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View Tree for Henry Herman SchulkersHenry Herman Schulkers (b. July/04/1850, d. August/05/1925)


Picture of Henry Herman Schulkers
Lt. HH Schulkers

Henry Herman Schulkers (son of Herman Henry Schulkers and Anna Marie Albers) was born July/04/1850 in Cincinnati, Ohio, and died August/05/1925 in Covington, Ky. He married Maria Elisabeth Wueller in USA, daughter of John Heinrich Wueller and Maria Elizabeth Tecklenburg.

 Includes NotesNotes for Henry Herman Schulkers:
Henry was Chief Lieutenant in the Covington, Ky police force. Generally known as "Chief" since he filled in for the chief a lot.
Son - Robert F. Schulkers wrote in an autobiographical portrait for his descendants:
"Henry Herman was born in Cincinnati, Ohio, July 4, 1850. ...He was
more familiarly known as 'Henry', although he signed himself always
'HH'. Both his mother and father had come from Germany... Moved to
Covington before he was one year old. His boyhood was spent within a
stone's throw from the edge of the Licking River on 13th Street. He
lost his father at the age of 13 and did millwork in rope factories
with the Teamsters because he had to support his mother, 3 brothers
(twins Bill and Herman; and Frank) and 3 sisters ( Lena, Mary, and
Mollie). At 16 or 17, he became a capable handler of horses, and was
given charge of a 4-horse team of his own. Hauling stone and timber
and heavy loads of all kinds, he went through winters and summers of
hard work and many privations, so that he knew the true philosophies
of life without reading books. Later he became superintendent of
teams, and acquired a knowledge of horses, so that in Covington he was
acknowledged an authority, and was consulted in the purchase of horses
for the large mills in which he labored. Even in his later days---the
days that are most vivid in my recollection---his fondest love was for
horses, and the animals seemed to know him on first sight, and loved
him. His was a way of kindness---gentleness that not only the horses
loved, but which endeared him to the hearts of every living being who
felt the touch of his hand. Stern and strict in his ways, he had a
loving kindness about him that could not be denied. He was one of
God's noblemen in the simplest form. In his thirties, my father
attracted the attention of those whose politics included the welfare
of the community, and they chose him as an officer of the law. Within
a short time he was made Lieutenant of Police, and in that capacity he
spent his lifetime. As 'Lieutenant Schulkers' he grew to fame; and to
this day, there are those who speak of him as the most honest,
God-fearing and conscientious officer that ever donned a uniform. A
fine-looking upstanding man of nearly six feet, rather portly and very
dignified and serious, he made a picture in uniform that struck awe
into the minds of the criminals of that day. He disdained, however,
to appear in his regalia. There was only one occasion, and that upon
our earnest solicitation and pleading, that he consented to return
home in full uniform. What a picture that remains to me even to this
day! We children had been allowed to remain awake until 9:00 in the
night to await his coming. It was his custom to go on duty a 6, home
at 9 for lunch, and return for the remainder of the dark hours on
duty. And when 9:00 struck, and there were footsteps in the
yard---our hearts began a quicker beat---the door opened, and in he
came, quietly, in full uniform, in the cap with the gilded wreath in
front, the long blue coat, the shining leather strap--- the jeweled
badge of lieutenant that his officers had given him as a token of
esteem---my father! That was the only time we were to see him so
bedecked. Never again did he allow us to see him in full uniform
except on those rare occasions when he could not help himself, when he
was on parade with the force that called him chief. For chief he was
indeed, as the titular chief of the force was one Joe Pugh, a likeable
old Kentuckian, who yearned toward race horses and the sort, and
rarely paid much attention to his office. 'Henry will take care of
the office', was Joe's remark when he sallied forth to the race tracks
to see his thoroughbreds win laurels on the turf. And Henry did.
Henry was an especial friend of Joe's, and to his dying day, Henry
never failed to say a good word for Joe. Those two understood each
other. And in the Valhalla where all souls shall meet, they probably
have discussed these things over and over again, many times. My
father was a handsome man. When I first saw him, he wore, according
to the times, a full beard and moustache. His beard was glossy black,
as was his hair. His eyes were of a blue that reminded me of the
tropic sky, and his cheeks glowed with the ruddiness of health. My
father did not smoke. He took a drink of whisky now and then, but
never in his lifetime did he take more than one. He enjoyed a glass
of beer in the mid-afternoon, with a light sandwich or perhaps a
cracker... He always kept liquor in the house for emergency in case of
a sickness. He was never under the influence of liquor at any time in
my lifetime. He had mastered that art of self-mastery, not to take
more of any one thing than was good. His watchword was "Moderation
in all things". And though, perhaps, he had partaken of all that a
man might partake, as would be inferred from his last statement to me,
he knew that too much of anything was not good. The last interview I
had with him (Although I did not expect it to be the last) was on the
Sunday before Wednesday on which he suddenly died. "Robert", he said,
'my time might come at any time. And yet I am not afraid---nor sorry.
I have lived 75 years---a long time---I have seen much---one can see
all there is to see in three-score and ten---I am past my time. I
have lived and loved and thank God for the children who have solaced
my last years---my cup is full to the brim, and I have enjoyed life.
When God speaks, I shall be ready!' He was ready. But we children
were not! At least I was not---I wanted him for many more
years---even if it were just to worry about him---to coddle him and
try in many futile ways---for every way was futile when a son tries to
repay a father for everything he has done for him---and God knows how
I loved him! More, my whole heart was wrapped up in the man who had
done for me many things he had done for me---you will never know how I
felt, when I thought back upon those earliest years of my
recollection, when I was a wee bit of a kid, hardly able to talk, and
he had sung to me, before I went to sleep, all those old time songs,
of Nellie Gray and Old Black Joe, of old Uncle Ned and of Abraham
Lincoln's soul stirring pathetic yearning to set free those of God's
children who were not free --and of My Old Kentucky Home--the home he
loved so well-- the home to which he had been transplanted when he was
yet an inarticulate infant--but which in his boyhood, passed during
the soul-searing throes of the Civil War, he had grown to cherish the
most beloved thing in life! 'Way down Fort Sumter---' I can hear him
singing yet-- 'Way down Fort Sumter; Where de war first begun; Way
down in Dixie; Wid major Anderson--.' How splendid his voice always
sounded to me! I would rise from the cot upon which he had been
trying to make me nap, and stare up at his very handsome face, to look
at my wonderful daddy! 'There, now', he would whisper, gently, as he
tucked the covers about my shoulders. 'Daddy's boy must take a nap to
make him grow. Fall back, sonny, and listen while I sing.' And I
would fall back, watching him closely however, while he would rear
himself in that rocking chair, back and forth, and sing in his
soothing voice: 'Way down in Dixie, wid Major Anderson; Who stood by
de flag, wid heart brave and true; and fought like a brave man for the
red, white and blue.' And so I would drift off into beautiful
slumbers illustrated by dreams that only my father could paint for me.
His voice--- and the clear ring of his melody--- the words that were
so inspiring---fading off into a dream of my own, in which my childish
imagination wove fancies that were later to produce pictures for other
boys, in later generations, yet unborn---to be known, as it later
developed, as the Adventures of Seckatary Hawkins---."
RFS had intended to write more, but if he did, we don't have the
records.


More About Henry Herman Schulkers and Maria Elisabeth Wueller:
Marriage: USA.

Children of Henry Herman Schulkers and Maria Elisabeth Wueller are:
  1. +Edward F. Schulkers.
  2. Leo Schulkers.
  3. Wilhelmina Schulkers, b., Covington, Ky.
  4. Henry H. Schulkers, b., Covington, Ky, d. 1896.
  5. +Maria Elizabeth Schulkers, b. June/26/1870, Covington, Ky.
  6. John Heinrich Schulkers, b. March/30/1872, Covington, Ky, d., Philadelphia, Pa.
  7. Joseph Wilhelm Schulkers, b. May/09/1874, Covington, Ky, d., Philadelphia, Pa.
  8. Mary Margaret Schulkers, b. October/02/1881, Covington, Ky, d. August/20/1966, Cincinnati, Ohio.
  9. +Robert Franc Schulkers, b. July/21/1890, 120 East 13th St., Covington, Ky, d. April/06/1972, 2560 Erie Ave, Cincinnati, Ohio.
  10. Franc L. Schulkers, b. 1893, d. 1983.
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