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Paul Lynn Gardner
Mosch-Kortz ... · 11 December 2020
Herman Carl Mosch 18 Jan 1859 - 13 Feb 1895
Louisa Bratz Mosch 03 Mar 1859 - 20 Nov 1934
Otto Carl Mosch 30 Nov 1886 - 22 May 1972
Emma Mosch Gressel 30 Jun 1888 - 28 Jan 1976
HERMAN CARL MOSCH AND LOUISA BRATZ
Herman Carl Mosch was born in Lippersdorf, Germany, November 12, 1859. He was the first child of Karl and Caroline Mosch was 11 years old when he came to America. He helped his father establish a home in their adopted country. At an early age he worked in the woods for neighboring farmers. He married Louisa Bratz in Wellsboro, PA on April 5, 1884. She was the daughter of Gottfried and Louisa Bratz and born in Boston, Mass, March 3, 1859. She died in Yochum Hill, Germania, November 20, 1934.
Early in his married life, Herman worked on the Tidewater Pipe Line through the Black Forest of Northern PA. Once during a thunderstorm, he was stunned by lightning, from this he never completely recovered. He purchased a 30 acre tract of forestland east of Germania, adjoining the Catholic Church and here built his home. He died of inflamation of the brain on Feb, 13, 1895 at the age of 35.
They had 3 children:
Albert Mosch born Aug. 20, 1885 - died of pneumonia in infancy,
Otto Carl Mosch born Nov. 30, 1886,
Emma Mosch born June 30, 1888.
Louisa Bratz Mosch married the second time to Harman Krause.
They had 3 children:
Della Krause died in infancy
Clara Krause died in infancy
Carrie Krause born Aug. 31, 1901.
The following, titled “BEING A BOY” was written by Evelyn Mosch Howell. She writes, quoting her father Otto:
“Prosperity to my father, Herman Carl, on finishing grammar school was hardly in the steady work he found at Woeful’s Saw Mill. His earnings were handed over to the family, as was expected of any young man still living at home. Also, young women who found work, locally or in some distant city (usually with board) were expected to send their earnings home until they were 21 or married. When Dad was 21, he arranged for a portion of his earnings to accumulate toward purchasing land of his own.
Dad had a sweetheart, Louisa Bratz, a girl he’d known at school. She thought he had a fine sense of humor, which he demonstrated one day at recess. Some older boys had crawled beneath the schoolhouse and found a series of knotholes overhead in the classroom floor. My dad wagered on which hole was beneath the teacher’s desk. One boy began poking a stick through different holes until he hit the vital one, bringing a cry of surprise from the teacher above who was sitting in a reclined, unladylike position with feet resting atop an open drawer exposing her derriere, covered by skirts but defenseless against a probing stick. My dad collected his winnings and after school he walked Louisa to Theis’ General Store for a small sack of sticky sweet balls.
Louisa, having completed grammar school, was hired out to a family in Philadelphia . Here she lived keeping their house, tending their children, helping in their family-owned delicatessen and working at their summer place in Egg Harbor, New Jersey. When my dad had saved the money to buy land and build a house, he asked Louisa to come home. They were married in April, 1884, by Justice of the Piece I. M. Bodine in Wellsboro, a good sized town some 10 miles northeast of Germania.
My parents’ first child, Albert, was born in 1885, but died in infancy of pneumonia. And I, born second, became first, welcomed by my parents and adored on sight like a long awaited parcel, lost in the post and reissued. This adoration, my mother explained, was given its corner, although, subject to disturbances by the work-a-day world., it was always there. She referred to an event I endured when I was no more than a lap baby. My father had carried me into the barn, to the stall area where he housed the oxen. He prepared a place for me atop a pile of oxen hair, swept there each time he curried the animals. I suppose I was a curious baby, wiggling and kicking, then quietly gurgling with fascination by the huge beasts with then long tails swishing about and Dad bobbing up and down as he drew curry comb across their massive bodies. Then abruptly, Mother called from a distance and Dad hurried from the barn. My aloneness was interrupted by my own crying when Mother found me writhing beneath a swarm of stinging bees whose nest was in the pile of hair. “And, Oh, how your father rebuked himself,” Mother related, “with sobbing at the sufffering he had put upon his Little Ott. He wrung his hands and moaned that he was such a thoughtless father to leave is Little Ott so defenseless to such a bitter sting!”
When I was three, or a little older, there was a sudden flood during the night. By morning, water had inundated our house and kept Dad from crossing the little bridge, spanning Germania Branch., to get to the barn and pigpen where the animals were crying for their feed. Dad figured he could throw a rope, securing a loop around a fence post in the barnyard, and grapple his way through the rising flood waters. He was stepping into the water when two men appeared on the opposite bank waving their arms to indicate he should stay. The next minute an uprooted hen house bounced into view, was battered from side to side by the raging current, smashed into the bridge and snapped the rope. The men, understanding my dad’s distress, said they would feed the animals. And Dad said, “Whew!” He leaned back against a tree truck and added, “Trouble! Sometimes, someone handles it for you. But don’t count on it.”
Usually Germania Branch was gentle, a friendly little stream where I could build a dam and float a shingle, pretending it was that old ship. The St. Louis, that sunk. I’d asked my dad a couple of times to get me a real little boat but all he said was, “Hah.”And gave me another shingle. Then I asked Grandfather Mosch a couple of times to go to his shed and build me a real little boat but he said a shingle was good enough; besides, he wouldn’t do anything for someone who teased and whined. And Uncle Chris, my dad’s youngest brother who was 12 years older than I, always winked and gave encouraging signals making me think he would get me a boat; however, he only said to keep trying. So I asked Grandfather Bratz and he said he’d take my order.
Grandpa Bratz took orders from everyone, from people in Germania and further away for the beautiful furniture he mad of cherry wood. He had come from Germany, too, but lived in Boston until 1859 when my mother, Louisa, was born. He bought his land, also, from the Radde Company and the Bratz family lived down the Branch from us. That mad it so I had two grand fathers right close by. Grandpa Bratz was a Civil War soldier; he walked all the way rom Richmond, Virginia to Washington, DC on his way home after the war. I liked to sit on the Bratz’s front porch and listen to his war stories. He tod of two neighbors, Andreus Handwork and John Schnauts, who paid other men to go to war for them so they could stay home and farm; meanwhile, Grandpa was fighting in the wilderness under orders of General Terry and Thomas. While Grandpa told his stories there on the front porch, he whittled and carved little bears that either stood on all fours, alert with every hair bristled for action, or else the bears stood upright with hind legs straddling a tree stump, hollowed out for the purpose of holding matches. He sold his bars at the hotel to summer people who encouraged him to direct his artistry toward the public demand for miniatures of all animal species. They gave him long orders which he laboriously filled.
It seemed I spent many summer days playing in Germania Branch. Sometimes I found a pool deep enough to bob in or to hold my nose and duck in, and when I was older took baths there. But I didn’t take time to learn to swim. I just enjoyed being a little boy.” See Less
Comments
Mary Hughes
thank you for a good read. I thnk this Mosch story is getting closer to my great grandmother Mosch. Soon, I might know how we connect. ; )
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Paul Lynn Gardner
Mary Hughes, can you tell us who your great-grandmother is. Maybe we can help.
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Mary Hughes
yes, at soonest moment... xmas break-
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Mary Hughes
none of this is confirmed: ok. I think our connection might be from a list of 11 siblings Mosch from Pennsylvania. This is what i am working with: Wilhelmina H Korta Mosch married to Emile Mosch. emile born in Germania (Potter, PA) 4/27/1866. their child Katherine (1891-1976) in Pensylvannia. BUT I also have a Katherine Anna who married John Mosch of Pennsylvania. They married in San Francisco, 1859 and were the parents of Agusta Mosch Charroux, Henrietta Wittaker and 4 other siblings born in Camanche (Calaveras, California). Agusta would be the mother of my grandmother Mabel Charroux Hughes (from calaveras to berkeley CA). I get confused tracking the two Katherines. Thanks for any info. I hope to pursue further during our Winter Break.
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Paul Lynn Gardner
Mary Hughes Your listing of names match our family through Katherine Anna Mosch 1891-1976. Our Katherine Anna Mosch married Edgar Harvey Tucker. She did not marry John Mosch.
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Anne Acker
What a wonderful story!! Thank you for sharing.
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1859 - 1934 (75 years)
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