Mom: Martha Elizabeth Feldkircher Hartje

A Remembrance of Mom

Listen to Dad’s remembrance of Mom with Brother Jim:

 Introduction to Bob and Brick

I’d like to tell you a story about a friend of mine

He can write a poem as bright as the sun does shine

Some he signs as Bob and others he signs as Brick

You may read them all and not understand a lick

I started as a young lad not knowing what to think

Often times confused with every word I read in ink

It took me many years before I could understand

Just how much wisdom he held inside his hand

Is it fact or fiction, I’m not sure I want to know

You’ll read more and more as you age and grow

And as I sit and try to write this song about my friend

All I can think of are his stories again and again

Well he can tell a story to me and to you

But who knows how much of it is actually true

One thing we know for sure is that it comes from the heart

And that’s what keeps us close even though we’re far apart

Zach Hartje

A Conversation with Brick Smokehouse

He appeared at the Hartje front door soon after the wedding, 66 years ago.  Seedy character that he was, he seemed at home and proceeded to fashion himself as important to the future of young Bob and his bride on Kenner Avenue in Nashville, Tennessee.

More than 6 decades later, a look into Ole Bob’s study sorta reflected Brick’s history with Bob.  Scattered over Ole Bob’s table were a Mac computer, a 1985 PLAYBOY, some random notes from a History 222 lecture, tapes and CDs without cases and a book review of Barbara Tuchman’s “The Zimmerman Telegram.”  Brick smiled as if he, too, might have been conditioned to such a pleasant confusion.

Back on Kenner, Bob lifted his eyes toward his new alter ego to wonder if, in his violin shaped case the intruder carried, there was a guitar or a 12 gauge – or maybe just a bun filled up with Liza’s EatMor Bar-B-Cue from down the street.  Or maybe it was a bottle of some cheap store-bought booze like history faculty serve at their parties.

‘My name is Smokehouse’, the visitor announced in a sad voice.  “I’m from the mountains of western Arkansas where our granpa made mountain dew and stored it in quart fruit jars in the musty solitude of his smokehouse out back.  This was a most important building in your family history.  Lined with sawdust, it’s where families kept their salted ham and bacon, their canned peaches and beans and, most important, hid Dew from the revenuers and Gramma and her gossipy neighbor Abigail.  It was a place that, on your uncle Zeb’s visits, your Gramma found this an ideal rendezvous to share with him a sip of the “shine” right from the jar.”

“Well,’ countered Bob, “she usually remained coherent most of the evening.”

Unperturbed, the visitor continued: “I was named Brick by this uncle whose fondness for the smokehouse extended to sharing the name with the family.”

“Well, Brick, or is it Mr. Smokehouse,” say young Bob, “Whatcha got in mind?  You sellin’ Bibles or ‘lightnin’ or just visitin’?”

“Actual, I’m not selling anything, jus’ here to bring you friendship and assist you in learning to write and whatever.”

“Okay,” say Bob, “But I warn you, Pappy and me, we mow the lawn ‘n have a couple of his home brewed Liberty Bell beers together now ‘n then.  And by god, I’m already quite a poet, even if I do say so myself.  Seems like we don’t really need yo help.”

“Well, let’s just see about that, ole buddy, I will sorta move in without you even noticing.  They’s lots of ways I can blend into you life.  As you develop your juvenile poetic leanings, I will add a bit of flavor to your life and lines, while taking a few of the blows this cruel world offers an ole Arky redneck like you.”

“Razorback!” Bob retorted proudly.

“Sooieeee!” echoed Brick, who wasn’t impressed: “You need all the help you can get.  As you developed your juvenile military leanings, I’m the one who kept you from getting an appointment to the military academy where Van Dorn finished at the bottom of his class.  And if I hadn’t discovered you when I did, you’d still be pickin’ strang beans for ole Judd Goad’s Elite Café.  And it was me who brought you to Kenner Ave in 1946, to meet the beautiful Martha.  I personally framed for you this sexy gal in a red gingham dress and had her sang Ado Annie’s plaintive melody from Oklahoma, “I can’t say No!”  Man, your face lit up like uncle Festus’ festive features on a Saturday night.”

“Well,” say Bob, “them 3 sisters sang like nightingales, and those words coming after a few exotic moves by the gal in the middle, were just what made my day.”

“And you know,” Brick continued, “you never woulda learned to love country music had I not brought into your Arkansas farmhouse a little Fada radio with its melodic sounds drownin’ out the static, and making Saturday night baths into weekly adventures.  There around that hot bellied stove, the three kids – you and Henry and Mary – splashed and basked in the music of Uncle Dave Macon and Dixie Dewdrop, the Gully Jumpers or Dr. Humphry Bate and his Possum Hunters.  Now who woulda ever thought that your love of ‘Opry’ would somehow get transformed into high falutin’ ‘Oparah’ with Van Dorn dancin’ on the table to “I Puritani.”

“Wow” say Bob, “WSM was a real hoot on Saturday night – but so is Bellini.”

“Yeah, but now you’re playing this new junk on your computer, like Girls, Guns and Glory singing your own special theme song, “Just Can’t Win” and Two Nice Girls singing “I Spent my last $10 on Birth Control and Beer.”

“Now this is a biggie,” Brick went on, “I geared up ole Kris to write and sing “Hep me make it through the Night” which has gone a long way in contributing to your fame and fortune – and family size.

Ole Bob just blushed and looked longingly at the gingham-clad gal’s picture on his desk.

“And you just might have become a real historian like Pete or Charlie or Miss Cynthia or those other histry folk you had the good sense to lure to Wittenberg if I hadn’t inspired Miss Lillie Mae Hill, your 2d grade teacher, to read to your class the book you still keep under your pillow at night, “The Girl of Limber-lost.”

“And just think what I did to amplify your music interests by settin’ up a 2 a.m. fiddlin’ contest sponsored by your somewhat liquored-up daddy with a seven-piece band fiddlin’ the Orange Blossom Special and Whiskey For Breakfast on your much-embarrassed Mama’s front porch, a stage as lit up as the band members was.”

“And even then I soon realized, alas, your greatest hope for being a musician would be to take up playin’ your countless CDs and tapes or listenin’ to that screechy ‘Oparah’ stuff blaring through the static of your radio on Saturday afternoons.

For a time I groomed you to write “The Killer Angels” before Shaara could get around to it, until I realized that great work might be a fer piece beyond your creative capacity.  Might as well leave the ole guy to his ‘potree’, I thought.  But then I did help you write a tale of a young, swaggering Rebel general whose legacy was a manual for losing battles and who came to a rather ignominious end – tho not on the battlefield.

“Gees, without me, ole Bob, it would take a pint of ole grandads chinquapin gin for you to write even a sentence of you ‘n me talkin’ like this.

“I guess you’re right,” ole Bob replied humbly.  “With your writin’ you sure seem to shore up some of my rough thinkin’ ‘n dreamin’.  Like Martha sings as I edit my papers, I really do need all the hep I can get.  And it’s sure you’re supporting me using the plots of Gunsmoke as my main source in my Western America course.  And I know you look the other way when I use “Oh Brother, Where Art Thou” to show my disproval of the KKK in my South lectures.”

At that, Brick opened his fiddle case and removed a bottle of ole Jack, and he and Bob celebrated lustily their wonderful relationship.

Bob Hartje

August 2012

 Van Dorn – The Life and Times of a Confederate General

Earl Van Dorn was a handsome, dashing Confederate General.  The grand-nephew of Andrew Jackson, Van Dorn graduated 52nd in a class of 56 at West Point.  He distinguished himself in the Mexican War and as a cavalry officer in the Civil War.  But, on the battlefields of Pea Ridge, Arkansas and Corinth, Mississippi, Van Dorn committed tactical blunders that contributed greatly to the end of the Confederate military advantage.

Van Dorn was murdered in 1863 by a “jealous husband.”

This excerpt describes a gathering of Confederate officers in the Fall of 1861.  It reflects Bob Hartje’s love of Civil War history and Grand Opera:

At a great banquet given by General Longstreet, an argument developed among the officers present as to what tune they preferred for the Southern anthem.  My Maryland and Dixie were among the suggestions that were offered, but Van Dorn enthusiastically defended the Liberty Duet from I Puritani.  When his enthusiasm bubbled over and he began to sing the strains at the banquet table, General Longstreet shouted out in his gruff voice: “Upon the table and show yourself, we can’t see you.”

“Not unless you stand by me,” returned Van Dorn.

Longstreet’s leap to the table top was followed quickly by Van Dorn and General Smith.  In the midst of the merriment, three generals clung to each other atop the narrow banquet table roaring out the majestic strains from Vincenzo Bellini’s great opera.  The words must have been well received by those who now loved another country:

          Let the words: Country, victory and honour awaken terror in the enemy!

          Let the trumpet sound and fearlessly

          I’ll fight courageously.

          It is a fine thing to face death crying: Freedom!

The witness to this affair said that while the officers sang, two higher-ranking generals, Johnston and Beauregard, “stood nearby with twinkling eyes of amusement and enjoyment.”  More dignified General Kirby Smith departed from this robust group and when requested to return and make a speech, he refused on the grounds “that he could not speak soberly to a drunken audience.”

“So much for wine and ‘entoosy moosy’ as Byron calls it,” concluded the approving witness.

 Inauguration of Wittenberg President Bill Kinnison

At a dinner before Bill’s Inauguration as Witt’s President in 1976 - the Bicentennial Year - Dad spoke and then read a poem - “Celebration: The Nation, The Community, and the Man.” The poem featured Sam - the spirit of America, “Bill” - Bill Kinnison, of course - and “Bobby McGee” - say what?!

Here’s Dad’s poem and Bill’s account of the occasion, and why Bobby McGee was a guest - at pages 252 - 254 of “Modern Wittenberg”:

Bill Kinnison has published a 2-volume history of Wittenberg. You will find it to be engaging, informative, and very well-written. Bill has also written “America’s Most Haunted Campus” - you guessed it - Wittenberg! And a history of Springfield, Ohio too - both Witt’s President and a Historian!

 Dad’s 90th Birthday Gathering

IN MEMORIAM: ROBERT G. HARTJE

Professor Emeritus Of History Left Enduring Legacy

Described as an “irrepressible force” by a former colleague, Robert G. Hartje, professor emeritus of history, passed away April 21, 2020, at the age of 97.

Born Aug. 8, 1922, he served as a paratrooper with the Army Air Corps during World War II and held bachelor’s, master’s, and doctoral degrees from Vanderbilt University. An award-winning professor and leading authority on how to celebrate the American Bicentennial, he taught at Wittenberg from 1956 until his retirement in 1988. During his tenure, he also served as chair of the department of history and director of American Studies.

His love of American history found its focus in the South, the Civil War, and the Revolutionary War. From 1970-1971, he served as Bicentennial project director for the American Association for State and Local History in Nashville, Tennessee, during which he wrote Bicentennial USA: Pathways to Celebration, which offered more than 400 ideas for how communities could celebrate the nation’s 200th birthday. This experience led him to serve as a consultant to the American Revolution Bicentennial Commission.

A beloved faculty member, Hartje was recognized several times for teaching excellence. In 1964, he received the Harbison Award from the Danforth Foundation, and in 1967, he was presented with the Alumni Association Distinguished Teaching Award. In nominating him, students commented that “he makes history intensely interesting and relevant to the present,” and “he has a deep personal interest in each of his students.”

Jim Huffman, professor emeritus of history, echoed those sentiments: “Bob was a force: irrepressible, both in and out of the classroom. I can still see him walking to class carrying half a dozen dog-eared books, ready to read his favorite excerpts from each one. I can hear the stories he loved to tell—in the hallway, in talks, over meals. It was no wonder that students loved him because he loved them.

“I remember telling him one day about some student’s writing error that I thought was amusing,” Huffman continued. “[Bob] responded: ‘Yes, you never know whether to correct students or to encourage their creativity.’ At the time, I thought he was being too soft on students. But over time I came to see what a strength it was; he appreciated their individuality; he gave them the benefit of the doubt; and so many of them blossomed as a result.”

Hartje and his wife, the late Martha Feldkircher Hartje ’44, along with other family, friends, and colleagues, established The Robert and Martha Hartje Endowed History Fund, which funds both an award given annually to a senior history major with an interest in biographical and narrative history and an award for students who seek to study abroad.

The fund also established the Annual Robert G. Hartje Lecture in History. Hartje himself presented the inaugural lecture entitled “Storytelling and History: Making Sense of the Civil War from a Fanciful Mind Set” in 2006. More than 200 alumni, students, faculty, and friends attended, with Joe O’Connor, professor emeritus of history, introducing his former colleague as “a magnetic figure on this campus” who “meant more to more students inside the classroom and outside, than any other Wittenberg faculty member I have ever known.”

At his 90th birthday party on campus, approximately 300 people – including President Emeritus William A. Kinnison, former students, and all living former history department faculty – celebrated with him.

In retirement, Hartje remained dedicated to the life of the mind and continued to teach and lecture. His Homecoming weekend presentations were particularly popular among alumni. A lifelong poet whose work appeared in the Wittenberg Review of Literature and Art, he published his first book of poetry, Poems Across the Seasons (Four Directions Press), last year at the age of 96.

His professional contributions also included the book Van Dorn: The Life and Times of a Confederate General (Vanderbilt UP, 1967), numerous articles and book reviews in professional journals such as The Historian, and professional papers delivered at meetings of various professional history associations. He was a past president of the Ohio Academy of History, which awarded him the Distinguished Service Award in 1984, and a past president of the Warder Libraries Board of Trustees.

Contributions in Dr. Hartje’s memory can be made to The Robert and Martha Hartje Endowed History Fund.

You can hear Dad read a few of his poems at the site

From: john.hartje@gmail.com
Date: April 21, 2020 at 5:25:42 PM EDT
Subject: Dad and Brick Smokehouse have moved on

All,
Dad moved on, peacefully, early this morning to join Mom.
He enjoined 97 glorious years with family, colleagues and friends like you.
And we sure enjoyed him!
Along the way, he touched the lives of countless students.
I thought you might enjoy this picture of Dad with me and Greta, taken when I visited Ohio last month. He would be mortified if he knew that he posed with a Yankees cup!
It has been our very good fortune to know and love both Bob and Brick.
Thanks Dad
Best wishes to all,
John