Radloff, Carl 1862-1920

RADLOFF, KLINKENBERG, SCHULTZ, DAHLSTROM, HAGENSICK, LENTH, KUHSE, IHDE, STRIEN

Posted By: Renae Hodgin (email)
Date: 9/15/2013 at 16:57:31

Carl Radloff Passes Away

After a long illness Carl Friedrich Bernhardt Radloff, one of the well known and best liked citizens of our town had to answer the last summons on Sunday, August 22, (1920) at 1:30 p.m. at the age of 57 years, 9 months and 7 days.

He was born in the Prussian province Pomerania, in the village Blesewitz, in Germany, on Nov 15, 1862 as the son of Fritz Radloff and Maria nee Henning. In 1880, he came to this county and settled near Clayton Center, where he worked until 1885. On the 13th day of February he was united in marriage with Wilhelmina Klinkenberg. They lived together on a farm in Read township for 16 years, moving to Farmersburg township in 1903 and in 1914 retiring from active farming he and his wife moved to Farmersburg. The Lord blessed their union with seven children — Louis; Malitta, Mrs. Wm. Schultz, near Farmersburg; George in Farmersburg; Lucy, Mrs. J. Hagensick, and Ella, Mrs. Earl Dahlstrom; Elmer and Hilma; Mrs. Elmer Lenth, all in or near Farmersburg. He also leaves 13 grandchildren; four sisters, Mrs. G. Kuhse of Postville; Mrs. H. Ihde of Holly, Minn; Mrs. August Klinkenberg of Elkader; Mrs. Chas. Strien of Farmersburg, and one brother Fritz Radloff of Garner.

Carl Radloff had been ailing for the past three years, but it was not until this spring when the sickness assumed a dangerous character. The diagnosis of the Mayo clinic stated the presence of cancer and on the 13th of May he was operated upon at the Postville Hospital. The infection had so far progressed that no hope of betterment could be entertained. He came home again and slowly drifted nearer the day of dissolution. His loved ones, assisted by his sister, Mrs. A. Klinkenberg, did everything to make his burden lighter until he closed his eyes as the great twilight slumber had begun.

Carl was a splendid character. A very good husband and father, and a very useful citizen. He was at the time of his death a member of the city council.

He was laid to rest on Wednesday, August 25, followed by a large funeral assembly. The Rev Dr. G. F. Braun officiated. The Masonic fraternity using their beautiful ritual at the cemetery.

We do not care to speak of his death. We do not and shall not in any language of our own. It is a loss for us that we do not care to recognize. It means much, just how much we do not know; sometime we shall know, no doubt, but not now; that is not all of us. The poet may, the poet does know most among men, both of the things on the earth and beyond the earth. A great southern poet has written a poem about death. In some respects it is the greatest of all his poems and some lines of it are quite appropriate here:

Sad mortal couldst thou but know what truly it means to die;
The wings of thy soul would grow and the hopes of thy heart beat high.
Thou wouldst turn from the Phyronist school and laugh their jargon to scorn,
As the babble of midnight fools ere the morning of truth was born.
But I, earth’s madness above, in the kingdom of stormless breath;
I gaze on the glory of love in the unveiled face of death.

I tell thee his face is fair as the moon bows amber rings
And the gleam in his unbound hair like the flush of a thousand springs
His smile is the fathomless beam of the star shines sacred light
When the summer of Southlands dream in the lap of the Holy night.
For I earth’s blindness above in a kingdom of halcyon breath;
I gaze on the marvel of love in the unveiled face of death.

Thru the splendor of stars impearled in the glory of far off grace
He is soaring world by world with the souls in his strong embrace;
Lone eithers, unstirred by wind at passage of death grow sweet;
With a fragrance that floats behind the flash of his winged retreat.

And I, earth’s madness above, ‘mid a kingdom of tranquil breath
Have gazed on the luster of love in the unveiled face of death.

But beyond the stars and the sun I can follow him still on his way,
Till the pearl, white gates are won in the calm of the central day.
Far voices of fond acclaim thrill down from the place of souls
As death with touch of flame uncloses the goal of goals.
And from heaven of heavens above God spoke in bateless breath;
My angel of perfect Love is the Angel Man Calls Death.

Source: Probably a Farmersburg Newspaper article written in August, 1920.

Submitter was a Radloff