Letter to Editor: Raleigh, Grant County, ND
December 1924

Dear Editor:

I will try my luck in relating an educational anecdote, which tells of a butter woman and what she experienced one day. I assume that this is amenable to the newspaperman. The adventure story follows:

The queen of all saleswomen was Mrs. Johanna Buntspecht. She was short and thickset and had quite an irresistible mouth on her. She was capable of intimidating her buyers enough not to try bartering about her prices. None of her colleagues dared to pick a bone with Mrs. Buntspecht and whenever she was shopping, they treated her with kid gloves in order to keep her in a good mood. In one word, Mrs. Buntspecht was the stingiest and most belligerent saleswoman of the district. On the other hand, she did have the best wares to offer. She was an excellent businesswoman and got her merchandise from the best available sources and paid cash on the barrel. Most of her many customers happened to be upper class who did not grouse about her prices, but they were just a bit higher than the going rate.

One day around noon, when the market was already emptying out, a servant in uniform approached Mrs. Buntspecht and asked her how much butter was pointing at a large tub.

“10 silver pennies a piece,” the saleswoman said.

“How many pieces in a tub?” the servant asked then.

“Twenty cans,” answered the woman. “A can contains four pieces, therefore there are eighty pieces in this tub.”

“May I taste the butter?” inquired the servant.

“Indeed,” she smiled and handed him a butter knife. “You see this is very fresh butter from the dairy of the knight Moelkau, and it was just produced yesterday.”

“By Jove, this is excellent butter!” exclaimed the servant after taking a taste. “My dear woman, this is exactly what I have been looking for. It is just like my master likes it. I am so happy that I stumbled across your place of business. My master, the doctor, will be very happy to purchase the whole tub. However, there is no way that I can carry the entire load by myself. Do you have someone here who could help me with it?”

“Where does your master live?” asked Mrs. Buntspecht, all excited about the prospect of such a large sale. Eighty pieces of butter would cost 26 taler and 20 silver pennies with quite a sizable profit for her.

“My master is Doctor Zipperling who resides on Main Street. He is a very wealthy man. I am sure you have heard of him. He has been widowed for four years now. His daughter is about to get married to a military officer, Baron von Brennessel. That is why there is such a need for a lot of butter. You can imagine that such a wedding means an abundance of rich foods.”

“Perhaps I should go with you myself,” said Mrs. Buntspecht. “Main Street is not so far from here. It should not take so long to wrap up this little business. There is not much in the way of trade this moment.” She turned to the man in the stall next door, a surly fellow wearing a stained apron and his sleeves rolled up. He offered not exactly appetizing meat for sale. “Mr. Ganzauge, could you be so kind as to mind my store for a bit? I am sure there won’t be any more customers, but should there be, please ask them to wait for me.” The meat merchant grunted, probably the closest he could come to a ‘yes’. So Mrs. Buntspecht took hold of the heavy butter tub and followed the servant to the doctor’s house.

“Here!” the servant said and pointed to a stately home. “Come right on in, dear butter lady. The doctor lives on the first floor. Since his wife died, he takes care of all business himself. You see, he is a little greedy, a vice which is unfortunately so common among the well to do. Stick to your price of 10 silver pennies a piece. Why should a millionaire not be able to pay your price? At the daughter’s wedding there will be much money spent foolishly anyway, so the whole world can admire the new Baroness von Brennessel. Please wait here a moment while I announce you to the good doctor. I will tell him that I have already bought your tub at your price.” They reached an open atrium from which several doors led to the interior of the building. A sign affixed to the main entrance proclaimed “Dr. Zipperling”.

The servant rang the bell and disappeared behind a door. Dr. Zipperling had returned from his office about an hour ago and sat on the couch reading the paper. He answered, “Enter” to the soft knock on the door. The servant replied to the doctor’s questioning look, “Doctor, I am employed by council member Pfifferling, who you should know, or perhaps to whom you are even a friend”.

“Sorry, I don’t know your master, but what can I do for you?”

The servant sighed and said, “Well, dear doctor, I have come for some much needed advice.”

“Why, are you ill?” asked the medico, looking at the servant.

“No sir, not I. You see I need help for my unfortunate aunt who is a merchant woman. I have brought her here for your advice, perhaps an examination.”

“Well, what seems to be wrong with the lady?” asked the doctor.

“The unfortunate lady is getting worse and worse, a little crazy. She had this misfortune about four weeks ago. She had this tub of good butter, you see, containing eighty pieces worth 26 taler and 20 silver pennies. A crook stole it from her. You see, she is a little stingy and doesn’t seem to get over that loss. For a while she was sad, and then she became grumpy. Lately, she has been belligerent and quarrelsome. She doesn’t trust a soul anymore. She thinks everybody is a butter thief, even our dear schoolteacher. To protect herself against such thievery, she even purchased an old pistol, which the hunter’s servant loaded for her, but he played a trick on her. See, he is quite the prankster. He put the bullet in the barrel, then the powder, and hopefully this will prevent further mischief. However, her condition is worsening again. Now she demands payment for the butter from everyone she encounters, namely 26 talers and 20 silver pennies. Her own relatives are having a problem because of this. So they said regardless of the cost, the lady has to be examined and cured by a doctor, to prevent her from going crazy and setting fire to something or worse. If you are willing to treat her, dear doctor, the relatives are willing to pay whatever you are charging.”

“Well now,” said the doctor, “this is an interesting case of craziness. You said you brought the patient with you?”

“Yes, doctor. She is waiting in the anteroom.”

“Send the woman in then, my good man,” Zipperling ordered. “I shall examine her and would you please wait in the anteroom until I am done? Your presence could be an impediment to your relative.”

“As you wish, doctor,” said the servant and bowed. “I shall bring my unfortunate aunt in here and may your famous art be successful and bring back her healthy mind to her.”

The servant left the room and went to the anteroom where he found Mrs. Buntspecht perched on the butter barrel.

“What kept you so long?” she inquired, obviously in a bad mood. “I have to get back to the market.”

“Well, the doctor is a strange man, especially when money is involved. I had to describe your wares to him ten times and he still wanted to barter down your price by a silver penny apiece. So I got a little hot under the collar and told him that you didn’t steal that butter and you needed the entire amount of 26 taler and 20 silver pennies.”

“Excellent,” exclaimed the butter lady smiling, intent on getting the full price for her wares from the old grinch. “I would rather throw the entire tub in the creek than let him have even one penny off. Where is the money, my friend?”

“The doctor will pay you himself, dear woman. Just come on in here. I shall take you to him directly.” The servant opened the door to the doctor’s living room and said, “Doctor, here is the butter lady!”

“She may enter,” said Doctor Zipperling. Mrs. Buntspecht rose from the heavy tub and entered the doctor’s chambers. “Hello, dear woman. Please have a chair. How are you today?” The doctor smiled invitingly.

“Thank you, sir. I am well, but I am sitting all day long. Things could be better, but I am making do in these hard times.”

“I understand that you are a butter vendor,” said the doctor.

“Indeed, but I also sell cheeses and fresh fruit, vegetables, eggs and jams and jellies, bread and other victuals.”

“Butter is expensive right now, isn’t it?”

“Yes, heaven knows! For the tub of butter of eighty pieces, which I have sold to you for 26 talers and 20 silver pennies, I will hardly have earned enough for my daily bread.”

“You shouldn’t worry about that too much. Money is not everything.”

“I am not that bad off, dear doctor, but I am saving all my money for hard times and would ask you for my payment, please.”

“You mean the 26 talers and 20 silver pennies, then?”

“That’s right as rain.”

“Well, it is hard, but what one cannot change one must accept. I’ll earn it back some other way.”

“That’s right, dear doctor. You will get the kind of butter the angels in heaven lick their fingers for. The price is high right now. That’s why only the rich can afford it now.”

So much for the butter story for today. I will finish the tale at another time. Friendly farmers’greetings to all the lady readers of the Nordlicht.

Amalia Gross
Wife of Ignatz Gross