Helen Heckes was not the only Oysterville neighbor who admired Mr. Kistemacher’s peonies. “He just has the knack,” they often said.

Cornelius Kistemacher 1861-1943

Mr. Kistemacher (sometimes written Kistemaker) was one of our Oysterville neighbors when I was a little girl. I can barely remember him and probably few others do, either, by now. From what I do know about him, he seems typical of so many of the “old-timers” of my childhood — people who worked hard to make a better life than they’d had growing up and to leave their children with more possibilities looking forward.

Cornelius and his wife, Anna, came from Holland — I’m not sure when or by what route they traveled or where they might have lived along the way. By the 1910 census, they were here in Oysterville with their two children, 8-year-old George and 7-year-old Gladys. Both children were frequent playmates of the Espy children, my Aunt Suzita and Gladys being the same age.

In letters written to her mother (who was in Olympia awaiting my mother’s birth). Medora wrote in 1911: After I came home from school I practiced for a half hour, then helped George Kistemaker catch Danny. When he was caught, I gave Mona a ride on him and then took a ride myself. And a few weeks later: Today Mona is seven years old. Yesterday we celebrated the occasion by a little party. Gladys and George and May Christy came.

As was customary in those days, the elder Kistemachers were always referred to by the townspeople as “Mr.” or “Mrs.” Kistemacher. My Great-aunt Ruth, however, usually referred to Mr. as “Kissy-Kussy” — though certainly not to him directly or ever in public! Years later, when my mother asked her why, she answered “Because he did a lot of both!”

Pull Quote

My Great-aunt Ruth usually referred to Mr. Kistemacher as ‘Kissy-Kussy’ — though certainly not to him directly or ever in public! Years later, when my mother asked her why, she answered ‘Because he did a lot of both!’

Mr. Kistemacher was the village handyman and during the time that my mother was making her entrance to the world in Olympia, Medora wrote to Mama: Mr. Kistemaker has fixed the stalls in the barn across the street and put the colts and Dolly in there and he has the other horses in the big barn at the ranch. He gave the cows turnips. A few days later she reported: Ruth had Mr. Kistemaker move the piano in the sitting room.

And, on Nov. 11, 1911 Medora wrote with great excitement: The snow gets deeper every minute. It hasn’t drifted a bit. It is about 2-1/2 inches thick. George K. hitched Charlie to Mr. Kistemaker’s sled and we rode up and down the plank walk and when George went back to the ranch to put Charlie up, I hauled the children (Sue, Mona and Gladys) up and down the street. I haven’t snow balled all day.

Mr. Kistemacher was Gladys Kistemacher’s father — which made him Bud Goulter’s maternal grandfather. In Marie Oesting’s 1988 book, “Oysterville Cemetery Sketches,” she related two stories about him. The first was told Helen Heckes: “He was a little Dutchman. Rather excitable. He just sputtered when he talked. But he grew peonies, something I’ve tried to do ever since; I can’t make them grow. But he had beautiful peonies.”

And Les Wilson had this to say to Marie about Mr. Kistemacher: “He made real good home brew. I used to work with a guy — off and on — on the mail trucks. The North Beach Transit Company had a truck, two trucks, that they hauled mail and supplies. I’d go with this guy, and that’s where we’d end up, was up at old Kisty’s and take up chicken feet, whatnot. He always had a bottle of home brew there for us. This was just hops and malt with plenty of sugar in it; it had quite a kick to it. We’d usually end up the last delivery with him, and then we’d have a beer or two.”

But of all the descriptions of Mr. Kistemacher, it is my uncle Willard’s eulogy in his “Family Man” column for Good Housekeeping magazine that best conjures up for me the memories of this beloved Oysterville character of my childhood: A letter from the folks in Oysterville tells me that my old friend Mr. Kistemacher has died. I feel especially sorry about it because when we were out there last summer we never visited him at his home. I meant to sit with Hilda in his kitchen and drink green beer while his Edison phonograph played ‘Turkey in the Straw’ and Mr. Kistemacher accompanied the music very exactly and mournfully on an ocarina, doing a curious stately pelican dance, his big Dutch nose hooked over the instrument and his red cheeks bunched up like two wizened little apples. But he was out the day we called, and it is too late now. I suppose you would have called Mr. Kistemacher a ‘character,’ Oysterville used to be a great place for characters, and some are there yet…

AUTHOR’S NOTE: In response to Robin Taylor’s comments on my article “Saints or Sinners? Characters of Pacific County: ‘Teeny-tiny woman made hospitality her mission’ in the June 12 Chinook Observer:

All the information concerning Adelaide Stewart Taylor’s personal background was provided to me by her direct descendants or from information gleaned in documentation and articles concerning her brother Wallace Stewart (sometimes spelled Stuart) who served in Olympia as state representative from Pacific County from 1909 until his death by accidental drowning in 1911. I have used the same information about Adelaide Stewart Taylor in many articles about her, several used over the years in this newspaper, as well as in stories written about her in at least one of my books about this area.

As for my “choosing” the time of publication of the article, even should such a thought have occurred it me, I doubt that it would be possible. I submit my” Saints or Sinners?” stories to Mr. Winters in batches of 10; the date upon which each appears is pure happenstance — they are not in any sort of chronological (or any other kind) of order — the only exception being “The Christmas Culprit” which I asked to be coordinated with the Christmas season for obvious reasons.