From Hyde County History, Hyde Heritage, copyright 1977, ASIN: B000OMKNPG
Martin Bouzek
By Martin Bouzek
In the forenoon they took us to our ship. The name of it was “Luevia.” It looked like a very big ship to us, but against the big ships of today it was very little.
After Hamburg, the next day we stopped at LeFlowre (sic—LeFavre) in France. They told us we would not sail until 6 o’clock and could go see the town. When we went to town, we saw signs of the war with Germany in the year 1871—holes made in the walls of the town. We left at 7 o’clock and got to England in the night. We took our mail and were on our way.
For about three days it was pleasant, but the fourth day they told us we would have to stay inside and nobody could go on deck, because there was a big storm coming. It started in the night. Our ship was rolling. It lasted three days. My bed was by the window, so I could see the big waves. It looked like a big trough and each wave came like a mountain. When it hit us it made a big thud. We were very afraid it would be the end of us, but nothing happened. When it stopped, we all were glad we had lived through it. I got sea sick in the storm and could not eat. All I could take was two bottles of beer. Dad gave me a bottle of rum to mix with hot water in case I got sea sick, but it did not help.
It was three weeks before we arrived in New York. A Mr. Kares was waiting and took us to Castle Garden to examine our trunks and papers. There he got us tickets to Chicago and soon we were on our way.
We came to Chicago on the first day of May, 1880. My brother Wencil (James) was at the depot waiting. We walked to my sister’s place. She had a bakery on Canapold Avenue. Her husband was Josef Burian. We enjoyed meeting with my sister, we had not seen each other for nine years. She came to Chicago after the big fire. I stayed a week with my sister. My brother Wencil took me to buy a suit, while I was there. He did this so I would not look like a greenhorn and have the kids picking on me.
Next day my brother-in-law said, “Today you will go with me when I deliver the bakery goods.” In those days bakers delivered goods to saloons where a few could buy a glass or two of beer and eat all he wanted for nothing. He also delivered to stores. In a grocery store I was offered a job at $2.50 a week.
When I came home there was a man from Braidwood. He said I would be foolish to work for that; it would not be enough to pay my board which was $3.00 a week. “Come with me,” he said “and you can get work in the mines for $1.50 a day.” So I went with him.
When I got there, there was my brother John. We had not seen each other for ix years. Fr. Koca took me on the street to meet boys of my age. There were four of them and he introduced me to them and told them I would like to get work in the mines. One of the boys said his partner had quit so if I would get to the mine in the morning I could get his place. The same evening I bought a miner’s uniform and all that goes with it. Next morning I went in there and my pal told the boss he needed a helper. He said, “O.K. your friend can have it. He will get $1.75 a day.” I was very thankful to Mr. Kotas for helping me get a job.
Our work was to push the cars loaded with coal to the place they called “lij” where we changed our cars for empty ones. With s was an Irishman named Charley McManns. He talked to me all the time, but I did not understand a single word he said. He said he must teach me English. He picked up a flat stone and wrote on it a, b, c, and told me how to say it properly. That was my first school, 120 feet underground. In a year I was able to know it all. I ordered from Mr. Geringer a book in English Bohemian translation. It was my first school. At that time I was writing letters to Geringer’s newspapers. Later I was taking subscriptions for his papers and I was also his agent, but could not do too much on account of my age.
In 1881 we formed a “Local Club” in Braidwood. I was the first member. We had 22 young boys from the Chicago branch, and they sent us a gymnasium teacher, Mr. Frank Patera, who was studying to be a doctor. I used to sit up with him after exercises and we made our plans. We decided we could have plays and my part was to write all of it for the members of the play. I was to write all of it for the members of the play. I was delighted to do that. I was writing the parts evenings and on Sundays. I was in a play too.
I worked four years in the mines. One year I worked in a lumber yard. My pay was $1.75 a day. I did not like to work in the mines as it is dangerous work. One could get crippled or killed very easily. After the catastrophe in the Diamond Mine where 67 men drowned, I did not like it at all. Next year I worked in Crumy mine. I had two partners Vojteck Flavka and Simon Troukal. We were down just an hous and a half when we were alerted to get out, because water had broken in. We dropped everything and started to run for the elevator. Before wee got to the elevator water was to our belts. When we got on the elevator we were O.K. It was lucky it was only a small pocket of water; so the mine did not get flooded and it was pumped out. After that, I decided there were more jobs to work at than in mines.
Then they opened the lands in Dakota east of the Missouri River for homesteading. At that time, Dakota was a territory. We heard the land was good there so my brother Wencil decided he would go there and apply for a homestead. My brother Wencil, Lambert Rezac, Josef Cermak and Josef Elznic, started from Braidwood in the spring of 1884, and settled in Dakota. In the fall my brother came back and in the spring of 1885, he bought one team of mules. Brother John gave him a cow. He also bought a wagon and enough groceries for a half year. He loaded that on the railroad car. I went along to help take care of the stock. We started from Braidwood the last week of March. Brother came along as a stowaway passenger. We made him a bed in the car. We put furniture in front of it and nobody knew he was there. In Chicago I watered the mules and the cows. A man came and told me he could not take my car in the special train for homesteaders. I told him I had a contract to do it and would see that I would go with it. Later he came and said the car and I could go.
At the depot were many cars from all the states, even from New York. And all were going to Dakota to get land. When we started out there were 36 homesteader’s cars. When we started from Chicago, we were three days on the way. We got to Highmore at 1 o’clock in the afternoon. After unloading furniture, flour and cows, we started to my brother’s home 20 miles north of town.
Along the way we saw mostly sod houses and few sheds 12 by 14 feet, made from course boards. The sod houses I did not like, but the country I liked real well. There were level lands and black soil so I decided I would try it too. I was single and free as a bird. I had just a few dollars to start on. I made up my mind I would work my way to make good. I made my way, but it was not easy. It took a lot of sweat and blisters on my hands. My hands were all I had. It was a lot to do to make a decent living quarters and get some farmers tools and animals to work with so I could work the soil. I helped my brother fix his sod house so it would be in order when his wife and child came to him. Then I took 160 acres as preemption and after six months I paid the government $1.25 an acre. Right away I took a homestead and also a tree claim. On a homestead one had to live five years, have a house and at least 10 acres of fields made. On the tree claim one had to break 10 acres and plant that to trees. After seven years I got a patent to the land and I took all three claims which altogether made 480 acres.
The first year, 1885, there was a bumper crop and the three following years pretty fair crops. Then all the homesteaders were expecting it would be that way all the time. But nature took a different turn. In the year 1889 came hot south winds that burned everything and the following year was the same. So we did not get anything in two years. Our savings were gone and some of the homesteaders left their homes and went back east. We who stayed were helped by our relatives, and that was what kept us going. It would have been bad if the families had not gotten help. I was single so I did not suffer. I went to work in the harvest fields where there was a crop. The first year I helped at a steam threshing machine, and was getting $1.50 a day and board. I was sleeping in stacks of straw at night. For three years I worked at threshing time so I could make enough to make a living for winter.
In the year 1891 I bought a team of oxen. They were four years and were not broken. It took three weeks before they pulled and minded me. I named them Bill and Bob. Bob, when a fly landed on him, got wild and lifted his tail up and used it like a whip. I could not hold him, so I let the team go where they pleased. I bother myself two years with them. Then I sold them and bought a team of horses. From then on it was better farming for me.
In the year 1890 I was living with my brother Wencil James Bouzek, Sr. in Hyde County when we got bad news about an Indian uprising. We loaded all we could on a wagon and he and his family came into the yard. He had his oxen hitched to the wagon. We ran out and asked him where he was moving in such a hurry. He said, “don’t you know there is an Indian uprising and they are 35 miles away.” We were not scared, so we didn’t move out. We knew there was everything ready to protect ourselves. But the scare did not last long. We heard the army was at Aberdeen and ready to stop the uprising with two batteries of men with canons and several hundred men ready to go. I went to Highmore to find out about it. My friend, John Stoner said to tell people not to be afraid. The government men would not let the Indians off the reservation. He told me there was a club of veterans in Highmore, thirty-six of them, who were policing the highways. They had orders to shoot twice if they saw Indians coming. One foggy morning E. C. Case was watching. He was on the west road from town. He saw something coming on the road from town. He saw something coming on the road, so came running to town. All the men were ready to meet the enemy and went on to meet them. Then they saw something moving out of the fog. It was a white horse coming home from night pasture. Mr. Case took a lot of teasing about how he was running before a white horse instead of redmen. After the killing of Sitting Bull all quieted down. Frank Kozel also came back to his home.
The year of 1897 I married Marie Vondra, who lived six miles from me and was the daughter of John Vondra. We celebrated our wedding at her parents. Mother Vondra baked lots of cakes ad kolaches. I got Philip Ziegler to play the accordian, and Anton Elznic played the violin. I bought two barrels of beer; so we were merry and danced all night. From this marriage came two boys and five girls. When they came out of public school, I made up my mind to give them more education. It had been hard for me to get along without English schools. For two years I had four children going to colleges –three girls were going to Northern College in Aberdeen and my son Ben was going to State College in Brookings. It was hard to keep four in higher education but I made it. After going to college, one girl got a first grade certificate to teach and she taught until she got married. They all married farmers and they are doing well.
In 1917 and 1918 I sold war bonds for one township and did the same when I moved to Highmore. I was working for Bohemia during the first war, too. We had a nice picnic and dance and made $150 that we sent to Chicago to send to Bohemia.
I also used to speak at funerals when people did not have money to pay a minister and I was in politics. I was voted County Commissioner from five townships. Then the commissioners got paid only $2 a day and 10 cents mileage. But only when there were meetings. I was there four years. When I counted what it cost me I had just cleared 25 cents. In 1912 I was voted County Commissioner. I was voted in at all years after for thirty-two years. For twenty years I was head of the commissioners and was getting $5 a day.
When farmers organized the Huron Packing Plant I bought ten shares at $100 a share. When they built it all and had machines installed there was no money to run it. It cost the farmers of South Dakota $1 million dollars. It was sold to Armour Company for $81,600. I got my $250 back but lost $750.
When they organized the first National Bank in Highmore they made me buy 10 shares at $100 a share. I did not like to do it. They made me a director. I have been in that office now 34 years (1946).
In 1943 I got sick. The children took me to the Pierre hospital. There I was operated on and for three weeks I had to lay on my back with belts holding me so I would not move. I was there six months, but I feel good now.
After that sickness we decided we would stop farming and I moved with my wife to Highmore. That fall I sold all my personal property, stock, machines and 1,380 acres.
Now when I look back on my life, I wonder how I was able to do it when I started mostly with my own bare hands. I have lived in America 65 years and I am 81 years old; my wife is 67 years old.
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