It
is high time that I set down all that I knew or ever learned from
having met my first husband's grandmother Margaret Fashauer,
Hagemann, Lavann. Quite a lady. I can safely claim that I had never
met anyone as strong minded as she. She put the Boss in Bossy. In a
group setting, such as with family, she reigned supreme. She told
everyone how it was going to go and God Help you if it went different
because you were surely going to do what ever it was over until it
was right. In one on one situations she was a sweet as pie.
I
met my first husband at my first job working at Fairchild
Semiconductor. I was working on an assembly line putting together
electronic components and he was a general fix it guy. His mother
worked in another department. He started there because he had just
returned from serving in Viet Nam and needed employment. His mother
suggested he apply at her place of work and there you have it.
Eventually
we drove to Grandma Lavann's ranch for a visit. Her ranch is located
in Northern California one valley north of Ukiah. She owned about
500 acres of mostly timberland that had formerly been small Italian
vineyards prior to prohibition. Anyway I learned bits and pieces of
her history over the years and here is most of what I learned.
Margaret
Fashauer was born about 1900 in St. Louis, Missouri. Her father was
a postmaster. She was the youngest of five children, she had all
older brothers; Louie, Joseph, Anthony, Frances. Her father decided
that St. Louis was not far west enough. They moved to Los Angeles.
Margaret
remembers riding on a trolley car out into the country and the
gentleman took pot shots ta rabbits off the back of the car. The
family did not stay there long. Her father purchased land in
Mendocino County. The roads were too rough and nearly impassable so
they took a ship up the California coast and off loaded their
possessions on the coast a few miles from their land. Her mother
truly thought she had been dropped off in the worst wilderness.
Eventually the ranch grew into a compound of houses for all of the
boys. They stayed bachelors for a great deal of their lives. I
have visited that ranch compound a few times. I went there once with
Margaret to gather up fallen walnuts. There was a lovely grove of
black walnuts growing there. Stomp on the fallen walnuts to break
off the husk and wear gloves to pick them up unless you want
permanently stained black fingers. Margaret grew up on the ranch
doing for the boys. Her life was a bit like “Seven Brides For
Seven Brothers” only there were only four brothers and her parents.
She
met Charles Hagemann when he and his father came to the compound to
purchase a pig. He liked what he saw and began courting Margaret and
they married and moved to a small farm about 20 miles further east of
the main compound. He was a Navy veteran having served as a cook on
a ship in the Philippines during the Spanish American war. She still
had his favorite rolling pin when I was there. I was a long slender
dowel with tapered ends. I loved that thing. I have seen similarly
shaped dowels used on The Cooking Channel.
They
had three children; Stanley, Phillip and Helen. Helen was my
mother-in-law. Very tall lady whereas Margaret could look me
straight in the eye. The ranch where they lived was located in what
was then known as “Little Italy”. They were surrounded by four or
five small farms/vineyards all owned by Italian families. I only
remember a couple names; Fratti barn and Geovanetti.
They
owned property on both sides of the county road and the property
north of the road had an open area used as a dance hall Margaret
would sit inside a large hollowed out redwood tree stump and collect
admission and sold sausages. There was also a set up for an archery
range for bow and arrow for those who wished to try their hand. This
concern brought in a little extra money. She told me that she had
her babies in Willits at a lying in hospital. The length of stay was
about ten days. One of her confinements involved her taking the
stage from her home to Willits, the journey took several hours. They
stopped for lunch. She was in labor at the time and did not let out
a peep.
Her
people were German Catholic. I have seen the book entitled, “Father
Knieppe's Water Cure”. He was very famous in Europe for this book.
I know for a fact that Margaret used the water cure on herself.
She also used it on Helen when she contracted pneumonia as a young
girl. Remember, this was before antibiotics. The Water Cure
consisted of wrapping oneself in wet flannels or towels, then
wrapping the whole body in a large rubber sheet and staying in that
all night long to sweat out the poisons. This was quite effective
for fevers.
The
local farms produced a lot of red wine. During prohibition, the
local Italian farmers sold them off and Charlie bought them up as
well as the left over wine. At one point the 500 gallon redwood vat
now used for well water was full of wine. Charlie drank most of it.
He also drank himself into kidney failure. Margaret took care of him
until he died.
This
left Margaret a widow with three young children. One of the
neighbor, Victor Geovanetti began courting her and they eventually
married. He proposed but she told him she would never marry a
Geovanetti. So they changed his name to LaVann and they married.
They kept sheep and had a large orchard below the house. The barn
was large and when I visited it there was a small tear drop shaped
trailer house used for over flow guests. The house itself had two
bedrooms downstairs and a full attic upstairs with a couple full
sized beds. That is where everyone slept during hunting season.
Yep,
I had married into a hunting family. There was a fall dear season
that I usually participated in. I was mostly along for the extra
deer tags, but I was given a rifle, showed which end was the pointy
end and sent off uphill to a feral orchard. Sure enough, a lovely
coastal buck wandered into view and I shot and he dashed off. I
walked down hill to check and found blood. Dammit! Now I had to
track the deer. I kept walking to the bottom of the draw and found
the buck resting there and I carefully finished him off through the
neck, as I had been shown. I trudged back to the ranch to tell the
boys of my kill. They hiked back with me and I learned how to field
dress a deer. First thing I learned was that all the ticks on the
deer start fleeing as the body temperature drops and there were
hundreds of the disgusting thing. So they got the deer dragged back
to the ranch. Margaret gave a lesson on how to properly skin a deer
after it had hung a couple days. She had a method for carefully
sectioning out the scent glands and the anus and wrapping all that
business in some newspaper. The carcass was butchered. The heart
and liver went into the house for cooking. There really is
absolutely nothing better for breakfast than fresh fried venison
liver in bacon grease. Seared very quickly and not cooked until
dead, dead, DEAD. Yummy. I never did come to care for venison unless
it was ground up and mixed with either pork or beef for burgers but
the family loved cooking the damn thing up into steaks.
Margaret
kept a small herd of sheep, about 20 or 30. She kept the hay in the
barn and she had them fooled into thinking they would get a wonderful
meal when she called. She would go out into the main parking area,
close all the gates, open the field gate and called in a loud voice,
“Come sheep! Come sheep!” and by God within 15 minutes the
woolies would come trotting in to nibble on a very thin handful of
the baled hay. She would count them and then when they were finished
they went back out to pasture to other older barns and what not on
the property.
She
also sheared the sheep. She kept a very large bag of wool,the kind
that farms routinely fill from a much larger herd. She hired some
people to shear the sheep and got that bag full finally. Once it was
full, she loaded it up into her pickup truck and took it to the sale
barn in Ukiah.
She
owned a Caterpillar tractor left over from her younger farming days.
She had to hire a lowboy to haul it off to be serviced and tuned up.
It came into use when she decided to log some timber. Now, logging
in California required rather expensive environmental impact studies
unless the logging operation is less than seven acres, I think. So
Margaret selected seven acres worth of timber very carefully to be
harvested. This helped pay the tax bill. She showed me the bill one
time, it was about 50k for her 500 acre ranch. At one point she and
Victor had set up a series of funds that paid interest every six
months once they matured. This gave a set bit of money on the books
at a time when Social Security had not even been thought of. I would
see her get her notifications in the mail and she would dutifully
enter it all into a lovely big accounting book.
One
time we picked apples from a very large tree on one of the little
Italian farms, the tree was what she called a Cooks Seedling. The
apples made the most amazing apple sauce. Another fun fruit tree
growing near the house was a couple fig trees. I had never tasted
ripe figs. They are quite wonderful with cream on them. Also the
fallen figs get ripe and fermented. Bees get drunk on ripe figs and
cannot fly, just buzz drunkenly in circles on the ground.
The
property had huckleberry bushes growing on it. We would go pick
huckleberry's and keep an eye out for black bear who like the ripe
fruit very much. A hand picked huckleberry pie is pretty darn good.
Margaret
was more or less the entire Altar Society at the little Catholic
Church in Philo. I attended many times with her. First thing I
learned is that there is no such thing as Sunday School for kids, the
kids attend the service with the adults and it got noisy. I tried to
sit in the back row so I could take Charlie outside for a breather.
I remember one Christmas, she cut several fir trees to decorate the
altar. One time we went in and she was completely surprised to see
the little church decorated for a Quincereana, uh if I got the
spelling correct. It was a Mexican tradition to celebrate the 15
year old girls womanhood, the place was decorated for a wedding and
the girls all wore what looked like wedding gowns It was very
colorful. The priest was very busy, he had three parishes all total
to cover for services.
One
time, the services were being provided by a Priest who was on
sabattical from seminary and he was spending the summer and living in
a little cabin on the Navarro river. Father Kevin, told Margaret and
I to come by, he had a small plastic wading pool that we could use
for Charlie. So, we dropped by on a lovely sunny day. Called out at
the house, no answer. We walked around back and spotted a couple
people sitting by the river a few hundred yards away. We hollared
and waved. Pretty soon Father Kevin started walking back. As we
stood there watching, Margaret asked me what kind of swimming suit he
was wearing. I peered and suggested that it might be a string and
bag kind of thing. She suddenly gasped, grabbed my hand and hauled
me back around to the front of he cabin, “He's naked! He is not
wearing anything!”. We heard him call up if it was okay for him to
come up as is, “No Father Kevin it is not!”, he laughed and said
he would dress and be up in a minute. We managed to get the wading
pool in the back of the truck and Margaret managed to drive us home
laughing her head off.
When any grandchild visited her they would be routinely assigned chores. One time, Pat was tasked with taking her gigantic cat food bag full of empty cans to the particular little farm where she dumped her garbage down the well. Pat came back and announced proudly that he had dumped the cans down the well. "Where is my cat food bag?", "Down the well" said Pat. "Go get my bag, I did not say to throw it away". So Pat had to go back, get down into the well, not to far down fortunately and retrieve the empty cat food bag. Yeah that happened
She
stayed as independent as long as possible. The last time I saw her
was at Charlies wedding in Sonoma. She had gotten a little stringier looking and she told me that I had gotten fatter and younger. She told it
like she saw it. She remained on the ranch and eventually had live
in care and lived into her 90's.
God
Bless Her.
1 comment:
I keep remembering bits and pieces; one time she took me and Charlie to a Wool Growers Association thing in Boonesville There was a sheep dog competition. I LOVED the little black and white three legged dog who pushed the woolies up and down the course and into the final pen. Very fast, too.
Also while there you see all sorts of people all sizes (ahem) I saw a very large woman who put the Caly in Callipygian. She was tall and good sized, she had a small waste but from the back her fundamental jutted straight out at 90 degree angle. Amazing and her dress was tailored to adjust so that the hem hung straight. Yikes, when she sat she SAT.
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