Family tales and stories of the Old Country

All families have heritage that they are proud of. Then there are some of us in our "twilight" years who think about our family history. "Mein vater geborn in Unterschutt, Karenten, Oesterrich, in 1889." (Translation: My father was born in Unterschutt, Carinthia, Austria in 1889.)

I think of those days and what he must have experienced. They did have electric lights, but they had an outhouse, no indoor plumbing, just like about all rural people in the United States. But there weren't any telephones, cars, etc. All transportation was via walking or a horse.

He went to grade school in Arnoldstein, Austria, next to the remains of an old castle. When he graduated from 6th grade at 12 years old, he went to work hauling logs with a team of horses. Can you imagine young kids now a days, at 12 years old, harnessing up at team of horses and hauling logs. I am sure the old Italian families in Priest River, have the same kind of stories.

I was in the Army in France, and in 1961, he came to visit me and we went to Austria together. My mother didn't come as they couldn't afford it. No freeways in those days either except for Hitler's autobahn. Remember, then it was only 16 years after World War II ended and Hitler's death. When we got to Arnoldstein, where he had been raised, he was disappointed because things had changed. I told him "dad, it has been 54 years since you have been here." The only thing that had remained the same was the train station where he had left from in 1907. At the time, he had a brother, Matthias living in that same farmhouse. It had living quarters on one end, and a stable on the other end. The house is now gone, but I have a panting of it with the big mountain behind it. 

He said there was a bedroom upstairs where his parents slept. But the kids just slept on the piles of hay with a blanket. They had the outhouse, no refrigeration. They had stored meat in buckets of grease in the smokehouse, which was a corner of the main floor. He told me that he spoke Slovenish (think Slovenia) as then it was part of the Austrian - Hungarian Empire. He didn't learn German until he went to the first grade. Also, Slovenia, think Melania Trump as that is where she was from. I checked it out, she was from the east part, my dad from the west part, so no relation. Also, I am not as smart as her, she speaks five languages and she sure is heck a lot better looking than me.

So my dad took the train from Arnoldstein (another long story of how he happened to come to the States) to Antwerpt , Belgium to Ellis Island, (there is a plaque there with his name on it, Georg Gregori — he Americanized his name as a lot of immigrants did).

It took him six months to get to Idaho. He landed with the hobos at Ponderay, hadn't had anything to eat in three days, knocked on a door for something to eat by pointing to his mouth as he didn't speak any English, the woman gave him an onion to eat and he was happy to get it. He then got a job in Elmira, Idaho, hauling logs out of a lumber camp. He was drafted for World War I, but failed the physical as he had flat feet. Ironically, since they had to walk everyplace in Austria, he could out walk 99% of the recruits, but still was rejected. The rest is history.