• Publisher's Corner
• The last day of School 1885
• Mt. Ritter - 13,140 feet
• Remembering Malcom Wicker and Mary Lee Ritter
• Remembering Mozelle Ritter Donnell
• Remembering Ava Garner Sheffield
• An organization that may be of interest to our readers
• Milestones
• Ritter Photos
• Name index for this issue
• Ritter Related Websites

Hello to all,

We are pleased to be able to publish another RitterLetter in an effort to document a fraction of the Ritter family history for those who follow. In this issue we include another story recalled by Thurman Maness of Moore County, NC and written by Lacy Garner Jr.. Thurman is famous around upper Moore County for his sharp memory. Mr. Garner has devoted countless hours to the preservation of history and we are so grateful to them for allowing us to print their story.

We get many emails from Ritter Family members who find us on the Internet and write to have their names added to our mailing list. We have accumulated almost 200 names for our mailings which demonstrates the huge interest in family history. Many of these folks take time to print our letters and pass them to those who are not on the Internet and do not have access to computers.

Again with this letter we encourage all of you to take time to record some of the volumes of unwritten Ritter family history that survives only in your head. Without you this letter would not be possible, and without you much Ritter family history will fade away and countless thousands of your family will never know what you know.

One other reminder; many of us switch email carriers frequently. When you switch we have no way to know where you have gone, so make a note to notify us of any changes to your email address.

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Before the turn of the century the Moore County countryside was dotted with little one-room schoolhouses. Each community embraced its own educational establishment which served the needs of the community when the time was convenient. Once inside the "Schoolhouse" students stepped into a world dominated by the teacher. Thurman Maness recalls his father's stories revolving around one such Schoolhouse.

The "Brady School" was located in the McConnell section of upper Moore County in the vicinity of present day Riverside Golf Course. It was a one room structure constructed of wide heart-pine boards. Elongated shutters covered the windows from the inside and were conveniently folded down during school hours providing the lighting and desk around which the older students gathered. The younger children usually sat up front around the fireplace. A school term consisted of only three winter months out of the year: Dec., Jan., and Feb. This was the lull in farming activities and the only time the children could be spared from their chores at home.

Thurman's father was Reuben Addison Maness, born in Moore County, N.C. in 1865. Thurman estimates that his father was about 10 years of age at the time, which gives creditability to the year "1875". Absolom Fry was the teacher and Reuben Maness never forget that last day of school in "1875". Absolom Fry was a devoted teacher who sought to improve the lives of his students through education. He saw his students coming from meager roots within the little farming community and was very receptive to their dreams and aspirations. Mr. Fry was determined to do his best to see that the children got the best education possible. All year he contemplated doing something special for the children on the last day of school that year. He thought and thought but soon realized that the boys might have different opinions than the girls on what they considered a just reward. He came up with the idea of separating the two groups and having each group tell him what they would like. First it was the girls. Absolom began his inquisition. "Ladies, what if I were to tell you that I plan on giving you a special treat the last day of school--what would you like that treat to be?" The girls giggled and whispered to each other with hands half covering their mouths. Even the smaller girls were consulted. Soon a spokesperson emerged from the group . "Mr. Fry, we ladies have decided that we would like our treat to be CANDY!" The group agreed unanimously -- "YES! CANDY!" Mr. Fry acknowledged their request. "Alright ladies, candy it shall be". A few days later Mr. Fry took the boys aside and asked the same questions. "Boys, what would you like that treat to be?" Silence fell upon the group. No one said a word. Mr. Fry could tell they had already made their decision. "Come on Lads, speak up." Finally one boy stepped forward with his hands in his pockets, occasionally looking down at the floor. "Mr. Fry, we have been talking this over since you spoke with the girls and we know what we want." The conversation stalled. "Yes, speak up." "Sir", looking back over his shoulder for reinforcement, "we would like to have a taste of WHISKY." No one said a word. Suddenly student and mentor were reduced to the same dumbfounded level. Each time Mr. Fry made eye contact with a member of the group they hung their head while sporting a sheepish grin. It was obvious the boys had put a lot of thought into their decision and Mr. Fry would have to reply to their request. He took a long breath and sighed his reply; "We shall see." The boys scrambled back to their respective seats. Mr. Fry had to complete the day's instruction while pretending this conversation never happened.

A week until the last day of school and the girls were getting excited. They had to be called down upon several occasions. Mr. Fry reminding them that if they were to be rewarded with candy on the last day they would have to maintain discipline until that time. The boys on the other hand had been perfect angels. Not once since their last conversation had Mr. Fry seen the need to reprimand any of them. The boys had been promised nothing but their behavior suggested they held the remote possibility that they just might get what they had asked for.

The day finally arrived. Mr. Fry called all the girls together and thanked them for being so attentive the past three months. Reaching into his pockets he began retrieving the fruits of their labors --- CANDY! He passed it out to each little outstretched hand and sat back and enjoyed the smiles that emerged from each precious face. They traded amongst themselves for their favorite flavors and not a one failed to thank Mr. Fry personally for their treat. Then, all in unison, they gave one more; "THANK YOU MR. FRY!" The boys meanwhile had congregated in a group outside. Mr. Fry looked out the window and saw the despair on their faces. He remembered that look from all the mornings he and his brothers had gotten up on Christmas morning to find that Santa had lacked the financial resources to visit them that year. He put one of the older girls in charge and told them he would be back shortly. Stepping outside he gave the order; "Alright, everyone line up single file." The boys snapped to attention like regimental troops. The smallest one in front and the largest one bringing up the rear. They stood motionless in their stair-step formation awaiting further instructions. "Men! Follow me!" They marched off down the dusty road with Mr. Fry leading the group. They rounded the bend coming upon Five-Forks and there to their utter amazement sat "Big-Foot" Bill Ritter in his buggy. The boys knew all about "Big-Foot" Bill Ritter, probably from their fathers' conversations. "Big-Foot" Bill looked this unlikely group of patrons up and down before finally climbing down off his buggy and tying his horse to a nearby sapling. He was a burley character with the biggest feet anyone had ever seen. Mr. Fry spoke up; "Mr. Ritter, these gentlemen have indicated to me that they would most enjoy a taste of your Whiskey. Would you be so kind as to oblige them?" "Big-Foot" Bill went to back of his buggy and folded down the back gate. It was obvious he had done this sort of thing before. He sat one shot glass out and retrieved a jug corked with a corn cob. His voice was deep and brawny. "Say you boys want a little taste of my goods do you?" The boys eyes were big as saucers by now and they swallowed hard while searching for a reply. "Yes Sir Mr. Ritter." "Step up to bar boys, "Big-Foot" Bill Ritter's tavern is officially open." One by one they came around as "Big-Foot" Bill poured them their first drink. Some tolerated it better than others. Some heaved and gagged while others smacked their lips anticipating more. "Big-Foot" Bill busted out in laughter as he watched the last boy down his drink. "One drink boys, that's all you get! Come back when your older and I'll set you up again." He slapped his thighs, bent over with laughter.

"Big-Foot" Bill Ritter mounted his buggy and rode off, looking back over his shoulder for one more laugh. All the boys stood waving goodbye to the man who had introduced them to their first taste of manhood. Mr. Fry stood beside them, still wondering if it was a good or bad thing he had done. Looking over at the smiles on all the faces he would have to let history make that determination. Right now he was too busy basking in the warmth of all those smiles.

Did you know that we Ritters have our very own mountain? Dig out your favorite road atlas of California and find Yosemite National Park. (It's due east of San Francisco) Now look about 15 miles southeast of Yosemite and find the town of Mammoth Lakes, just west of U.S. highway 395, the main north-south highway from Reno, Nevada down through the eastern part of California. About halfway between Mammoth Lakes and Yosemite lies the Ritter Range, consisting of Banner Peak, Mt. Ritter and the Minarets, shown in the photo below.

Mt. Ritter is the tallest peak in this photo, second from the right edge. Neighboring Banner Peak is about 200 feet shorter, and the spiky Minarets near the left edge of the photo range downward from there.

I first heard about Mt. Ritter about 1984, when my best friend and long-time backpacking and climbing buddy mentioned finding it while looking over some maps of the area. At the time, we thought it would be appropriate to join forces and climb our respective mountains. (His last name is Fraser, and there is a Mt. Fraser up in the Canadian Rockies.) Little did we suspect that this would evolve into a seven-attempt, 14-year odyssey. I'm getting ahead of myself, though...

Mt. Ritter is named after Karl (or Carl, depending on the source) Ritter (1779-1859). Born in Quedlinburg, Germany, and educated in Halle and Göttingen, Karl Ritter was a renowned German geographer and the first professor of geography at the University of Berlin. It was there that Josiah Whitney, premiere geographer of the American West, came to study under Ritter. During his mapping of the Sierra Nevada, Whitney chose to name this highest peak in Madera County after his mentor. You may recognize Whitney by his mountain. Mt. Whitney, at 14,497.61', the highest point in the 48 conterminous states. (Only Alaska has higher peaks, with Mt. McKinley being the highest at 20,320')

Mt. Ritter was first climbed by none other than John Muir, in 1872. He soloed the mountain, climbing up the glacier on the back side of the Ritter/Banner saddle and up the treacherous north face of the mountain visible in the photo above, just to the left of the tree. Muir had indeed picked a tough route, as he describes the crux of the climb:

At length, I found myself at the foot of a sheer drop in the bed of the avalanche channel, which seemed to bar all further progress. The tried dangers beneath seemed even greater than that of the cliff in front; therefore, after scanning its face again and again, I commenced to scale it, picking my holds with intense caution. After gaining a point about half-way to the top, I was brought to a dead stop, with arms outspread, clinging close to the face of the rock, unable to move hand or foot either up or down. My doom appeared fixed. I must fall. There would be a moment of bewilderment, and then a lifeless tumble down the once general precipice to the glacier below. When this final danger flashed in upon me, I became nerve-shaken for the first time since setting foot on the mountain, and my mind seemed to fill with a stifling smoke. But the terrible eclipse lasted only a moment, when life burst forth again with preternatural clearness. I seemed suddenly to become possessed of a new sense. The other self -- the ghost of by-gone experiences, instinct, or Guardian Angel -- call it what you will -- came forward and assumed control. Then my trembling muscles became firm again, every rift and flaw was seen as through a microscope, and my limbs moved with a positiveness and precision with which I seemed to have nothing at all to do. Had I been borne aloft upon wings, my deliverance could not have been more complete. Above this memorable spot, the face of the mountain is still more savagely hacked and torn. But the strange influx of strength I had received seemed inexhaustible. I found a way without effort and soon stood upon the topmost crag in the blessed light.

My climbing buddies and I got stuck at very nearly that same spot in both 1985 and 1988. Ultimately, I found the "easy" way up Mt. Ritter by climbing the Southeast Glacier, visible as the large snow bowl to the south (right in the photo) of Mt. Ritter and scrambling up a chute which is hidden behind one of the buttresses and provides a safer and surer way to the upper slopes of the mountain.

I have found a photo of Karl Ritter on the Internet, but without copyright clearance, I am loath to re-publish it here. Instead, if you go to http://mlucom6.urz.uni-halle.de/orientarch/ca/bam/ritter1.htm you will find a lithograph of Karl Ritter. If you would like to research further, use Alta Vista or your favorite search engine and search for "Karl Ritter" and "geography", and then substitute the alternate spelling of "Carl Ritter" and repeat the search.

If you would like to see more photos of "our" mountain and read about my epic attempts (ultimately successful!) to climb Mt. Ritter, please visit my web site, http://www.mtritter.org The photo below is of me on the summit in July 1999. The T-shirt is from Ritter's Biergarten in Stuttgart. That came from a catalog, not a personal visit, unfortunately!

I am attaching a photograph of my great grandparents, Walter Malcolm Wicker and Mary Lee Ritter. Mary Lee is the daughter of Joel Ritter and Mary Ann McKenzie. Joel is the son of Burrell Ritter and Catherine Lawhon. Burrell is the son of Thomas Ritter and Margaret Sowell. Thomas is the son of Jesse Ritter. The picture was taken sometime in the 1920s or 1930s. Mary Lee Ritter was born June 1, 1898 in Moore County, NC, and died February 6, 1962 in Moore County, NC. She married March 7, 1919 at the Ritter Home in Moore County, NC Walter Malcolm Wicker, who was born August 20, 1895 in Moore County, NC, and died April 20, 1970 in Moore County, NC. Both are buried at White Hill Presbyterian Church in Lee County, NC. They had four children, all but one of whom are living. Their second child, Walter Vernon Wicker, died in World War II, flying in what would have been one of his last missions before he would have been able to go home and see his son for the first time.

Mozelle was born on May 12, 1911 in Moore County, North Carolina to William and Martha Ann (Maness) Ritter. [Her mother Martha was quite a character and was known by her nickname of Doonie.] Her official name was simply 'Mozelle.' That was important to her, as she hated the several names that occasionally were coupled with Mozelle. Her mother Martha Ann had actually written her name as 'Dosie Mozelle' in the family Bible. Other alternate versions gave her name as 'Dorothy Mozelle' and/or 'Daisy Mozelle.' However there was no birth certificate lodged for her home birth in those days, so none of these were 'legal' birth names. How relieved Mozelle was in 1978 to finally get an official North Carolina birth certificate stating her birth name to be simply 'Mozelle Ritter' by declaration. Her nickname within the family was 'Mopey.'

Mozelle was the seventh of the eleven children born to William and Martha Ann. Etta, Earley, Oscar, Eldon, Roy, and Cornelia were her elder siblings; and Leamon, Chloe, Ruth, and Braxton came after her in birth order. Her family was very important to her all of her life. Her best friends were the members of her family but she had an even wider circle of friends from her church, work, church ladies' circle, extended family, and neighborhood. She was a friend, and she was friendly, thus made new friends easily. One friendship formed when her young son was hospitalized. The new friend's daughter lay in a bed nearby. This friendship continued for the rest of her life even as the friend moved half way across the country and they could only meet in the letters they sent each other.

Mozelle was a fun-loving girl in the 'flapper' age. One family tradition has us all imitating Mozelle's zany sense of fun from that period of her life. She and some of her friends were packed tightly in a car, on their way no doubt to engage in some well-planned fun maybe at the beach or a party. As bodies swayed back and forth when taking the curves, Mozelle called out, "Hold on, Newton, hold on!" To this day we remind each other to "Hold on, Newton!" when we go around a sharp corner. We never did know who 'Newton' was. She married at age 29 to (husband still living) (12/25/14). They had two sons, (still living) (2/13/41) and (still living) (12/26/41). The older son was born in Greensboro while the younger was born in Fayetteville where the family lived for just a few months. After his birth the family moved back to Greensboro and settled into life on the Donnell farm east of Greensboro. This was to be Mozelle's home for the rest of her life.

Mozelle worked in the Revolution Cotton Mill at Revolution village near Greensboro, NC from the age of 15 to 29 in the cloth room. After she got married she didn't work for about ten years while the boys were young. She went back to work at the same mill in the cloth room on third shift as a timekeeper when the boys were around ten years old. Her job demonstrated her capable mind for calculation as she tallied the workers hours and output in the days before mechanical calculators became common. She worked at night so she could still be at home for her sons before and after they had to catch the big yellow bus for school. She worked about ten more years then quit about 1960 when she was about 49 years old.

Mozelle was always concerned when she heard of ill health or tragedy striking anyone among her wide range of friends. Many times she would go around the neighborhood or circle to collect contributions so floral arrangements could be ordered at the florist's shop. She kept meticulous records of those who had paid and those who promised to contribute later. These flowers were just her way of saying 'I care, we all care about you.'

On a clear crisp autumn morning, October 10th of 1985, Mozelle was looking forward to going with her husband Merritt and a busload of retirees to enjoy the beautiful fall foliage in western North Carolina. Shortly after the trip started Mozelle suffered a fatal heart attack. She was 74 years old.

In the Milestones section of this letter we published, for record only, the obituary of Ava Garner Sheffield. We thought it would be nice to show her photo.

During one of our visits to Moore County, NC we set out to find her house and introduce ourself. After several wrong turns we did locate her, but she had just discovered that several of her cows had "jumped" the fence and she was on her way bring them back home once again. She didn't have time to talk to us and since we were on our way back home that very day we missed an opportunity to get acquainted.

A few years later we were back in NC and tried once again. This time with video camera in hand we were greeted as long lost family and were treated to a wonderful personal account of her life. We treasure that video and have shared it with friends and family who never met Ava.

Surely we speak for many who will never forget her warmth and gentle maner and will long remember her as a very special person.

One story that she realted for our camera is the time she left rural North Carolina to fly to Las Vegas. It was her first trip out of the state. As I recall her saying that her Neice (who was living in California) sent her the ticket and jointed her there. I believe Ava had been on one other plane but that was a small Piper Cub when she was quite young. The story she told of having visited Las Vegas and seeing for the first time the casinos was fascinating. We can only image what it must have been like for her having never having seen anything quite like it before. Many of us who know the area where Ava lives and can appreciate the contrast between Moore County and Las Vegas.

The best part of the story was when she related how her neice gave her a cup "full of nickles" and sat her down in front of this slot machine. It had all these lights and made all kinds of noises. Her Neice told her to put "all those nickles" in that machine. How wonderful it was to re-live that day through her eyes as she told of having won several small jack pots.

Ava was born Winifred Ava Garner, December 31, 1918, daughter of Bennie and Mary Elizabeth Ritter Garner. Mary Elizabeth Ritter was the daughter of John Spinks Ritter and Lucy Jane Owen Ritter. Ava is the widow of Herbert Wilson Sheffield (1913) who passed in September of 1977. They had no children. Ava Garner Sheffield passed from our lives on December 25, 2000.

During our vacation to Florida last winter we visited with a friend who is of German heritage. When we talked about working on our mutual search for our ancestors she asked if I was a member of an organization known as Palatines to America. I had never heard of it and she offered to let me see one of their publications called The Palatine Immigrant.

The date of the copy I have is from September 2001. The organization bills themselves as a "National Geneaological Society for German-Speaking Ancestry". Perhaps there are few of us who speak German but fortunately the publication is entirely in english, footnoted and sourced very well. It seems to be written by many of the members, much like the RitterLetter. The articles in the booklet come from all over.

Here are the article titles from the issue I have:
1) Immigrant Ancestor Register
2) Ask Ernie
3) Early Germans in Pennsylvania and Virginia:
   Two Colonies, Two Separate Traditions
4) The Indiana Medical History Museum
   German-American Connections
5) A short Description of my Voyage
   From Plech to Bremen and America 1837, Part I
6) Book Reviews

Information about this society can be obtained from the National Organization, which can be located at their web site http://palam.org/welcome.html. I have not received permission to link directly to their site, but you can cut and paste the URL into your browser and go there.

You can also write to them at

Palatines to America
611 East Weber Road
Columbus, OH 43211-1097
Telephone: 614-267-4700

Native of Moore County, he lived here [Greensboro] 50 years and was the founder of Ritter's Lake. He opened the first swimming pool in the state and retired from business in 1945. He was the son of the late John S. and Mary M. Ritter and a member of Smyrna Methodist Church, Robbins.

Surviving are his wife, the former Molcie Ann Williamson; a son June B. Ritter of Greensboro; four daughters, Mrs. Z.V. Greene, Mrs. Thelma R. Benbow, Mrs. Clara R. Brown and Mrs. C.L. McDonald, all of Greensboro; two half-sisters, Mrs. Lizzie Garner and Mrs. Annie Garner of Robbins; his stepmother, Mrs. Lucie Ritter of Robbins, seven grandchildren and five great-grand-children.

Funeral will be held at Hanes Lineberry Chapel at 4 p.m. tomorrow. Dr. Claud Bowen, pastor of First Baptist Church, will officiate.

The body will remain at the funeral home. Burial will be in Guilford Memorial Park.

Ava Garner Sheffield, 81, of Robbins died Monday (Dec. 25, 2000) at her home.

Funeral services will be held at 2 p.m. Friday at Smyrna United Methodist Church, where she was a member, with Rev. Joseph Forbes officiating. Burial will follow in the church cemetery. The family will receive friends from 7 to 9 p.m. Thursday at Kennedy Funeral Home in Robbins and other times at home.

Mrs. Sheffield was a native of Moore County, the widow of Herbert W. Sheffield and was the owner and operator of a cattle and hog farm.