From: Krasna, Bessarabia
8 October 1929
Esteemed Staats-Anzeiger!
In regard to the weather conditions, I can report that all summer long we have not had any soaking rain, which is not an advantage for the farmer. At this time, he should be proceeding with winter seeding, but for that it is too dry. From the 22-30 of September, we had some really cold days. One had to look for the fur coat when going for a walk in the evening. One believed that winter had already set in. Since1 October, really nice and warm weather has prevailed. But the long awaited rain still does not want to come. As a result of the lingering drought, the water in some wells is very low. The severe drought hinders the farmer in winter seeding. Every farmer is afraid of the great drought. For two years he had seeded on good luck and harvested nothing. Until now we also did not have any frost. If we do not get a soaking rain soon, then again we will remain without winter seeds.
Many farmers in our village have already sold this year’s entire crop, but have not paid off their debts. Others again sell their little bit of grain and spend their money on drinking, while their benefactors who in the time of need helped them out with money or grain, are being short changed. Many have to take their debtors to court. That is the thanks and the reward. People change and forget very soon the need and the misery that they had to endure during lean times. Many no longer have a conscience and are neither afraid of the devil, nor God. They feel like they are in heaven when they have a bottle of wine. May the dear Lord not punish all of us because of the unjust and godless. The number of pious and the just are rapidly dwindling. Daily, sin creeps into everywhere. What many promise today, that promise is broken the next day. Only you, O Lord, hate the lies, only you will not let yourself be cheated. O Lord, you punish and reward justly for all time.
Lies, cheating, denial and stealing of crops, such as barley, Welsh corn, potatoes and grapes are the order of the day. These are all the devil’s orders and petitions. Some thieves were caught during their dirty work and given a thorough thrashing, and then let go again. One just did not have the time during this rigorous work period to take this riff-raff to court.
This is also what happened to Ludwig Braun. On one nice morning when he got to his field, he discovered twelve heaps of barley sheaves missing. He followed the tracks and came upon part of a strap from a harness lying next to the wagon wheel rut. He knew immediately that it belonged to his neighbor Simon Schulkowsky. Mr.Braun took the strap for legal proceedings to the police, who investigated the case, but did not find any evidence to convict Schulkowsky for theft. Schulkowsky was now angry, because he was accused of theft. He sued his neighbor, Ludwig Braun, for slander at the county court in Tarutino.
However, after eight days a witness was found who had seen Schulkowsky load up the twelve heaps of barley and haul them home. Also, the other part of the torn harness strap was found at Schulkowsky’s. Braun took the case to the mayor for legal proceedings. The mayor ordered Schulkowsky to city hall. Under strong interrogation, Schulkowsky admitted the theft. The thief and the victim settled the case with Schulkowsky paying Mr. Braun 4,000 Lei for the stolen grain.
The transcript in which Schulkowsky admitted the theft was forwarded to the county judge in Tarutino. Schulkowsky, the thief, by law had to be punished. Therefore, the county judge summoned Schulkowsky and also Mr. Braun as witness to appear in court at 9AM on 8 October.
However, Schulkowsky would not put up with that any more. Instead of driving to Tarutino, he took a different route. He went unnoticed into the chicken coop, where he hung himself. Around 7:30PM his wife went into the yard to feed the hogs. When she got to the chicken coop, she saw her husband hanging by the rope. She hurried into the house, fetched a knife, and cut through the rope. However, her husband was dead. Consequently, he did not have to appear before the county judge anymore for that. He still has to face the Heavenly Judge, who may have mercy on him.
The Colony of Krasna was founded in the year 1814. Schulkowsky was the first one in the 115 years since then, who took his life by hanging himself. At the time of his suicide, he was 41years old and left behind his deeply grieving wife Dorothea nee Bachmeier, and several children.
On the 4 September, the widow, 70-year-old Marianna Ternes nee Haag, daughter of Mathias, was found dead on the railroad tracks. One believes that a train hit her. Her husband, Michael Ternes, preceded her in death on 7 February this year.
On the 9 September, Albertus Marthe, son of Joseph Marthe, departed this life at age 54. He left behind his wife Anathalia and two children.
On the 14 September, Sophia Wagner nee Furch, daughter of Adolf Furch, and wife of Magnus Wagner passed away. The deceased, 32 years old, left behind her husband and four children.
The widower, Mathias Volk, 87 years old, died a horrible death in the night of 29-30 September. The old man burned to death in his home. It is unknown how the fire started.
Susanna Wagner, age 26 and daughter of Klemens Banjakowsky, died on 18 September. She left behind her husband Balthasar Wagner and one child.
Klemens Bachmeier left this life at age 48 on the 8 October. He left behind his deeply saddened wife, Helena nee Dressler, and two children. – Peace to their ashes and may the perpetual light shine upon them!
I send a friendly hello to Friederich Reich in Strassburg, Soviet Russia. Mr.Reich, perhaps you could give me information through the widely read Staats-Anzeiger on how the chaplain Theobald Kopp likes it among you, and how he is doing. A month ago we heard that he would visit us soon. We all would be very happy if he would succeed in visiting our village, his hometown! His parents, Simon and Elisabetha Kopp, are still alive and well.
Further, I can bring the good news that the Staats-Anzeiger for several months now arrives here on a regular basis. We are sincerely happy about this, because the dear paper brings us lots of news from all parts of the world twice a week. So, whoever wants to bring joy to his local friends, should order the Staats-Anzeiger for them.
Mr. Haag, we have read in the Staats-Anzeiger that your wife had an accident. We are truly sorry. May the dear Lord grant her good health soon. (*E.J. Haag: Dear friend, everything is fine again. The best greeting to you and your wife.)
In closing, I greet the editor Mr. Brandt, and the entire reader’s circle.
Anton Gedak
From: Leader, Saskatchewan, Canada
27 October 1929
Esteemed Staats-Anzeiger!
Several months have passed since I wrote the Staats-Anzeiger. I have gathered enough courage to send in a few more lines.
The last time I had written about our journey from Krasna, Bessarabia to here. This trip we will keep in our minds for a long time. Today, however, I want to describe another trip we took in Bessarabia, which to us is also unforgettable, and maybe of interest to the dear readers. It is about a trip we made from Emmental to the place of my birth, Krasna, on Pentecost 1927.
One day Monika Arnold, my neighbor, said, “Maria, don’t you want to come with me to Krasna over Pentecost?” I said, “Yes, on this we think alike, but first I have to ask my Rochus, because our child is too small for such a long trip by wagon.” - “Not really,” said Monika, “yours is older than our daughter Klara’s child, and she will come along too. We shall drive together.” - “Well,” I said, “I think we’ll go.” When I arrived home, I told my husband about it. He did not want to know anything of such a journey. He said the horses were so weak that we would not get to Krasna at all, because 75 werst (50 miles) is too much for a one-day trip. But no excuse was of any help. I told my husband: “You just don’t want me to go, that’s all.” My loyal one replied calmly, “Well, as far as I am concerned you can go ahead, but I know you will not get down there.” “Well,” I said, “The main thing for you is that we come back home again…” - “Go, go,” said my husband, already a little annoyed, “if you care to, you can leave today, then maybe you’ll make it by Pentecost.” - “Whoa now,” I said, “That’ll go better than you think.” He said, “Yes if a man would go along with you, but this way, should something happen, you’ll stand there on the road not knowing what to do.” – “Yes,” I said, “you think that women are dumber than men; they are just as smart as you guys….” - “Go ahead and go, I don’t mind at all,” he said. Finally Monika came by. “Well, Maria, can you go?” - “Yes, yes, I’ll go.” – “We’ll hitch up our three together”, added Monika. “Kaspar Harsche’s wife will come along as well so hitch up her horse also. On the way back home we will have to take her wagon along.” So now we all agreed that the four of us, all women, would make the trip. Hurriedly everything was organized and readied for the trip; on Saturday we would leave. And sure enough, it was Pentecost Saturday; we left in the early morning hours. The undersigned and Mrs. Klara Bleile were allowed to sit in the rear of the wagon, because we had little children. The other two were in front as drivers. We started the journey with happy hearts and in the best mood. As we drove down the road past Johann Bernhardt’s, Johann’s wife asked, “Where to, so early?” - “To Krasna!” all four of us shouted, and the horses took off like a whirlwind.
As we arrived at the village Daraglei, the Moldavians were just driving to the fields to work. Whenever we passed a wagon, Monika would shout jokingly, “Cuckoo!” I said, “Monika, keep quiet, lest we get beaten up.” The Moldavians looking at us in silent surprise. Well, everything went okay, and around four o’clock in the afternoon, we arrived in beautiful Krasna. However, Monika was not as lively anymore, and the horses did not want to move at all. Whenever Monika saw someone, she shouted, “Godspeed, are you okay?” Just then the horses stopped. We had scolded Monika already and told her to be quiet, because we were embarrassed every time when the driver had to jerk the reins, calling out “Hio.” The horses stopped at almost every yard entrance, or wanted to turn in, which was a true embarrassment. At one yard, the horses were determined and ran towards the entrance. I grabbed Monika by the arm and said: “Lord Almighty, Monika, for once drive properly.” – “You go to the cuckoo! I surely should know were my father resides!” – “Well, thank God that your father lives here.”
Now we parted, and everything went well in Krasna. Two days later we readied ourselves for the return trip to Emmental. The way things went was not the best because rain and hail followed us up to Daraglei. Finally we had to drive in at a Moldavian’s place and unhitch. Three hours later we continued on, but good grief, now it did not proceed as before. We had to take off our shoes, pick up the children, and walk on foot. Now we did not shout “cuckoo” anymore when Moldavians passed us, because we were glad that they did not look at us, and let us continue our way in peace. That’s how we made it up to the railroad station in Kainari, 2½ werst (1¾ miles) from Emmental, when it got dark and the horses were totally exhausted. Monika hollered and screamed, but the nags did not move. Now she started thundering and cursing until finally “Maschka” and “Pudel” started pulling, giving us a little hope, when suddenly, in the darkness, we ended up in a hole and got stuck.
Klara and I had to get the children and walk home to call the men. It was ten o’clock in the evening. We walked through thistles and thorns. I am still wondering today how we accomplished that, but fear in the darkness drove us on. Nonetheless, thank God, we are home.
As I entered through the door I found my Rochus seated at the table with the Staats-Anzeiger in hand. “So”, I said, “you are sitting here, reading the paper and letting your wife and child perish. You surely heard us scream, but you did not come. Go and fetch the horses at Kainarer Hill. Good or bad, my Rochus and Kasimir Bleile went on their way to fetch the wagon and the horses. It was already midnight when they returned home. From then on we knew that the men indeed are smarter than the women, because they never give ill advice.
For Mr. Adam Seifert in Emmental, Bessarabia, we wrote him a personal letter about information he wanted to know.
We have read my sister’s copy of the Staats-Anzeiger up to now; therefore it is not necessary to have two newspapers in the house. Hence, we are ordering the paper for two friends. (*Editor: Amount received. The newspaper and calendar are being forwarded to the new customers and also, the sister will receive the calendar and the imported clothes brush as a gift. Thanks and greetings.)
With a kind greeting,
Maria Paul