Thursday, March 19, 2015

Chapter 3: Tiemann Memoir /Genealogy

Linda Welch, the CHS genealogist, sent a copy of Philip Tiemann’s family line, which follows Chapter 3. To read the prelude and other chapters of Tiemann’s Memoirs go to Coming to Vermont (Cavendish): Memoirs ofPhilip Tiemann. 

If you have stories about Mr. Tiemann, we would love to hear them. You can: e-mail them to, post them to the CHS Blog or mail them to CHS, PO Box 472, Cavendish, VT 05142

Windy Hill as it appears today. 
The interior arrangement was simple and convenient. The front door opened into a small hall, with the “old” kitchen to the left and the “front parlor” to the right. Boxed stairs led to the second floor, and beside them was a small passage to a long narrow room at the rear. The far end of the kitchen was taken up by quite a large pantry lined with shelves and containing a small hand-crank cream separator together with the odor of a milk-room. A door in the north wall of the kitchen opened to the cellar stairs. So, including an entry from the kitchen to the “back room” there should have been nine inside doors but only six were in place: not until later did two of the others turn up in a barn. The china closet in a corner of the parlor still lacks a door.

On the second floor at the head of the stairs was a room too small for practical use. On either hand was a small bedroom in rear, a large one in front, the ones on the right reached by a hall which also gave access to the attic stairs, boxed as the ones below them.

The big attic room is a fine one, with good flooring, and hand-hewed rafters braced and pinned to the ridge-pole, and two square multi-paned windows at either end. It was not available for use until some clearing out could be done, as the floor was littered with an assortment of tin pans, chipped washbowls, and chamber pots.

Below all was an excellent cellar, consisting of two rooms deep and cool, one with a stone-flagged floor, the other (in which was an old wood-burning furnace) earth. Two apertures high in each room had once held windows but now were only blank eyes. There were bins and shelves and a cabinet, a fine storage place even in summer.

When the van came we put the living room furnishings in the old kitchen, planning, in our innocence of Vermont winters, to use the “summer kitchen” in the shed all year. The parlor would be our bedroom, as most convenient to the barns. (Not too convenient, however; there was no door in the north end of the house and we had to go out the front door and around.) In the long room behind, we stacked boxes and everything else we didn’t know what immediately to do with.
On the second floor, we arranged the large front corner room on the left for the girls, and the small room behind it for Wyeth (this on a sunny day has always been the most pleasant room in the house.) To the right, the front room was to be for guests; the small one in rear became a catchall. The tiny stair-4headroom we decided to use as a "bath room", obtaining for it a chemical toilet (unsatisfactory, but better than going outside on a cold night.) I replaced a windowpane with tin thru which to run the ventilating pipe. This left just room for a small table to hold a basins. and a smaller cardboard "chest of drawers" for linen, and on which stood the water pitcher. A few towel bars completed this amenity.
The first overall arrangement was not the final one, nor' was the second. It wasn't very long before we were forced to conclude that the shed kitchen would definitely not be habitable in winter. This then required considerable shifting about: the old kitchen to be the kitchen; the other front room to be the living room; and the room behind it our bed­room. To clear this room, we had to do something about the attic.

Now as I have mentioned, it is a very fine attic. The rather widespread gable roof had doubtless been covered originally with shakes,- the old-fashioned hand-split shingles; but these had long since been replaced by successive layers of roofing paper.

One night not long after our arrival it began to rain. And it really rained. We were upstairs putting the children to bed, when presently we began to hear the sound of water dripping, then splashing, and damp spots appeared on the ceiling.

Up to the attic we rushed, and it was then too evident why the various utensils had been spread around the floor. Some of them already were running over; others which had been moved were not under leaks at all. We hurriedly made adjustments and sent the children scurrying for pails and rags, and did a hasty mopping.up job.
This experience gave us a real chill, because new roofing obviously was needed right away. Yet it was something I could not possibly do myself and so we made a few halfhearted inquiries as to how it might be accomplished. "Then how do we pay for it?" I wondered to Isabel.
Even tho nothing happened immediately, this proved a case of the wind being tempered to the shorn lamb. As is so usual in the country* word got around and after a while a hardware dealer from Ludlow came to see us. "I’ve had a car of slate come in," he, told us. "1 can make you a good price for enough to cover your roof," Slate! What could be finer? Still not knowing how to get it laid, as we could just scrape up enough to buy it we did.
Then it wasn't long before a neighbor dropped in. "I know some thing about slate," he announced, "and if I can take my time about it I'll put on your roof over the next several months and you won't have to pay me all at once."
This was the pattern of the times, everybody was hard up and had a fellow feeling for each other. So I said 0. K., swell, and I'll help you all I can. And at periods thru all that bitter and snowbound winter of 1933..34 this man came cross-lots, often on snowshoes. We built a scaffold, and he .put on the slate, and it was a grand job, and we haven't had to worry about the roof since . The various "catchers" in the attic then went to the dump.
To satisfy the need there were several areas containing rubbish A-few-steps-and-a.good-heave-downhill from the house (the heave frequent­ly not good enough.) These must have been accumulating for untold years. So we continued the practice, first burning what we could. Vegetable refuse went either to the animals or into a compost heap, The dog and cat cleaned up each little meat leftovers as there happened to be. - But then when I had installed the chemical toilet it had to be emptied period­ically and, especially when the ground was frozen and snow covered, it was next to Impossible to dig disposal pits. (After the first year, I had a big one all ready and covered with boards.) There was a privy in the woodshed and another adjacent to the big barn, which we used when it was not too frigid. As mentioned, when we came there was a seven-holer (graduated in size) off the summer kitchen, but I was under pressure to get rid of that, and did.
Over the years these problems (by no means minor) have been solved,' first by installing a flush toilet (and later, a second) with septic tank, and later, when the town established a dump, by using that for current needs and gradually clearing away the accumulations from our own farm dumps. The latter can go on indefinitely; last summer I pulled about ten bushel baskets full of old rusty cans, shoes, and broken bottles out of the earth on the slope above our lovely flower-garden; supposedly covered, this stuff is uncovered by the deer scrambling up and down (enjoying the green­ery on the way.)
Cavendish Center Rd Cemetery where
Philip Tiemann is buried. 
Tiemann Genealogy: The following information was prepared by Linda Welch, the genealogist of the Cavendish Historical Society.
Colonel Philip Wyeth Tieman, born New York City 13 June 1900, son of William Frank & Frances H. (Throckmorton) Tieman. He m. Isabel Carr (1901-1959). PHIL TIEMANN D. 15 DEC. 1969 (AGE 69). 

He was a Colonel in the U. S. Army. 

1880 Brooklyn, 346 1/2 State Street, NY to William Tiemann (b. NH, age 36, color manufacture; Kate Tieman (b. NY, age 36, wife, both parents b. NY); Louis (b. NY, age 11, son); Julius (b. NY, age 6, son); Hannah Donohue (b. Ireland, age 20, house servant);

1900 Brooklyn, 215 St. John's Place, NY: William F. Tiemann (b. NY, March, 1844, age 56, m. 14 yrs., Color manufacturer); Frances H. (b. NJ, April, 1864, age 36, m. 14 yrs., 2 children, 1 alive); Lois S. (b. NY, Dec., 1868, age 31, single, son, commercial merchant in Chinese and Japanese goods); Kate H. (b. NY, Oct., 1887, age 12, dau.); Edmonia White (b. Virginia, March, 1876, age 24, Widow, 1 child, Black, chambermaid and servant); Ann White (b. Virginia, May, 1865, age 35, widow, 1 child, Cook). Philip Tieman m. 3 May, 1924, Isabel M. Carr.

1910 82 Arlington Ave. E. Orange, NJ: William F. Tieman (b. NY, 1845, age 66, m. 2nd 34 yrs. manufacturer of collars (or colors?); Frances H. (b. NJ, 1864, age 46, m. 1st, 24 yrs., 3 children, 2 alive); Kate Huntington, (b. NY, 21 Oct. 1887,  age 22), Philip W., NY, 1901, age 9); Helen G. Hirschmorton (b. NJ, 1867, age 43, single, sister-in-law, teacher in the state school);  

1920 82 Arlington Avenue; East Orange, NJ: William F. Tiemann (b. NY, 1845, age 75, owns his own home, both parents b. NY, retired); Frances H. (b. NJ, 1865, age 55, wife, father b. Pa., mother NY); Kate H. (b. NY, 1888, age 32, daughter, Philip W. (b. NY, 1901, age 19, son); William Tiemann (Father of Philip) was a soldier of the Civil War. He enlisted at the age of 18 5 Sept., 1862 in Co. "B", 159th NY. He was promoted to full sergeant major 2 Nov., 1862; and promoted to full 2nd Lt. (of Co. "A") 13 Jan., 1863.  He was promoted to full 1st lieutenant 10 June, 1863, and full captain 23 Feb., 1864. He mustered out of Co. "B" on 12 Oct., 1864 at Augusta Georgia. William F. Tieman d. in East Orange, NJ, 2 May, 1926.
 To read the prelude and other chapters of Tiemann’s Memoirs go to Coming to Vermont (Cavendish): Memoirs ofPhilip Tiemann. 

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