Kratzke: May 2025

Everything I was able to gather I owe to my Aunt Mary and my Grandma Ruth.

Thank you.

I am acquiring a violin that belonged to Julia Clara Friedrich Volkert.

It is called, The Friedrich. You can stop reading now; that was the point.

Volkert, kintree.app

Kratzke, kintree.app

Let's begin with William George Heinrich Ludwig Conrad Volkert, who was born in Missouri. His family moved to Minnesota, where he farmed with his brother John until 1881, whenceforth he struck out for the West Coast! From 1882-1883, he went whaling with a crew on a ship called the Orca, first west to Asia, and then north to the Arctic Ocean. They lost boats and men, but eventually returned to land with 3 black fish; 11 sperm whales; 12 bowheads; 195 walruses; and 1 sea lion, which resulted in 1,600 barrels of oil; 13,000 whale bones; and 1,200 lbs of ivory. William George Heinrich Ludwig Conrad later took jobs chopping wood, harvesting fields, and working for a professor named Bach. He learned the trade of carpentry, made furniture, and then became a fireman for two decades.

Reading his short and rather itemized autobiography felt very much like playing "Oregon Trail," because diseases were not only life-threatening, but also huge financial setbacks. Amongst other illnesses, William George survived typhoid fever and an episode of extreme fire smoke inhalation. He would eventually succumb to stomach cancer. Here's a colorful excerpt:

In 1881, I struck out for the West Coast. The country was still very wild and unsettled. I travelled on the Northern Pacific R. R. to the end of the rail line, which was the central part of South Dakota. I then travelled some by stage and some by foot until I arrived at Miles City, Montana.
After resting several days, I took a trip through Wolf Mountains where I had unusual experiences. This area was infested with wolves such as I had never encountered before. I was sitting on a rock over a cave which was full of wolves. As I looked around the countryside, I discovered that wolves were coming out of the cave below me. My rifle was loaded and held 13 cartridges. It so happened that the wolves made their appearance 13 at a time. This gave me time to reload my weapon to dispatch the next 13 as they emerged from the cave. This procedure was duplicated several times until I finally exhausted my supply of ammunition. It became necessary for me to seek the protection of a large tree. In a short time, the remaining wolves had gathered around the base of the tree and were waiting for me to fall down. After some consideration, I decided to kill all the wolves with arrows whittled from tree branches and shot from a bow I had made from a larger branch. For a bow string, I used the straps of my suspenders. This took a lot of work and time, but I dispatched all the wolves under the tree so that I could come down, step between the dead wolves, and travel to my destination.
It wasn’t too long before I encountered a wolf coming toward me. While I was deciding what to do, the trigger of my rifle caught on a branch and discharged a cartridge that I didn’t know I had. After a mile or two, I again, encountered a wolf making a lunge for me. With not much time to think, I forced my fist deep into the throat of the animal, which paralyzed his jaw muscles. I took my knife out of my pocket with my other hand, opened it with my teeth, and slit the wolf’s throat. (Another version is that I pushed my arm all the way through the wolf’s intestines and grabbed his tail, pulling him inside out and throwing him aside).

Addendum to W.G. Volkert’s Autobiography

I married Charlotte Koehler August 8, 1888 at High forest, near Grand Meadow, Minnesota. The following children were born of this union: Ella, Paul, Arnold, Richard, Ferdinand, Otto, and Esther.
This addition was made by Otto A. Volkert, November 9, 1975. There were pages missing from the original copy, so Richard and I made additions to the best of our ability. We felt that the history of our father should be preserved along with some fiction appearing in this autobiography which we felt was worth retelling. The story which is woven in the history was told at the supper table when I was a boy of 10 years of age. I have retold it many times and perhaps added a little or lost some of the flavor. It could change some in 60 years. Basically, that is it as it was related that evening. O. Volkert.

Collaborators:
Richard C. Volkert
Otto A. Volkert

Grandma referred to William George as a whaler, fireman, and avid chess player. Chess player!! And imagine my shock when I came across this photo of William George at the piano. Paul John is on flute, Richard on violin, and Ferdinand on trumpet. When this hard-working whaler, fireman, and carpenter was not dying and going broke from diseases, he apparently "picked up" chess and piano.

This photo was taken in 1916, coincidentally the same year my beloved piano (The Volkert) would be manufactured in New York. Paul John Volkert, on flute, is referred to as PJV or "Daddy" in Grandma's family memoirs.

Charlotte Elizabeth Koehler, daughter of a clergyman, was born in Iowa. She had a hearing impairment, and according to Grandma, often withdrew into her memories. In later years, she moved in with Otto's family (that's Uncle Otto to Grandma), where she "whiled away hours and hours on her front porch without a stir of emotion or interest." Perhaps we're missing more information on Char (my nickname, not documented) simply because she was a woman. But it's also possible that her entire resume really was birthing 8 children, which is no small feat.

Let us now turn our attention to Friedrich William Friedrich and Elizabeth Hertwig. This is not the first time I've written of Friedrich William Friedrich of Gaylord, for he is the composer of the piece of sheet music called "Sympathy."

Friedrich W. Friedrich went by the name Bill, but I'll affectionately refer to him as FWF. Young FWF studied teaching in Addison, Illinois and at Concordia College in Twin Cities. He made his way to Gaylord, Minnesota, where he was hired to teach the school of a church led by Pastor Hertwig. There, he organized a singing group for the "young people" of the congregation, and in 1900, married Pastor Hertwig’s daughter, Elizabeth. He may or may not have been more interested in Elizabeth than singing; records do not clarify.

1900

Smiling on the inside

1934

Elizabeth and FWF would become Grandma's Opa & Oma

The First Evangelical Lutheran School in Glencoe, Minnesota began in 1884 with an enrollment of 32 students. The program grew so rapidly that just six years later, a small school house was built on the east side of the church for $595.50. German was the only language spoken in the school until Pastor Dreyer received permission to teach English 75 minutes per day in October of 1888. This progressive decision was withdrawn in January of 1889, but reinstated in October of 1891, this time with an allotment of 90 minutes per day. The school continued to grow, and when enrollment reached 110, FWF was "called upon." Once he accepted the position of parochial school principal, he was moved with wagons by members of the congregation to a rented house. From 1906 to 1918, he was the sole teacher of the school, and he continued to work there until his sudden death in 1941. He taught as many as 125 students a year, played the organ, directed choir and band, worked as a secretary and youth leader, and even tuned pianos for extra income.

This means that my less musical maternal great-grandfather "picked up piano" and my more musical maternal great-grandfather "picked up piano tuning."

1915

FWF as PSP

1922

In his big chair at his big desk

My (Great) Aunt Betty writes:

The Germanic Friedrich/Hertwig families migrated to this country in the mid 1800's and your great-great-grandfather F. William Friedrich (known colloquially by his second name, "Bill") lived in the midwestern U.S.A. from 1877 to 1941. He was a Lutheran teacher and principal as well as a church musician and is buried with his beloved wife--Elizabeth Hertwig Friedrich--in the town of his long employment, Glencoe, Minnesota. He loved church, music, and books; he had a whole room in the Glencoe house as his library. As a child, I would sit in his big chair at his big desk and marvel at how anybody could know so much! My mother (F. William's daughter Julia Clara Friedrich Volkert) told me that when she had completed her teacher certification course the first thing her father thought she should do was see the book salesman!

The church council would not approve funding for the purchase of a glockenspiel (perhaps glockenspiels are even more progressive than English), so he bought one himself.

2025

MY Opa

Wurlitzer Musical Instruments, Established 1856

Wurlitzer began using serial numbers in the middle of 1962. Unhelpful.

Elizabeth Hertwig attended the Ladies' Seminary in Red Wing, Minnesota, taught school, and worked in a drugstore before marrying FWF. I might remark, with admiration, that she was therefore a well-educated and working woman! They had six children: Julia, Eugenia (died as a baby), Eugene, William, and twins Edwin and Carl.

FWF founded and directed the Philharmonic Band of Glencoe.

1925

William, Carl, FWF, Edwin, Eugene

1937

FWF, Elizabeth, Julia, Eugene, William, Edwin, Carl

1941

Elizabeth, William, Julia, Carl, Eugene, Edwin, FWF

In 1997, Grandma's Uncle Carlie writes:

In thinking back to the good old days when this picture [above] was taken, I realize what a privilege it was to be brought up as the tail end of such a wonderful family! There was not only Mom and Dad - there was also Julia, who was more or less an assistant parent. And a very good one, too! But being children of a teacher or pastor had its social handicaps. While everyone else's kids could go to dances, the pastors' and teachers' kids could not. This hit Julia especially hard because she was a girl, and being the smartest girl in town was enough of a handicap for a girl socially as it was!

Specifically, of Grandma at age 13:

She apparently got tired of being a little snickelfritz and grew up in a hurry.

1965

You may recall Julia was a teacher; all four of her brothers became pastors!

1965

Four Lutheran Missouri Synod Pastors Friedrich

1934

Elizabeth, FWF, William, Eugene, Carl, Edwin, Betty, Julia, Ruth, PJV

The bottom right corner of the photo above gives away the next part of our story. Paul John Volkert and Julia Clara Friedrich Volkert would become "Daddy," and "Mother" to Grandma. And Grandma comes with (Great) Aunt Betty and (Great) Aunt Carol, doesn't she? They're The Volkert Sisters.

1934

PJV, Ruth, Julia, Carol, Betty, Eddie, Elizabeth, FWF, Carl, Eugene, William

Look at how incredibly adorable Julia and PJV are. I'd watch a silent film starring these two (while attempting to play a Wurlitzer organ), given a chance!

1917

Julia

1924

PJV

1924

Happy Ending

1927

Baby Ruth

1926

Mother Julia, Ruth

1927

Opa FWF, Ruth

1928

Daddy PJV, Ruth, Mother Julia

1933

Christmas Card: Ruth, Carol, Betty

1942

Mother, Daddy, & The Volkert Sisters

1946

Betty Sings, Carol Dances, and Ruth Plays the Piano

Paul John went to Italy to play the flute for the army in WWI.

In 1978, Julia writes:

My dear Family, - When I wrote to Mary, to tell her a few of the things I remembered about Ruth and Bill's wedding, I got the idea that you all - especially Carol and Julie - would also like to read about OUR DEPRESSION BABY. I know that Carol was interested to hear about some of the things we talked about when we were together. First of all - Carol was expected sometime early in January (according to Dr. Froehlich's estimates.)

She decided that she wanted to celebrate Christmas with us - which really upset a lot of plans. Ruth and Betty were to stay with Mother and Dad in Glencoe - while I was in the hospital. Dad was in the midst of getting ready for his Christmas program - so was a bit busy. But, Dad did drive down to pick up the two little ones - after Christmas and after the Christmas program in IMMANUEL.

Immanuel was a Lutheran School

Dr. Froehlich was a new doctor to me - he was very much different from the gynecologist I had had. Making the change was sort of traumatic - but it was really an important step - as you will hear later in the story. One of the ladies in the ward (nine beds) told me, "Your doctor looks less like a doctor than any one I have ever seen." Quite a change from the suave Dr. Hilpert I had had before. At the moment I don't really know how nor why the change had been made.
He had given me strong sedatives several times before. So, when I felt uncomfortable in the evening of December 22, - I took one of the pills and went to bed. Carol was more determined than one pill - so dutifully I went to the hospital. Ella took over at 1718. Dr. Froehlich put me into a PRIVATE ROOM until after Christmas - so the children could visit me (which they did) Carol came sometime before seven in the morning on Dec. 23.
As I remember it Paul was able to bring Betty and Ruth only the one time. Betty climbed right into bed with me (boots and all) Ruth was more sophisticated! So, cheers for Dr. F. We had some of Christmas together.
I had my full ten days in the hospital - and truly enjoyed the vacation to the fullest. It was to be the only time for many years that I didn't think out THREE FULL MEALS A DAY for a long time.
Dr. Froehlich charged twenty-five dollars for a CONFINEMENT CASE. That included everything (including the care of the baby.) The entire hospital bill - also including the care of the baby was fifty dollars. Dr. Froehlich must not have cashed the check soon enough - because the banks closed and the check he got for all his work was no good. Our bank never reopened - so we paid for Carol twice. Carol, you are and were worth it.

In 1984, Grandma Ruth writes of her mother:

My mother was an enigma, a complex person with a multi-faceted personality. She was extremely competitive, and she was a person ahead of her time.
Mother was the only girl in her family to survive early childhood; she had four brothers. Depending upon who describes the situation, she was either very spoiled or had to work extremely hard. She lived in a society in which men were educated so they could become breadwinners; women were expected to marry, to take care of the home, and to raise children.
Against such a backdrop, my mother accomplished four years of high school in three and was graduated as valedictorian. She was therefore eligible for several scholarships at highly-touted liberal arts colleges in the Twin City area. Yet, in keeping with what was expected of her, she became a teacher after minimal training in a local normal school.
Her brief career took her to several different rural schools in McLeod County, and the school boards from all of them requested her services when she resigned to marry my father, Paul John Volkert of Minneapolis. (The Volkerts and the Friedrichs had been friends for years, and my father's earliest recollection of my mother was pushing her in her baby buggy, he an energetic youth of seven at the time.)
My mother was a devoted wife and affectionate mother. She was clever in clothing design and skilled in execution of her ideas. She could stretch a dollar way beyond any expected elasticity, and everything she did, she did with style and class.
I remember back in the Thirties the conservative people of our social set decorated their living rooms in shades of beige. Not my mother! She used wallpaper of variegated pink stripes with a Burgundy carpet. How I enjoyed the gasps of surprise and admiration whenever anyone came into our home. I was so proud of her!
She put pink with purple, red with pink, blue with green - all considered no-no according to the rules of the day.
Mother was an able hostess, and we frequently had people from various parts of Minnesota as guests at our table. Her brothers, all clergymen, often came with their friends as functions of their office required their attendance at near-by Concordia.
Mother saw to it that each of her three daughters learned some music. Her urging produced a piano player, a soprano, and a dancer, who performed in various combinations both in the home and beyond.

Mother believed firmly in a woman's being a stable anchor to the household, so she remained at home until her children left; she busied herself with projects and organizational activities.
After all three girls were married, she went to work as a hostess in Dayton's tearoom. From there she viewed the world from a broader perspective than she had known as a homemaker. She and my father enjoyed some fine trips -- to South America, to Europe, and a cruise aboard the Delta Queen among them.
My father died in 1970, when she was sixty-nine. She stayed in the family home for a year and then became a mistress of the manse for her brother William, who had accepted a call to Tampa, Florida, a few years before. She sold the house in Minneapolis and invested her capital in a condominium unit in New Port Richey, which she rented until Uncle Willie retired. There they enjoyed some good years, each supplying what the other needed.
After gradual decline, Mother suffered a massive stroke in August of 1984. We laid her to rest with her husband at Fort Snelling on the morning of December 24 -- on time for her to join the angel chorus in their great Gloria! of Christmas.

Dad Tommy thinks Julia bought a Rudolph Henry Wurlitzer violin, and eventually gave it to her baby girl Carol. (Great) Aunt Carol did, indeed, play it; her son Paul remembers. The weird thing is that this entire post is being written because my baby girl Millicent has taken an interest in the violin, and I intend to practice a little bit alongside her. As luck would have it, I'm getting that violin. This Wurlitzer (a violin), which is the second Wurlitzer of this post (the first being my glockenspiel Opa), is named after the Friedrich (Julia) who's the second Friedrich of this post (the first being FWF).

1940

Baby Girl

2024

Baby Girl

Mill-Mill's very first violin assignment

I'd love to tell you more about (Great) Aunt Carol the dancer, but I actually know a little more about her big sister, my Grandma the pianist. Out of necessity, I've first covered the men and their careers thus far, and I shall continue to do so for consistency's sake. Check out this handsome fellow.

1941

AWK

Albert William Kratzke, known as Bill (but I'll affectionately refer to him as AWK), was the eldest of three brothers [Robert Frank (1927-2016), Paul Theodore Martin (1936-2017)] born to Reverend Albert Carl Kratzke and his first wife Hulda Sophie Wilhelmina Hoefener. A baby girl, Evelyn May, was born between Albert William and Robert Frank, but she did not survive infancy.

1922

Albert Carl & Hulda

1939

AWK, Paul, Hulda, Bob, Albert

Before I continue prattling on about AWK, I must interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to meander down the paternal line. Albert Carl, AWK's father, was the eighth of nine children born to Albert Julius Kratzke (1862-1943) and Maria Frederidcka Koschnick Schligal (1858-1943). This delicate-featured mustachioed control freak and his handsome wife were born in Northern Germany and married in 1885.

1890

Albert Julius & Maria

1911, After Johanna and Marie passed

Albert Julius & Maria's nine children were:

Rudolph Siegmann Kratzke (1886-1942)

Reinhold Julius Kratzke (1888-1929)

Gustav F. Kratzke (1890-1980)

Anna Elizabeth Kratzke (1892-1980)

Johanna Bertha Kratzke (1893-1910)

Elsa Wilhelmina Kratzke (1895-1993)

Marie Ernestina Kratzke (1896-1897)

Albert Carl Kratzke (1898-1981)

Emma Marie Kratzke (1900-2000)

The Franco-Prussian War lasted from July of 1870 to January of 1871, at which time Germany continued to have a draft. Albert Julius dodged the draft by sailing to Baltimore, arriving in 1886, carrying a violin. Maria was carrying baby Rudolph, who was born on the ship. Albert would later become a brick maker.

Maria's first husband, Mr. Schligal, drowned himself in an attempt to drive his horses through a river. There was a custom in Europe concerning the purification of animals in water on Easter morning, and God works in mysterious ways. Maria was pregnant with their son Otto at the time. Otto was raised by Maria's mother (last name Koschnick) and her second husband Gustav Drews. The children in the photo above were therefore half siblings of Otto Drews, and they only learned of his existence when he contacted them in the late 1950s.

Maria was forbidden by Albert Julius to speak of her first marriage or her son, and she was never permitted to see her mother or baby. She was also forbidden to speak or write in English, or even let anybody know she could! At one time, Maria had put a note in a laundry basket, and when one of her daughters was surprised to learn that her mother could read and write, Maria became very upset. "Don't let Pa know I did that." Needless to say, Mr. Schligal entering the Darwin Awards must have made slim pickings for Maria and little Otto. But here's the point: remember the violin Albert Julius carried to the US? That violin got restored for $4K at Foxes Music Company in Falls Church, VA in 2009 as a graduation present for my little brother Thal. Thal, to my delight, is still very attached to it.

2025, Albert Julius

Repaired 1893

Crack Repair

Back to AWK, son of Reverend Albert Carl Kratzke and his first wife Hulda Sophie Wilhelmina Hoefener. AWK was born in Wolseley, Saskatchewan and moved to NW Minnesota in 1926, right before his little American brother Bob was born. He was extremely smart and skipped two grades. In 1940, he attended Washington University in St. Louis, but would soon become a sergeant and tank commander as part of the 14th Armored Division in WWII.

After the war, he studied at the University of Minnesota, where he met Ruth Volkert Kratzke. The two of them would be married for 68 years. Their five children are William Paul, Mary Elisabeth, Thomas Martin, Stephen John, and Peter James.

1943

This snickelfritz played glockenspiel in her high school marching band.

1958

Ruth Pauline Volkert Kratzke

1965

Albert William Kratzke

Consider this a review; we know these people now!

1950

Four Generations: PJV, Charlotte, Ruth, William

1952

Four Generations: Julia, Elizabeth, Ruth, Mary, William

1956

William, Mary, Thomas

After WWII, Grandpa AWK played semi-pro Sunday Baseball and was one of his team's only two paid players. He earned his Ph.D. in Mathematics from Oregon State College, and became a published mathematician who was employed at Boeing for 37 years.

1957

Ruth, AWK

1957

1961

Thomas, Mary, Stephen, Ruth, AWK, William, Peter

1969

William, Peter, Mary, Stephen, Thomas

Ruth, AWK

Grandma RVK graduated as class valedictorian at Immanuel Lutheran School in Minneapolis, attended North High school, and earned her BA majoring in piano (theory/composition) with a minor in German at the University of Minnesota. She studied piano with Baroque expert Donald Ferguson. RVK went on with a Master of Arts in Music Theory from the University of Washington in 1971 with the thesis, "Samuel Scheidt's "Geistliche Concerten, Volume I (1631): A Study in Backgrounds and Techniques." In 1988, she earned a degree in Biblical Studies from the Lutheran Biblical Institute, which is now called Trinity Lutheran College.

When playing the organ for the Lutheran organization Gamma Delta, she met AWK, a returning war veteran. This was a pairing of two attractive, academically ambitious, devout Lutherans of German ancestry. What other boxes were there to check?

The lovebirds eventually settled in Bellevue, WA, where RVK became the choir director for Christ the King Lutheran Church. She was a choir director, organist, formed a handbell choir, and worked as a ballet pianist and administrative secretary for the music department at Oregon State University. But it didn't end there - she gave lectures of various religious and musical topics, and her resume even advertised typist skills with a computer "in home."

When I graduated from high school in 2000, Grandma and Grandpa took me to Potter Violins in MD and bought me a 2000 Illner Riedl Speczial-Cellobau cello made in Bubenreuth Germany. It is currently being played by Drakeson, who is my size and finishing 6th grade at West Ridge Middle. To continue what we've started, we could name it The Kratzke. "But what about the Quintic Kratzke (Thal) Kratzke (Tommy) Kratzke (Albert William) Kratzke (Albert Carl) Kratzke (Albert Julius) violin?" I hear you ask! Well, that violin is for Thal to name, but "Albert Julius" sounds pretty to me.

2025

The Kratzke in its Original case

2025

Turret of Snake Mountain

2025

Illner Riedl Speczial-Cellobau

In 2011, I inherited my grandmother's piano, The Volkert, and had it rebuilt at Mollberg Piano Restoration in Blanco, TX. Some sleuthing will reveal that it was acquired around 1960 and refinished in matte black in the 1980s.

1950

Grandma & Grandpa's 3rd House

"And please keep the fingers curved and nice and high as you possibly can"

1955

Grandma & Grandpa's 7th House

1959

Grandma & Grandpa's 10th House

(My dad is so cute)

1961

Grandma & Grandpa's 10th House

1963

Billy, Grandma & Grandpa's 10th House

1984

Grandma & Grandpa's 10th House (Later Years)

2003

Grandma & Grandpa's 11th House

2011

L&G's 1st House Castle Grayskull

2024

L&G's 2nd House Snake Mountain

As previously mentioned, my dad Tommy has four siblings.

William Paul writes:

My Musical Instruments

The first instrument I played was an upright Kimball piano, the origins of which I’m not sure anyone knows. Our mother also gave me (along with Mary and Tom) a good dose of music theory. That was a good thing because my prowess at the piano never really rose beyond the first Bach two-part invention. Put the point this way: I thought that the Hans Conried movie The 5000 Fingers of Dr. T was a great movie. If you know, the saying goes, you know.
I had (and still have) a very mediocre sense of rhythm. When Mary and I were still quite young, mother would have us march around the living room to some piece of music that she played on the piano. This exercise affected my choice of instrument, if in a negative way: I was never going to play a drum. Mother, I later learned, apparently agreed. Once, there was a PTA-type event in which my class did some square dancing. When asked in which group her son was dancing, mother pointed to a group of other kids. Heavy sigh.
From one dead end to another I plodded. At Phantom Lake Elementary, Mr. Eickhoff, the school’s band director, was given some time in our class to generate interest in music. He played a flute, which I liked well enough to choose as my instrument. In the way of our family’s practice, the folks purchased a used Argonaut from a music store in Renton. I played it in the school band through the 12th grade, missing one year because of a class scheduling conflict. I also picked up the piccolo. As with the piano, I was rather mediocre at both instruments ("Stars and Stripes Forever" was too much for me), so it was no great loss to the planet when my flute was part of a three-instrument transaction in which Steve wound up with a fine trumpet.
All was not lost. During the time we lived in "Mr. Kraft’s House," mother was without a piano. To tide her over, Dad bought her a cheap guitar at Sears, and she learned to play chords for singalongs. Although the result was a step down from her abilities with the piano—she did not keep her fingers high, which deadened the sound—I was intrigued. Soon enough, I was learning chords on my own from a Mel Bay chord book without much prompting from anyone. Finally, I’d found my instrument I truly liked, not to mention one with which I could hold my own.
At some random point along my journey, I heard a recording of a classical guitar. I loved its sound. As a present, the folks gave me a Tatay classical guitar as well as some lessons from Calvin Crist, one of mother’s old classmates. I played the instrument through college, where my music theory instruction served me well. I performed quite a lot on Sunday mornings at the University of Washington’s Lutheran Campus Center and generally kept the Tatay nearby. For me, this level of competence was uncharted territory. A case in point: mother once chastened me that the use of a capo (a clamp-like device to limit the effective length of the strings) was somehow "cheating." I disagreed (mother may be forgiven because she was unfamiliar with the inherent limitations of the guitar), but I shrugged my shoulders and learned to transpose from one key to another without a capo. I felt good all around.
In the end, my beloved Tatay guitar was stolen in Dayton, Ohio, when I drove cross country to study at Georgetown. I’ve always had an economic mindset in observing how people’s values are revealed in what they do, not what they say. Suffice it to say here that I purchased (and still have) an instrument that is not nearly as good as the Tatay—a Garcia 2 that I purchased at The Guitar Shop on Dupont Circle. My choice proved the profit: today, I’m afraid I have let things lapse, and I feel like a rank beginner whenever I pick up the instrument.
Now that I’m retired, who knows what lies ahead? At the least, I have my voice, which I discovered during college. I’d sometimes come home for a weekend, and, mother would place a single piece of sheet music on the music rack of the (by now) grand piano (a.k.a. "The Volkert"). I was given a choice: learn the tenor part of the following day’s anthem or do the dishes. I hated doing the dishes. So, the next thing I knew, I was standing next to Don Schelp. To my amazement, I found I could do the job. I’d enough of an ear that I could hear intervals, my limited knowledge of music theory again proving useful. Who knew?
Starting with my epiphany alongside Don Schelp, my voice has served me well. As I’ve moved from city to city, joining whatever church choir has been an easy social entree, whether in Olympia, Washington, D.C., Memphis, or Moscow. Most notably, I was asked in Memphis to audition for the Rhodes Mastersingers. I was selected, and, for about ten years, I performed in about two concerts per year. The highlights for me were Handel’s Israel in Egypt and Bach’s B-minor Mass, which were accompanied by the Memphis Symphony. To all of it, I can only say that when a concert day approached, we’d often hear about "musicians and singers." Our choir director, who himself sang for several years in the Robert Shaw Chorale, absolutely hated that (artificial) distinction.
I can’t imagine why.

Mary Elisabeth writes:

Miscellaneous memories – childhood music and dance

Band/orchestra

Elementary school

Started in 4th grade even though we were supposed to start in 5th grade.
Most likely Mom and Dad had something to do with this. Bill was in 6th grade at the time. So, we were both in the elementary school band. Practices were before school started.
I do not believe I “chose” to play percussion. I recall Mom thought I had good rhythm, so she thought this would be a good choice for me.

High School

Marching band –

Marching band – drum cadences were played when no music was being played, so percussion players played all the time. I still remember the main cadence we played. (Would you like to hear it?) I played the field drum (which is a snare drum for marching.) It banged against my right front thigh when marching.
In addition to football games, we marched in parades. For parades we practiced in the neighborhoods. That must have been interesting for the neighbors.
Crossing the border to Canada was not nearly as tricky as it is now. For the Victoria Day parade we were housed in host family homes. One year, my roommate (Jan Davis) and I stayed with a lovely older couple. At breakfast, the husband was complaining to his wife about something or another – and said something like “those bloody whatever” and the wife quickly reprimanded him for saying “bloody whatever” in front of the girls. Pretty racy.
Always when marching in uniform, all hair had to be under the shako.

Pep band for basketball games

I was never good at the “trap set” as we called it then. (Today is identified as a drum kit.) I did have to play sometimes, but I’m sure it was painful.
I was in the pit Orchestra for musicals (South Pacific, King and I)

Fort Flagler summer camp

I’m not certain which summer I attended. Probably around 1964 -1965 ish since that’s when I quit taking ballet lessons. Most likely, Dad and Mom – i.e. Mom wanted me to continue with dance, so Fort Flagler was offered.
When I learned that music was also available, I chose music over dance.
I played under Vilem Sokol - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vilem_Sokol
Seattle Youth symphony Orchestra summer music camp was at Fort Flagler from 1958 – 1989. Then it moved to Fort Warden in 1990 and changed to Marrowstone Music Festival. Later it was moved to Western Washington University.
We played music in the morning, afternoon and evenings – lots of music.
I never auditioned for the Seattle Youth Symphony Orchestra or one of the lessor SYSOs. Most likely Dad and Mom were not keen on driving to Seattle for rehearsals. I remember Dad and Mom spoke with Vilem Sokol when they picked me up from camp. I’m sure he was recruiting.

College – PLU

I was in the concert band, a cheer leader and a member of the synchronized swim team while attending PLU.

Concert band included tour. One tour was east to Montana. We wore black formal dresses for band concerts..

College – Univ of Washington

I transferred to U of W before my Jr. year. I had hopes of marching in the Rose Bowl.
I had to audition for marching band in June. I was accepted as a tenor drum player which, in my mind, was not as prestigious as field drum, but I was in the band. It did mean I had to twirl my mallets (which were on leather cords) a lot while I played.
After acceptance, I had to attend band preseason in late August. Our first game was September 11th, and we had to be ready. I stayed on campus in dorm room.
Most of the other bandsmen/women were off campus since they were mostly upper classmen (as was I, but since I was a transfer, I didn’t have an established group of friends to live with and besides, do you really think Dad and Mom were going to let me live off campus?)
It was rather lonely in the dorm room. I survived on Metrecal. (uck – it was almost better to skip meals than to have Metrecal. Check out https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metrecal).
Practices were intense and fun. I played under Bill Bissell.
https://www.nytimes.com/2001/12/24/obituaries/bill-bissel-70-chief-of-university-band.html
https://wmea.org/hall-of-fame-william-e-bissell/
The Band Shack was a building next to the practice field. In addition to housing instruments and offices, it had a viewing room with a large projector and a room with a large table (more like a large piece of plywood on blocks) to map out formations. This was before computers, so the creation of formations was much more analog.
We usually practiced on the practice field (rather than the football field.) We would always practice on the football field at least once before a game. The practice field was frequently muddy.
The Monday after a game, we would watch game tapes and Bill Bissell would critique our performance. You never want to have made a mistake, because it would be very public during Monday’s viewings and discussions.
I traveled to Eugene and I think Berkeley for away games. After any game we would compare both band halftime shows. We might lose a game, but win the halftime show.
This was the era of Sonny Sixkiller. We really thought we were on our way to a Rose Bowl. We had badges of a husky in a band uniform carrying a Rose. We had a huge rally before the Stanford game (which we unfortunately lost.)
https://americanfootballdatabase.fandom.com/wiki/1971_Washington_Huskies_football_team
When we entered the field for our halftime show, the announcer would say “Ladies and Gentlemen, presenting the University of Washington Husky Marching Band, pride of the Pacific Northwest”
When we won a game, we would wear our shakos backwards as we left the stadium.

College – UCLA

After I transferred to UCLA, I learned that the marching band did not accept females. (Huh?? This was a bit of a different day and age, but still…..) I later learned that in 1972, seven women were actually admitted to the band.
I played in the concert band under the direction of Clarence Sawhill.
UCLA was my final organized college music experience.

Dance

Elementary school

I began taking ballet lessons in the fall of 1958, so about 9 months after moving to 222. We moved in December 1957. Steve was born in February 1958. So, Mom began being an accompanist for Eve Green in about September of 1958. I don’t know if Mom was an accompanist first or if I was signed up for ballet lessons first and then Mom saw an opportunity to be an accompanist. I believe it was the latter.
I’m sure Mom’s compensation included my lessons.
We started at the Lake Hills Community Center which was a building across the street from where Samena Club is now located.
We had lessons on Saturday mornings. My first recital was in the Lake Hills Community Center.
An aside - Remember, Dad helped canvas going door to door to get the public pool built. He was one of the 250 charter members. I believe the carter members were assigned numbers in alphabetical order. Our number was 131. The land was donated to the community by Lake Hill’s developers. The pool opened in 1958. At some point, the upstairs club house was added. My dance lessons were moved to the Samena upstairs clubhouse.
About the second year of my lessons, I was used for Eve Green’s advertisements. The pictures were black and white, of course. I thought I looked better in one particular picture, but it was not the one used in the advertisement because a different picture had better feet positioning.
Initially, there were many little girls my age taking dance lessons. It was sort of the thing to do. Sports for little girls was not what it is now. As I got older, the attrition rate increased.
In 1962, I was dancing with a high schooler. She (Carol Lincoln) and I were featured in a duet. The theme of the recital involved different counties. Carol and I were in the final number before the finale and our country was France. Our costumes were blue tutus.
1964 was my final year for ballet lessons at Samea Club house. I was in junior high (7th grade), so I was mortified to be associated with little girls taking dance lessons. Also, by then, Dad and Mom must have realized I was never going to be a prima ballerina.
I did get to go out on top. The final group number before the finale was the number with my class. At the end of our piece, my fellow classmates circled me and went down as I went up and did some steps. It was very dramatic (for a 7th grader.)
Was you know, Grandpa Kratzke (Albert Carl Kratzke) was a Missouri Synod pastor. Dancing was definitely frowned upon. Dad would pick Grandma Kratzke up to attend my dance (ballet) recitals. Grandpa Kratzke did not attend.

Dancing in the living room

When Mom cleaned up after dinner, she always put a record on the stereo. I used to choreograph and dance in the living room while Mom was in the kitchen. I would move the coffee table up against the couch to have more room. I thought I was being very quiet, but Mom most likely knew I was dancing in the living room.

High School

In high school, I wanted to take modern dance. In my senior year of high school, I had enough credits that I could take a non-academic class. I don’t remember having to beg Dad and Mom, but I’m sure they would have preferred I take more Latin (I took both German and Latin) or math (I was a year ahead but then didn’t take math in my senior year). But I did get to take Modern Dance. I loved it. I did solo in the final recital. (Music was Yankee Doodle Dandy. Choreographed by me.) I also danced in and choreographed a trio number. (Butcher, baker, candlestick maker)

College – PLU

I tried out and was voted in to be a cheerleader at PLU. I remember Mom telling Dad, after all the dance lessons, I wind up being a cheerleader. She made it sound apologetic, but I was thrilled.
I had a great time. I was the tallest of the cheerleaders, so I was always either in the middle of a formation or on an end.

College – University of Washington

I transferred to U W before my junior year to be in the marching band.
I also took a ballet class through the University. The instructor was none other than Eve Green from my childhood.
Eve was featured in a UW Showcase – a century of excellence publication.
During my time at UW, dance and music again had a little intersection. My dance class was held at a ballroom in the Roosevelt Hotel north and a bit west of campus. Marching band was held at the band shack south and east of campus near the fields. I had them scheduled back to back (with a clothes change after ballet.) I used to fly on by bike down the hills to the band shack. One part of the ride was pretty steep (going downhill). There were a few near accidents. (And this was before helmets.)

1960

1964, Mary's Final Ballet Recital

1967, Mary on Left Row

1970

1971

1971, We Won This Game-Shakos on Backwards

Thomas Martin, Retired Mathematical Programmer, Father and Grandfather of Three writes:

The Violin has Always been Special to Me

I started playing a ¾ violin in the fifth grade, eventually moving up to a full-sized family violin that goes back at least to my dad’s dad’s dad. I imagine that the 9-year-old me was probably eager to please, and it was apparent that choosing the violin would do the trick. Each of my siblings played something in 5th grade after we played the recorder in the 4th grade so it wasn’t really a matter of “whether we’d play something,” but rather “what we would play.”

I was pretty average or slightly below average for most of my time with the violin. In ninth and early tenth grade, my parents signed me up for private lessons. Looking back, I admire how much effort my mother put into driving me all the way to Kirkland for those lessons. It must have been frustrating to her that I didn’t practice enough to really give the instrument a fair chance. Maybe I simply had no talent. I tried wrestling in 10th grade (112 lb weight class) and that didn’t help. I wasn’t very good at that either and it disrupted the family routine and was not popular at home. Finally, my exhausted mother said, “If you drop wrestling, we’ll drop the violin lessons.” I agreed.

Still, I stayed in the school orchestra. Along the way, I took part in a few judged events. I did better than I expected, but all that did was make me skeptical about the judging. I think I was in a quartet as well, but I don’t remember performing; only that we had some practices.

In high school, I played in three musicals. These were tough parts and tough key signatures. I could only manage about 75% of the notes, even in the second violin part, which was supposed to be easier. Still, being part of those shows was fun because it was exciting, and I enjoyed playing the notes that I could play. Now, when I look at young people at a concert, I wonder if they understand how soon their days of performing may very well be over. I’d like to tell them that they should appreciate the fun and excitement of being part of a musical event, and how hard it will be to have that experience in a few short months.

I got a chuckle once when my daughter was in the pit at a high school musical. During intermission, I was walking around the pit and saw that a violin player had written on their music “Physically impossible; don’t even try!” Ah yes, I remember that feeling.

I also joined the combined high school production of Handel’s *Messiah* a couple of times. My most vivid memory was when the chorus came in at our first practice with them. I was shocked. We had practiced the string parts of course, but I never imagined what it would be like with the vocal section. I might not have even understood that there would BE a vocal section. One curious memory that I have is that “He Shall Feed His Flock” was so slow that my left shoulder ached from holding my violin for so long. Also, there’s a very dramatic rest near the end of the Hallelujah Chorus. Since nobody could hear me anyway, I quit playing a measure before the rest and didn’t come in until everyone else was playing again. Better safe than sorry.

In my junior year, our string section went on a trip to Reno for a jazz festival, although I don’t think we were that jazzy. Watching our soloist, a viola player who played a relatively simple solo, was quite memorable. She played very nicely, but I admired her more for her poise and I envied her seeming complete lack of nervousness.

Socially, I got along well with the other string players, most of whom were girls. There weren’t any crushes or romantic interests, and I felt very comfortable with my fellow string players. One girl from Interlake High School joined us, and even though she played second violin behind me, I thought she was the best player in our section by far. She had views on current events and school events, and she wasn’t afraid to express them, and that made our teacher bristle at least once. I did enjoy being around this very outgoing girl, as well as her ready smile adorned with braces. I think that because she had red hair, my mother liked her and used to tease me about her. I didn’t mind at all.

Another girl was in the string section with me for my entire 5th through 12th-grade violin-playing days. As a violin player, she was in a different league by the time we were in 7th grade. But she was pleasant, not snobby, and she also had plenty of personality; I remember her whispering and laughing with her stand partner.

After high school, I emphatically put the violin down and didn’t touch it again for twenty years. Then my 9-year-old daughter brought home a ½-size violin, and I opened my own violin case. Doing so brought back all kinds of memories, the smell, the green felt of the case, even the cake of rosin; all patiently waiting for me. For a while, I played again. It is said that Thomas Jefferson played 2 hours per day, and I got up to that. I joined a “re-entering orchestra.” I gained some confidence and even bought a heavy mute and practiced in hotel rooms on business trips. Alas (or not), kids and jobs choked out that interest, or perhaps that’s just an explanation of an interest that ran its course. Or I found something more interesting.

My son played the same instrument (his dad’s dad’s dad’s dad’s) in high school, and he got to be somewhat better than I was. He has the violin now and seems to be attached to it. I hope he gets it out if only to play a scale or two every day. He’s shown an interest in fiddle music and it would be nice if he got interested in something related to the violin.
I am very grateful to my daughter for asking me to put into words my experiences with the violin. I try to conceal my glee when my 9-year-old granddaughter plays her ½-size violin and I hope she develops an interest in it. My right-hand tremor prevents me from picking up a bow, but I live with my daughter and her performing family, and I’m happy to have the violin background that allows me to understand some of the experiences that they go through.

Stephen John, husband, father, and possibly the second worst person in the world, writes:

The Trumpet and My Correlating Shortcomings: A Remembrance

By Uncle Steve

To give an accurate account of my trumpet-playing past, I must start with the role music played in our family growing up. As part of having a balanced life (at least that was how it was pitched to us), we were expected to attend church and Sunday School, take our studies seriously, get plenty of exercise, and learn to play the piano (mostly, I recall, so we could read music) before choosing an instrument to play, which occurred during the fifth grade.
When it came to choosing an instrument, I remember boys gravitating to the trumpet, and since no sibling before me had chosen the trumpet, the trumpet became a logical choice.
The trumpet was to be my mouthpiece into this world of structured music. (Ah nice, a ‘dad joke’.)
Please remember that when I was young, music played a larger role in the elementary school curriculum. During this first year of organized band (I use the term “band” loosely in that only a parent could enjoy the sound that was coming from a bunch of untrained fifth graders), everyone rented an instrument. There were (easily) 20 kids playing the trumpet, same with the flute and the clarinet.
At this point, I was no better or worse than any of the other kids, except that I could already read music.
Now, between the fifth and sixth grades, a couple of things happened: 1) mom and dad had me attend summer school to further my trumpet-playing acumen; and 2) kids were no longer required to play in the band – and accordingly, most didn’t. So, when I returned to school for the sixth grade, there were only four kids left playing the horn and I had easily ascended to 1st chair. (In truth, I was probably the only kid that had even picked up a horn since the end of the previous school year.)
Anyway, mom and dad mistook this ascension as potential, so it was time to turn in the rental and buy a horn that I would call my own: A Getzen Capri silver trumpet. (Side note: this is the only trumpet I have ever owned and – although it is buried with other relics in the garage – I still have it today.)
Over the next forty years, I garnered more than a few observations and ‘takeaways’ from playing the trumpet. Some of these takeaways have been ephemeral, while others have had lasting impacts on me. Here are some of these observations in no particular order:

I have always enjoyed music, and at the same time, thoroughly understood just how hard it is to actually produce good music;
Music in our family was important, especially to mom. I remember playing for the varsity basketball team in Jr High School – and having to leave in the middle of a game to make it to a private trumpet lesson. (Let me tell you, that will help build character ...) By the way, my teacher was Fred Radke, who was first chair of the Harry James Band, and a genuinely gifted trumpet player;
Because of what the trumpet can (both) represent and produce, I was called on to play in public far more than any of my siblings. You see, trumpets naturally go with a lot – and I mean a lot – of things mom orchestrated (Christmas services, Easter services, Weddings, celebrations, etc.);
Expectations relating to me playing at/for events were ever-present and carried over well into adulthood – and (even) married life. My wife Myla had no idea what she signed up for when we married, which included being called on to participate on many occasions playing the piano, bells, percussion, and singing. It should also be noted that Myla possesses real musical talent, which mom was more than happy to tap into. In the end, I’m truly fortunate to have a partner that loves music – and grateful she always chose to roll with it when it came to playing in the ‘family orchestra’;
Trumpets are loud – and they produce a sound that is hard to hide from; ergo, playing in front of others always came with trepidation; there are times even today that I recall having missed a single note when playing in public (years ago) – and it still haunts me;
There was a sequence I went through (every time) I played the trumpet in public – and it went something like this: fear begat adrenaline, which begat a muted, internal astonishment when the first note came from my horn, which in turn begat either pride or anguish (depending on the result of the performance). Playing the trumpet in public – and usually as a soloist – is not for the faint of heart;
Regardless of how many private lessons I took, I would never be a great musician. I could – and can – read and play music (often pretty well) ... but I’ve never been able to create music; in other words, I was often good (enough) at playing notes; ad-libbing was always a completely different story;
For the most part, I have few issues when it comes to public speaking, which has led (in part) to having a rather lucrative business career ... and I suppose I owe that lack of fear to having played the trumpet so often in front of live audiences;
Having a trumpet meant having a trumpet case, which meant always having your own personal safety deposit box. Additionally, a trumpet case made an easy-to-use portable chair when waiting for the bus;
I may not ever be a renaissance man – but I am surely more well-rounded for having played the trumpet ... and for that, I have a true appreciation.

5.20.2025

Steve & Myla

Steve & his Getzen Capri

Retired college teacher, would-be ski bum, and general handyman Peter James writes:

Me and My Leblanc Clarinet

My history—better: relationship—with the clarinet is woven through three elements of our Boomer family culture. The first involved offsetting parameters: although we were required to play an instrument, at least we could choose which one. Second, once we had selected our instrument, we were provided a beginner model until we had demonstrated an unspecified level of commitment, at which point we could upgrade. Third, we were required to practice for 30 minutes before heading off to school, bus schedule or no bus schedule. What to say of the interval but that everyone on the planet will admit that 30 minutes of unblinking concentration can feel like an eternity.
For my part, I chose the clarinet; like magic, a starter Bundy was soon in my hands. When a kid is in elementary school, the reasoning behind any decision is fuzzy. My brother Steve played the trumpet, and I, undersized at that age, preferred the smaller carrying case of the “licorice stick.” Perhaps I should have considered the continual chore of assembling a clarinet’s parts or the difficulty of finding a reed that worked, but so it goes. Who knows what would have happened had I chosen, say, the French horn? Probably, it would not have mattered. “Two roads diverged . . . ,” Robert Frost wrote, but his less-quoted ensuing line is the point: the roads turn out to be “really about the same.”

Through junior high, my progress was slow but steady. As an ounce of help, my parents drove me to downtown Bellevue once a week to take lessons with a man named Joe Adams. Once a leader of a big band, Mr. Adams would sit next to me in his closet-sized studio in the basement of Bruce Ford Music. During those sessions of what I recognize now must have been excruciating to him, he undoubtedly thought, “My career has been reduced to this.” Somehow, though, I got proficient enough that my parents decided I could benefit from a new instrument. We went upstairs and chose a Leblanc, which I thought was cool because it was not the more- common Buffet. Again, what goes through the mind of an adolescent is inscrutable.
In high school, I faced another choice: join the marching band or jazz ensemble. Blowing into a clarinet while walking in rhythm seemed to me a prospect that could only end in humiliation, so I opted for jazz because I could sit in a chair. There was one problem, though: clarinets are not integral to the idiom. So, my parents purchased me an alto sax, and I set out to learn it. For some reason, I readily took to the sax, and I also managed to negotiate the flute (the fingerings with the sax are largely the same). The band went on trips and competed, but, as ever, I achieved middle-of-the-pack competency. From high school to Pacific Lutheran University, I found myself assigned a one-credit tutorial with the orchestra director of the school’s top-flight music program. Suffice it to say that he was unimpressed with my ability, but his verdict also meant that my musical ambitions suddenly vanished. I felt relieved, almost freed. Still, I kept the horn with me as a kind of talisman, even carrying it around with me in my VW. Once, when I was parked in downtown Seattle, a thief broke into my car. My clarinet lay next to a tennis can full of pennies. The thief stole the coins but left the Leblanc, to which a friend remarked, “Thank goodness for stupid crooks.”
At whatever point in my journey, I sold my sax and flute. Getting rid of stuff, after all, is also part of our family culture. My clarinet, though, has remained with me—or, perhaps, I simply value it more than the market price for vintage horns. For sure, it has come in handy. I played it to impress Jeri when we were courting, and I played it with my niece Lan at my dad’s funeral. Today, the case lies propped open on a shelf in my office. I have no excuses not to pick it up: the advent of plastic reeds has made playing much more accessible, and studies show that playing music is beneficial to brain health. As I look over at it, is my dusty clarinet beckoning or mocking me? At some psychological level, the thing represents both my life’s competencies and underachievements, if not failings. I was a solid “second chair,” but when I had a chance to learn from my mom and move to the next level—to say the least, she was an accomplished pianist—I did not take advantage. I was adept with “fingerings,” but my tongue was thick and slow. I was, as it were, a good note mechanic, but I was a pretend musician. Now a couple years into retirement, I wonder whether maybe, just maybe, the Leblanc and I can give our relationship one more chance.

2025

Pete's Leblanc

And now you know much more about where the glockenspiel, the violin, the piano, and the cello that live with me come from. The glockenspiel, Opa, was originally owned by FWF, composer of Sympathy. The violin, The Friedrich, was originally owned by FWF's daughter Julia and passed down to the youngest of the Volkert Sisters. The piano, The Volkert, was built in 1916 and bought around 1960 by Julia's daughter Ruth and passed down to me. The cello was bought for me in 2000, also by Grandma Ruth. It is now played by my 12-year-old son, Drakeson. With Milli studying violin and Drakeson studying cello, we will play piano trios some day.

2025

They also study piano with Susan Allen, Clavier-Werke School of Music

The middle Volkert Sister, Betty May Volkert Diersen (1930-2018), was a soprano. She taught music at Deephaven School and was the Director of Music Marketing for Augsburg Fortress. She married Harold Henry Diersen (1929-2010), and their children were Pastor Julie Irene Diersen Koch (1952-1999), Karen Beth Diersen Anderson, Christine Ruth Diersen Lonn, and David Arthur Diersen. Pastor Julie Koch's daughter, Elizabeth Johnson, is the person who sent the violin to me last week.

It arrived with a sturdy brand new case, a fiberglass bow, a pernambuco wood bow, a shoulder rest, rosin, and dampits.

The label reads:

#100
Rudolph H (Henry) Wurlitzer
"SOLO"

The luthier at Terra Nova violins estimates that The Friedrich is worth about $3K, the same amount my dad Tommy spent in 2010 to restore it at Foxes Music Company in Falls Church, VA. (That was the year after my dad Tommy had taken in my great-great-grandfather Albert Julius' violin). The luthier also explained that The Friedrich was "antiqued," or designed to look older than it was; after all, a violin that was built in the early 1900s is not considered very old. The pernambuco bow is worth $400-500, and although the tip is chipped, it would make more sense to purchase a new bow than restore that one. The button on the top of the back of the body is cracked, and a seam to the top of the violin is loose, which means The Friedrich won't rest in her new home at Snake Mountain for another couple months or so.

Heinrich Wurlitzer (1595-1656) was a lute maker. Many generations later, Franz Rudolph Wurlitzer (1831-1914) was born in Saxony, Germany, and settled in Cincinnati in 1853. Following the family tradition of dealing in musical instruments, he began importing instruments from Germany. When demand exceeded supply, he opened a factory that produced band instruments for the military, which makes me wonder if PJV played a Wurlitzer flute. In 1865, a Wurlitzer branch opened in Chicago.

Rudolph had three sons: Howard Eugene (1871-1928), Rudolph Henry (1873-1948), and Farny Reginald (1883-1972). Rudolph Henry, the second son, went to Berlin in 1891 to study violin, music history, acoustics, and violin making under experts Emanuel Wirth, Oskar Fleischer, Hermann von Helmholtz, and August Riechers. RHW returned to Cincinnati and became active in the family business starting in 1894, serving as president from 1927-1932 and chairman from 1932-1942. He established the Wurlitzer Collection of Rare Violins.