Families

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Schmidt of Hannaford, Griggs, North Dakota

I am a descendant of Charles Philip Schmidt and Laura May Schmidt of Hannaford, Griggs, North Dakota
My father was Jr, Charles Philip Schmidt and my mother is Doris F. from Jamestown, North Dakota.
we have three in our family: Marylin Phyllis Schmidt Sharon Coleen Schmidt Charles Philip Schmidt.
#1 Charles Schmidt, dads father, was the Northern Pacific Depot agent for Hannaford, North Dakota for many years. I have a booklet of the Presbyterian church where my grandmother Laura was a Deacon in the church. Both lived all their married years in Hannaford, Griggs, North Dakota.
I have been doing research on this Schmidt family and find that this Charles Schmidt was born at Ft Shaw, Montana territory, and was moved from there to Ft Snelling and then to Sunrise, Minnesota and finally to North Branch, Chisago, Minnesota. Seems when he got the job as the Depot agent he married Laura May Webber. She was a school teacher in North Branch, Minnesota and many other schools in the area before her marriage. They had 6 children, Jr and then 5 girls, Dorothy Mae, Mary Phyllis, Helen Irene, Kathleen Webber and Laura Jean. All of the children left Hannaford after high school heading for the state of Illinois, Chicago to be sure. From there their marriages took them to all over. Some to California, Oregon and Arizona and of course Illinois. Now in the twilight our our years, there are a few grand children of these pioneer settlers of Hannaford left.
Dorothy never had children. Mary Phyllis had two daughters, Shirley and Nancy. Shirley lives in Chicago, area and Nancy lives in Arizona. Helens sons are deceased. Kathleen had no children. Now to Charles Philip Schmidt, Jr. Iisted us above. Laura Jean had two girls, Cynthia and Cheryl, and a son Paul Philip
I have three children and 12 grand children and l great grand son. My children live in Idaho, Georgia and Texas. My sister had thee children and 6 grand children. Her children all live in Oregon. My Brother, Charles Philip Schmidt has two sons, Caleb Allen Schmidt who graduates from High School this year and Christian Alex Schmidt. They live in Alabama.
We are proud German/English/Irish descent with the touch of Swedes and Norsky, my mother.
My brother teaches at the University of Alabama, and my sister has been a nurse, and I am a teacher. So those whom left your great state and your small town of Hannaford are well on our map. My father was very proud of his heritage, his homeland and was very loyal and dedicated to all it represented to him growing up. He attended Fargo State College, but left to play Baseball. After Baseball he married my mother and they quickly moved to Oregon to seek his fortune. Of course, Oregon was booming in wood industries, of logging, mills and lumber years. He did work for Hank Swingen and so learn lst hand of the trade.
Dad could sell anything. He was number one salesman for his company from 1952 until he retired at age 75. His work was mill work, then yard work and finally he was salesman for large company of lumber products out of Portland, Oregon. Dad hunted geese, ducks and pheasants here as he did in Hannaford. He always coached the town teams of Baseball. Dad was a lively man and I never saws him depressed, but a fireball always ready to go and have fun. I was dad's girl, and my mother always said I was just like my father. As did his father playing games at the Depot, so did dad. He taught us games, from the time we could read the cards. And he did not let us win. We had to win on our own.
Many tears were shed, but we learn how to be good losers.
His ski trophy is in the hands of my brother, I have a golden fork he won, and the time his dad retired from the Railroad, the chromed rail road section and the spikes that nailed down the rails. I have the vest and tie his father used when he did his vaudville acts in Chicago, blacking up and playing his banjo for entertainments. My sister has the banjo.
When his parents first went to Hannaford, Claus Jackson had the mercantile store, and they lived with them in their house. Right next door was a home, small, but the Jacksons suggested he buy it, he did. The house was small, and yet they reared their 6 kids there. Dad tells of the outhouse, the chickens he had to keep alive all winter and the hauling in the ice to do the laundry and the clothes he hauled to the depot to dry. The garden at the depot that bore the vegetables that his mother and his sisters canned each summer. And the berries his dad raised for canning.
He loved Hannaford, and longed for home all his days. He traveled when time and money allowed, home to visit the folks, and even at the 50th wedding anniversary of his parents. My father had the same talents of his grand father, story teller. He had many tales to tell he and his friend did there, from stealing corn to playing all the sports, football, baseball and basket ball.
I have never known anyone who kept track of the residents of Hannaford like DAD. He had many death notices and the hand outs that come from funerals.
He visited his many North Dakota pals that moved here in Oregon and he always kept his friendships opened. Many visited our home over the years I grew up.
I have to say he was a remarkable person. I have never seen anyone with the sweetness he could have, the love he had for his parents and sisters, and he adored children. He loved little kids and he never found one he did not like. Our grand children really benifited from his greatness towards children. Dad lit up with kids, and he was generous with candy and later money. My sister said no more candy dad, it will rot out their teeth. He never knew a stranger, he was first to greet anyone and he always had the games going at any holiday while mom prepared the feasts. Mostly it was card games all over the house, and if you didnt know the game, he taught you.
This is a small part of North Dakota I grew up with thru the eyes of my father. When I first visited Hannaford, it was small, and I was 7. But it was fun to visit again in 2000 where they lived, and I saw big changes with all the trees planted, and did see the name Claus Jackson down by the fire station, and did find the cemetery. Boy the bugs! It was humid and warm, as I remembered when I was 7. The ski jump was gone, but most was the same. Course the one building school was gone, where dad went to school. So I submit this to you for your records to a great town of Hannaford and one great man who let it live thru our eyes in his great story telling and letting us see first hand when children his home town he dearly loved. Even tho you didnt live there ever, you felt at home when you were there and remembering all the stories he told of that wonderful wonderland he made it become.
Submitted by Marylin Phyllis (Schmidt) Nix

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