Free Press –
Jeannette Docktor 100, Jeanette Shurow Docktor
Dear Friends,
Good morning. How would you like to receive a personal letter from the President of the United States, the Governor, and your State Senator and State Representative…on the same day? That’s exactly what happened to Jeannette Docktor on September 22 because she turned 100 that day.
Her family and friends surrounded her at the Phoebe Home in Richlandtown for the festivities. Her daughter, Jeanette (spelled with one “n”) showed pictures of the celebration to me. Mother Jeannett (spelled with two ‘n’s”) looks much younger than 100...maybe 85, but definitely not 100. Her children are youthful as well. It must be in the genes or maybe Richland Township’s water.
My friend, Al Kautsch, gave me the idea for this column. He’d heard about the centenarian through her relative who works at the Wachovia bank in Perkasie.
I met with her four children who gave me the family’s story. Alex Docktor, Jr. is the oldest at 77. Retired and living in Florida, he farmed the Docktor property in Richland Township for 50 years.
Willard Docktor is 76. He’s a tree farmer in Meshoppen, PA. “Willard dabbles in antiques,” according to his sister Jeanette. Robert Docktor is 69. After three years in the U.S. Army, he entered the world of computers until he retired.
Their brother Rudy Docktor died last year. He served as Richland Township’s Secretary for more than 25 years and was highly respected. When I was a Bucks County Commissioner, I remember Rudy as a hard working volunteer.
Many of you readers know the only Docktor daughter, Jeanette (Docktor) Shurow. Jeanette told me that she went to work for the Quakertown National Bank as a part time employee. “But I never worked a part time day in my life,” she laughed.
I noted that Jeanette spells her first name with one “n” whereas her mother spells hers with two. Why? “I have no idea,” Jeanette replied with a smile.
All the Docktor children were educated in the one-room schools of Richland Township. Younger readers find it hard to believe that many of their neighbors’ parents spent their first, eight grades in one-room schools. The system worked very well. Older children helped in teaching the younger ones.
Jeanette told me that her mother’s maiden name was Koysza and was born in Hungary. The Docktor’s emigrated from Hungary as well so both sides of the family trace their roots there. As you might expect, the Docktor children were fluent in Hungarian. “I couldn’t understand a word of English when I started to school,” Alex, Jr. said.
In 1930, Alex Docktor, Sr. bought
their Richland Township farm on Pumping Station Road. The four siblings
remembered those busy days. The Docktors had a dairy farm but also raised hay,
oats, corn, and wheat. Horses, chickens and pigs rounded out the livestock.
“Mother had a huge vegetable garden,” Jeanette added. A typical day on the farm
began at
The children spoke about their school days. Alex, Jr. went to the Shelly one-room school and had the same teacher for eight grades. Bob Docktor and Jeanette went to three one-room schools: California School (four miles north of Quakertown), Shelly School and Wimmer’s School. “Rudy [Docktor] called it ‘Wimmer’s College,’ ” Bob continued.
“We walked three miles to school, one way,” Alex told me. That’s six miles round trip. “I don’t remember snow days.”
They probably don’t recall overweight classmates either!
After World War II, father Docktor installed a telephone…the number was 246 J. Bob reminded his siblings that the family got a party line later…805 R 4. It rang four times to alert them (and everyone else listening in) that the Docktors had a telephone call.
Jeanette remembered the end of World War II. “Mother heard the news on the radio and told me to run out to the field and tell father,” Jeanette said. “I can still see that day.
“Mother and father had a family partnership,” she continued. “Mother was the baker, and head chef. The entire family did the butchering. Mother made sausage and scrapple and had a smoke house for bacon and ham.
“Father drove a 1928 Chevrolet,” Jeanette added. And she remembered the trip to Quakertown on the Levy bus…just ten cents.
“Mother was one of the best bakers in the community,” Jeanette told me. “She made home made bread for the St. John’s U.C.C. (Richlandtown) bake sales. She’d take a white tablecloth, drape it over the wicker wash basket, and fill it with bread.” That must have been a big hit.
Alex remembered his mothers’ kiffles, a crescent shaped cookie filled with ground walnuts, egg whites, sugar and sometimes poppy seed. “And there was strudel,” he said. “It was thin dough stretched out on the dining room table…so thin that you could see through it.
“I remember her potato pancakes,” Alex continued, “and I can still make them.”
“As fast as Mother fried them, we’d eat them,” Jeanette chimed in.
“Mother was a sewer,” she added. “She made clothing out of parachutes…and dresses out of feed bags. I didn’t like to wear them.”
I thought about the Docktors in the 1940’s. Like all the farm children, they received a remarkable education in the one-room schools throughout this region. I was a town boy and remembered the strange accents, which the farm kids brought into the ninth grade. The Docktors spoke Hungarian. Most of the others were fluent in Pennsylvania German.
It took me to age 50 to finally realize that all these farm students were bilingual, and I was not. I’m such a slow learner.
Sincerely,
Charles Meredith