Person:Henry Keller (11)

Born on a Thursday

Snapshots of my brother:

Born 25 July 1915, a Monday Family was all-important to him. He adored his mother. Happiest when working. Worked until he became too ill to continue. Proud of his stature in the lens grinding world.

Confirmed with Eva Holb and SUnited States of Americanna Born.

Henry was very intelligent but it would be hard to prove looking at his high school records. He graduated from School 20, an elementary school, in June 1929. He was then enrolled at Benjamin Franklin Junior-Senior High School. He registered there in September of 1929. His grades were far from remarkable though his attendance was good. First semester his grades were: English D (final grade 82); Social Studies C (final grade 72); Algebra B (90); General Science B (80); Gymnasium C; Swimming C; Latin C (84); Freehand Drawing C; Guidance B and Printing C. In the second semester, things got worse: English E (56); Social Studies D (61); Algebra D; General Science D (62); Gymnasium C; Swimming E; Latin E (84); Guidance D; Music C; and Study Coach B. It's interesting to note that, despite his poor grades, his final examinations were unexpected. Was he just goofing off? Was he concerned about things at home? Or did he not enjoy the school? Hank showed later on in life that he loved learning new things--but, they were topics he enjoyed!

His two report cards for the tenth grade were near disasters. It's good his children never saw his educational record! In English, first semester, his final grade was a D with final examination of 65; Latin was a D for both; Geometry a D with a final exam score of 71; Biology (a ninth-grade subject) both final grades were D. The second semester grades were getting worse: English, both grades E; German a D with a final grade of 62 (the language spoken at home!); Geometry an E with the notation that he was absent for the final exam; and typewriting a D in both grades; he did get a C in shop (that is probably the bookcase that is in his sister Rose Mary's possession). It was at the end of his tenth year that he quit school.

He had a variety of jobs. He was a newspaperboy and on the weekends he would swap a newspaper at a bakery for some broken pies. Everyone eagerly waited for the treat according to Betty, our sister. He worked for my father in the coal business part. It was while delivering coal to the Kurrasch family on Avenue D in Rochester that he met his first wife, Anna. He worked for many years at Eastman Kodak as a lens grinder and was well-respected for his skills. He and his family traveled to California twice and while there he continued in the lens trade. Upon one of his returns to Rochester, he and Anna purchased and ran a small tavern in Fairport, New York, called the Dew Drop Inn. It was a time when they were both drinking heavily and the business was not successful as they both drank as much as their patrons. He also worked for Sarvis Company maintaining and servicing food machines in various company cafeterias.

On the day of his youngest sister's wedding, he was bemoaning to his mother that he would never have as good a life as his little sister. His mother lit into him and told him that only he could make the changes needed to be successful. That night was the last night he drank anything alcoholic. He did change his life and did become successful -- both professionally and financially. He was never the wealthiest of men in money but he was rich with humor, optimism, loyalty, and love. He was a very good man.

In a profile of Henry (Hank) Keller, I would be remiss if some of his humorous writings were not included. He would call them "More Stories for the Naive, by Henry Wadsworth Keller." The first is a description that came with one of his unusual gifts. He was living in California and would, periodically, send our family (Bob, Rose Mary, Bobby, Jeanne, and Binky) a large box filled with nonsense or junk. It is called Flavmostix and was written in the 1970s.

"Enclosed you will find two Flavmostix. Handle with care. Very valuable. Knowing how well versed you people are in all branches of learning I'm sure you have heard of Flavmostix. I would like to refresh your memory on their origina dn worth.

"Somewhere in Brazil they grow trees calle Zylion. They grow only in Brazil. The odity of this tree is not only because it is grown nowhere else but also because it is pronounced exactly as it is spelled. When these trees are exactly 50 years old these twigs are clipped from these trees, but, they have to be clipped from the uppermost branches; since these trees reach a height of 150 feet, you can readily what a monumental task this is.

"After the twigs are removed from the trees they are put in a special solution and cured for six months. They they are removed and allowed to dry for another six months. Then they are placed in a sauce called sooee sauce and are kept in this sauce for another week. This sauce has been the property of a family called Poooee since the beginning of time. It is handed down from generation to generation and is closely guarded. Then, on a Saturday morning the entire family meets to have what is called singeing of the twigs. This is quite ceremonious and takes all day and halfway through the night. One of the ceremonies is singeing the end of the sticks as you can see. Some are then sent to America and the rest to Africa where the pygmies use them for poison darts. If you notice how straight these twigs are you must realize how important all of the preparations are.

"In America they are used for the preparation of Brazilian Brochette. One of the Poooees migrated to America and set up a restaurant here in Los Angeles. I was fortunate to be allowed the privilege of eating there once. Very elite. This is the only place in the world where one can get Brazilian Brochette outside of this small community in Brazil. As of now you are one of the very few fortunate people to possess these sticks so guard them carefully.

"Soooee is derived from the Latin word NIL which means nothing also."

In the 1970s also, we received a box with a pitiful looking paper maché bird in it. It had its own cage and the bird and cage ended up being the mascot of the school store Rose Mary and her students ran. The story goes as follows:

"I am sending you this bird in the hopes that you will take care of it the way it should be taken care of. I will explain later in the letter how it should be taken care of but, first, a brief history of this lovable, marvelous pet.

"This is a very rare and valuable almost extinct bird which was found in one of the remotest and darkest jungles of Africa. Incidentally, they like darkness. It was found by an American aviator who crashed his plane in the wilderness in 1941 and didn't find his way back to civilization until the early part of last year. Lost for almost 30 years. Anyway, the first year is when he found the bird. It was in the possession of a native who had become lost trying to escape from some cannivals. He never did find out how he came in possession of the bird since the man was illiterate and even sign language was such a hard way to communicate as you must know so well. He surprised them in the bush and even though the native was frightened out of his wits at first, the aviator slowly gained his confidence by treating him kindly. He decided to keep them both for companions (a la Robinson Crusoe). Incidentally the name of the bird is Pooonu which is pronounced Pooonu. It was given to the bird by the aviator. In their early friendship the aviator tried and tried to get the bird to do something, even breathe, but to no avail. Suddenly, after about a month of this coaching, and begging, and pleading, and imploring, sound suddenly came out of the bird sounded like POOONU, hence, the name.

"I would like to tell you something about the habits of the bird. It likes dark. It doesn't move, whistle, sing, or coo, or do anything when there are people near by. It can smell people a block away. By the way, I had some Freon injected into its blood stream so if it doesn't eat, don't worry because it will hang on the limb dormant for a long, long time. This is comparable to the hibernation of bears. I am sending you a plant that this bird lives on. It is beautiful. Put it next to the bird cage as close as possible and although you may think the bird is not eating anything, it really is. They don't eat very much. A peck at a time. Keep a thimble full of water in the bottom of the cage for the bird. Stagnant water is best because in the jungle this is all they get. Water the plant about once a year. You may never see the bird move but don't despair because it is much alive as long as it is hanging on the limb. Whey they die they usually fall off the limb and this is the only way you know they are deceased. They will live forever with the proper care, so take care. If you have any problems or questions, don't hesitate to ask. If word of this gets around, I'm sure you'll be the talk of the town. There is nothing like this anywhere else. Lots of luck. The plant is on the way, so don't worry.

"P.S. These birds are black until captured and then turn white from fright. Even though black is beautiful, I think its present color is pretty."

I wrote the following to Hank when he was extremely sick from the leukemia that was taking away his life and his strength . . . I only include it because it enumerates some of his wonderful qualities.

Henry Keller -- my brother, my father, my friend

When I was a little girl, I can't remember when. I had a very big brother, he was bigger than life to me. He taught me, he loved me, and every now and then, He was called upon to serve as the father figure of our family.

How can I best sing his praises, how can I celebrate his name? What can I do that will show him his impact, on me and mine? I will endeavor to list those events that will forever in my thoughts remain. But I must do it in text, it is much too difficult to rhyme.

So, dear brother, here are the memories that I hold so dear in my heart, Of my love for you, they are just a very miniscule part.

Memories, memories, memories . . .

I was very young--you were still a single man. One weekend, you were called upon to babysit for me (I don't know why). It was also the night you had planned to play cards (poker, I think) with your friends. To keep me quiet, earlier in the day, you had given me a nickel which I procedded to place in my mouth and swallow. During the evening of your card playing party, I had to go to the bathroom and, along with other materials, I voided the nickel. I just had to have it!!! I came to you at the card table and announced that I wanted you to help me retrieve my precious nickel. You tried to give me a new one--but, for some reason, I had an attachment to the nickel resting in the toilet bowl. Without much fuss, you gave in and retrieved it for me (I don't know if you really did--but I believed you when you said that it was the original nickel). What other young man, surrounded by his buddies, would have done this loving thing? Not many I bet!

I had never had a "store-bought" dress. Our mother made all my clothes and I felt that buying a dress in the store was the height of luxury. I think I was in the second or third grade. You told me that if I got all As on my report card that you would buy me a brand new dress. I worked so very hard and accomplished the goal. You made good on your promise. I can still see that dress--blue with little flowers, pleated skirt, and a little vest. I was so very proud of that outfit. I loved my big brother so much I could hardly stand it. Later on, Betty Ann [Hank's daughter] wore that very same dress.

When you traveled you always brought back some beautiful treasure for me. The one I still cherish is the moonstone ring you brought from some desert visit. I proudly showed all my grammar school friends the "scene" you could see in the stone. Or, who can forget the locket you gave me when I was confirmed. That will pass on to Jeanne one day and hopefully to her daughter. If that is not to be, I know she will give it to Monica.

I have often told the story of when you and Mom stenciled the living room on Scrantom Street. I remember Mother proudly telling how you helped her stencil the walls. She also told me how the stencil was upside down and that the two of you, although exhaused, redid the pattern!

I also remember other stories Mother told about ou. She loved you, relied on you, proudly claimed you as her son. She told me more that once that she didn't know how she would have come through the Depression if you hadn't been there to help her both financially and psychologically.

I thank you for giving up your education so that the rest of us could have food on the table. I always felt a deep obligation to you for your sacrifice and because of that indebtedness, I worked doubly hard as a student. So, all things considered, I am beholden to you for my success as an educator.

I remember, too, some of the not-so-happy times but I also remember how you rose above them. Mother always said that Bob's and my wedding was the beginning of your sober life. I would like to think that, in some small way, I had helped give you a new lease on life.

How can I ever forget the many boxes of precious ?? things you sent my family when you were living in California? The ashtrays, the match boxes, the broken watches, the plaster casts of your heel spur, the boxes of nothing but packing material. How the kids would look forward to receiving those treasures? And, to this day, Bobby wears one of your castoff watches (he did have it repaired, of course).

Aong with those so-called goodies, I fondly recall the products of your imaginative writing. The one that receives the best story away, I think, is the "Pooonu Bird." How you fooled me with that one! That bird, covered with dust, and hanging pitifully from his perch, was the school store mascot for many years!

Or . . . remember the times we were fired up on canasta . . . and then cribbage . . . and then gin rummy. Do you remember sitting around Mom's dining room table on Empire Boulevard and playing until the middle of the night? The ashtrays filled to overflowing with butts, the endless cups of coffee and the good fellowship of brothers, sisters, in-laws enjoying one another's company. What fun we had! How I miss Adam [our brother who had passed away] when I think of those times!

Or . . . going to Black Lake for a family vacation. Sitting in the boat with you during a raging, teeming rain, lightening and thunder storm and you with a wet cigarette hanging from your mouth asking for a match. Oh, the craziness of it all!

What about, when you, Betty, Adam and I thought we were the answer to the world's need for a singing family. Singing "Sentimental Journey" over the radio at Caruso's Restaurant. They did ask us to do it again when we returned, so we must not have been too bad. Or the time you and I sang with the band at the bar in the Sea Breeze area--can't remember the name of the place.

The times you came into the Sea Breeze restaurant for lunch and the tip you left me was a piece of paper that said "Save your money!." What a guy!

I think the first time I feel like your equal (not the little kid in the family) was when we talked well into the night when you returned home for each of our parents' funerals. I was more than an adult at that time, but for the first time I felt we were on an even par. You were, at last, my brother and not my father. How strange, I, in a sense, lost two fathers at the same time--but, I gained a different, stronger relationship with a brother. Can you remember how we sat in the dark and talked about many things both great and small? It was just the two of us--no one to interrupt us--it was a very special time.

I remember, too, how I always enjoyed dancing with you. We could cut a mean rug couldn't we. Oh God, that was a long time ago--where does the time go? When did we grow up?

All my life I have both admired you and been so very proud of you. I have always said that, given the educational opportunity, there would have been no stopping you! Of the whole family, you had the most potential--I was lucky to be the youngest, and, therefore, had the most opportunity. Despite your having to quit school, you became a success. You made a mark for yourself and I am so filled with pride over all of your accomplishments!

Not only are you special to me--you are special to my family. You are the favorite uncle of all my children. You are our hero.

I revere you big brother. I thank you for your sacrifices, your love, your humor, and your talents. I thank you for being like a father to me when my father was not able to serve in that role. You are indeed my friend. You are special and I love you very much.

My brother, Henry (Hank) Keller was never able to read this . . . I wrote it after having visited him and Betty at their home on 12 November; within a few days of that last visit Bob and I planned to go back and see them again when I was planning to give him the letter. During his last days, while he was in the hospital, I told him of some of the above memories . . . I hope he heard me. His daughter and his wife asked me to write a eulogy . . . which I did . . .

Eulogy written by his sister, Rose Mary, and read by his nephew, James (Binky) Hughes.

These words are in praise of a husband, a father, a grandfather, a brother, an uncle, a nephew, a friend . . . all of them in the person known as

Henry Keller July 25, 1915 - November 18, 1989

Henry Keller was larger than life. He filled all of his roles with the "give it your best" philosophy. He was fiercely loyal, loving to a fault, had a sense of humor that wouldn't stop, and, as we all know, unbelievably stubborn. He loved life and lived it to the fullest. He life was lived in a manner that is best described in a quote from George Eastman which essentially said: "When you work, work hard; When you play, play hard; but do not mix the two."

Henry was a first-generation American, the son of Mary and Joseph Keller. His parents, as all immigrants, wanted their first-born to have all the opportunities they had been denied. But, the depression stifled that dream. His mother was extremely proud of her son and loved him beyond measure. She often told us how she didn't know how she would have come through the depression if he hadn't been there to help her both financially and emotionally. Henry quit school to help put food on the table for his younger brother and sisters. He assumed roles of responsibility that were beyond his age; he was only a boy with the burdens of a man. He worked, without complaint, because he knew his family needed him.

Given the educational opportunity, there would have been no stopping him. Potentially he could have been whatever he chose. However, despite his having to quit school, he became a success. He made a mark for himself and was proud of the fact, as were we, that even in his 70s, he was sought after for his expertise and his talents. He was an optics workaholic; showing up at the plant early so that he could be the first on the job. He continued working full time up to two weeks ago. He loved what he was doing and did what he loved.

Henry was a strong believer in the strength of a family. As younger man he spent a good amount of his social life with his siblings. We remember fondly the fishing trips and the all-night card-playing sessions. Most important, however, was the good fellowship of brothers, sisters, and in-laws enjoying one another's company. The good humored teasing, the unending bantering. As the next generation came along, it was a constant challenge to try to beat Uncle Hank at cards--a difficult task because Hank didn't lose very often and when he did lose, he wasn't too happy about it. He was a winner!

When his own children came along, he proved his skills as a loving father. He was a teasing parent as well and would tell his children they should avoid the squirrels in the park. Asked why, he response would be, "The squirrels are collecting nuts today."

The saddest time in his life was the lose of his son, Bob. But his two daughters Betty Ann and Carol Jean gave him great moments of pride and his love for them was evident in his recounting of their good qualities.

We all enjoyed Hank's sense of humor and the fact that he never complained about his problems. He interacted with people of all ages: his grandfather with whom he had a weekly date to play pinochle; his step-grandchildren with whom he spent many special times; his younger coworkers whom he inspired to greater achievement; his children whom he impressed with the old-fashioned work ethic; his grandchildren and great grandchildren who thought he was the strongest man around; and all the other members of his extended family both by nature of birth or through marriage.

Henry lived for a number of years in California. Approximately eight years ago, he returned to Rochester to attend a reunion of the old neighborhood. He became reacquainted with Bette Holb Niver and liked what he saw. He had always been proud of his independence but he found someone with whom he could share his life. The next year, at the reunion, he set his mind to attracting her attention. When describing his feelings about Bette, he said to his sisters, "She's so sweet, so very sweet." Henry was strong-willed, as we all know. He made up his mind to marry Bette. She tells us that he never really proposed; rather he returned to Rochester and assumed they would become husband and wife. The rest of the family is forever grateful to Bette for having captured Hank's heart. She gave us seven years of a closer relationship with Henry.

He most loved pastime was a consuming hobby. He loved bowling and enjoyed sharing that with Bette as well. One of his greatest ideas for fun was passing on his best techniques to his grandchildren and his stepson. He was responsible for getting his brother-in-law back into the swing of things by convincing him that he should take up bowling again--that it would be good for him. A little over a week ago, Hank was saying that he was going to try to learn how to bowl with his left hand because he could no longer bowl with his right.

Henry was proud of his life style . . . and we were proud of him for maintaining it. Thirty-five years ago he decided to lead a sober life; shortly thereafter he gave up smoking as well. He had great strength of character and it was a rare day if one heard him cuss. In fact, he refused to go to a movie that had either nudity or obscene language in it. He was not afraid to defend his beliefs. He had great determination and drive. He was a well-discipline individual; but he never expected more from others than he was willing to give himself.

What are the memories we hold so dear? Packages sent from California to nephews and nieces containing all kinds of strange things. Short, imaginative stories with the Poonu Bird story heading the list. Beautiful little poems in which he expressed his fondness, his love, his appreciation, and/or his caring for others. His love for a good time--his dancing feet. His driving cross country in three days, nonstop, when he was beyond the age of 65. His appreciation of a good joke. His singing with his family whether in the car singing "Mairzy Doats" with his children or "Sentimental Journey" on the radio with his brother and sisters. His going for Sunday drives with Bette when she was at her sickest so that she could leave the house if only for a short time. Taking grandkids bowling and instructing them not only in that sport but in life as well.

Henry's daughter summed it up best when she said all her Dad ever wanted was to be loved; all of his actions were with that goal in mind. He reached his goal.

Because Hank liked to use poetry and music to demonstrate his affection, this closing seems most appropriate. It's a current song that pretty much expresses our feelings.

It must have been cold there in my shadow, To never have sunlight on your face. You'd be content to let me shine, You also wanted to stand behind. I was the one with all the glory, While you were the one with all the strength. Only a face without a name, I never once heard you complain.

Did you ever know that you're my hero? And everything I'd like to be? I can fly higher than an eagle. But you are the wind beneath my wings.

It might have a need to go unnoticed But I've got it all here in my heart I want you to know, I know true, I would be nothing without you.

Did you ever know that you're my hero? And everything I'd like to be? I can fly higher than an eagle. But you are the wind beneath my wings. You are the wind beneath my wings.*

Henry Keller, you were a most special human being and we will always love you.

• Wind Beneath My Wings

[Brøderbund Family Archive #110, Vol. 1, Ed. 4, Social Security Death Index: U.S., Social Security Death Index, Surnames from A through L, Date of Import: May 11, 1999, Internal Ref. #1.111.4.123723.47]

Individual: Keller, Henry Birth date: Jul 25, 1915 Death date: Nov 18, 1989 Social Security #: 073-09-9864 Last residence: 14626 State of issue: New York

1. ↑ Obit in Newspaper.
2. ↑ Salem Evangelical Church Records.