A Watch, a Window, and Wonder Beyond the Stars

Al Koch
March 2024

Some of the wonderful fringe benefits of keeping one’s hometown in heart and mind throughout the years is the inventory of remembrances readily accessed for pensive grateful appreciation for the people, places, events, and experiences that became the footing, foundation, and structure of a lifetime. 

Growing up in the 40s and 50s, and coming of age in the 60s, home-based in Whiting-Robertsdale was a gift from Heaven’s Angels. Neighborhood avenues, streets, and thoroughfares were the arteries for access and growth.  Churches, schools, businesses, playgrounds, parks, and an historic Memorial Community Center were headquarters for youthful socialization and acquisition and enrichment of valued character traits.  With family at the hub of life’s wheel, an individual could grow, learn, live, and thrive. 

In many pronounced and subtle ways, the people of Whiting-Robertsdale nurtured, guided, and taught needed lessons to the current generation.  By word, deed, and example, their individual and collective actions presented choices for youngsters to consider, analyze, select, or reject. Whiting-Robertsdale was a plethora of ethnic, religious, political, educational, and business acumen.  Without regard to blue collar, white collar, or no collar all, kids were exposed to the reality-based living in the industrialized communities of Whiting-Robertsdale.

Whiting became our family home when my grandfather, Peter Koch, at age 31, left the family’s farm in St. John, Indiana in the spring of 1892. In a newspaper article, he read that Mr. Rockefeller was purchasing land along the east side of Lake Michigan, near Pop Whiting’s Siding to build a refinery to increase production of kerosene. Already married with three children, Pete’s wife and children remained at the family farm while he sought industrial employment. He rented a room near what is today’s Schrage Avenue and applied for a job.  Told they were nowhere near hiring anyone at that early stage, my granddad found work as railroad security guard. Each week he’d stop at the fledgling refinery under construction and ask for a job.

Because of his persistence, he was hired by Standard Oil in September of 1896.  While working for the railroad, Pete saved his money and purchased a vacant lot on Oliver Street’s west side, three doors north of the alley that parallelled 119th Street. A gifted craftsman, Pete built his family a nine-room Victorian house and they moved in at the turn of the century.  Their fourth child, Albert, my father, was born in that house on November 13, 1903.

A staunch Roman Catholic, Peter Koch’s family joined the fledging Sacred Heart Parish in 1898. Originally, the newly established parish had several locations in Whiting.  First, above Green’s Tavern on 119th & Center Street, then a formal parish building in mid-Center Street, and subsequently on LaPorte Avenue.  In 1909, the cornerstone of the building that became Sacred Heart School was mortared in place. That building also housed the parish church on the top floor.   A year later, in the spring of 1910, new buildings were added including the sisters’ convent, and parish rectory.  In 1910 the church was on the top floor of the school building. Although the previous church, in 1892, featured a 1000-pound bronze bell, it was never installed atop the school’s building. The property and church building on Center Street was sold and rededicated as Saints Peter and Paul Church.

On April 26, 1926, the groundbreaking for the new Sacred Heart Church at 1731 LaPorte Avenue next to the school and rectory was celebrated. The completed church was dedicated on October 9, 1927. For unknown reasons, the 1000-pound bronze bell was never installed in the church’s tower.  (Note: The original Sacred Heart Bell is on display outside the church adjacent to the LaPorte Avenue side entrance.)

My grandfather was involved in the fund-raising and served on Parish committees for the new church on LaPorte Avenue.  His youngest son, my father, Albert, was a first-grader in 1909, and was the last class at the Center Street location; his second-grade class and First Communion instruction was held in the new school on LaPorte Avenue in 1910.

An architectural feature of the new church building was/are the stained-glass windows that were made in Munich, by F. S. Zettler. At that time, only Sacred Heart Church in Whiting, and St. Stanislaus Church in Michigan City, have this exquisite art glass. 

To honor their family’s patriarch, my grandmother, (nee, Mary Kammer), and her four children: Katherine, Marie, Raymond, and Albert, donated money and purchased a stained-glass window in memory of Peter N. Koch, who died three years earlier in 1924, a few months after an incurable illness caused him to retire from the Standard Oil Company.

 (Note:  Readers are encouraged to visit Sacred Heart Church to view and savor the artistic majesty of these stained-glass works of art. Note, too, the donors of the windows: the names of the individuals/families, the parish organizations, and for those in memory of.  These names have become an ecclesiastical, historical record of faith and commitment to Sacred Heart Parish.)

In addition to my grandparents, aunts, and uncle, Sacred Heart continued to be the Koch family parish until 1965.  My mother (nee Ann Mayernik), and dad were married at Sacred Heart Church on Saturday, September 30, 1933.  Their four children were baptized, confirmed, and graduates of Sacred Heart Grade School. This writer was also a choir member and altar boy.  My father’s funeral Mass was held at Sacred Heart Church in September 1965.

For our family, Standard Oil Company became a family legacy. In addition to my grandfather’s, Peter N. Koch, tenure at Standard Oil Company, his two sons, Raymond P. Koch, and Albert A. Koch, had individual careers of more than 40 years.  My two older brothers, Norman G. Koch, 40 years, and Ronald A. Koch, 5 years, also worked for Standard Oil, (SOCO), American Oil Company (AMOCO), and the current refinery owner-- British Petroleum (BP).

A short time after my father died in September of 1965, Mom gave me Granddad’s pocket watch, which my dad had kept since his father’s death in June of 1924. The gold Hamilton watch was presented to my grandfather upon his retirement from Whiting’s Standard Oil Refinery, by the men he supervised.  A reception held at the family’s home on Oliver Street was attended by coworkers, close friends, and family. A group photograph was taken outside on the front lawn of his home, to mark the occasion. In the picture, my grandfather proudly displays his new timepiece, surrounded by family and well-wishers. Captured forever on the photographic plate are images of his personal dignity, courage, and character—the American work ethic personified.

Everyone wants to be valued, appreciated, acknowledged for a job well done, and remembered after they’re gone. (Will it matter that I was?) Today, we have iPhones, digital cameras, video recorders, hi-tech pixels, and computer-enhanced technology to save and preserve important occasions and memorable moments. But during my grandfather’s lifetime, (1861-1924), photography quality was low tech, and negatives became fragile over time.  The best film developing techniques lacked sharpness and detail: this produced images of grainy black-and-white photographs that filled family albums and scrapbooks. To enhance this sparse historic record, keepsakes were passed along to family members as tangible reminders of a loved one’s life song.

I never knew my grandfather.  Peter Koch had been deceased 17 years when I was born. But while I never heard Grandad’s voice or saw him when he was alive, I have his gold watch as a memento of his life. Engraved on the back of the watch are these words:

Peter Koch

From P.D. Employees

1924

 Pete was a plant superintendent at the Standard Oil Refinery who treated employees and co-workers with respect. Years after he passed, former colleagues would reminisce, expressing kind words to his son and grandsons whenever they’d meet uptown. Shortly after his retirement, Granddad succumbed to a fatal illness. Aside from a few faded photographs, his watch has become his legacy. It symbolizes honor, integrity, and moral character, reflecting his decency, commitment, ethics, and values. Now displayed in a glass case, the watch, like my Granddad, quit working some time ago. The hands display 17 minutes past one o’clock. Even so, after almost a century, the watch still gives the correct time twice each day. Keepsakes and photos bridge generations, sustain familial connections, and serve as a reminder of times past.

 Long before Mom gave me grandpa’s watch, I was aware of his name and place within the community; since first grade at Sacred Heart School in September of 1946, I knew.  At the 8:00 o’clock morning student Mass before school, I would look at the stained-glass window by the confessional on the east side of the church and read the words: “In Memory of Peter N. Koch.” (My Grandfather’s middle name was Nicholas.)  The family purchased that window as a memorial to my grandfather’s life.

 In hometown churches throughout America, one sees a directory of parishioners whose dedication, commitment, and generosity helped build their church. Through panes of stained- glass images of saints, families provided lasting tribute to loved ones. Granddad’s window depicts St. Peter holding the golden keys to Heaven’s gate. In grammar school, when it was time for me to receive the Sacrament of Confirmation, to honor my grandfather, I chose the name of Peter.

A major benefit of living in one’s hometown is a sense of connection with generations past, belonging to the present, and planning for the future. Much of what we enjoy today—much of what we treasure—is due to the efforts of those who came before us. These early citizens, our relatives, and friends, exhibited a fierce determination to make a positive constructive difference. They worked long and hard to provide for their family, especially their children. By the fruits of their labor, their children and their children’s children would be afforded additional opportunities, enabling future generations to more fully enjoy the liberties and freedoms pledged by the United States.

 Countless great grandparents and grandparents came to this country from foreign lands. These immigrants sacrificed and struggled unselfishly, working tirelessly to achieve America’s promise. These individuals helped form the character of this country—morally, socially, and spiritually.  That spirit is evident today in my hometown, “The Little City by The Lake,” Whiting, Indiana. 

 A special note of appreciation to Standard Oil Company.  Rockefeller’s refinery became the footing and foundation of the City of Whiting, Indiana.  The idyllic community I was blessed to grow up in during the 40s, 50s, and 60s was made possible by the employment and ancillary necessities, services, and businesses opportunities engendered by the refinery.  Those benefits continue to this day.

Growing up, most of us have been told stories about the people, places, and events that are part of one’s family history. Even without having been there, we can sense what it was like and what it took to survive and succeed in earlier times. As we mature, recollection of those stories—like old photographs—lose sharpness and slowly fade. Even so, viewing stained glass church windows, and looking at the now frozen hands of a century-old pocket watch, I can see, touch, and celebrate a portion of my grandfather’s life’s song.

Whatever stories of his life were left untold, whatever songs left unsung will have to wait for another time.  Perhaps one day these, too, will become known; for now, a watch, and a window are enough.

My grandfather has been gone almost a hundred years. My grandmother, aunts, uncles, parents, and two older brothers, have also been called home to Heaven.  Selfishly, there is a heartfelt emptiness not having them to share ordinary routine moments of living.

But this is all part of life. As Christians, we take comfort and find solace knowing our loved ones are a peace in God’s love.  We faithfully believe that somewhere, far beyond the stars, loved ones now enjoy Heaven’s banquet prepared from the harvest of their life.

As I said, I never knew my grandfather, and that unknown information is part of  my personal heartfelt treasury about a watch, a window, and wonder beyond the stars.