When Trouble Brews...

   When we look back on our past, we tend to focus on the idyllic. Visions of small-town rural Mokena enchant us, a place where everyone knew each other, and nothing ever went wrong. In reality, not all was perfect, or even always peaceful. After all, our forefathers were just as human as we are, and were people who had passions and tempers, both of which flared when faced with unpleasant situations or neighbors that were viewed as less than desirable. One such instance thereof of the many that dot our history took place 142 years ago, and involved several members of the well-known Schiek family of Mokena. 

   The Schieks were a hardy clan originally from the village of Neckarbischofsheim, in today’s southwestern Germany. As their homeland and Europe at large were torn by violent revolutions in 1848, they, like many of their countrymen, re-planted themselves in America. After completing a hike by foot from Chicago, the family patriarch and matriarch, Georg Heinrich and Juliana Rosina Schiek could proudly count themselves as some of the first German folk to settle what would become Frankfort Township, ultimately setting down their stakes here in August 1848. 

   The Schiek brood was a big one, counting seven children altogether, who ranged in ages from twenty-six to five upon their arrival in Illinois. One by one, the members of this family carved out a home in our midst. Philipp Schiek, the oldest, was an agriculturist who made a farm for himself on modern-day Wolf Road, while Johann Schiek, or John, as he came to be known, became one of Mokena’s first saloon keepers after the Rock Island railroad was built in 1852. Over the years, he would own at least two farms near town. 

   Julia Schiek was wed to Carl Gall, who operated Mokena’s first inn when the locomotives first puffed into town, and later married Moritz Weiss, a pioneering pharmacist in the village. Ferdinand Schiek was also a Front Street innkeeper for decades, (having owned the old landmark that last housed Paul E’s restaurant) and also kept a farm on what is today 187^th Street near where Marley would later sprout up. His sister Barbara Schiek married Henry Stoll, a jack of many trades.

   The youngest Schieks, Jakob and his brother Heinrich Jr, or Henry, both ran farms on 187^th Street, a little way west of Wolf Road. All of the members of this family found success in Mokena, and collectively left their mark on our community’s history.

   Alas, at this point, the narrative shifts in tone. In the fall of 1878, some of the family members found themselves on the wrong side of the law. Through the fog of ages, it’s not entirely clear what transpired to get them there, but enough has remained to indicate that at least one of them ran afoul of an archaic law relating to “selling liquor to persons in the habit of getting drunk”, the perpetrator likely having been saloon owner John Schiek.

   Regardless of how it came about, the aftermath of this affair has been left abundantly clear for Mokenians of today. The events were reported on by two Joliet newspapers, the Joliet Daily News and the Joliet Signal, and while almost definitely filled with bias and sensationalism, they give us a snapshot of what played out. Tempers had reached a boiling point in the affair, and when Henry Stoll, brother-in-law of the Schieks, was taken into custody in part of this episode, it pushed John Schiek, his brother Jacob, and his adult son Charles over the edge. 

   As was covered by the Daily News, amidst their legal troubles at the end of October 1878, the Schieks put Mokena justice of the peace Francis Morgan, a 34-year-old enforcer of the law, square into their crosshairs. Originally a native of Pennsylvania, Justice Morgan had lost his arm 14 years previously while serving the Union in the Civil War. With their dander sufficiently raised, the trio of Schieks stormed his house in town, which on the day in question so happened to also contain a gentleman named Bobzin, who worked as the justice’s constable. An audience with the lawmen was demanded, and in the vivid language of the Daily News, it was printed that “the Schieks opened upon Morgan and Bobzin with a fusillade, in mixed German and English, of cussing and obscene blackguardism.”

   Justice Morgan and Bobzin kept their composure and remained steely in the face of the verbal abuse that was being dealt to them. After “firing off their jaws for a few minutes”, the Schieks wore themselves out and beat a retreat. However, they weren’t totally out of steam yet. About 15 minutes later, they came back to Justice Morgan’s, and this time, with a vengeance. Upon their reappearance, the one-armed veteran was seated at a desk in his office, and one of the Schieks – it’s no longer clear who – burst into the house, and commenced beating him with a chair. 

   The situation looked hopeless for the justice. From our standpoint nearly 142 years later, we can’t but wonder if any fear arose in him during the attack, and if so, if it matched what he may have felt on the battlefield during the war. In a stroke of luck, his Norwegian-born wife Margaret and Constable Bobzin rushed to his aid and rescued him, fighting off his attacker. As all of this was happening, the other two Schieks continued their verbal barrage, “firing their jaws right lively” as the Daily News put it; one standing in the doorway, the other at a window. Before long, Margaret Morgan and Bobzin managed to fend off the Schieks for good. It is to their credit that no one was seriously hurt in the entire episode. 

   In the end, the grand jury indicted Charles, Jacob and John Schiek, and they found themselves saddled with charges of inciting a riot. In reporting on the event, the Joliet Signal, placed itself in the Schieks corner and struck a much gentler, more sympathetic tone with them. It struck up a defense crediting the Schieks with being “among the oldest and most respectable citizens” of Mokena, and that “none of them were ever known to commit an unlawful act or do a mean thing.” The charges foisted upon them by the grand jury were preposterous, the paper said, and they were handed down “solely on evidence originating from malice and personal resentment.” 

   The family members stood trial, and the Signal reported that none of the charges stuck. In a final barb thrown in the direction of the grand jury, the Signal huffed that Will County taxpayers were the losers in the case, as they were ones shouldering the brunt of the costs. As nostalgia tends to forget sagas such as these, it is important to bring them back to light, if only to make us, Mokenians of the 21^st century, thankful for the relative peace we enjoy today. 

Tripping the Light Fantastic: Dancing at Cappel's Grove

In today’s age, when village residents are seeking a fun day spent with friends or a romantic night out, they usually leave Mokena. The long-ago advent of the automobile has secured this fact. However, for a generation of Mokenians, there was a time when countless locals came together, made merry and found love right at home, in a pastoral grove of trees just outside town that held a dance pavilion where dreams were made. 

   Mokena has long been a community driven by its organizations. A well-established group of yesteryear was the Mokena Men’s Club, founded in the summer of 1908. Laid out in their articles of incorporation, the organization’s goal was to “promote public and private good” as well as to “build, control, (and) acquire buildings, dance hall, skating rinks, bars and objects of amusements, etc.” Summed up, they wanted to provide for fun in town. As the Men’s Club was born, a dance pavilion already existed in McGovney’s Grove a touch outside town on today’s LaPorte Road, but it had its limitations, namely its shabby condition and its size, which measured in at forty by eighty feet. 

   The Men’s Club set to building a newer, better one, and an idyllic patch of trees known locally as Cappel’s Grove was chosen as the spot, being situated a little south of town and just northwest of St. John’s Cemetery. In early June 1908, five acres in the grove were leased from Elizabeth Cappel, the family’s matriarch, and before long a committee of five gentlemen from the Men’s Club were formed to oversee construction of the new pavilion. Builders under local contractor Herman Geiger got to work in early summer 1908, who used Birdseye maple for the dancefloor, which came out to measure sixty by one hundred feet. Everything in the grove was lit by gas lamps. A refreshment stand was built as part of the pavilion, where soft drinks and coffee could be had, but no alcohol, as the Men’s Club decided early on to keep it away from the grove. Construction was rushed to have the pavilion ready in time for July 4^th, its grand opening day. William Semmler, Mokena’s correspondent to the Joliet News, beamed with pride at the new project, writing that “this floor will be one of the finest in the county.”

   On opening day, July 4^th, 1908, the brand-new pavilion was handsomely decorated for the Fourth, where in the afternoon patriotic speechifying was done by attorneys George Barr of Joliet and Mokena native Arthur McGovney. For that evening, 300 dance tickets were sold, and 65 gallons of ice cream vanished before the partier’s eyes. Revelers came from all parts of eastern Will County to enjoy the festivities. Correspondent Semmler covered the bash, and noted that “peace and order were evidence everywhere on the grounds”, and referencing the Men’s Club no booze policy, he added “no drunkenness or disorderly conduct being observed.”

   The first summer of Cappel Grove’s new existence was a successful one, setting the tone for future seasons, with one small example being a dance held at the end of July that first year that netted over $200 in profit for the Men’s Club in 161 sold dance tickets. The pavilion and the grove itself were host not only just to dances, but also to “moonlight picnics” and church functions of every sort. The pavilion featured live bands and orchestras from Chicago, and early on, a dance ticket would cost somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty cents for men, with free admission for ladies. By the 1920s, the price had risen to seventy-five cents to a dollar, depending on the event. (Or roughly thirteen dollars in today’s money) A huge improvement came to Cappel’s Grove at the end of 1913 when it was wired for electricity, replacing the old gas lights. 

   A type of bus service was even set up within a year of the pavilion first opening, which consisted of a big, horse-drawn wagon piloted by one of the village businessmen that ferried patrons from a point in town to and from Cappel’s Grove. Later the rig was upgraded to an auto. 

   Being the host to a constant atmosphere of Saturnalia, there were, of course, some who stepped over the line with their merrymaking. In the summer of 1913, the new Bunny Hug and Turkey Trot dances were declared forbidden at the grove due to their salaciousness. The next year, the Tango made the list. In October of that year, the cashier’s office and refreshment stand were burgled, and at a dance in June 1917, Deputy Sheriff Fred Mau of Mokena, who was working the pavilion as a security officer, was given a black eye by two roughs from Joliet. The incident involving Deputy Mau was not the first that occurred that season at the grove. After this brawl, the Men’s Club was “incensed by recent outbreaks of rowdyism”, and then hired plain clothes security men, who were authorized to ban anyone caught misbehaving. 

  After decades of service to Mokena, Cappel’s Grove was sold in 1935, and the pavilion dismantled not long thereafter. By 1942, what had once been the grove had been subdivided and named Woodland Acres, and nowadays the aptly named Woodland Circle curves over the site where so many laughs and moments of joy were had in years past. Taking in the shady neighborhood today, it’s still easy to be transported back to those days. 

Mamie Bechstein, Educator of Yore

  When extolling the benefits of living in Mokena, one of the first points arrived at are the village’s schools. Known throughout Chicagoland for their sterling quality, Mokena is right to boast of our schools. For all of the laurels they’ve brought to our community, the schools never would’ve amounted to anything if wasn’t for those who taught in and oversaw them. One such individual whose name shines upon the record of our years is Mamie L. Bechstein, teacher and principal of the Mokena public school. 

  Maria Louise Bechstein’s life began outside Mokena on July 11^th, 1880, have likely first seen the light of day on her father’s farm, a wide, sprawling estate whose homestead stood at what is today’s intersection of LaPorte Road and Kirkstone Way. As she grew up, her friends and family all knew her as Mamie. Her roots in the community were well planted, as all four of her grandparents were German immigrants to the Mokena area in the days before the Civil War. Her mother was born Ida Schmuhl, and her father, Christian Bechstein, was a prominent citizen who would come to wear many hats in the Mokena of his day, including that of mayor of the village from 1896 to 1903, as well as being one of the founders of the Mokena State Bank in 1909.  

   As a young girl, Mamie Bechstein was educated at the Mokena public school, a brisk walk over country roads from her parents’ farm, the edifice having stood on the northwest corner of today’s Front Street and Schoolhouse Road, which would later take the name of the landmark. Built eight years before Mamie’s birth, the stately, two story wooden structure was considered one of the finest schools in all of Will County. During her time here as a pupil, Mamie’s teacher was Mary Jane Cunningham, who she’d later note with a touch of mischief and a hint of spice, that “we had words.”

   Around 1895, the Bechsteins moved to town, with her father still maintaining ownership over their farm’s buildings and acreage. At a time when few went to college, Mamie continued her studies at the Illinois State University at Normal, and graduated in June 1903. By the next year she was teaching in the small coal mining town of Minonk, in central Woodford County. At some point in this era, she returned home and began teaching at her alma mater, the Mokena school, and by 1907, was working in its primary department. 

Mamie Bechstein as a senior at Illinois State University, 1903. 

   In May 1910, Mamie Bechstein moved up the school’s ladder when the Board of Education hired her as principal to replace I.O. Sinclair, while receiving $90 a month for her duties. While she now had an important administrative position, she still stayed true to her roots and taught the combined fifth through eighth grades at the school, which was made up of 52 pupils in one room. In her words, she handled “the entire approach with no help.” There was no opportunity for high school education in Mokena in those days, so students would commute elsewhere for this level of schooling, at the time usually to Blue Island. 

   Mamie’s world as an educator in the grand old schoolhouse is one that would be totally unrecognizable to Mokenians of today. The school’s bell, perched high in its tower, played an integral role in the day. At 8:30am, a half hour before the start of the school day, Mamie would ring it around ten times with a thick rope that “took quite a jerk” to use. She’d also summon her pupils back to class with two or three rings after recesses at 10:30 and 3:30, and also to herald the end of the day at 4:00pm with three or four strokes.

   The entire building was heated by coal in her time, with the stoves’ fires in the school being started every morning by their janitor, which Mamie fed continually throughout the day from buckets. Each floor had one big classroom, in which the pupils sat in bench seats, coming to the front of the room when they were asked to recite an answer. Also at the front of each room was a platform upon which stood the teacher’s desk. 

This stately structure, which stood at the northwest corner of Front Street and Schoolhouse Road, served as the village’s school from 1872 to 1929. 

   In early December 1911, calamity befell Mamie when she contracted a debilitating illness, which one account describes as malaria, while another calls it typhoid-pneumonia. Being confined to her home in town, her class at school was cancelled until her younger sister Alice, herself a teacher, could fill in for her. Just before New Year’s, Mamie’s students showered her with Christmas post cards. Almost a year later, just before Christmas 1912, she resigned due to the untimely passing of her mother. 

   History hasn’t recorded if she continued to teach after she left the Mokena school, but it appears that she left the profession when she married Owen Miller of Iowa around 1919, it being common in those days for teachers to be single women. This union was graced by the arrival of a daughter, Edith Jane, around 1922. Over the years, Mamie and her family lived in various places around the country, such as San Diego, Cincinnati, and later Boulder, Colorado. She could rightfully claim many addresses over her long life, but she always considered Mokena her home, and so it was that her mortal remains were interred here at St. John’s Cemetery when she passed away at the venerable age of 101 in November 1981. 

   The Mokena schools of today serve as a living testament to the labors of Mamie Bechstein, and of those who came before and after her. While our Mokena is one that would be unrecognizable to her and her students, she was part of a long and time-honored tradition in our community.  

Lizzie Cappel: Pioneer Woman

   History is the story of normal people, and every Mokenian has a story. We are all reflections of the era in which we live, and one villager is a prime example of the robust resolve shown by the earliest residents of our community. To tap into the first days of Mokena, one has to know Lizzie Cappel.

   In order to understand Lizzie’s life, one has to first look to her parents, who were in the truest sense of the word, real pioneers. Johann Georg Storck und Henriette Sophia Boos were of hardy Hessian stock, hailing from a village called Wixhausen in south central Germany. The Storcks and their six-year-old daughter Margaretha were part of the great Germanic migration to America in the middle of the 19^th century, leaving their homeland in the 1852 and undertaking a grueling 42-day journey by ship across the Atlantic to New York. From their first part of call in the States, the Storcks then walked to Chicago, traveling again on foot from there across prairie and forests to Mokena, arriving here on June 22 of that year. 

   The Mokena that greeted the Storcks upon their arrival was one vastly different from today’s, the not-yet incorporated hamlet had then only first been laid out that year around the newly built Chicago, Rock Island and Pacific Railroad, and was host to a railroad depot, a cluster of houses and the tiniest handful of businesses. Upon getting settled, the Storcks moved into a crude log cabin situated on today’s LaPorte Road. After a few years of hard work, Johann Georg Storck moved his family into another cabin in 1857, this one being just a short distance away and later standing for decades at what is today roughly the intersection of Wolf Road and Boyer Court. Their new, rustic log home was already old when the Storcks acquired it, and they would later tell friends and family that it had been built by the Potawatomi. 

   Johann Georg and Henriette Sophia Storck’s youngest daughter, Elisabeth Henriette, was born January 29^th, 1861 in the family’s cabin, not quite four months before the outbreak of the Civil War. As she was growing up, a few Potawatomi still lived in the area, and Lizzie, as she came to be known, always enjoyed a good back and forth with them. Years later, she’d remember that they would come to the Storck place from time to time looking for fresh vegetables, and were especially known to be fond of roasted pumpkins. 

   The Storcks were rugged prairie folk, and in Lizzie, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, as she only saw a doctor once in her life, who treated her for a bad case of diphtheria. Lizzie came of age at her family homestead just south of town, where the old log cabin would eventually be replaced by a modern frame house. She was active in her church, the German United Evangelical St. John’s Congregation, of which her family were founding members. Lizzie was also possessed of a caring nature, having tended to neighbor Thomas Sutton in his final illness before his passing in 1890. Throughout her life, she was known to use tried and true home remedies such as goose greases, Sulphur, molasses, and even red clover tea when treating those she loved. 

   Lizzie Stork was united in marriage with Mokena livestock buyer John Cappel, who due to his slight stature, was affectionately called “Shorty” by his friends. In August 17^th, 1896, the couple went to Joliet by horse and buggy to complete the ceremony, and as part of their celebration went to a circus in that place, where they won a stove for being the youngest married couple in the audience. This very stove would go on to see over 30 years of service in the Cappel house. 

   After their marriage, Lizzie and John made their home at the Storck place off Wolf Road where Lizzie had always lived, with her mother, Henriette, continuing to live with them. Their union was graced by two children, Carrie and Walter, who were born in 1897 and 1899, respectively. The Cappel children would grow up in Mokena, and were well known in the area, with Walter going on to work for the Rock Island railroad. 

   Lizzie Cappel knew her share of tragedy and hardship in life. She lost her daughter Carrie unexpectedly in 1933, within a few years of which she and John moved into her house at Wolf Road and Second Street. To compound this calamity, John Cappel passed after a tragic car accident outside town in 1942. 

Lizzie Cappel is seen in this 1945 image with her German language family bible. 

   Immediately after the end of World War II in 1945, Norma Lee Browning, a staff person of the Chicago Tribune, came to Mokena to write a booklet on the idyllic community. In looking for representative citizens to interview, those unique personages that could only be found in our village, Browning was steered toward Lizzie. The Chicagoan was received by the 84-year-old in a blue polka dot dress and a red ribbon in her hair, and wrote that she was “typical of the sturdiness and independence of spirit that characterize Mokena and its people.” Also of note to Browning was the fact that Lizzie had never seen a movie in her life. 

   Lizzie Cappel passed at her home in the village on July 8^th, 1946. She found her final resting place in St. John’s Cemetery in her family plot, just south of where so many of the scenes of her life played out. The erstwhile Mokena newspaper, The News-Bulletin, rued her loss as “one of the last pioneers of this section.” There was no other Mokenian like her, and Lizzie Cappel earned her place in our community’s history. 

Carmen Smallwood: In Memoriam

   Last Tuesday, April 28^th, Mokena rued the loss of Carmen Smallwood, one of the village’s truest residents. While Carmen was originally a native of Wayne County in downstate's Little Egypt, she later made Mokena her home in the latter part of the 1960s after having attended Southern Illinois University, where she received a degree in elementary education. 

   Carmen taught countless Mokenians over the decades as a teacher in the village, and was also active in the venerable Mokena Women’s Club, having led the group as its president for many years, while also being a key member of the Mokena Historical Society. 

   My interest in our community’s history, the passion which drives my life, grew and flourished during my work with Carmen restoring the historic Denny Cemetery on Wolf Road, also known as Pioneer Memorial Cemetery. She spearheaded the efforts by the Mokena Women’s Club to bring glory back to those forlorn, hallowed grounds starting around 1997. As a history-enthused seventh grader who only knew history as it existed in such far off places as Gettysburg and Valley Forge, the happenings at the graveyard held my rapt attention. Before long a sign was put up that asked for volunteers to help the Women’s Club in their work, listing Carmen’s home phone number as the starting point. I called it one day in the summer of 1998, and spoke to her for the first time, when she invited me to come with her and a few others to the cemetery to probe the ground with long metal rods, looking for forgotten graves. 

   Within a few days, I was with her in the cemetery, and on my very first outing, we discovered the base of a decades-long forgotten gravestone, and from then on, I was hooked. Many were the days I spent with her repairing broken markers, planting flowers, and simply talking about the Mokena of yore. These were the days when my interest in our community’s past was being awoken, and Carmen was a huge part of that. 

  Carmen Smallwood’s good deeds to the village were many, and as she did them, she never searched for a spotlight, or drew attention to herself. Her many improvements to our community were done silently, without ulterior motives. She will not be forgotten. 

The Hoof and Mouth Disease of 1914: A Vignette

   As Mokena continues to sit tight in a world gripped by COVID-19, many of the peculiarities of this new existence have become normal. Social distancing, isolating at home, and even shortages in stores are things villagers of 2020 have slowly become used to. As we have seen in my last article, quarantine and surviving infectious disease aren’t new concepts in Mokena’s long history, the community having made it through everything from the dreaded Spanish Flu, to smallpox and measles, among a host of other illnesses. However, especially unique in our village’s experience is the flare up of hoof and mouth disease that began in 1914 and carried on into 1915. 

   What makes this malady different from so many of the others in our past is that it mainly attacks animals, specifically those of the cloven-hoofed variety. In rare cases, it can also be passed to humans, and is characterized by fever and rupturing blisters on the feet and mouth of those infected. It is a highly contagious and often fatal viral disease, one that struck fear into the hearts of so many of our forefathers in and around in Mokena, as many of them gained their living from animals. 

  At the end of 1914, the feared hoof and mouth disease was noticed amongst cattle herds in eastern Will County. To prevent its spread, dairy farms around Mokena were placed under quarantine, as was the Cleveland school, a small country schoolhouse that stood on the northeast side of what is today the intersection of Wolf Road and the Lincoln Highway. Gradually, by the end of November, the quarantine had been lifted on most of the farms where the illness had exhibited itself. The stockyards at the eastern edge of the village, where large numbers of cattle passed through on a regular basis, were completely disinfected and also newly whitewashed.

   The outbreak was taken very seriously; by the time January 1915 was wrapping up, a ban was slapped onto all local farmers from not only shipping cattle and milk over the Rock Island railroad into Chicago, but a new one also prevented them from transporting grain as well. Mokena livestock handlers such as John Cappel, Emil Krapp, and George W. Maue met at the Union Stockyards in Chicago on February 22^nd to confer with other Will County cattle men on how to handle the situation, and the realization was reached that before long, the whole county would “classified as exposed territory.”

   As the quarantines first started to be lifted in November 1914, one farm remained under tight control, that of dairyman Christian Warning. Making their homestead along the Lincoln Highway, the Warning clan originated in the tiny village of Warnow, in what is today the northeast German state of Mecklenburg-Vorpommern. In the fall of 1881, they left home and hearth and made their way to America’s shore, and came to call Mokena home. After marrying Elizabeth Clausen in 1892, 33-year-old Christian Warning purchased the old 160-acre Leffler farm almost two miles south of Mokena, where he and Elizabeth would raise six children.  

The former farmhouse of Christian Warning as it appears on today's Lincoln Highway. 

   A man of no small influence, Christian Warning was elected highway commissioner of Frankfort Township in 1913, and took office after a brief but intense scandal in which the legitimacy of his American citizenship was questioned. As hoof and mouth disease appeared on his farm a year later, the language of the surviving historical record hints at the notion that not all was being done to combat the malady by Warning as could be. The seriousness of the situation at the farm was spelled out in black and white in the Mokena column of the November 25^th, 1914 edition of the Joliet Herald-News. Amidst a blurb detailing the theft of a valuable horse and two buggies from a farm east of town, the correspondent issued a stark admonition. Addressing him by name, a sentence was tacked on that read “Christian Warning! Sick cows will be killed. The trench is being dug.”

   Whether any of his animals had to be condemned has been lost to time, but before the hoof and mouth debacle was over, Warning’s livestock herd was decimated, having lost 74 head of cattle, 35 hogs and 100 ducks. In mid-February 1915, a state inspector was on the property and finally gave the all clear. While the Warning family could count their blessings at having stayed healthy, their livelihood was irreversibly wrecked, and had to make the switch to general farming. 

   Looking back at the hardships endured by our forefathers in their wrangling with various contagious diseases over the years, it becomes easier to be thankful all the more for the advancements of medical technology and the hard work of our doctors and nurses.

Mokena No Stranger to Infectious Disease

  We live in a time when the dire threat of communicable disease is looming over us, and playing a very real role in our lives. The effects of COVID-19 are visible everywhere in Mokena, from the countless business closed, the shuttered public buildings, and even the safety tape that wraps our playgrounds. My last column in the Messenger focused on the most significant other occurrence of something similar in the long history of our community, namely the height of the dreaded Spanish Flu pandemic in the fall of 1918. However, the village has been no stranger to disease over the years.  Before and after the last pandemic, Mokena was also the scene of vicious outbreaks of such illnesses as measles and scarlet fever. Standing guard in these times of uncertainty, was Mokena’s erstwhile board of health.

   In the spring of 1883, the young village, freshly incorporated three years earlier, was wrestling with a serious case of measles. One of the early acts of the community’s new government was to create a small board of health, which at this time was presided over by Dr. William Becker and filled out by saloon keeper Charles Schiek and blacksmith Robert Turner. The board convened on May 23^rd to address the measles outbreak in the household of Charles Werthmüller. While they tried to isolate the case in this home, Werthmüller leveled a complaint against fellow Mokenian Dick McGovney, a 21-year-old who resided with his family on a farm just south of town. Whether his broaching of the subject was valid, or if it was simply a ploy to divert attention from his own family will never be known at this late date, but Werthmüller’s assertion that McGovney’s young siblings were still going to class was serious enough for the board to investigate. 

   On a damage control mission, the board of health paid a visit to the regal two-story school that stood on the east end of town, and had some face time with 13-year-old Ada McGovney, Dick’s younger sister. Ada confirmed that her brother had been sick, but was feeling better that day and would probably be out and about. Erring on the side of caution, the board asked the school’s principal to survey his students for measles in their families, and if there happened to be any, to have them stay home until further notice. 

     Various other disturbances occurred over the years, a notable one being a flare up of scarlet fever that reared its head in town in 1891. At the end of that November, town medicine man Dr. Edmund Lynch made it known to the board of health that scarlet fever was in the house of Christian Sippel, a Front Street store keeper. Accordingly, the gentlemen of the board, F.W. Hinrichsen, Nick Marti and Arthur McGovney, asked the Sippels to keep their infected family members indoors, and also hung a quarantine sign on their premises, warning outsiders from entering.

   Within a day of the sign being put up, Christian Sippel had it taken down. The village constable immediately hung a new sign, and this time delivered the board’s frustrated orders that this time, no one was to leave the house. Town lamplighter Louis Ridder was also hired by the board to check on the Sippels twice a day, and to bring them food and water. For his trouble and risk, he was given a dollar a day, or around thirty dollars in today’s money.

   About a week later, the next chapter in the scarlet fever drama unfolded when the Sippels’ housemaid became too afraid of the malady to continue living with them. After conferring, the board agreed to let the young lady (who name has been long lost to history) instead stay with her grandmother, only with the strict stipulations that upon leaving the Sippels, she would change her work clothes and then “wash her whole body with carbolized water.” She was also ordered not to leave her grandmother’s for ten full days. 

This historic structure on Front Street housed the store and residence of the  Christian Sippel family in 1891.

   Tragically, the scarlet fever outbreak of 1891 exacted a human toll. On December 10^th, Gertrud Elise Sippel, the two-year-old daughter of Christian and Catherine Sippel, succumbed to the after effects of the disease. The next day, before her earthly remains were laid to rest in St. John’s Cemetery, the board of health met in regards to young Gertrud’s funeral. With a heavy heart, it was decided not to allow a public one, citing that it was “better for the community” when the risk of transmission still existed with the Sippel family members. Shortly thereafter, on December 15^th, after having thoroughly inspected the premises, the board declared the danger to the community over, and allowed Christian Sippel to open his store again. 

   As we have seen in both of these cases, along with the much more severe Spanish Flu pandemic of a little more than a 100 years ago, Mokena survived these tests of perserverance and emerged resiliently. With a little help from the fighting spirit of our forefathers, we will again in 2020.