A Memoir of Mary Ann Wade Arkell: Part 1

This photo shows
Mary Ann Wade Arkell
and baby Gertrude Hollingsworth

            Last week I wrote an article describing pioneer women’s thoughts about the movement westward.  In my research, I discovered a memoir written by Gertrude Hollingsworth about her paternal grandmother, Mary Ann Wade Arkell.  Mary Ann Wade married John Arkell in 1865 and they came to America from England in 1871.  Gertrude writes with an honesty that is frank and, at times, humorous.  This is part one of three about the Arkells.  We’ll begin with their settlement to Kansas.

            “I Remember Grandma” by Gertrude Hollingsworth:

Coming to America was Grandpa’s idea.  He had been over to New York State in about 1860 and stayed a few years with some cousins who had settled there.  (I do not find the exact date recorded)  He returned to England, it was said, because in America he had learned that a married man could do much better on a homestead than a single man.  (And taking up a homestead is what he had planned to do)….

            Grandpa and Grandma had few possessions when they came to America.  Grandpa John had a large chest which contained most of his belongings.  It was like a cedar chest but was made of some golden material possibly oak or pine.  Grandma also had a chest or box made of pine which contained her things that she brought from England….She gave this chest to me, and for years I kept my things in it.  (By then she had Grandpa John’s chest for her own use) I have had this chest all these years and only now have given it to a granddaughter who treasures antiques.

            They, Grandpa, Grandma, and their three little children, came, of course, by boat to America, then by train as far as the railroad was built.  I think that was as far as Missouri.  From there they came by ox team to Junction City, Kansas.  At Wakefield, near Junction City, Grandpa picked out a homestead and built a dugout on it.  To file on this homestead he then had to go to Concordia, Kansas.  As he had no other way to go, he walked, and overnight he stayed with a family in Cloud County.  There they told him that he could take up 160 acres of land there in place of the 80 acres in Cloud County and sent someone for his family in Junction City.  On the Cloud County homestead Grandpa built a frame house (Today we might call it a shack or cabin).  It was one room with a loft above and a cellar below.  Grandma didn’t like it.  Mostly this was what she said, because she had no place to put things up.  (Certainly it was better than the dugout, and though I don’t remember her telling of her own home in England, keeping the house in this shack obviously was different than keeping house in the Duke’s home)  She tells how happy she was when finally she got a “safe” to put her dishes in.  (We’d call it a dish cupboard)  We may note that even cardboard boxes so common today hadn’t yet come into existence.

            Various things happened in that one room house.  Children were born there, and twice lightning struck it.  Grandma often told us of the time she was in the cellar skimming milk when lightning hit the stove pipe which went up through the roof.  Lightning came down the pipe through the cook stove and right on down into the cellar hitting her on the head and knocking her down.  The lightning, strangely, made a hole in every section of stove pip as it came down.  Grandma after that was always deathly afraid of lightning.  (Who wouldn’t be?  I thought.)

            My father was born the “Grasshopper Year”, when grasshoppers came by the millions and ate everything.  “Even,” Grandma told us, “The green window shades.”  (Shades on windows--?  “Why shades?”, we asked.  When they were so far from neighbors and so short of space and money to ship things.  But Grandma answered, “Oh! You must have shades!  In the old country of you didn’t have your shades pulled down as soon as the lamps were lit, the police would come and tell you.”)

            The first year on their homestead Grandpa was able to raise little.  He only succeeded in raising a little rye which he took to a mill and had ground into flour.  That, and an occasional prairie chicken that Grandpa might shoot was the only food they had to eat that year.  Grandma said she cried because she couldn’t make good bread of the coarse rye flour, and how happy she was when finally she could buy refined white flour and make nice light bread.  That year she lost one baby and she told us that her feet had swelled so badly that when she ironed, she had to take her shoes off.

            Those were bad times indeed but the next things we heard of them they had bought the Say place on Grand View Hill and had moved back to Junction City.  Too, in 1879 Grandma and Tom, then five years old, had gone back to England for a visit.

            Where do they get the money to do these things?”

Pioneering: A Woman's Perspective

            The first time I came to Kansas was in 2006.  My husband, three children, and one cat traveled almost 900 miles across parts of the U.S. in a minivan.  I was also in my third trimester of pregnancy, but because the baby was number 4 I was less anxious about traveling and knew there were hospitals along our route.  Our household goods traveled independently from us in a moving truck.  Every nook and cranny of our house was packed into that truck with items ranging from necessities such as pots and pans, to a collection of school artwork and a scattering of window coverings for each house we’d lived in. 

Pioneers emigrating to Kansas in the 1800s painted a very different picture of cross-country travel.

            A trickle of pioneers began settling in Kansas in 1830, but it wasn’t until 1854, when Kansas became an organized territory of the United States, that emigrants began relocating in larger numbers.  Passed a year after Kansas entered the Union as a free state, the Homestead Act of 1862 inspired thousands of Americans to move to the area from the east.  The largest groups of emigrants were people of European ancestry, in particular Swedish and German-speaking people, who came to claim their free or inexpensive land. 

            Many young families had the confidence to relocate, and they had their own motivations for doing so. Some saw it as an adventure to discover new lands.  The promise of independence and a new start enthused families, especially husbands, wives, uncles, brothers, and cousins to make the journey.  Diary entries collected in Women’s Diaries of the Westward Journey by Lillian Schlissel indicate that mothers were concerned with relational values, disease and family matters, and wanted to preserve their families by staying together. 

In 1844, a young 13-year-old named Martha Ann Morrison wrote her observations that “The men had a great deal of anxiety and all the care of their families, but still the mothers had the families directly in their hands and were with them all the time, especially during sickness.  Some of the women I saw on the road went through a great deal of suffering and trial.  I remember distinctly one girl in particular about my own age that died and was buried on the road.  Her mother had a great deal of trouble and suffering.  It strikes me as I think of it now that Mothers on the road had to undergo more trial and suffering than anybody else.”  The grandmother of General George S. Patton, Margaret Hereford Wilson, described her feelings during her journey, saying, “Dr. Wilson has determined to go…I am going with him, as there is no alternative…Oh, my dear mother…I thought that I felt bad when I wrote you…from Independence, but it was nothing like this.”  Many women found it their Christian duty to be strong and traveled West in order to stay together as a family and support their husbands’ efforts to better their family’s future.

            Pioneer families carefully considered what would be taken in their wagons for their trip due to necessity and the space available.  Wagons first had to be built and were typically a flat bed and 10 feet wide and carried about 2,500 pounds.  Wagons like the iconic Conestoga wagon were covered with canvas cloth treated with oil to make it water resistant for protection from harsh weather conditions.  Families filled the wagon with food and dry goods, clothing, kitchen tools, animals, furniture, and rifles and ammunition.   Nancy Wilson described her wagon train as having 25 wagons “nearly all of them ox teams of five yoke…our wagons were big and strong, and had good, stout bows, covered in thick, white drilling so there was a nice room in each wagon, as everything was clean and fresh and new.”  Another woman, Helen Marnie Stewart, describes the mass number of emigrants heading on their journey saying, “All around us on each side of the river were sheep, cattle, horses, wagons, men, women and children – more cattle and sheep than I ever saw before in my life; drove after drove, thousands, yes, thousands…It is astonishing to see what a multitude is moving on.”          

            One of the early settlers in Geary County was Herman Oesterrich.  He traveled from Wisconsin to Kansas Territory and claimed land on Lyons Creek in 1856.  He returned home in 1859 and married Albertina Frederika Timm with the intention of moving back to Lyons Creek. A  1995 Junction City Union article describes the Oesterriches’ trip as a family affair, saying, “Albertina and Herman started back to the Lyons Creek claim and along with the newlyweds came her parents and their seven children, Charles Brehmer and his wife, and two bachelors, Ed Bruntrock and a Mr. Merman.” The article goes on to say “12 children were born to Albertina and Herman…People outside the family would come to Albertina for ‘mothering advice.’”  

            Childbirth on the trail was rarely spoken or written about in diaries until a baby was born.  Daughters give written accounts of being surprised by the arrival of babies.  Families would stop for half a day or a full day to allow the mother to recover and then continue their journey.  Mrs. Francis Sawyer describes childbirth on the trail perfectly when she wrote in her diary “I saw a lady where we nooned today who had a fine son three days old…The lady was…in good spirits.  I have heard of several children being born on the plains though it is not a pleasant place for the little fellows to see the light of day.”  While there were many births, there were also many deaths.  Life as an emigrant saw many diseases and dangers: cholera, smallpox, typhoid, measles, dysentery, snakebites, malaria, scurvy, scarlet fever, accidents, Indian attacks, and more.  Some diarists recorded the number of graves they passed each day, humans and animals, as there was great loss on the way.

            Mrs. Amelia Stewart Knight emigrated from Iowa to Oregon with seven children and one on the way.  Her diary tells of the reality of her travels, but she does not complain.  Her last journal entry and conclusion to her travels ended with these simple comments, “A few days later my eighth child was born.  After this we picked up and ferried across the Columbia River, utilizing skiff, canoes and flatboat to get across, taking three days to complete.  Here my husband traded two yoke of oxen for a half section of land with one-half acre planted to potatoes and a small log cabin and lean-to with no windows.  This is the journey’s end.”  

           

Cpl Arthur O'Donnell's WWII Furlough Fun

Brothers Harry (left) and Artie giving a salute in 1918

The Geary County Historical Society is gearing up to celebrate our Year of the Solider in 2017 with new exhibits and programming honoring our local military families, past and present. In preparation, we have been reading a number of old letters and memoirs. This letter comes from Arthur O’Donnell, son of Dr. Art O’Donnell. He sent it to his brother, Dr. Harry O’Donnell via V-Mail during World War II and it gives us a look at what furlough might have been like for a deployed soldier in the 1940s.

Dr. and Mrs. H. E. O’Donnell

c/o Atlantic City General Hospital

 Atlantic City, New Jersey U.S.

CPL Arthur O’Connell

APO 922 C/o Postmaster

San Francisco, Calif.,

May 5, 1943

Dear Harry and Margaret:

It seems quite a time since I last wrote you altho sometimes I get mixed up and write to some in close succession and others I forget entirely, so if I have written you all this before pray forgive me and remember that I haven’t any set book keeping system for who I owe letters and such, most of the time I just sit down to this rather odd typewriter and start writing to whom ever comes into my mind

I think that since I last wrote you, I was granted a furlough and also got this elevation in rank, so maybe I’ll be able to fill this letter out with news about that, Lord knows that with censorship and all that we have to go thru, its darn hard to think of anything worthwhile to write about.

Arthur O'Donnell before the war in 1935

But to go on. The first part of this month, I was granted a seven day furlough, the first I’ve had since I came into the army which incidentally was a year ago April the first. I had to borrow money to go on it since it started on the sixth of the month and we were still sweating out our pay, but managed to scare up the sum, of 15 pounds or 45 dollars to you, and took off for a metropolis about a hundred miles down the line. It was a town about the size of Junction City, big for these parts but rather small compared some of our cities back home.

After traveling all day at least it seemed like it was the greatest part of the day since I left at six o’clock in the morning and didn’t get there until about 2 o’clock in the afternoon, I arrived and was told by the M.P. that greeted me with a request for my furlough papers that I’d better get me a room first of all. So that is precisely what I did. The hotel I first favored with a request for a room was full so I put up for the night in one acrossed the street that went by the name of the White Horse Inn, not any relation to the famous white horse that makes the whiskey I’m afraid. After being quartered with a fellow from up my way- an artillery man- he and I went out to see if perchance there wasn’t a bar open where we could get a couple of beers—there was. Ran into another fellow that was in my outfit who was being shipped out and pared up with him for the rest of the afternoon. He left the next day, so I was left alone to entertain myself which consisted of reading, walking around, going to the movies and buying a few beers and Tom Collins now and then. The last day of my stay, I was drinking Tom Collins and mixing them with crème dementh, because the gin over here is terrible. The drink had a nice green color and one of the natives came up and asked me what it was—I told him it was an old Irish drink called a Mickey Finn, where up one he called to the barmaid to fix him a mickey finn. I finally persuaded him that I was only kidding him and told him what to ask for. It gave me quite a laugh, but I don’t believe the barmaid knew what a mickey was anyway. Although I talk in my letters as tho I ‘m practically living in the pubs over here, don’t get the deal that I'm rapidly becoming a confirmed drunkard. The fact is that the pubs are only open about an hour a day and it’s rather an occasion when one can get a few beers leave along anything stronger. So don't get up in arms and think the wrong thing. I still like beers but still don’t make too much of a habit of them. It isn’t like the states where you can go in at 8 in the morning and come out at 12 at night. Besides the only thing that’s halfway decent to drink is beer and tho it’s stronger over here it’s still fairly mild and takes a hell of a lot to make one drunk. So don’t worry about that angle.

Sunday of my furlough was spent reading all day. One of the fellows at my station had received a couple of books and I borrowed one for just such emergencies. The name of the book was "look to the mountain” and I understand that it was one of the best sellers back in the states, It was about 500 pages long, so took me most of the day to read. Found out that night that there was no Sunday shows so sat around most of the evening doing nothing. Finally went to bed at ten o’clock since I was starting back to my camp the next day and knew that I would need the rest for the long train ride back. It isn’t the distance over here that counts, the trains are so damn slow that it takes them all day to get anywhere. Went down to the station the next day and found out the train was about two hours late so sat around until a freight came along. Some of the soldiers on it asked me if I wanted to go along with them and I accepted. Of course I got kicked off at the first stop since I wasn’t suppose to be on and I had a two hour wait there, but it was fun while it lasted anyway.

Came back to find that I had been promoted to corporal. It was expected but still none the less welcomed since it will mean an increase in pay. Now I’m looking forward to bigger things. Am still a little peeved that I didn’t get to stay in the states long enough to try for officers candidate school, but I guess that is just as big doing my part over here.

Siblings Artie, Doris and Harry O'Donnell- 1936

 Suppose that it won’t be long until you finish the internship and then probably it will be the army med corps for you. Wish you all the luck in the world in it. Have always kinda regretted that they didn’t put me in the med corps for I figured that I’d had more of a start in that than I had in this, but anyway am learning something new. If I can work up in work, it might mean a good job after the war, but as I am now it wouldn’t be much and id be better off in the newspaper work, besides I’m still in love with working on a newspaper and was happier in that, so I’ll probably end up after the war as a two bit reporter on some daily. I’m not ambitious to make a lot of money as some are, all I want is a good job and a fair enough income to live on. As to whether that income will be big enough to support a wife doesn’t seem to matter for right now my lovelife is very unencouraging . No prospects back home and I’d think twice before marrying over here and chances are that I’d never for I just don’t like the idea of bringing a girl into a strange country so far from her home where she might be constantly homesick. So with all that and the fact that I’ll probably be too old to get married when I do get home all Ill require is a steady job for one.

Looks like I’m nearly the end of my second sheet so had better close. My best luck and love to you both,

                        Your loving brother,   

                                                        Artie”

If you are interested in having your own story told as part of the Year of the Soldier event, come to the museum and talk to the staff. Hours are Tuesday-Sunday 1-4pm, or call 785-238-1666. 

09 24 2016

With Jammin’ in JC about to be in full swing, we at the Geary County Historical Society would again like to highlight the great tradition of musicians from the area by sharing the story of local musician, Abbie Clarke Hogan.

Sanborn and Harriet Clarke came to Junction City from Michigan in 1872. The family moved to Wakefield in 1874 where they welcomed their second child, J. Abbie Clarke on February 1, 1875. The family returned to Michigan when Abbie was about a year old but returned to Junction City in 1878.

The Clarke family loved music and enjoyed sharing their love with the community. Every Sunday morning their church would send a wagon to pick up the family pump organ so that Harriet could play during the service.

Mrs. Clarke also gave piano lessons in the community. When Abbie was five years old her mother attempted to teach her how to play the piano. Abbie was not interested in the instrument and her mother soon gave up the lessons. 

When Abbie was eight she heard a traveling violinist. She was captivated by the music and immediately asked her parents for a violin. Her mother was shocked because the violin was a “man’s instrument” and not at all proper for a young lady. But Abbie persisted and in a fit of exasperation her mother said that if she wanted a violin she would have to buy it herself. Abbie promptly marched downtown with her savings and bought herself a violin.

The next problem was finding a violin teacher in the wilds of Kansas. In a strange twist of fate K. Dome Geza, a Hungarian violinist trained at the Vienna Conservatory had become stranded in New York at the end of a concert tour. Down on his luck he met a very persuasive army recruiter and ended up being sent to Fort Riley where he served as the chief musician of the 5^th Cavalry Band.

The Clarke’s convinced Geza to teach Abbie. He taught her for three and half years until fortune favored him and he left the Army to become the head the music department at Bethany College.

Mr. Geza thought that Abbie showed a lot of promise and he advised Mrs. Clarke to take Abbie to Germany and have her audition for the violinist Joseph Joachim.

 Just before the audition Abbie injured her hand, despite the injury Abbie performed admirably.  Mr. Joachim was not impressed with her technique but he agreed that she did have talent and he would teach her.

                Abbie lived in Germany with her mother and sister, LuCelia. She attended the Royal Hochschule. She was so talented that she performed a solo with the Royal Hochschule Orchestra at the age of thirteen; making her the youngest member of the orchestra.  

Abbie came back to Junction City after spending two years in Germany.

Abbie was eighteen years old when she won a statewide music contest in Hutchinson, Kansas. The winner would represent Kansas at the 1893 World’s Fair in Chicago. While in Chicago preparing for her fair performance, she auditioned for and won a scholarship at the Chicago Musical College.

Abbie stayed in Chicago to attend college. She graduated in 1894 with honors. After graduation she traveled around the county performing as a soloist with many well-known groups. But she never forgot her home.

In the fall of 1896, at the age of 21, Abbie worked with the local school district to organize a high school orchestra. During this time Abbie was still touring around the country so her sister LuCelia, also an accomplished musician, took responsibility of the high school orchestra.

In August of 1898 Abbie took a break from her musical career to marry, Thomas Hogan, who was in the milling business with his uncle, Mr. Fogarty. They made their home in Junction City and were blessed with two boys, Cornelius born in 1899 and Theodore born in 1903.

When Mr. Fogarty passed away in 1901 Thomas took over managing the mill. The Hogan’s bought the mill in 1907.

Marriage, children, and business responsibilities kept Abbie close to home but she still made time for her music. To keep her schedule manageable she only performed in the Midwest. Her other passion was working with community and high school orchestras. With her help curriculum was developed for music education in Kansas.

Abbie was also very active in the community. She was a member of the Ladies Reading Club and gave concerts to raise funds for the clubs many activities and good works.  She also volunteered at Fort Riley by bringing music to injured soldiers. 

It was by chance that Abbie was passing through Wakefield in September of 1950 and learned that the old hotel was going to be auctioned off.  She stayed and bought the hotel with the intention of tearing it down and selling it for salvage. But she just couldn’t tear down the beautiful old building, so she moved into it. One day some workers at Fort Riley asked if they could stay at her hotel and the next thing she knew she had a new career.

Abbie helped run the hotel among her other interests until her death in May of 1964. The Hogan Hotel, originally built in 1905, was bought by the Corps of Engineers and torn down to make way for Milford Reservoir. 

The Geary County Historical Society will have a booth at this weekend’s Jammin in JC on both Friday and Saturday.  We look forward to seeing you there.

 

Photo courtesy of the Geary County Historical Society

Ice Box

This week we will be running an article written by our former Executive Director Jamie Martin in May 2013 in honor of our upcoming Ice Cream Social.  It is much simpler to make and cool our delicious treats now than it was then.

On the porch of the Grandma’s Kitchen exhibit there is a large wooden box. It’s made of oak and is pretty plain to look at. If you didn’t read the sign you might think it is just a cabinet. It is a “New Iceberg” made in Sheboygan, WI and donated to the museum by Dan and Polly Stevens. This is how people kept food cold before there were refrigerators.

            Iceboxes such as this one were invented between 1850 and 1860. Iceboxes are hardwood cupboards with inner linings of tin or zinc insulated with material such as cork, sawdust, rice husks, straw or seaweed. They are built to hold blocks of ice on the upper shelf which allows cool air to flow through the food and drink cupboards below. Water was collected in a drip pan at the bottom and needed to be emptied daily.

To replenish the ice the family would hang an ice sign in the window above the icebox. The sign had different amounts on it. The amount that was placed at the top is the size of ice block that the iceman would deliver. During the hottest part of the year they might have to deliver several times a week. Those early icemen used a horse and wagon to transport ice so they had to work quickly to keep the ice from melting. They often wore a leather vest to protect them from the ice blocks and a large pair of ice tongs was used to grip the ice. It was a back breaking job but it did have its rewards. The iceman was always a favorite with local children. During the summer children would follow the ice wagons in the hopes that the iceman would have a broken block to share with them.

Originally ice was harvested from ponds and lakes. It was a labor intensive and dangerous process. Workers first scraped the snow off ice that was six to thirty inches thick. They had to be careful that the ice did not have any weak spots where the men or horses could break through. Then men then measured grids on the ice and horses pulled a tool that cut grooves on the grid, usually 22" x 32" or 44" square. The larger the block of ice the longer it would take to melt in the icehouse but the larger size also made it harder to move. The next step was to cut through the grooves, with an ice saw, until the blocks broke off. The blocks of ice were then hauled to the ice house where they were stored in sawdust to keep them insulated so they would not melt. By the early 1900’s Junction City was beginning to see commercially manufactured ice. According to an ad run in the Junction City Union April 5, 1921 by Christensen & Beeler the first ice plant in Junction City was the Ice Light & Railway Company built in 1902.

During the early 1900s electric refrigerators started to emerge as a new storage option. Some early refrigerators used ammonia as a coolant. Ammonia can be toxic so it was not a popular option in most households. Refrigerators didn’t gain in popularity until the 1930’s when Freon was introduced as a cooling agent.  By the 1940s they were common in homes and the ice box and the industry surrounding it was becoming a thing of the past.

Sunday September 18^th from 3-6 PM the Geary County Historical Society invites you to join us for our Annual Ice Cream Social.  There will be live entertainment as well as a cake walk. The museum will be open at 1:00 pm and we look forward to visiting with you.

Photo courtesy of the Geary County Historical Society

9 10 2016 Museum Musing

Museum Musings September 10 2016

This Sunday is September 11^th, a day that haunts the collective memories of Americans everywhere.  At Geary County Historical Society, we are honored to be the caretakers to Geary County’s past, and with that in mind, this week’s musings will look at where some of the staff and volunteers were when the events of 9/11 were unfolding.  Whether we are transplants to the area or lifelong members of the Geary County community, this attack on our nation unites us as citizens and as human beings, so we wanted to share with you our history.

Katie Goerl, Executive Director: I was in math class on 9/11. We knew something was wrong when the phone rang and our cheerful teacher suddenly became very serious. She told us what happened and we watched the news for a few minutes, before the first tower collapsed, but our teacher quickly turned it off. The day went on as usual after that, yet we all knew that our world had changed. I had so many questions that the adults in my life could not answer. The next day, when my mom dropped me off at school, I remember asking if we would go to war. She did not know.

Marion Schweitzer, Director of Programs and Education:  I was a retail employee in Dothan, Alabama at the time.  I was supposed to work the closing shift and my 2 boys were in Preschool and 1^st grade respectively.  I had left the gym and turned on my car right after the 1^st tower had been struck. By the time I entered my home I witnessed the second plane hitting the second tower.  I can remember watching the coverage through tears and feeling sorrow and disbelief.  The hardest part was that since my boys were so young at the time I had to find the words to explain why “Mommy and teachers were crying.”

Heather Hagedorn, Museum Curator:  I was 12 years old. I was in my 7th grade history class when the planes struck the Twin Towers. The teacher had just rolled the old TV cart into the room to show us a film about the American Revolution when the first plane struck and he had the forethought to turn the TV to the local news. So I watched the second plane hit while sitting in the second row of my history class. We spent the rest of the day in lock down since we lived in a Chicago suburb and there was talk that Chicago was a potential target.

John Sterling, Facilities Manager: I was at work at the post office on 9/11. We didn’t have a TV at work so I didn’t know exactly what was going on until I got home. Then it dawned on me that hey, this is really something serious. It really didn’t hit me until then. I thought, well, that’s the world going to pot for you.

Paula Hansen, Volunteer:  On 9/11 I was on Post teaching at Ware Kindergarten at Ware Elementary.  The news was kept from the children but the administration was monitoring the news.  Post immediately closed so there were long lines coming on Post as I was leaving that day.  The next morning there was a two hour wait to get to school and we were met by armed guards at the school checking identification.

Fort Riley is holding a 9/11 commemoration ceremony at the Global War on Terrorism monument between Cavalry Parade Field and the Cavalry Museum at 10 a.m. Sunday.

Soldiers, families, friends of Fort Riley and family members of soldiers killed in action in support of overseas contingency operations will gather for the ceremony at 10 a.m. Sunday. The ceremony will honor and remember those who lost their lives on the 11th of September, 2001 and recognize the sacrifice of the men and women who defend our freedom.

Brig. General Patrick Frank, 1st Infantry Division is scheduled to be the speaker for the event, which is open to the public. Those without a Department of Defense ID card need to arrive early at the Henry Gate visitor control center to get a pass to the installation.

If you would like to share where you were when the events of September 11^th unfolded, please visit our Facebook page at facebook.com/GearyHistory or visit us at the museum Tuesday through Sunday from 1-4 pm.