I love learning about family history and documenting stories, especially stories from long ago.
I learn to tell stories by listening to storytellers. My father’s family were a very quiet bunch. They were reluctant to talk at all, much less share their history. On the other hand, my mother’s family, the Hunts, were good storytellers. I hope to tell you some of their stories later.
But the best storyteller, by far, was my father-in-law, Bill Hein. Born in 1901, he had an excellent memory and a treasure chest of stories from his family tree.
I can still see my father-in-law, pipe in his hand and sometimes a drink on the table, as he told stories after dinner. He loved hearing his own words as they came out of his mouth. He’d laugh before he even got to the punch line. In the tradition of good storytellers, he’d re-tell the same story many times, using the same words over and over. That way, his stories were carried down from generation to generation. until, eventually, I started writing them down.
Here is one of Bill’s stories, just as he told it to me.
“The year was 1873. Colorado was not yet a state.. That was the year my grandfather, John Hein, arrived in Denver with a team of big mules, a large wagon, and his bride, Euphrosina.
John was a bridge builder in the German army. When the army got too close to Holland, he decided it was time to split. John left the army, came to America and went directly to a German colony in Illinois. Before long he convinced his parents, Nicholas and Catherine Hein, his brother Conrad, and his sister Christina to join him.
John, a Lutheran, met Euphrosina Schneider, a Catholic, in Illinois. They were young and brave and very much in love. They wanted to take advantage of the Homestead Act, leave Illinois and start a new life in a beautiful place.
John’s family decided to tag along. They signed on with the Colfax German Settlement and headed for Colorado. Soon they were joined by Euphrosina’s brother and his wife in what is now the town of Westcliffe.
To be part of the settlement, men had to be of good moral character, between the ages of twenty-one and forty-five. They had to be in good physical and mental health, and pay a huge sum of $250.
John, Euphrosina and the rest of the Hein family traveled together across the prairie by covered wagon, pulled by two big mules. In Denver they loaded their belongings onto a train going to Pueblo ~ the wagon and mules in one boxcar and the family in another. They unloaded in Pueblo, and once again traveled by covered wagon to their new home in the Wet Mountain Valley.
John and his neighbors were among the first settlers in this early German farming community of one hundred families. The first thing they did was to throw up a big, long barn. In the beginning, everyone lived together in that great big barn.
Farming was tough for people coming from Illinois. The elevation was 7000 feet, and the growing season was short. Frosts came early and many of their crops died.
John was a woodsman and fine carpenter. One of the first things he did was to build a sturdy cabin about eight miles out of town. Next he decided to keep cattle, in addition to farming. He started with longhorn, but with their long horns and skinny behinds, there wasn’t that much meat on them.
One day, John went to the state fair in Pueblo and bought a big Hereford bull for $600.00. He hooked the bull on the back of his wagon and pulled him back to Westcliffe. At first his neighbors thought John was crazy. But when he started to breed his bull with the longhorn cows, everyone saw why he had done it. He soon had the finest beef cattle in all Westcliffe.
John and Euphrosina had three children, each two years apart: Pauline (Lena), John Edward (my Dad, known as Ed) and George. On the morning of December 16, 1891, John went outside to ride his horse. The horse reared and John lost his balance. The horse fell on top of him and crushed him. The saddle horn went right through his spleen.
The family hurried outside to see what had happened. My Grandmother, Euphrosina, yelled to my Dad, “Ed, run for Father Servans. Then get the Lutheran minister and then the doctor. Your father is hurt bad.”
My Dad found the priest who volunteered to go after the minister while my Dad ran for the doctor. By the time they returned, my grandfather was nearly gone. He died with Father Servans holding one hand and the minister holding the other. He was fifty-two years old.”
~ told by W.E. (Bill) Hein