MARY LOUISE HARTMANN NEWQUIST (1898-1989)
Mabel Hartmann was the oldest child in a family that engaged in farming in Indiana. As a young woman, she took piano lessons. Her interest in music was intense and, under the rigorous training of Mrs. Sarah Brown (a friend of Genevieve Coughlin - who later became her mother-in-law), of the Chicago Musical College, she gained an excellent reputation as an accomplished pianist. She performed in the music halls in Chicago on numerous occasions.
She gave up her professional career and devoted full time to raising five sons. She would play the piano for hours when I was a child. I always felt it unique that Dad - who made pianos, married Mom - who played one so well. She taught me to play several Beethoven sonatas which I committed to memory.
We enjoyed many social functions at our home, and the best were always during the Christmas holidays. She really extended herself to decorate the house and serve elegant meals. My friends always looked forward to their visits, especially when I was at Notre Dame and we would spend occasional weekends at home. She loved the large home and the privacy it provided.
Mom loved vacationing in Florida, starting before she was married and continuing on for several decades until Dad's death. Some of her closest friends were those they associated with in Vero Beach and Hollywood. The long drives back and forth became adventures for her, and she loved keeping detailed diaries of those trips.
I have always been impressed by her vivid memory, and she could compete with anyone in mental games, such as Trivial Pursuits. Her love of sports (Notre Dame, Chicago Bears, horse racing, etc.) continued up to recent years where television provided coverage in her home.
Mom had a strong Catholic faith, and thoroughly believed in the power of prayer. She often said she prayed her husband and sons safely through their Army service in the US, Europe, and Asia. She had a special devotion to Saint Mother Cabrini. She had been concerned that she couldn't become pregnant two years after her marriage. After praying at Cabrini's shrine in NYC in early 1923, she felt she was pregnant as she left the building. Her first child, Howard, was born nine months later. And I think her devoutness developed in her a strong sense of personal discipline and independence which sustained her well.
She was a fine example of a devoted daughter, sister, wife, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother.
Harvey P. Newquist II
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MUSICAL MEMORIES
BY MABEL NEWQUIST, 1950
When I was about five years old, my first musical thrill came to me while I was visiting at my maternal grandparents home in Dyer, IN. In hushed awe I listened to Aunt Louise playing the family organ. Standing beside her after she had finished playing "Silent Night", she took me in her lap to let me try it with one finger, while she pumped away.
It was such a wonderful experience that I begged again and again to play it over. No doubt I became quite a pest before our visit ended, and I remember being warned not to touch the organ unless someone was with me.
However, on other visits when Grandma and I were alone, she often permitted me to finger my way through other melodies. As I sat in the hush and quiet of her parlor, even then I seemed to have a great yearning for musical expression. Often I overheard the older members of the Hoffman clan remarking on what talent I seemed to have.
Before long I remember my mother and father getting an organ of their very own - a beautiful Kimball Organ! It came as a complete surprise to me , for I came upon the moving van parked in front of our porch with many onlookers crowding about. Ours was the first organ in our little village of Merrillville, IN, and caused a certain amount of curiosity.
Mother then decided she would take a course of music lessons, then impart what she had learned to me. Her venture was short-lived - nine lessons as I recall. With three small youngsters, a large house, and not too good health, it was more than she really had bargained for.
Cautioned to be very careful of this beautiful organ, she would let me play a little now and then. Practically standing up to pump it, I still marveled at the beautiful sounds one could make by pushing this "stop" or that. Since my youth seemed to be a hindrance to take lessons, I tried to pick up various popular tunes via the one or two finger method.
By the time I was nearly eight years old, a very dear neighbor whose young daughter of 18 years played very lovely inspired me further. She played by ear after only 24 lessons to her credit and I thought how easy it must be to become a good musician. When I was nine years old, my mother let me take piano lessons.
By that time I had enrolled in St. Peter and Paul Catholic School, having gone to the public school near home for two years. The parochial school was two miles north of our town in Turkey Creek. There was only the church, rectory, school, convent and a farm house nearby.
My music teacher was a sister of the Order of Notre Dame whose motherhouse was in Milwaukee, WI. She was a stern disciplinarian. Sister Amabalis escorted me into a small music room just off the entry to the convent. A very large picture of St. Cecilia hung above the organ. We opened and closed our lesson with an "Our Father" to St. Cecilia, patron of musicians.
She seemed very pleased with me, and after five lessons I was playing a little march called the "Bumble Bee March", about two to four lines long. After that, in my enthusiasm and with much praise ringing in my ears, I threw myself whole-heartedly into my practice sessions. My mother would often have to call a halt to my practicing so long, for I was overdoing it. My lessons could not come quick enough, for I'd have them perfected long before the next week's appointment. What fun it was! Now I could actually accompany people while they sang the simple everyday hymns.
An instruction book came with my organ, and now I wanted to try the more difficult tunes, which before were so much Greek to me. Things were progressing so rapidly for me that I was walking on air. Then my baby brother, Harold, died in December. He was only a year and 18 days old, but pneumonia had snuffed out his precious life in a twinkling of five days. Mother's grief knew no bounds, and all thought of music was prohibited. It was customary in those days to mourn a death for a year, so I had to stop taking lessons
As I remember, it was the next school year in September that I resumed my music lessons. That winter, Sister Amabalis contracted pneumonia, and she was forced to discontinue teaching for a long rest. She gave up all her pupils except me. With permission from her superior I was permitted to come in on Saturdays.
This presented something of a problem for my parents as to how I would get there. Walking two miles alone was of much concern since I was a frail little 10 year-old girl. Papa had a faithful old horse that could take anyone safely wherever he or she intended to go, so it was decided to trust me with "Old Cap". Traffic was not a problem for only several families had automobiles and then seldom used them. So I was given minute instructions on the art of driving and turning the carriage around without tipping it over. My, how important I felt with so much trust being placed in me, for my father loved this faithful animal.
My first public performance was on a school program given in honor of Father Koenig, the pastor of St. Peter and Paul parish. A young boy, Edward Halfman, had a lovely voice and sang "An Orphan Boy" as I played the accompaniment. This song was written about the St. Louis Tornado, and he sang it with so much pathos that we were asked to perform it four or five times. Sister Amabalis felt well rewarded with my rendition as she hugged me afterwards.
At various other school events, I always took part in the programs. On one occasion I played a trio with two eighth grade girls. I looked smaller than ever sitting in the middle with these two tall girls. After I was in the fifth grade, I played all the music for the drills, marches, etc. that the school presented.
Perhaps feeling elated and a bit more important because of the many compliments I was receiving from everyone, I now began to call the piano - "pie-ano". But Sister Amabalis soon burst my bubble of pride by punishing me every time I said it. Once I had to wash the dirty piano keys in the school hall. Playing a piano was such a privilege to me that I soon reverted to calling the instrument by its correct name.
Our neighbors had a piano and I often was called over to entertain them in their lovely home. My parent wanted to buy a piano for our home, but try as they would, it was impossible to get one up the winding stairs to our parlor. The piano salesman tried every conceivable way to get one in the house. He even measured the upper windows, but to no avail.
About the time I was eleven, Sister Amabalis could not continue teaching, so a halt was called to my music lessons again. Fate blessed us with a young lady, Miss Huntington, who was studying music in Chicago. She stopped off in Merrillville on her way home each week, and spent the day teaching a small group. As I remember, she was paying $15 for her lesson each week, which seemed like an enormous sum to spend for one lesson. She taught the same method that Sister had, so I did not lose too much time.
In the spring, the sun was shining so brightly the day Mother took me up to Mrs. Pierce's home where Miss Huntington gave lessons and had a recital with some of the young ladies who had been taking lessons. She insisted I take part in the recital, and many were the compliments my Mother received on my performance.
The next spring we had another recital, and many more through the winter. I remember practicing feverishly through Matthew's Standard Course of Study, and Czerny's Studies and Exercises. This recital was held at Dr. Iddings home. As the girls performed, everyone seemed to be suffering from stage fright, and their discords - not to mention actual breakdowns - had our poor young teacher in tears in the next room.
As I came in she whispered to me and asked me to play as I never had before, for she said she was depressed with the others. So, with a prayer on my lips to St. Cecilia, I played two numbers without a mistake. All the mothers told Mama that I did better than the older girls, some of who were in their late teens. Mother still was keeping check on my long practice sessions, for I just loved every minute I was at the organ.
In October 1910 we moved to Dyer, IN. So once more my lessons were interrupted. However, I continued practicing daily until we could find another teacher. Dyer had no music teacher, although a few older girls who played the piano were helping others to learn. A group of mothers banded together to get a teacher to come in one day a week from Lowell, IN, and Mother let me start with her.
It took only a few lessons on my part to realize Mrs. Potter taught an entirely different method than I was accustomed to. After Matthew's and Czerny's works and the simplified classics, she had me playing "Paul Revere's Ride" and many of E.T. Paul's fiery numbers. They were showy and appealed to the average person, but I knew I was off the beaten bath. I could not convince my parents to that effect, and in those days youngsters did as they were told. Knowing that I was at least getting some experience in theoretical work with each lesson, my time was not being wasted.
Shortly after we moved to Dyer, my parents took me for a visit to the Straube Piano Company in Hammond, IN. I did not realize at the time that the man who graciously showed us through each department and retail store was trying to sell Papa a piano. One evening about a month later, I was visiting my best girlfriend, Marie Fagan, when I was called on the phone to come home. Marie accompanied me, and when I walked into the house the room was filled with friends waiting for my big surprise.
I was speechless, for there stood the beautiful piano I had waited for so long. My happiness knew no bounds, and I guess I played everything I could that night. From then on, I practiced every spare moment I found, even buying extra pieces that I knew were really good music, and trying to learn them in spite of what I was getting with my formal music lessons. Vacation time came and with it our teacher took two months off. But she loaded us down with all sorts of theoretical works, etc. I evidently lost interest in this sort of homework, for when September came I had failed to carry out her orders. I began to enjoy her teaching methods less and less.
Not wanting to be unappreciative of my parents' sacrifice in permitting me to take lessons, I still felt she no longer gave me the type of music selections I enjoyed. Like most youngsters of 13, I was just as unpredictable at that age as the average child. So the day I received my confirmation we were given a holiday from school. That afternoon was also my music lesson day.
Mother and Dad had gone to Hammond, and Aunt Louise (who now lived with us) was in charge. My brother and I got her permission to go over to Dr. Chevigny's house to play with his youngsters and a number of others. Before I left home, Aunt Louise reminded me to come home at 4 o'clock for my lesson. I told her I was going to quit taking lessons. She reminded me of my obligation of obedience, with the warning that Papa had said I could never take lessons again if I quit. I don't know what possessed me, but I took matters into my own hands and didn't take my music lesson.
I knew I had acted badly toward Aunt Louise, and I waited for Papa and Mama to come home with much misgiving. I dreaded the thought of what awaited me. The lecture and the anger of my parents grieved me deeply, and Papa said I was through taking lessons from anybody! I was just too young to tell him what I was going to do ahead of time. However deep my regret for such a reprimand, I was not sorry I quit taking from Mrs. Potter, but hated to think I caused my parents to take such stern methods.
I never ceased practicing and trying for self-improvement. Usually on a summer night before I had finished, there were a number of young folks sitting outside of our open door listening quietly as I continued to play. The first awareness I would have of their presence was when they would applaud. They kept me playing requested numbers, as I now was playing the more popular songs of the day.
Many were the invitations to play here or there in our small towns, as we had no movies for entertainment. When people wanted some diversion they would ask me into their homes to play.
My Aunt Louise married and moved to Byron, IL. Since she always loved to sing, she took me to her many friends who owned pianos to play. I recall playing for hours, as they in turn would have guests come over just to hear the music. I would visit Dot Arnold, who married and moved from Merrillville to Ottawa, IL , and they always seemed like gala occasions. Dot was socially inclined and had the Ottawa elite invited to hear me play.
Finally, Mrs. Sarah Brown from the Chicago Musical College came to Dyer to start a music class. My brother, Arthur, took violin lessons, as did Veronica Kielman (a very dear friend of mine), and many others. I was still not allowed to take lessons.
But one night she was waiting for her late train to arrive, and she asked me to play for her. As I completed my first number, she rose and told my mother I had a God-given talent and she should not deny me further lessons. Mother said she would have to speak to Papa about it. So she called him, and Mrs. Brown spoke a long time about me. He finally gave in. God love him for that, for my dreams were again flying high.
The next week, Mrs. Brown gave me my first lesson. She proved to be a hard taskmaster, but I loved the challenge! No matter how she piled up the work on me, I always had my lesson or composition learned well beyond the prescribed notations. However, she worked for more expression as well as execution, so I had my work cut out for me.
The first piece she gave me was a Valse by Godard. Every exercise or piece of music had to be played perfect before she would pass on to another. Then she would always mark the perfected number with a "100%".
(The written text ends here. Her further career as a concert pianist in Chicago, her work at the Kimball Piano Company, and Mrs. Brown's friendship with Jennie Newquist that resulted in her meeting Harvey, her future husband remain for others to write.)
Kimball Hall, at 243-253 Wabash Avenue, is an imposing structure, which is devoted largely to music. It is 150 feet wide, 100 feet deep, and 80 feet high, in 7 stories and basement. There are 75 offices for musicians and other professional men, a recital hall, and the ware-rooms of the W. W. Kimball Company, pianos and organs. The building was erected in 1882.
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DYER.
St. Joseph's Church.
1867.
The priests who had charge of St. Joseph's Church at Dyer were the following: Prior to 1867, Rev. M. P. Wehrle, Turkey Creek. The following were resident pastors: Rev. Jacob Schmitz, from April 1867 till July 1870; Rev. B. Theodore Borg, from July 1870 till September 1871; Rev. H. Meissner, Crown Point, September till December 1871; Rev. Bernard [310]Wiedau, from January till December 1872; Rev. Anthony King, from December 1872 till April 1874; Rev. F. J. Freund, from May 24, 1874 till August 1875; Rev. Charles Steurer, from August 4, 1875 till January 30, 1878; Rev. Joseph Flach, from March 5, 1878 till august 3, 1883; Rev. Charles V. Stetter, D. D., from August 23, 1883 till July 29, 1888; Rev. Joseph Flach, again, since July 29, 1888.
Prior to 1867, the Catholics of Dyer and vicinity were visited by Father Wehrle of Turkey Creek; they were considered members of St. John's Congregation, at St. John. The first church was a frame building, erected in 1867, by Father Schmitz, the first resident pastor of Dyer. The church cost from $4,000 to $5,000. The church grounds comprise about four acres of land. In 1893, Father Flach improved the church by replastering, frescoing, painting the building and putting in stained glass windows, and in 1899, giving the church a basement, with a chapel, all of which was done at a cost of $2,500. The church, with its new altars and pipe organ, was now in very good condition; but on December 28, 1902, the entire church and contents were destroyed by fire. Father Flach, however, went to work and, on July 12, 1903, the corner-stone of a new church was laid by Bishop Alerding. The present church is a brick and cut stone Gothic structure, 118x43 1/2 feet, with a tower 125 feet high. The dedication took place on November 26, 1903, the Rev. J. H. Bathe, officiating. The entire cost of the church is $18,500. The seating capacity is 40
The parochial school was opened in September 1901. The building of which has been improved since, and a house for the Sisters erected, for $1,600. Two Franciscan Sisters of the Sacred Heart, of Joliet, have charge of the school, teaching the usual grads. The attendance at school is eighty-seven.
The priest's house built in 1869 was moved, remodeled and improved, including a new heating apparatus, for $1,700 in 1905. The church has a debt of $3,675. The number of souls is 413, consisting of seventy-five families. Three girls of the parish have become Sisters.
St. Joseph's Parish has the Society of the Holy Childhood, since 1880; the Young Ladies' Sodality of the Blessed Virgin Mary, since 1880, forty members; the W. C. O. F., since 1898, [311] fifty members; the C. O. F., sixty-five members, and the Catholic Columbian League, forty members; the Confraternity of Christian Mothers, forty-four members; and the Confraternity of the Immaculate Heart of Mary.
