"Far in the dense woodland above Mt. Horeb Rd., with only a mile-long wagon trail to link it with the modern macadamized thoroughfare, is the 16-acre farm and quaint two-room cottage of Fred and Anne Wittmann. Newcomers would know little of the elderly couple, but natives recall they could almost set their clocks by the 'little gray-haired lady' who up until five years ago traveled to Plainfield and vicinity to peddle farm produce in her model-T station wagon, coil-equipped with clincher tires and foot-manipulated gearshift. Sitting on the porch of the couple's spic and span modestly furnished home, Mr. Wittmann attached little significance to the fact that he and the 'little German girl' he had selected as his wife just passed their 58th wedding anniversary. 'Don't know exactly what day it was,' Mr. Wittmann said, 'but I was 21 and, though I can't prove it, I'm about 80 now.' Mrs. Wittmann confirmed the years, adding shyly, 'because they don't marry so young now,' that she was 16 years old at the time of her marriage. She was quite sure, as she pointed out to her husband whom she affectionately calls 'poppa,' that they were married sometime in July. On the porch steps talking to the Wittmanns as they sat rocking in the cool breeze, one is transported to the era when Pa courted Ma at the village barn dance, when 'the menfolks' gathered around a potbellied stove to exchange current events, and when children trekked miles and miles to attend a three-hour school session. 'I was 10 years old when my father moved to the old farm,' Mr. Wittmann said. Not many roads had names in those days he recalled but he identified the homestead as the late Fred Dealaman home in Mountain View Rd. People never 'rode' in the 'old days,' remarked the gray-haired old gentleman, 'we just walked.' He added that he still walks all over the township. Recently he walked to Springdale, a distance of about three miles, to get water cress because 'I like water cress.' The eyes of the former truck farmer sparkled as he recalled his school days..... 'Neighbors were neighbors in those days,' Mr. Wittmann commented. 'We walked three miles to school' but without fail, he said, about half-way the distance 'a neighbor would call us in for nice buckwheat cakes.' The same thing happened upon return. Mr. Wittmann said he attended school five years. 'Bad days we just stayed home.' he good thing about the 'good old days,' said Mr. Wittmann, was 'that everybody knew everybody else.' sadly, he commented, 'It isn't so today.' Saturday night dances highlighted the young people's activities in the Wittmanns' youth. Proudly Mrs. Wittmann pointed out that her husband was favorite accordionist for all social functions. 'Didn't take a pocketful of money to take a girl out then,' Mr. Wittmann observed. Center of social activity was what is now known as Mt. Bethel Inn where couples would gather for an evening of square dancing, Virginia reels and waltzing. 'Young ones today flit around to the music,' Mr. Wittmann said, 'the waltz was the best dance in those days.' 'We planned parties for the evening in the afternoon of the same day, if we got the urge,' Mr. Wittmann remembered. The woman would bring home-baked cakes and coffee and we'd settle down to an evening of fun. The group would break up as late as 1am if everybody was having a good time. Mrs. Wittmann came to this country at the age of 14 from Dresden, Germany, with a sister to live at the home of an uncle who was a butcher in New York. 'We worked seven days a week then and I got sick.' Upon the advice of a physician, Mrs. Wittmann accepted the invitation of a friend, Mr. Wittmann's sister who was living in New York at the time, to move to her family's home here. Shortly afterward she married Mr. Wittmann . The couple has one daughter in Plainfield. Living with his parents for awhile, Mr. Wittmann subsequently accepted a position as caretaker for the township, the 'worst mistake we ever made,' Mrs. Wittmann added ruefully. Eleven years later their life's ambition was fulfilled -- the purchase of their present home. Years of hard work helped develop the idle acres from 'two bachelors who didn't care.' For years Mrs. Wittmann would rise at 2 am every day to take produce to the markets in Plainfield for early sale to the merchants. Every day the l0-mile journey, one way, was made by horse and wagon. 'You had to get there early when the storekeepers first opened at about 5am or else another would have beat you on a sale,' Mrs. Wittmann added. The horse and wagon later gave way to the station wagon. 'I only gave that up because I had too many accidents with those crazy young drivers who didn't carry insurance.' They see very little of the rapidly developing township they once knew. Mr. Wittmann manages to peddle berries in season to surrounding neighbors and he smiled when he recalled a recent young acquaintance. 'She's only a bit of a thing but she follows me on her horse to bring me good luck. She told me I must know a lot of stories to tell, because I've lived here so long.' Mrs. Wittmann goes to Plainfield about twice a month to shop for provisions. Since she gave up the station wagon, she said, Mrs. George Freiday of King George Rd. offers transportation. Commenting that their old acquaintances have died, the couple said the Freidays 'are always concerned about us.' Aside from the few outside contacts the couple has, the only communication with the metropolitan area is a small crystal radio set in the kitchen. 'We both have our favorite programs, so we take turns with the earphones.' Mrs. Wittmann explained. 'I'd like to have all the modern conveniences, but we just can't afford them.' The two-room cottage adorned with memories is lighted by lamps and heated by a kerosene stove in the living room and a coal range in the kitchen. Water is obtained from an outside pitcher pump. Mrs. Wittmann bakes breadstuffs once a week. Besides the provisions she purchases on her shopping trips, they eat amply from a small garden. Two dozen chickens provide additional food. Mr. Wittmann busies himself making odd repairs to his property. 'If you own property, you have to keep it up,' he noted. Commenting on their secluded life, Mrs. Wittmann added the people 'come to see us around election time. They want us to vote.' Aside from illness last year they noted that they had not missed an election in their lives. Mr. Wittmann remarked 'things have changed.' Before women could vote there were only l50 men voting in the township. Reminiscent of a beautiful youth punctuated by years of hard work, Mrs. Wittmann sighed, 'Schoen ist die jungent; sie kommt nicht mehr.' (Beautiful is youth, but it never returns.) [From the Plainfield Courier-News, Aug. 16, l951. According to the local Board of Health. Fred Wittmann died on August 5, l954, age 87, survived by his wife.] |