The Old-Time
Spelling School

IN THREE PARTS

PART I—GOLDEN VALLEY
PART II—THE CONTEST
PART III—MUSICAL

BY
JOHN G. ELLENBECKER
MARYSVILLE, KANSAS

H. M. & L. R. Brodrick, Printers
MARYSVILLE, KANSAS
1922

Copyrighted, 1922, by
JOHN G. ELLENBECKER
Marysville, Kansas

Dedication

This little volume is respectfully inscribed to the schools of Marshall County, Kansas—its patrons, teachers and pupils—in humble acknowledgment of the great good these schools have done for our citizenship and our government.

Preface

This poem was not written to bring fame, nor to waft a fortune; for, fame and fortune are but small incidents when compared with the higher things in life. It was composed more for pleasure—the pleasure of meditating on, and the commemorating of, the splendid people who were among the many fine early settlers of this state; and likewise to impart this joy to the readers who may peruse this little story of pioneer days.

Then the old “Spelling Down”—once so common in schools and so brilliant for its academic value, and keen social enjoyment—should be rescued from oblivion; yea even revived.

If the sending forth of these simple stanzas should bear any fruit, may some of these be the happy harvest.

—The Author.

Sylvan Heights,
Marysville, Kansas
Dec. 24, 1921.

THE OLD TIME SPELLING SCHOOL

PART I
GOLDEN VALLEY

O worthy friends, at last we’ve met again;

I feel that we have met in days before;

And hope as gladly now as we did then,

To contemplate some things in days of yore;

In those days when our parents still were young,

And we in youth around the school house swung.

It won’t take long—a fleet winged hour or two—

So, let us raise the curtain of the past,

And bring again those good old days to view,

Which are long fled in years that sped too fast;

Let us together take a pleasant trip

On mem’ry’s wings for kind companionship.

In those good times of years long, long ago

Were many hardships, that we should forget;

But still, among these troubles, toils, and woe,

Were sunny spots that will delight us yet.

And one of those affected by this rule

Is the old time rollicking spelling school.

The young folks of today would scarcely guess

Their fathers and their mothers, in those times,

Could stand for hours the stern onslaught and stress

Of stubborn words, in long contending lines—

Arranged around the dingy school house wall

To see who was the speller best of all.

The country school was then the favorite nook—

A kind of home spun university—

Where old and young their worth in spelling book

Exhibited in a friendly rivalry.

And those of later times, of course, don’t know

What they without these sports sadly forego.

Those spelling schools did more in their plain ways

For all young folks, than now is done for few,

In costly schools, in these progressive days—

And they were common once. West of the Blue,

There were five districts that were wont to meet

In contest in this most delightful feat.

Blue Valley and Deer Creek lay to the north;

Each one a ready, lusty vanquisher;

And smiling Prairie Gem lay to the south;

Raemer Creek on the west, now Herkimer;

And Pleasant Ridge, my rural alma mater,

In midst of all, and just a trifle greater.

When corn was husked and hard farm work was done,

The winter evenings long and restless grew;

Then country folks would long for that blithe fun

That they before from the quaint school house drew.

Some teachers then with pupils did contrive

To hold a spelling school among the five.

And these were founts of pleasure, sparkling, sweet,

To which the neighboring schools invited were.

The purpose was in spelling them to beat;

And therein lay the honors striven for.

For those events the spelling book was learned

Complete, and bowls of midnight oil were burned.

’Twas wont for parents to pronounce at home

Words by the pages to their children then;

Until McGuffey’s text by heart was known—

By the whole household, even the hired men.

No wonder that we heard old settlers tell:

“In those wise days people knew how to spell.”

The district that would entertain the rest

Of schools, gratis prepared a play program—

Of songs and declamations, the very best,

And dialogs in which much laughter ran.

Herein, no doubt, young Thespians took part

Who through hearty encore obtained their start.

Those spelling bees! O, with what rare delight,

For weeks ahead we them anticipated!

They were the magnets of those winter nights;

No storm or cold them e’er obliterated.

When those glad nights came, countless faces beamed

In country school houses where bright lights gleamed.

Altho ’twas long ago, still I recall

The happy crowds within those temples wee;

And marvel how they could contain them all;

But they were all on hand, and so were we.

In an old adage you know it is told:

“Many gentle sheep go in a small fold.”

The old time songs were with much pleasure fraught,

When by gray-haired sires or sweet maidens sung;

The dialogs oft bursts of laughter brought,

As actors new their characters well flung.

And ne’er did foot lights play house Booths enfire

As wild applause did our young stars inspire.

No scroll of Prairie Gem would be complete

That not of Mrs. Jeffry’s actors told;

Or Cottrell’s pupils invincible and sweet,

That oft at bay contending lines did hold:

For Golden Valley, where these districts lay,

Well knew these folks could ably spell and play.

This part could boast of sturdy families;

Yet modestly these bore their worthy lots:

Stauffachers, Guises, Brennans, Babbisches,

Murphys, Armstrongs, Yaussis, Jeffrys and Otts;

Pachas and Trienens, Seematters and Dow;

And others that I have forgotten now.

And Herkimer should ever brightly shine

For blithe savants: Carbott and McConnaughey;

No school house feast could glow without their chime—

Their choral gems and jocund roundelay.

And over many snowy miles we’d swing

To hear these two declaim, debate, or sing.

Its violin players were hard to beat:

Whoe’er heard Clark Stewart play “The Mocking Bird”

At spelling schools, they heard a heavenly treat:

To be enraptured was but to have heard.

Here, likewise, too, held voluptuous sway

The Schumacher dulcet stringed orchestra.

This district had its great families too:

The Runkles, Schumachers and Dorfeners;

Niemanns, Emmerts, Kellers, Hickeys and True,

Lyndes, Amelunxens, Koenekes, Raemers—

Most, pioneers who in the sixties came,

And helped the prairie’s wild frontier to tame.

And Deer Creek! fairest district of the dell!

If spelled with “a” instead of “e” no seer

Could have objected: here did truly dwell

A hundred pretty girls for ev’ry deer.

And all could laugh and spell and sing and play,

So that the coldest heart turned glad and gay.

Among the worthy families were, Schmidlers,

And Cockerills, and Watsons, Travelutes;

McKees and Severns, Koppeses, and Winklers;

Sedlaceks, Tatlocks, Websters, Keys and Lutz—

And teachers great like Shaner, Prichard, Barbour,

Charley Travelute and Lizzie Mohrbacher.

Blue Valley too, still famous from its grange,

Held many wizards of the spelling book;

And hence we always tho’t it something strange

If in such contests they no honors took:

The Rogers, Cottrells, Fultons and Blackmars,

Had lasses that could spell to beat the stars.

In songs and plays they also were real good;

Their literary parts were out of sight:

We ne’er went to their fettas but we stood

Chuckful of irrepressible delight.

And their forensic sons were known to fame;

Their laurels sprang from many a wordy game.

The story of this vale would lose its sheen

Here to withhold the names these tales arouse;

As Butler, Benson, Schultz, Mayhew and Green,

Herring, McNulty, Spealman, Bull and Howes:

And they all strove most earnestly, at least,

To make the West twice as great as the East.

And Pleasant Ridge, the heart of this quintette,

Embowered in a vale that always gave

A hearty welcome to the neighboring set,

Likewise to worth and wisdom, strong and brave—

Modestly it gave the gauntlet and took,

Of friend and foe in bout in spelling book.

Often its sons and daughters bravely stood

In neighboring schools of the prairie white,

Defending their record envied and good,

And win or lose, put up a stubborn fight.

Altho they lost sometimes a spelling fray,

More often were bedecked with laurels gay.

It too had singers fine; they were replete;

Song was spontaneous as to glad bird:

Their voices blended charmingly and sweet:

’Twas joy to hear them, but grief when not heard.

The Tarvins were singers; like them no other;

Mattie and Sally, Lewis and their mother.

It also had school masters, great and good,

Whose memory the pupils will e’er bless;

Who’re wise and kind and childhood understood,

And worshipped for meekness and gentleness:

Miss Kister, Thomas Randolph and John King,

Frank Paul, Pierce Hickey and F. D. Joslyn.

Of all our teachers tho’, Gallaher was king:

He taught us how to carol, like the birds;

His “Ring, Then Ring Ye Light Fairy Bells” will ring

In my ears long as I recall those words.

He was a singing master; were there more

In rural schools to-day, the country o’er.

Concerning disputants, we had them too:

Fair Prairie Gem might flaunt Hiner and Guise;

But these two Haynes full well our Websters knew—

George Tarvin, Edwin Neal—for, surely twice,

The two won in debates to th’ others once;

And Golden Valley’s speakers shunned no chance.

We also had good spellers in this valley;

But our hope and strength depended on these three—

Kind Peter Kerschen, Emma Kister, Sally

Tarvin—these were our shining galaxy.

Victory that by them could not be wrought,

We knew it had been very dearly bought.

Some hardy families besides the ones

Named, lived within this district’s charming dells—

Links, Koppeses, Parishes, Warringtons,

Behrens, Ottos, Heisters, Talbots, Hunts, Hartwells—

And they all strove as ardent as they could

To keep its name unsullied, fair and good.

The people of these country districts, five,

Were pioneers who in the far years came.

It was their sterling worth that kept alive

The steady progress on this cheerless plain,

And changed it from a bluestem coyote ward

Into the fields and gardens of the Lord.

These people were no better and no worse

Than those of other rural communities

Of which God built many. He knew their force

In moving this world’s plain activities;

And ’tho oft used as theme for jests and jokes

They e’er have been, still are, the cream of folks.

Some names of these, no doubt, I have forgot;

And hence, they do not here within appear:

For time and toil the keenest mind will blot;

Yet so, for each left out, I shed a tear.

Those names, I’m sure, would help to grace these rhymes

And garnish this fond tale of former times.

PART II
THE CONTEST

In eighties, while these schools were at their best,

And pupils from all these refined homes were

Bent on hard study, with good teachers blest,

Some splendid spelling schools did then occur

In each district one winter. It was then

The last was held in Pleasant Ridge, a gem.

The score was even; they must hold yet one;

This was to tell for all the final fate.

They all longed for this great event to come;

The tenth of February was the date.

We all had vowed, no matter what it took,

We must not fail to know the spelling book.

Three weeks of time we had yet to prepare;

And the home school should furnish the program.

Our teacher, Emma Kister, said, “With care,

Pupils, we must arrange our work and plan,

Or else the victory will not be ours;

We have to entertain and fight four powers.”

She named a council with her to advise;

They placed the poorer spellers in the plays;

The small ones gave “a piece” to memorize;

And got the non-combatants of those days

To play guitars and violins, and sing.

This truly proved to be the very thing.

We spelled down every Friday afternoon;

And the last week we did that ev’ry day;

Rehearsed the declamations ev’ry noon;

And in the evening practiced ev’ry play.

So when came on the tenth of February,

We’d all in trim and all a-feeling merry.

The other districts also plotted, planned;

And studied early, late and overtime.

If kerosene had not then been on hand

They’d burned up all the pitchy knots of pine.

And safe to say, they knew the word book well,

And as they plainly showed, knew how to spell.

It was the prettiest night I e’er did know:

The full moon did its very, very best;

The wains and sleighs came jingling o’er the snow;

For no one wished to miss the great contest.

Our frame school house was large, but ne’er before

So many glad folks were upon its floor.

Each school its spellers chose, and wrote each name

On paper, of not more than twelve and ten,

Nor less than twelve; and then enclosed the same

Within a drawing box from which two men

Then drew the names, and read one at a time,

While persons took alternate sides in line.

In final contest now each teacher stood

And spelled with pupils of his or her school.

Therefore, an outside person, as he should,

Was asked to “give out” words; a time-old rule;

For this was chosen Mr. William Knight,

Elm Creek’s savant, who proved a prince that night.

The quaint school house was decked for holiday;

The old and young from far and near were there:

All from Deer Creek; Blue Valley, far away;

And sunny Prairie Gem, and Herkimer, fair.

Here Golden Valley’s best ’d gathered at its heart,

Intent for spelling tournament to start.

When all was set, this was an august sight:

Each school its trusted spellers there had brought,

By study armed and trained in many a fight;

And with them came their friends who warmly sought

To cheer them to the utmost in the game;

And win for their home schools still brighter fame.