LIFE AND ACTIVITIES OF ALFRED
Alfred was baptized 27 Feb 1897 and confirmed in St. Johannis Church in Berlin, Germany. He attended district school number 31 in Berlin, 23 Alt-Moabit until he was 14 years old.
Alfred almost died shortly after birth and grew up a sickly child. His parents decided he should remain close to home where he could take time off when he needed to. Therefore, he went under the tutelage of his father to master watchmaking. After his apprenticeship finished in 1900, Alfred received positions in other cities such as Bielefeld, Germany and Willisau, Switzerland. In 1903 Alfred accepted a three year contract to work for Carlos Deeg, a watch maker and jeweler in Mexico City. He left Germany for Mexico the day after Christmas in 1903.
Because of the bad hot climate in Mexico, Alfred broke his contract and went to San Francisco, California in 1905. Not finding work there he accepted a temporary job working for H. Richard Condy in Grass Valley. This lasted until 4 Jan 1906 when a job with James A, Sorrenson and Company of San Francisco became available. He worked at Sorrenson's until 18 Apr 1906 when the great earthquake and fire destroyed the city. Once again he worked for Condy in Grass Valley. This time for about 6 weeks when a job became available at the Jewelry firm of Klune and Floberg located at 528 K Street, Sacramento. He stayed there until 10 Apr 1910 when he accepted the opportunity to buy Condy's jewelry and watchmaking business in Grass Valley. He moved his family to Grass Valley immediately and lived there until he died in 1953.
Alfred had many hobbies and many interests. From the earliest times he kept a diary and in later years a day book and business records. He wrote short stories. He was a hiker and an avid photographer dating from boyhood days in Berlin when he built a pinhole camera. He was one of the early pioneers of the 35mm camera.
Many of his records have been accumulated and preserved and now have historical value. It is the hope of his son, Alfred Henry, that one day these records can be assembled into one book.
Alfred tried to become a citizen of the U.S.A., but was thwarted a number of times before he finally made it. The first time was in 1910 when he moved from Sacramento County to Nevada County and could not find two qualified witnesses. He tried again in 1915. This time WW-I broke out which made him an "Alien Enemy" and forced him to wait until 1921 for final papers. His request for citizenship was denied because the judge accepted an accusation from an "undisclosed person" concerning Alfred's loyalty. He made a third application for citizenship in 1939. This time he petitioned the court and was granted a change of venue to the Sacramento Court. He passed successfully and on 10 Sep 1940 at the age of 58 he became a citizen of the United States.
Frieda, who was born in the United States, lost her citizenship because of a law that took away citizenship of any person who married an alien before September 1922. This, despite the fact that her parents were citizens and both her father and grandfather were Union soldiers in the Civil War. She was repatriated 29 Jan 1940 after passing all the requirements required of aliens.
Alfred was an eager experimenter particularly in the fields of optics, lapidary and botany. When he needed a tool or a machine that wasn't available or he couldn't afford to buy, he designed and built it. He was a self-taught artist and excelled in pencil sketching and oil painting. He was truly a creative individual.
The life story of Alfred Max Kramm briefed above gives only the highlights of his life and activities. For more details read the "Biography of Alfred Max Kramm," found in the appendix of this book.
"A Memorable Sunday" by Alfred H. Kramm, 13 Aug 1989.
It was a beautiful fall Sunday in 1922 when Papa, Ernest and I started out on the greatest hiking adventure we had ever undertaken. (At that time we called our parents "mama" and "papa."), I was 12 and Ernest was 10. Each of us had our own rucksack befitting our respective sizes in which we carried our own lunch, some fruit, first aid materials, a piece of rope, toilet paper, etc. Often we had taken trips like this so we were used to this type of exercise. But never before had we planned to hike from Nevada City, along the North San Juan road (now Highway
49) to the South Yuba River crossing, up the Yuba River to the upper road crossing and back to Nevada City via what is now Lake Vera. We figured it was a 15 to 18 mile hike.
We took the street car to Nevada City and got off at the end of the line at the corner of Broad and Pine Streets. We took the old dirt road westerly out of Nevada City following Rush Creek to the South Yuba River, about 6 miles. We made good time as it was mostly downhill, We crossed the bridge to the north bank of the river and sat down on a huge granite boulder under the shade of a tree. Below us, not more than 30 or 40 feet away, were two or three large golden Carp swimming lazily in a quiet crystal clear pool of river water.
Ernest and I tossed a few stones into the pool to watch the carp spring to life. Papa began to explain that the carp were not really located at the place where we thought they were. He went on to explain that the rays of light by which we saw the fish were bent as they passed from the air through the water to the Carp. Of course, Ernest and I didn't understand this. To illustrate his point, Papa took out a small revolver he always carried on trips like this, aimed carefully and shot at the fish. The Carp swam away unharmed. Then he let me fire the gun; it was my first time. I guess he figured there was one chance in 10,000 or a million that I'd hit the Carp and he was right.
This was 67 years ago and I don't recall all the conversation that resulted from this demonstration. One thing I remember very distinctly was the "index of refraction" as well as a discussion on the immorality and the futility of trying to shoot fish for sport (there were no laws against shooting fish in 1922).
Then we began the three mile hike up the river to the upper crossing. The river channel was very narrow. In some places we could hop from rock to rock; in other places we had to scramble up the almost vertical embankment to find a level enough place to walk. Progress was very slow; possible a half mile or less per hour.
As the day wore on Papa looked at the position of the sun and then at his watch. Ernest and I kept saying, "maybe the bridge is around the next bend"; but it wasn't. It was probably 4 o'clock in the afternoon and the sun was getting low over the western horizon. I remember Papa sitting on a huge boulder with his head between his hands and he was saying emotionally, "My poor Frieda, my poor Frieda" and he was sobbing. I had never seen my father cry before. To his children he was the authority figure in our household. At times he meted out corporal punishment along with a lecture on the morality of our misdeeds and the difference between right and wrong. He was stern and just and I respected him. During this brief few minutes he showed a side I had never seen before. He was loving, tender and compassionate. I remember saying something like, "Don't worry Papa, we'll make it" and he replied, "You are a brave young man, I'll never forget this, but don't tell your mother."
Many years later after Moms and Pops had passed on I came across an old newspaper account dated 7 Sep 1911 titled "Found sleeping in woods of Bear River. Grandmother carried child about eight miles." I was that child and grandmother was Amelia Koehler! Now I understood; my father was reliving the traumatic experience that he and Mama went through when I was 18 months old. Grandmother Koehler had taken me out for a walk and had lost her way. A search party had found us at 2:30 A.M. I was sleeping peacefully and grandmother was dozing.
My father decided to retrace our footsteps. The sun went down over the canyon walls and darkness closed in quickly. Fortunately there was a full moon and the stars were bright and we could see quite well. Papa kept us close together; I was in the lead most of the time with Papa right behind helping Ernest cross the boulders and most difficult places. We stopped frequently to rest; at times Papa fired his pistol into the air, "If there is a search party, they will know where we are", he explained.
How we passed some of the most difficult places in the darkness, I'll never know. Surely we were guided and protected by Providence!
It was passed midnight when we reached the bridge and began the long trek up the canyon wall toward Nevada City. I'll never forget the roar of the river; we had lived with it all day and night and I was sickened by it. Papa carried Ernest and my rucksacks and assisted Ernest on the long hike. We stopped frequently to rest.
Finally as dawn came we staggered into Nevada City. The street car was at the end of the line as if waiting for us. I remember nothing of the ride home. Ernest and I were sleeping, Mama greeted us with big hugs and kisses. She had prayed to God that we would return safely and unharmed. She knew in her heart that we were protected, and we were! That was the Power of her faith!
