Farmer Gary’s grandfather on his dad’s side was George Werne. A good name. The name George means “farmer.”

The farmland we live on now – and on which Gary continues to grow crops – was once farmed by George. He bought the “home place,” which was 40 acres, from his parents and later added the “back 40,” where Gary and I built our home and raised our family. George added to the property over the years, bringing the total to 240 acres.

But before all that, George had an adventure.

George was a cowboy.

Gary remembers his dad talking about George going to Wyoming to be a cowboy. We’re guessing this was between 1900 – when 16-year-old George was listed on the census as a farm laborer here at home – and 1910 – when the census stated he was a laborer at a local sawmill. The 1920 census shows George as head-of-household here on the farm, as he bought his parents out and built them a house in town, with the promise to provide meat and firewood for the rest of their days.

I wish we knew more about George’s cowboy years. Apparently, he brought home three souvenirs: a set of spurs, his chaps, and an antelope leg.

During those early years of the 1900s, George also worked for a priest in Chicago, as part of the newly created Catholic Church Extension Society.

As George settled into farming for a living (and bootlegging, but that’s another story for another day), he began to think about finding a wife and starting a family. George didn’t need to look far, as Emma Wigger lived just one farm away – directly to the north.

Sidebar:

Let’s take a moment to point out that, until Gary’s generation, most of the local farmers spoke German at home (even those who’d never been to Germany – this was the language they learned from their parents). With that in mind, take a look at this 1870 census report, listing Emma Wigger’s paternal grandparents:

It took me a minute to figure this out: the census taker was told “Wigger,” but heard “Vicker.” He was told Agatha, but heard “Agata.” Gary (who has his own never-been-to-Germany “Dutchy” accent) and I got quite a chuckle out of this discovery from 150 years ago.

As was common at the time, George asked Emma’s father, Paul Joseph Wigger, for his daughter’s hand in marriage.

Paul Joseph Wigger’s answer? A resounding “no.”

The reason?

Tuberculosis. Around that time, tuberculosis took the lives of one out of seven Americans and Europeans, including Paul’s mother, Theresia. And his sister Frances.

Also called consumption, the “white plague” (because those sickened were so pale), and “captain of all these men of death,” tuberculosis was terrifying.

And three of George’s siblings had died from it:

• John Eberhard Werne, Jr. – born in 1882, died at age 21
• Frances B. Werne – born in 1889, died of TB at age 18
• Paul Werne – born in 1890, succumbed to tuberculosis at age 3

Here’s a heartwrenching look at Frances’s death certificate:

It’s a little hard to read, but the cause of death is listed as Pulmonary Tuberculosis. And below that, Suffocation. Her older brother George provided next-of-kin information.

It’s hard to sit in judgment of Paul Wigger’s fatherly concern for his daughter’s health – and, actually, her life. Not enough was known about tuberculosis yet, and he didn’t want Emma living in “that tuberculosis house.”

We know now that tuberculosis was airborne and didn’t seep into the walls of a home. Remembering the fears and uncertainty at the start of the recent Covid pandemic (who else washed down their groceries early on and let mail sit for two days before touching?), it’s understandable that Paul would say no.

But then Paul had a proposal of his own: George, if you want to marry Emma, you must build her a new house. She must never live in the tuberculosis house.

And so, George built a house for his bride. It is the farmhouse that stands today.

Gary nearly fainted when he saw that their wedding ceremony was at 5:45am on a Tuesday. Then he remembered that pre-Vatican II, Catholics couldn’t eat even a crumb after midnight if they wanted to go to Holy Communion the next day. As the article below states: After the nuptial knot was tied, the wedding party repaired to the home of the groom’s parents, where breakfast was awaiting them …

The bride was 26 and the groom a well-seasoned 38. Over the next 22 years, they had eight children. First-born was Andrew, Gary’s dad. Next came Leona, Mary (who didn’t survive birth), Stella, Alice, Thomas, Irene, and Marie.

And whatever happened to the tuberculosis house?

It enjoyed a second life as a tool-storage shed and laundry area for another 35 years.

There it is on the left side of this photo, front porch still intact. In the foreground are family members, posing with bunny rabbits in front of the new house’s porch.

The tuberculosis house was torn down late in 1956.

Tuberculosis is largely treatable today. A vaccine is available to those who may be susceptible to catching it. It’s too late, though, for George’s three siblings and so many others. May they all rest in peace, knowing they are remembered.

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