, who one day would quarterback the Monroe Cheesemakers; left-handed slugger Dick Sarles; future Minnesota Lt. Governor Jimmy Goetz; Gordy Rutsch, who one day would be a vicious tackler for the Cheesemakers; and girls' heartthrob Henry Leuenberger. We had Mike Kubly, whose dad, Ray, sold cheese by mail or something like that. We had Hans Masshardt until he defected - er, moved - and joined our rivals over at East. Our ace pitcher was southpaw Kenny Norder, whose natural athletic talent one day would earn him a tryout with the Milwaukee Braves. Buy Kenny a beer, and he will regale you with tales of his training roommate, Bob Uecker.
In addition to Masshardt, our rivals at East had Gary Hoesly, Richard Kelley, Phil Dallman, Vic Ingwell, Ronnie Ault, Ted Altman and the irrepressible Franklin Deininger. Those worthies were led by Wally Marty, whose grandfather, Carl, had something to do with the cheese business, and whose artwork graces Turner Hall's Ratskellar. We fifth-graders already recognized Wally's potential as an athlete - if he would only quit smoking. Well, perhaps minuscule exaggeration, but not much.
We at North didn't care much for East, but our real enemy was the detested Lincoln. Lincoln had a formidable bunch. The cool Gary Germann was their chief negotiator. They had the sheriff's kid, Vic Chambers, who one day would terrorize the Badger Conference carrying the ball from left halfback off the split T formation. They had Dick Schultz, the Cheesemakers' future bruising fullback; future Air Force General Nate Lindsay; pesky Alan Hixson; intense Ronnie Elmer; dependable Gary Kuebli; cagey Roger Martin; and trusty Jack Hauser. Their slugger was the rotund Tommy Hartwig, Lincoln's answer to North's slugger Dick Sarles.
Negotiations, especially selecting the ump, could be problematic. During negotiations between North and Lincoln, Germann rejected Stuessy's suggestion of East's Masshardt for ump because Masshardt used to go to the North and surely would still stick up for the North. Denininger was rejected because during a game between Lincoln and East, when East got behind they tried to get four outs in the eighth inning - and it was all Deininger's idea. He probably still had it in for Lincoln.
South's Gary Rupnow was rejected because a good ump had to be tall enough to see over the catcher - else how could he call balls and strikes? South's Daryl Kleckner was rejected because he probably couldn't ride his bike over to North fast enough to start the game on time. And what if his mother made him go home early to eat supper? We'd be in trouble.
St. Victors had up to grade eight. Those nuns over there must have run a tight ship - it seemed that some of those lads took forever to get through that mill. That, and I heard they had to go to Sunday school every day, made me glad I wasn't Catholic. But maybe we could get one of those older guys at St. Victors to do the umping for us.
North's rivals specified that it was no fair to slip sixth-grader Russell Broge into our lineup. But we did have some powerful girls - Joyce Babler, Annette Stopka, Shirley Bruny and Patti Amos, for starters. Suzanne Kingston kept alternating between East and North, so her primary allegiance was questionable.
East had Susan Blumer, whose dad ran the Walgreen Drug Store and soda fountain on the Square, Jane Ruf, Joan Knaack, Mavis Ingwell, Karen Kindshi and Elsa Schindler, whose dad, Dr. John, and a couple other guys practiced in offices they called The Monroe Clinic.
Lincoln had Marilyn Miller, Shirley Mahle and Sondra Simpson, daughter of the assistant football coach. We knew those girls were good, but heck, let 'em get up their own game.
September 1947 - since East went only to grade five, those former enemies came to North for sixth grade to become our allies against the detested Lincoln. A short year later, 1948, our rivalries evaporated as the public school seventh-graders converged at Lincoln Junior High.
The big war had been over for three years, our baseball wars ended, and the world was changing faster than anyone could absorb. The first of the baby boom generation were two years old. America was energized and basking in prosperity.
In another two years, the kids from the country schools, Normal, and St. Victor's would be joining us to form the class of '54.
To be continued.
- Monroe resident John Waelti is a native of Monroe Township. He can be reached at jjwaelti@charter.net.
Because of low birth rates during the Great Depression, there weren't many 5-year olds in 1941. There were a few others at the East, South and Lincoln grade schools, and others would be attending St. Victors, the old Normal School, and the one-room schools around the countryside.
We were too young to remember the Great Depression, but our parents were shaped by it - that and the big war. Once those Japanese bombs fell, the war dominated everything. Some stuff was rationed and people talked of shortages. But unlike our counterparts in Europe and Asia, we never knew hunger or the terror of bombs dropping on us. By the time we hit fourth grade in autumn of 1945, the war that killed some 51 million people was over.
We had own wars on the school playgrounds. Little League and its bureaucracy had not yet arrived. We never could have imagined meddling parents telling us who could play, who to play, and when. We organized our own teams and negotiated terms of engagement - with some slippage here and there.
At North, we had tough little Freddy Studer, whose dad had a small farm implement shop on the corner of 6th Street and 17th Avenue. Our lineup included Kenny Baker; Lowell Stuessy, who one day would quarterback the Monroe Cheesemakers; left-handed slugger Dick Sarles; future Minnesota Lt. Governor Jimmy Goetz; Gordy Rutsch, who one day would be a vicious tackler for the Cheesemakers; and girls' heartthrob Henry Leuenberger. We had Mike Kubly, whose dad, Ray, sold cheese by mail or something like that. We had Hans Masshardt until he defected - er, moved - and joined our rivals over at East. Our ace pitcher was southpaw Kenny Norder, whose natural athletic talent one day would earn him a tryout with the Milwaukee Braves. Buy Kenny a beer, and he will regale you with tales of his training roommate, Bob Uecker.
In addition to Masshardt, our rivals at East had Gary Hoesly, Richard Kelley, Phil Dallman, Vic Ingwell, Ronnie Ault, Ted Altman and the irrepressible Franklin Deininger. Those worthies were led by Wally Marty, whose grandfather, Carl, had something to do with the cheese business, and whose artwork graces Turner Hall's Ratskellar. We fifth-graders already recognized Wally's potential as an athlete - if he would only quit smoking. Well, perhaps minuscule exaggeration, but not much.
We at North didn't care much for East, but our real enemy was the detested Lincoln. Lincoln had a formidable bunch. The cool Gary Germann was their chief negotiator. They had the sheriff's kid, Vic Chambers, who one day would terrorize the Badger Conference carrying the ball from left halfback off the split T formation. They had Dick Schultz, the Cheesemakers' future bruising fullback; future Air Force General Nate Lindsay; pesky Alan Hixson; intense Ronnie Elmer; dependable Gary Kuebli; cagey Roger Martin; and trusty Jack Hauser. Their slugger was the rotund Tommy Hartwig, Lincoln's answer to North's slugger Dick Sarles.
Negotiations, especially selecting the ump, could be problematic. During negotiations between North and Lincoln, Germann rejected Stuessy's suggestion of East's Masshardt for ump because Masshardt used to go to the North and surely would still stick up for the North. Denininger was rejected because during a game between Lincoln and East, when East got behind they tried to get four outs in the eighth inning - and it was all Deininger's idea. He probably still had it in for Lincoln.
South's Gary Rupnow was rejected because a good ump had to be tall enough to see over the catcher - else how could he call balls and strikes? South's Daryl Kleckner was rejected because he probably couldn't ride his bike over to North fast enough to start the game on time. And what if his mother made him go home early to eat supper? We'd be in trouble.
St. Victors had up to grade eight. Those nuns over there must have run a tight ship - it seemed that some of those lads took forever to get through that mill. That, and I heard they had to go to Sunday school every day, made me glad I wasn't Catholic. But maybe we could get one of those older guys at St. Victors to do the umping for us.
North's rivals specified that it was no fair to slip sixth-grader Russell Broge into our lineup. But we did have some powerful girls - Joyce Babler, Annette Stopka, Shirley Bruny and Patti Amos, for starters. Suzanne Kingston kept alternating between East and North, so her primary allegiance was questionable.
East had Susan Blumer, whose dad ran the Walgreen Drug Store and soda fountain on the Square, Jane Ruf, Joan Knaack, Mavis Ingwell, Karen Kindshi and Elsa Schindler, whose dad, Dr. John, and a couple other guys practiced in offices they called The Monroe Clinic.
Lincoln had Marilyn Miller, Shirley Mahle and Sondra Simpson, daughter of the assistant football coach. We knew those girls were good, but heck, let 'em get up their own game.
September 1947 - since East went only to grade five, those former enemies came to North for sixth grade to become our allies against the detested Lincoln. A short year later, 1948, our rivalries evaporated as the public school seventh-graders converged at Lincoln Junior High.
The big war had been over for three years, our baseball wars ended, and the world was changing faster than anyone could absorb. The first of the baby boom generation were two years old. America was energized and basking in prosperity.
In another two years, the kids from the country schools, Normal, and St. Victor's would be joining us to form the class of '54.
To be continued.
- Monroe resident John Waelti is a native of Monroe Township. He can be reached at jjwaelti@charter.net.
