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JFK, Fleischmann's Yeast, and Jelly donuts

5/28/2016

Donut War Jelly Heart, Acrylic Painting of Dunkin Donuts Jelly by Kelley MacDonald

berliners

No essay concerning any German donut is complete without a mention of John F. Kennedy.

A few decades ago while touring Germany I noticed that the bakeries did not sell jelly donuts. They sold berliners. I remember asking a sales clerk why the jelly donuts were called "Berliners." I was given a look of condescension, most likely because I could only speak English, and was told "because they are berliners." Fighting back visions of Sweeney Todd, I was seriously afraid to try one, not knowing what it may contain. The only other time I had heard the term "Berliner" was while watching a 1963 (yes, I am that old) television broadcast of John F. Kennedy in Berlin. I heard him tell the world "Ich bin ein Berliner." It was a moving post WWII speech inferring that we, all, are Berliners; from Berlin; we are one world.

Could mass jelly donut consumption be a Germanic celebration of unity?

Thinking this was an odd name for a pastry, I asked a few of my more linguistically and gastronomically knowledgeable co-workers the same question: "Why are the jelly donuts called "Berliners?" I received virtually the same answer from my co-workers, “it's because they are called berliners." I think it was a cellist who said, "That's right. JFK unwittingly told the world he was a donut."

Spurred by curiosity, I have read various articles debating JFK's "Berliner" statement. Was it an awkward, near international incident-inciting faux pas? Or was the statement technically correct in German grammar? Most arguments seemed to vindicate JFK's usage of the term.

The great JFK debate does not, however, address why jelly donuts are referred to as berliners.

In 2010 Gil Marks wrote in his "Encyclopedia of Jewish Food" that:

"Since at least the early 1800s, Germans had called jelly doughnuts simply Berliners. According to a German anecdote, in 1756 a patriotic baker from Berlin was turned down as unfit for Prussian military service, but allowed to remain as a field baker for the regiment. Because armies in the field had no access to ovens, he began frying doughnuts over an open fire, which the soldiers began calling after the baker’s home, Berliners."
Read more at:
http://leitesculinaria.com/60405/writings-histotry-of-sufganiyah.html

Armed with this second-hand information, I concluded that in 1878 Thomas Albert Hersey Junior (1864-1956) could very well have referred to his grandmother's pastries as berliners.

Fleischmann's Yeast

Charles Louis Fleischmann (1835 – 1897) Baking Hall of Fame from the American Society of Baking

by Brent Engstrom 2008

You may have been surprised to read that Thomas Albert Junior would have known about or made use of Fleischmann's Yeast in 1878. Undoubtedly an exciting revolution for a young baker like Thomas, It was as early as 1868 when Charles Fleischmann began to market compressed yeast. According to one of his granddaughters, Thomas Albert Junior, a baker all of his life, was one of the first chefs hired by the Hotel Del Coronado in San Diego in the late 1880's. He first appears as a "baker" in the 1881 Census of Canada at the age of only sixteen. After a brief try at farming in Fullerton, Thomas Junior and his wife Susan Jane Langford VanSkike Hersey (1861–1942) managed a boarding house in the 1920's on Central Ave in La Habra. I presume that he did much, if not all, of the cooking.

Note: Many thanks to Margaret Hall for her assistance with my pig-din attempts at the German language; she offered, however, no insight into the donut debate.

For further reading:

The history of the Jelly Donut

Doughnut vs. donut

Berliner (doughnut)

JFK: "I Am a Jelly Donut" ("Ich Bin ein Berliner")
From the Urban Legends Mailbag

The Real Meaning of Ich Bin ein Berliner From The Atlantic

Victorian Chromo-Litho Trading/Advertising Cards:

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David John's Flood Run Part VI

5/22/2016

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OMA

Evening, 22 Feb 1878

Junior (Thomas Albert Hersey Junior, 1864–1956) deftly maneuvered the oars of the small row boat to the front window of the cabin. It was still raining, but not as hard as in the previous twenty-four hours. A torrent of unexpected rain had flooded much of Williamsville and nearly all of his father's (Thomas Albert Senior, 1839-1910) property. What a day!!! Junior's father had been yelling orders and directions to him the complete thirty yards from the main house to the cabin. Junior was well practiced at ignoring his father. In fact, he was the only one of the ten children that could handle his father. It was his happy little secret. He was able to ignore his father while simultaneously portraying abject loyalty.

Junior and his family lived up the hill in the main house while Oma and Grandpapa lived tucked into the little cabin downhill. Well, Grandpapa was usually tucked into the cabin. This evening he was on the cabin. He was on the roof calling to God and Noah to stop the flood. Grandpapa (Daniel Hersey, 1797–1879) often imbibed in amusing behavior now that he was in his eighties.

Junior and his younger brother Ernest (Ernest Francis Alfred Hersey, 1870–1939) had rescued their father and Uncle David (David John Hersey, 1846–1900) with the rowboat. The elder Herseys had been trying to make their way through the flood to the cabin. Really, the two of them were adults but…they were hopeless! Father had nearly severed his thumb in the process and Uncle David looked like a water demon; he had cut his head in several places and had tied a scarf around his head to stop the flow of blood, making him look as if he had the mumps. This was nothing compared to the look of what remained of his suit. How had he managed to get his suspenders wrapped around his left leg? Oh, this was great fun!

Ernest, being the smallest, handed Junior the lantern and began to climb his way through the window.

"Hoy! Oma!! How be ye?"

Their Grandmother, (Mary Ann Smith Hersey, 1808–1888), laughing, pulled him into the cabin.

"Oh Ernest! What a day!"

Junior, climbing through without help, had already noticed the aroma coming from the wood stove.

"Oma! Berliners?"

"Oh, ja, Pfannkuchen und Pumpernickel mit raisons und maple sirup."

"MMmmm! Did you use the Fleischmann's yeast I bought for you?"

"Oh, ja, ja!" The two of them left the others to hover over and analyze the bread.

"Junior!!" His father barked. "We are not here for a baking lesson! You are carpenter, not a cook!!" Thomas Albert Senior and David John had struggled to get through the window. David had somehow managed to land upside down on his already bruised and cut head.

"Oh yes, father, I am a carpenter! Just like you and Grandpapa. But I'm doing as you said; I am calming down Oma."

David, still upside-down in front of the window, actually smiled; but silently and to himself. He loved hearing his older brother being angled. Right-siding himself and carefully entering the conversation, he asked, “Mama…have you noticed that father is on roof?"

"Oh, ja, ja!"

Thomas interjected. "Mama!! Did you try to get him down?"

Mary's face took on a stern look. In perfect English she said, "Thomas, only once, twelve years ago, I made a suggestion to Papa. I have never done so again."

Thomas and David paused and mused. Yes, they remembered that series of incidents.

Mary added, pointing behind them, "Schau hinter dich."

Both brothers turned their heads behind in curiosity. David screamed in shock. Thomas took three steps back quickly. Their father had been standing inches from them holding the lantern.

"What?? How did…?" Thomas stammered.

"I went up the loft and told him God said it was time to come inside," piped Ernest. "I helped him in through the cubby hole."

Oma, all smiles, proclaimed "Lasset die Kindlein nicht...sie sind alle Engel!"

Yes. God bless the children. May Heaven be filled with the likes of little Ernests.

Grandpapa

"Old Man" Oil on leather "painted by some painter while in solitary imprisonment; not a good person." Click to read.

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The Primitive Methodist Church

5/18/2016

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Engraving: Methodist camp meeting 1819, Library of Congress

“Do all the good you can. By all the means you can. In all the ways you can. In all the places you can. At all the times you can. To all the people you can. As long as ever you can.”
― John Wesley

Readers, please forgive me for making use of the Hymn "O Sacred Flood" (David John’s Flood Run Part V). This Hymn is not contained in the June, 1898 Primitive Methodist Hymnal. In fact, it appears to have been composed by Ohioan William Augustine Ogden (1841-1897), and was popular from about 1875 - 1940. Whether the hymn made its way north to Canada and into the rather rigid Methodist congregations remains any hymnologist's puzzle.

London brothers John (1703-1791) and Charles (1707-1788) Wesley, the patriarchs of Methodism, were fairly rigid in their hymn singing expectations. John's 1761 "Directions for Singing" is filled with (at least to the modern vocalist) humorous musical and behavioral dictums.

Nomenclature involved in the term "Primitive Methodist" appears somewhat jocular in its primeval associations, bringing a variety of puritanical punishments to mind. In actuality the term "Primitive" in the religious sense refers to a return to origins, or the purposeful practice of a belief system as it was originally intended. The Canadian Encyclopedia defines Methodism thusly:

"Methodism...encouraged personal holiness and a disciplined (hence "methodical") Christian life. It was distinctive in its Arminianism, the belief that individuals are free to accept or reject God's grace, and that it is possible to attain 'perfection' (the overcoming of a will to sin) in this life."

Primitive Methodism seems to have been a working-class revival in the early 1800's. Although Methodism first appeared as a schism from the Church of England, typical Methodist political tendencies leaned towards Toryism, royalism and away from rebellion (3). This came in very handy for the protestant Loyalists in Ontario, Canada and elsewhere. In addition, the temperance movement was a strong part of Primitive Methodism in the New World.

According to several Canadian censuses Williamsville Village in the city of Kingston was the location of the homes of Daniel Hersey (1797-1879) and his son Thomas Albert (1839–1910), and Primitive Methodism was certainly listed as their religion of choice. When Daniel Hersey left Cayuga County, New York and arrived in Ontario, Canada in approximately 1830 he very likely attended church in a private home, barn, or an open outdoor camp meeting led by a travelling (circuit rider) minister. His first church meetings may have been in Cataraqui at the location of the original cemetery, or in nearby Waterloo Village. I speculate on Waterloo Village because one source has indicated it to be the burial place of Daniel’s first wife, Mariah Acker (1795-about 1834) (1 page 34.){Please note there are a few date issues in Stephen E. Hersey’s account, some of which I will visit in later writings}.

I was very pleased to spot the former location of Kingston’s Primitive Methodist Church on 20 Brock Street near corner of Brock and Barrie streets; the third lot from Barrie street directly across from the Bishops Palace and caddy-corner to the lavish St Mary's Cathedral. Its undoubtedly traditional simple Primitive Methodist structure must have been an amusing contrast to the cathedral and a comment on Christian spending. Closed in around 1922 (2), the location now sports a series of lovely brick row houses.

There are still practicing Primitive Methodists today:
PrimitiveMethodistChurch.org

An extensive essay on Primitive Methodism history in Canada written by Reverend J. Cooper Antliff, D.D. can be found at Centennial of Canadian Methodism; Historical Sketch of the Primitive Methodist Church in Canada.

In addition, an interesting history of the Methodist Church in Canada can be found at the blog "Fadedgenes".

One can also find "Old-Time Primitive Methodism in Canada" in Google Books.

Whitby, Ontario Methodist Church – 1875 (136 miles west of Kingston on Lake Ontario)

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David John's Flood Run Part V

5/16/2016

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Evening, 22 Feb 1878

Flood 1875, oil painting, William Corden, Datchet Library

Thigh high in a flood stream, the sun already below the horizon, David John (1846–to about 1900) and Thomas Albert (1839–1910) Hersey were stumbling through water outside Thomas's home on Chatham Street.

They had been in and out of the basement shop, which was engulfed in three feet of water, brainstorming ideas on how to get across the rapids flowing down the property to reach the cabin below. In David's hands was a tangled rope he'd acquired from the shop. The rope had been in a box on a shelf underwater. It was slimy and difficult to maneuver.

"What are you trying to do with that?" Thomas shouted to his younger brother over the sounds of the storm.

“I’m…trying…to… tie… a knot,” David John struggled with the rope as he shouted back. Thomas rolled his eyes in exasperation. "That's not how it's done. Toss it to me."

"Really, David, you don't have a clue on how to do anything practical," was Thomas's unsaid thought.

David snippily countered with the obvious. "And how are you going to manage a knot with that hand?"

A half-an-hour before Thomas had deeply injured his thumb with by fumbling a crosscut saw. He had been trying to salvage the tools from the basement by bringing each item upstairs into the house. Elizabeth (1842–1933), his wife, had wrapped the hand in a tea towel. It was still bleeding.

"It’s my right hand, I can manage." Thomas was left-handed. Thomas argued further. "And tell me just what we're supposed to do with this rope, and what do you intend to tie?"

The temperature was dropping almost to snowing level. David John was shivering, soaked, mud-covered, with all of his clothes skewed into a tattered state. The rain was easing up a bit but the run-off flood was still flowing rapidly down the property, through the basement, and into the street. They needed to make their way from Thomas's house to the cabin situated about thirty yards downhill. The crossing between the two structures was covered by a rainstorm-made river of unknown depth and speed. It was dark and they could only see shadows cast by the lanterns lit in the basement and house windows.

The dim realization that this watery escapade was not only dangerous but foolhardy flickered in Thomas's head. Both brothers began to wonder if they were up to this hopeless task. The cold, wet, and dark was daunting enough. But it was the sound that had them worried; the sound of their elderly father ranting against the storm, invoking God and Noah from atop the roof of the cabin below. They reckoned it could be heard over the storm for at least a mile.

"How do I know?" snapped David. "Tie it to the house somewhere and use it as a line to get to the cabin."

"But David, the rope would already have to be tied to the cabin!"

"Well …I can stay here and hold on to the rope…and…um…you can swim to the cabin and tie it up there!"

Rainfall filled the silence.

"What in the world is that going to solve? And why me? Why don't you swim to the cabin? Why don't we both try swimming to the cabin?"

"You know I don't swim!!" David yelled with indignation. "There is no way you can get father off the roof by yourself and we do not know what condition mother is in. You need to get this rope to the cabin and I can pull myself over to you." David was determined to rescue father. In his mind, this had to be done.

"Perhaps David does have some practical ideas after all,” Thomas mused.

Father's ranting had changed. He was...singing? The brothers stopped arguing and listened:

"O flood of living waters
And mightly crimson tide,
Blest fountain of salvation,
From Jesus' pierced side,
Flow on, flow on.
O sacred stream flow on, flow on:
Flow on, flow on, O sacred stream, flow on."

Faint at first, gradually their listening was interrupted by another sound: a small repeating sound heard beneath father's singing; a splashing sound. It was getting louder, coming from around the south corner of the house. Soon it was unmistakable. It was the sloshing of oars in water. From around the corner a row boat with two small people maneuvered into view; Thomas Albert Junior (1864–1956) handling the oars and little Ernest (1870–1939) seated in the back holding high a lantern, both wearing oilskin hooded slickers.

"What…How…?" stammered David.

"Ma told me to borrow Charles Anderson's boat," declared Junior. The Andersons lived one house up Chatham Street.

David was appalled. "Not Charles! Not the neighbors! There will be talk!"

"Too late to worry about that, Uncle David. Every last one of 'em knows. Grandpa is a right fine tenor, no?" piped Ernest.

David and Thomas glanced at each other then turned their heads to scan the street. Every house on the road had lanterns balanced somewhere by a window with curious faces staring out below, enjoying the show. Two houses up Margaret Porter waved energetically at them.

"O sacred stream flow on….               flow on,
                                            Flow on, ….         flow on,
(Oh Heavens. The neighbors were singing the traditional antiphonal answer.)
O sacred stream, flow on"

It should have only taken a minute for the brothers to get aboard but David had difficulty figuring out how to move his wet body. At one point the boat nearly capsized. Finally, pulling on his brother's arm, he flopped over the side with the flexibility of an oversized trout. The sound of the neighbors' applause wafted through rain.

Thomas Junior managed the oars, ignoring Thomas Senior's patronizing directions. The four mainly floated down the thirty yards to the cabin.   David John cowered with humiliation at the bottom of the boat trying to avoid the cold wind. Ernest, all smiles and holding the lantern, was having the greatest time of his life.

NOTE:
Readers please forgive me for making use of the Hymn "O Sacred Flood", which is not contained in the June, 1898 Primitive Methodist Hymnal. In fact, it appears to have been composed by Ohioan William Augustine Ogden (1841-1897), and was popular from about 1875 - 1940. Whether the hymn made its way north to Canada and into the rather rigid Methodist congregations is any hymnologist's guess.

London brothers John (1703-1791) and Charles (1707-1788) Wesley, the patriarchs of Methodism, were fairly rigid in their hymn singing expectations. John's 1761 "Directions for Singing" is filled with (at least to the modern vocalist) humorous musical and behavioral dictums.

Our Hersey families in Ontario, Canada were avid and active members of the Primitive Methodist Church. The Canadian Encyclopedia defines Methodism thusly:

"Methodism...encouraged personal holiness and a disciplined (hence "methodical") Christian life. It was distinctive in its Arminianism, the belief that individuals are free to accept or reject God's grace, and that it is possible to attain 'perfection' (the overcoming of a will to sin) in this life."

The nomenclature involved in the term "Primitive Methodist" would appear somewhat jocular in its primeval associations, bringing a variety of puritanical punishments to mind. In actuality the term "Primitive" in the religious sense refers to a return to origins, or the purposeful practice of a belief system as it was originally intended.

Primitive Methodism seems to have been a working-class revival in the early 1800's. Although Methodism first appeared as a schism from the Church of England, typical Methodist political tendencies leaned towards royalism and away from rebellion. This came in very handy for the protestant Loyalists in Ontario, Canada and elsewhere. In addition, the temperance movement was a strong part of Primitive Methodism in the New World.

There are still practicing Primitive Methodists today (see http://www.primitivemethodistchurch.org/index.htm).

An extensive essay on Primitive Methodism history in Canada written by Reverend J. Cooper Antliff, D.D. can be found at Centennial of Canadian Methodism; Historical Sketch of the Primitive Methodist Church in Canada. Additionally, an interesting history of the Methodist Church in Canada can be found at the blog "Fadedgenes". One can also find "Old-Time Primitive Methodism in Canada" in Google Books.

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JFK, Fleischmann's Yeast, and Jelly donuts

berliners

Fleischmann's Yeast

Victorian Chromo-Litho Trading/Advertising Cards:

David John's Flood Run Part VI

OMA

Grandpapa

The Primitive Methodist Church

David John's Flood Run Part V

Evening, 22 Feb 1878

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