From the Prussian hamlet where he lived with his parents and younger brother, Friedrich Volzke walked half a mile to market, a small pig under each arm. He sold the pigs for enough money to travel to Chicago.
The pigs were given to Friedrich by his father, also called Friedrich. The younger Friedrich was to work in America to pay for the passage of his younger brother, Albert. Then the two brothers would work to pay the passage of their parents, the elder Friedrich and Pauline. The Volzkes were encouraged by the success of a friend and neighbor who had settled with his family in Scotland, South Dakota, some years earlier.
The younger Friedrich crossed the Atlantic Ocean, working aboard ship to pay living expenses. Then he traveled on to Chicago where he worked on a farm until he had enough money for train fare to Scotland, South Dakota. Then, as he promised his parents, he brought his brother to America.
In Scotland, South Dakota, the Volzke brothers learned of a German family homesteading west of Aberdeen. The brothers decided they would like to try their luck at homesteading, too. They worked on farms in the Scotland area until they had enough money to buy a second hand wagon and a team of oxen.
They hitched the oxen to the wagon and traveled north stopping a few miles east of Aberdeen and then they traveled due west. Each night before sleeping, Friedrich and Albert dug a hole three or four feet deep. If water seeped into the hole before morning, the brothers knew this would be the place where they would claim homesteads. They found water in the hole south and west of what is now Herreid, South Dakota. There they settled, together with their parents. There they lived the remainder of their lives, homesteading, marrying, raising families.
This is my Volzke family's coming to America story. The younger Friedrich Volzke told this story to his five children. Friedrich's youngest child Gottlieb told this story to his wife, Nell, and his daughters, Christene and Phyllis. This is the story my mother Christene told me. My Grandfather Gottlieb died five months before I was born; he was only 55. Nell recorded the story in her own hand 25 years after her husband's death.
I'm a Volzke. Are you a Volzke?
