The Chicago Beus related to Grospop

Apparently, Henry Beu (aka Grospop and most often living in Wheeling, WV) had a cousin by the name of Franz who lived in Chicago and was the owner of Beu Floral. His son, Carl Beu, took over the business after Franz's death in 1938.

Franz was a brother of this site's author's great great grandfather, Oscar Hubert Beu. Their father was Anton Beu, and it appears that they were born in Benrath,Germany, which is now a encapsulated by Dusseldorf, on the Rhine River.

The photo below is of the business at its original location. The current location of Beu's Flowers is 5630 N. Pulaski in Chicago, Illinois.

By the content of these letters it appears that there was considerable tension between Franz and his son Carl, even up until the death of Franz. The relationship to Franz of Hedwig Haendel is unclear to me so far.

This ink drawing of the facility was done by Henry and the original is in the possession of Henry's great grandson Eric Ritter of Wheeling, West Virginia. I don't know if this is what it actually looked like or Grospop was proposing a remodel of the business.

According to Wolf Hollerbach who translated the letters, the notation on the picture below translates as follows:

[the German word "angeruhige" does not exist; it's probably an inadvertant fusion of "angenehme" and "ruhige". The translation gives both terms: comfortable + tranquil]

"This picture shows you how lazy the father was. A father who has laid that kind of foundation, the son should really not have a comfortable/tranquil hour anymore"

Following are Wolf Hollerbach's August 2002 translation of three letters written in German by Hedwig Haendel, of Chicago, to Heinrich (Henry) Beu, of Wheeling, West Virginia.

Chicago, January 11, 1938:

Dear Cousin Henry and dear Mr. H. Beu!

Many thanks for the letter of January 6, and now I’ll come right to the point. You couldn’t give us more joy than by mounting the steam steed [popular expression for railroad/locomotive] in Wheeling and coming to the Windy City of Chicago. Already now we hail you with a hearty welcome, and as cousin Franz likes to say: our good Heinrich will be received with arms full of chest tea [bronchial tea; apparently a joke, possibly around the German expression for “to hug” = “an die Brust drücken”].

So, in Wheeling, spring begins to be in the air which, as is well known, makes blood run faster, and then the enthusiastic song is heard: Oh hiking, hiking is my pleasure. Now then, Mr. Beu, get on your feet, and may the motto be: To Chicago. Please, let us know in time, where, when and at what hour you’ll reach Chicago.

I thank you for the nice compliments about my character. Normally I’m not inclined to carry my nose up, but now I do. I mean because, speaking metaphorically, my nose has turned into a stream. In one word: a running nose.

We stumbled into the New Year sober but merry. Following old German customs we had herring salad and freshly baked rolls, and at exactly 12 o’clock a glass of punch with Christmas stollen, which my dear mother sends me from Germany.

Cousin Franz’ condition is incurable. He suffers from a chronic kidney and bladder infection and diabetes. I consulted, on his behalf, a homeopathic doctor, for I think more highly of this treatment than of allopathy, and the progress of the disease has been arrested. He needs also more distraction, and I look forward to your coming here.

Cordial greetings from Cousin Franz and Hedwig.

Insulin injection

(the reason for "insulin injection" comment at the bottom of the letter isn't clear, unless it is somehow a reference to the earlier mention of diabetes)

Chicago, March 6, 1938:

Dear Mr. Heinrich Beu!

Thank you very much for your letters, and we are really glad every time we hear from you. You must not be angry that we have been silent for so long, but there is a good reason. Your cousin Franz Beu has been very ill for 3 weeks and that means for me to be up and about day and night. He has kidney and bladder stones and then I have to empty his bladder 4 times a day, and [as if that were] not enough, in his right foot he has, as one says in German, the burn [gangrene].

For a week I did have a woman who helped me. She came at 12 o’clock midnight and stayed until 5 in the morning, but she told me she couldn’t take the groaning and moaning, it would get on her nerves. In 24 hours I now work 22 hours without interruption. I do like to do it if only he got healthy again so as to be able to walk around. He also has diabetes. He begs me so much to put him in the wheelchair, but he has a fever, and in that case the bed is the best place [to be in].

Dear Mr. Beu, beg, you too, our Lord to please help the old gentleman, for an old proverb says: he who trusts in God our almighty Lord, does not build on sand.

With many cordial greetings Cousin Frank and Yours Hedwig Haendel

Chicago, April 18, 1938:

My dear Mr. Heinrich Beu!

Back from the place where man is laid to eternal rest I found your kind letter. Unfortunately only I could read it since today we laid Cousin Franz to his last rest. It’s a heavy blow to me. For me it’s like having lost my own father. O, how alone and abandoned I feel, and my tears will not dry. Before he closed his eyes he said: My child, I think you’re the only one who cries for me.

He gave up his ghost on Good Friday, at 12 o’clock noon. He passed on into a better Beyond while in his sleep, and yet I still can’t comprehend that he left me for ever, I still think the door will open and he’ll enter.

Four weeks ago my dear father Beu was getting better, when his only son comes and violently tells the very sick man right to his face: You deserve to suffer so much, O how I rejoice seeing you suffer so much, you lazy bum. Here is your punishment for beating my mother all the time. You have never been a businessman, my mother and I have earned the money, therefore every penny belongs to me. You have had no respect at all for my mother, otherwise you wouldn’t have remarried after only seven months. Well, I’m just glad that I've beaten my stepmother.

The poor father, I still see him before me, tears were in his eyes, and all of a sudden his heart stopped beating. I shook him again and again and shouted: Dad, wake up, you must live, you must get better, when his son lifted his arm and wanted to strike me. The poor man’s heart was broken, and from that hour on his condition got worse and his pain became unbearable until our Lord delivered him. And all that just for the money. There does seem to be some truth in [the saying]: on money lies the curse.

You can consider yourself lucky to have such good children who respect and honor a father. We so much looked forward to having you here, dear Mr. Beu, this summer but our Lord decided otherwise. He suffered much the last 3 weeks. Now begins the fight over his money, for the son wants to have it all, for the old gentleman’s last will is not to his [the son’s] liking. If I had such a dear [underlined in the letter, obviously to signal irony] son like Mr. Carl Beu, to hell with him and no cent. [But] he, too, will get his reward.

Many cordial greetings Yours Hedwig Haendel