Madeleine Thomas

SCHNEIDER
Table of Contents

Foreword 1
The Spirit Remaineth Forever 3
Bridges to the Future 5
Enchanted Days 11
Biggest Blessings 17
Places of the Heart 27
Growing Old Friends 35
Lighting a Fire 41
Glimpse of Heaven 49
Rendezvous with Destiny 59
The Measure of Success 73
Planting Trees 83
Epilogue 92
Acknowledgements 93

Madeleine Thomas Schneider was the first donor to leave the
contents of her home to The Findlay-Hancock County Commu-
nity Foundation. In doing so, she not only left us with assets that
will benefit community residents for years to come, but also his-
torical treasures that reveal her family’s connection to Findlay.
When I first walked through Madeleine’s Ann Arbor home, I was
surprised to discover that she had clipped and saved articles
from the Findlay Courier about local events and people for
decades. For a woman who lived outside of our community all
of her adult life, Madeleine was truly a Findlay-Hancock County
girl at heart. Born and reared in Findlay, she maintained close
ties with the community through family members, lifelong
friends, her hometown newspaper, and business connections
with Fifth Third Bank.
Another striking impression from Madeleine’s home was the
written descriptions placed beside many family items. Mad-
eleine’s mother, Gail Tritch Thomas, had meticulously docu-
mented family heirlooms, explaining the significance of each
item and their family’s involvement in our community since
the early 1800s. One of Gail’s notes revealed, for example, that a
handmade red and white quilt was a gift from Mary Bushong of
Lover’s Lane, Marion Township, circa 1900, as recompense for a
large bill for medical services owed to Madeleine’s grandfather,
Dr. J.C. Tritch. Perhaps Gail left these notes for Madeleine, her
only child, as a reminder of her heritage. Or maybe these notes
were left for those who followed Madeleine.
I will be forever grateful to Warren Kahn, Fifth Third Bank
trustee of Madeleine’s estate, who allowed me to go through her
Foreword
home and save news articles, photographs, family heirlooms, and
materials to document the Tritch and Thomas families’ con-
tributions to Findlay and Hancock County. Many of the items
were given to the Hancock Historical Museum for safe keeping.
It is with heartfelt appreciation that I wish to acknowledge Fred
and Pauline Phillips for ensuring that Madeleine received an
annual report each year. For many years, they asked for a second
copy of the report to send to a long-time friend who grew up in
Findlay. They honored Madeleine’s wish to remain anonymous
as they kept her informed about the Foundation’s growth and
progress. Many thanks to you, Fred and Pauline.
Just as the L. Dale Dorney story was written in 1989 to docu-
ment and honor his contribution to our community, so this
story was written to document and honor the life of Madeleine
Thomas Schneider and her family members that preceded her.
Mr. Dorney has taught us: “Our earthly possessions are, after all,
but life holdings, and the grace with which we part with them
at the end of life’s journey shows the heart in its least disguised
form.” As this story reveals, Madeleine lived her life and de-
parted from this earth with a gracious heart filled with kindness,
generosity, and love for her hometown. I hope you enjoy this
book as much as we enjoyed putting it together.
Barbara M. Deerhake
President/CEO
The Findlay-Hancock County Community Foundation
June 2008

The Spirit Remaineth Forever

“Never the Spirit was born:
The Spirit remaineth forever,
Never the Time that was not,
End and Beginning are dreams,
Birthless, deathless, and changeless
Remaineth the Spirit, forever—
Death hath not touched it at all
Dead tho the house of it seems!”
- “The Song Celestial” was a poem
beloved by Madeleine. It is a
translation by Sir Edwin Arnold of a
famous work of Indian literature in the
Hindu tradition.
The Spirit Remaineth Forever
Her Spirit Remains Forever
Madeleine Thomas Schneider
November 20, 1914 – January 18, 2005
The spirit with which we live our life is our legacy when we
depart this world. Madeleine Thomas Schneider, daughter of
Findlay, lived her life with a gracious spirit. She was born into
a loving family with deep ties to the community. Her family
taught her the importance of integrity, service, and generosity.
Throughout her life, which spanned nine decades of momen-
tous historical events and cultural changes, Madeleine never
wavered in her righteous pursuit of these values. She nobly
served her country during World War II, loved and supported
her husband throughout his groundbreaking career in neu-
rosurgery, remained a loyal friend and generous hostess to a
wide circle of acquaintances, gave generously of her time as a
volunteer, and traveled around the globe in a quest to experi-
ence life to its fullest. Upon her death, she left The Findlay-
Hancock County Community Foundation 90 percent of her
estate, a gift totaling $25 million. She also left a generous
gift to the Blanchard Valley Health Foundation. Through her
final gifts, Madeleine will continue to touch the lives of many
people and her gracious spirit will remain forever a part of the
Findlay community. v

 Madeleine’s Family Tree

James Thomas Mary Ann Leonard Tritch Mary “Maria” Rev. David Lydia (Swartz) William Davis Margaret
(1792 - 1879) (Campbell) (1786 - 1842) (Hoffhines) Wolf Wolf (1809 - 1863) (Lafferty)
Thomas Tritch (1797 - 1874) (1803 - 1887) Davis
(1795 - 1878) (1796 - 1837) (1812 - 1890)

Robert Dilly Ann Parlee Carlin Nancy (Shong) Levi Wolf Mary Ann
Thomas “Dilla” (Little) Tritch Tritch (1825 - 1862) (Davis) Wolf
(1827 - 1904) Thomas (1832 - 1928) (1833 - 1909) (1833 - 1911)
(1833 - 1898)

Alvin S. Elizabeth Dr. J.C. Tritch Lydia (Wolf)

Thomas (Swindler) (John Charles) Tritch
(1856 - 1915) Thomas (1857 - 1943) (1855 - 1935)
(1858 - 1933)

Dr. Earl J. Mary Gail

Thomas (Tritch)
(1882 - 1952) Thomas
(1883 - 1962)

Madeleine
Tritch Thomas
Schneider
(1914 - 2005)

Bridges to the Future


Madeleine’s roots reach back to the earliest
pioneers of Hancock County. Her family tree
contains many prominent citizens who dedi-
cated their lives to building and serving the
Findlay community. To honor the contribu-
tions of their forebears, Madeleine’s fam-
ily preserved heirlooms from the Thomas,
Tritch, Wolf, Davis, and Oesterlin family
lines. Historical items and family stories were
passed down from generation to generation.
Never failing to help those in need
Madeleine’s great-great-grandfathers on her
mother’s side of the family included a circuit-
riding Evangelical minister, a cabinet maker,
and a stock dealer, all of whom decided to
cast their fortunes in the swampy and heav-
ily-wooded lands of Hancock County shortly
after the county was formed in 1820. These
courageous pioneers faced many hardships,
yet they were determined to carve out a
community and create a better future for
their children.
Stock dealer William Davis came to the
county in a Conestoga wagon from An-
Bridges to the Future
“In every conceivable manner, the family is link to our
past, bridge to our future.”
- Alex Haley
napolis, Maryland, with his wife, Margaret
(Lafferty) Davis, 3-year-old son Henry, and
infant daughter Mary. The family made it as
far as Thornville, Ohio, where they stopped
one fall evening because Henry was sick
with whooping cough. The little
boy died that night so the family
decided to stay in Thornville until
the spring. Margaret once said
that leaving the little body of her
son behind was the hardest thing
she ever had to do. Yet the family
continued on to Hancock County
after the winter’s thaw and settled
on acreage now located four miles
east of Findlay on U.S. 224. William
constructed a primitive log cabin
on the land in 1834. “Tales which
have been handed down tell of that
first log cabin, with the openings The William Davis Homestead on
State Route 244 East. Pictured here
being without either doors or window glass are Orpha and Margaret Davis at a
and that Indians often would be found ly- Davis Family reunion in 1951. In later
ing asleep in front of the fireplace when the years the porch was removed and the
homestead became known as the
family would arise in the morning,” reported Ohio Farmhouse.
an article in the Findlay Republican Courier.
As his family grew to 11 children, William


Margaret (Lafferty) Davis, Madeleine’s
great-great-grandmother, came to
Hancock County from Maryland in a
Conestoga wagon.
Lydia (Swartz) Wolf, Madeleine’s
great-great-grandmother, was married
to a circuit-riding Evangelical minister
and farmer.

still took time to serve his community
as county commissioner and justice of
the peace. Eventually, he constructed
a farmhouse in place of the log cabin
to accommodate his large family. The
house and the family cemetery behind
it still stand today.
Mary (Davis) Wolf, Madeleine’s great-
grandmother, was the oldest of William
and Margaret’s 11 remaining children.
She married Levi Wolf who lived on a
neighboring homestead. Levi’s father
was Reverend David Wolf, a circuit-rid-
ing Evangelical minister and farmer
who came to Hancock County by way
of Fairfield County, Ohio, in 1836. “We
do know that the Rev. David wrote in
German script. As a child I saw a small
notebook he had kept which none of us
could decipher because of the German
script. Presumably he preached in Ger-
man, too,” wrote Madeleine in a letter
in response to a genealogy inquiry.
Reverend David and his wife, Lydia
(Swartz), also had 11 children, though
sadly, four of their sons, including Levi,
died during the Civil War.
Levi Wolf, Madeleine’s great-grandfa-
ther, believed it was his duty to serve
his country during the Civil War. He
enlisted in the Union Army as a private
in Company H,
57th Ohio Volun-
teer Infantry, in
August 1861. When
ordered South after
enlistment, Levi left
his wife with four
small children who
were all sick with
diphtheria. Levi
played an active
part in the Battle
of Shiloh in April Levi Wolf and three of his brothers
1862 in Tennessee. died while serving in the Union
“The story I always Army during the Civil War. Family
members who traveled to Cincin-
heard was that in nati to visit Levi’s burial site were
the Battle of Shiloh, determined to transport his body
back to Hancock County, but
Levi Wolf stopped decided to let him rest in peace
on the battlefield when they saw the beautiful and
to give a drink from serene spot where his grave lay.
his canteen to a wounded comrade and was
captured,” wrote Madeleine in a 1992 letter to
her cousin Andy Fuller. (Other accounts indicate
that Levi was tying up the wound of a comrade
at the time). Levi was sent to a Confederate
prison camp where he became extremely ill from
mistreatment. He was released and sent home on
a Mississippi river boat but he only lived to get as
far as Cincinnati. He died July 3, 1862.
Levi’s wife, Mary, was left to raise her children
alone on the farm. Her children included Jane
Wolf, Madeleine’s much loved great-aunt whom
she called “Dadle,” and Lydia (Wolf) Tritch,
Madeleine’s maternal grandmother. Although
her own life wasn’t easy, Mary reached out
to others and became known throughout
Hancock County for her compassion and
kindness. “Mrs. Wolf was the most chari-
table of women, never failing to help those in
need of assistance when it was in her power,”
read her obituary in the Findlay Morning
Republican, July 11, 1911. “A little house on
her farm, which she kept immaculate for
wandering members of the human race, is
a single instance of the kindly attitude of
her warm heart. The ‘tramp house’ as it was
known, was seldom untenanted, one poor
fellow creeping into the haven, in his death
agony. To reach the place was always to find
something to eat, a good bed to sleep in, and
everything possible done for their comfort.”
He hath done what he could
In 1829, cabinet maker Leonard Tritch,
another of Madeleine’s great-great-grandfa-
thers, settled his family on land he purchased
on what is now the fairgrounds on East
Sandusky Street. “In front of the cabin a huge
pile of brush which had been chipped from
the logs used in the building of the cabin had
been piled high above the cabin itself which
was set down in the midst of a dense for-
est and reached by a winding road through
the woods. The howling of the wolves in the
forest was not any more soothing in tone
because of the fact that the
cabin had no doors,” stated
an article in the Findlay
Republican Courier.
Leonard Tritch had several
children, including Amelia
(Tritch) Oesterlin and Par-
lee Tritch. Amelia was the
wife of Dr. Charles Oester-
lin, the man widely-known
for his discovery and
development of Findlay’s
natural gas. Her brother
Parlee, who lived until age Mary Wolf, Madeleine’s great-grandmother, spinning wool.
The spinning wheel was passed down through the family and
96, served as the county’s Madeleine displayed it in her Ann Arbor home.
coroner from 1861 to
1865 and sheriff from 1869 to 1873. He was
the father of Dr. John Charles (J.C.) Tritch,
Madeleine’s maternal grandfather.
Dr. J.C. Tritch was undoubtedly one of Find-
lay’s most prominent citizens in the twenti-
eth century. He was the valedictorian of the
second graduating class from Findlay High
School in 1874. (He had just one classmate,
however). His speech at the commence-
ment was titled “Success.” “We owe much to
the world, let us see to it that we meet our
obligations; see to it that the world be richer Parlee Tritch, Madeleine’s great-
for our toil and better for our example; let us grandfather, served as county
coroner and sheriff. He was the
so live that we shall merit that noblest of epi- father of Dr. J.C. Tritch, one of
taph ever won by man, ‘He hath done what Findlay’s most prominent citizens.


Top photo: Dr. J.C. Tritch, Madeleine’s
maternal grandfather. Bottom photo:
Lydia (Wolf) Tritch, Madeleine’s
maternal grandmother. J.C. and Lydia
were the parents of Mary Gail (Tritch)
Thomas and Martha Agnes (Tritch)
Fuller.

he could,’” he proclaimed to those
gathered for the event.
Dr. Tritch’s interest in medicine was
sparked by two uncles—Dr. Charles
Oesterlin and Dr. William Detwiler. Af-
ter high school, Dr. Tritch attended the
Cleveland University of Medicine and
Surgery where he graduated in 1877.
He then opened a practice in Findlay
and served the community for 66 years
as a general practitioner and surgeon.
In the early years, he rode a horse to
visit his patients and often recom-
mended blackberry wine for faster
convalescence. He believed in balanc-
ing work with rest and relaxation to
maintain good health. He often shared
this adage: “Keep thy shop and thy
shop will keep thee.”
Dr. Tritch followed in his father’s
footsteps by serving as county
coroner from 1881 to 1885. In 1891,
he was instrumental in the formation
of what is now Blanchard Valley
Hospital, serving as its first chief of
staff and later becoming honorary
chief of staff. The hospital was
originally named the Findlay Home
for Friendless Women and Children.
“Having become impressed with the
need for better facilities for medical
care in the community, he joined with a group
of public spirited women in opening a home for
this purpose on North Main Street. Out of this
grew the present modern institution on South
Main Street,” read his obituary in the Findlay
Republican Courier, January 25, 1943.
All his life, Dr. Tritch
strived to better
himself through
travel and studies. In
1913, he observed the
construction of the
Panama Canal. “The
enormity of this un-
dertaking surpasses
one’s understanding,
and only those who
Dr. J.C. Tritch, Madeleine’s ma-
are equipped with ternal grandfather, was founder
the scientific knowl- and first chief of staff of Findlay’s
edge that pertains to first hospital (December 1939).
engineering can fully comprehend it,” he wrote
home in a 1913 letter. He also engaged in post-
graduate training in New York City and London.
“For a number of years, Dr. Tritch was the leading
surgeon in the city and he was widely recognized
as the leader in his profession in this part of the
state,” read his obituary.
Dr. Tritch also helped establish several of Find-
lay’s social organizations. He was a charter mem-
ber of the Findlay Country Club and the local
Elks’ lodge, serving as its first “exalted ruler.”
Dr. Tritch married Lydia Wolf in November
1879 and they had two children, Mary Gail
(Tritch) Thomas (Madeleine’s mother) and
Martha Agnes (Tritch) Fuller. Madeleine
knew Dr. Tritch simply as “Granddaddy”
and he was an impressionable figure. Her
grandmother Lydia also played a central role
in Madeleine’s life. She was a kindly woman
who, on behalf of the Red Cross, headed up
the knitting activities of Hancock County
women during World War I. When she died
on September 8, 1935, after a few years of ill
health, the entire family was grief-stricken.
“Still very sad. Granddaddy a little hard to
handle,” wrote Madeleine in her journal on
the day of her grandmother’s funeral. The day
after Lydia was buried, Dr. Tritch went to her
gravesite early in the morning to watch the
sun rise.
Held the confidence of all
On her father’s side, Madeleine’s family is
comprised of early Hancock County settlers
and Irish immigrants. Her great-great- grand-
father James Thomas and great-great- grand-
mother Mary Ann (Campbell) Thomas were
married in County Down, Ireland, and set
sail for America on August 17, 1816. They
eventually settled in Hancock County and
had 11 children, including Robert Thomas,
the father of Alvin Thomas, Madeleine’s
paternal grandfather.
Alvin Thomas “was prominently identi-
fied with business and official life in
Findlay for many years and one of the
city’s well-known citizens,” reported his
obituary in the Findlay Morning Republi-
can, December 20, 1915. He was a public
school teacher for 19 years before joining
the Buckeye Hardware Company, where
he served as president for many years.
He also served two terms on the Findlay
Board of Education and two terms as the
county recorder. He made a failed bid for
Findlay mayor two years before his death.
“He was a public-spirited citizen and held Madeleine’s paternal grandfather, Alvin S.
the confidence of all with whom he came Thomas, was an educator and business-
man in Hancock County. (August 1897)
in contact,” read his obituary.
Alvin Thomas married Elizabeth Swindler
The Thomas Family - Alvin, Earl,
and they had three children: Earl (Madeleine’s Zetta, Elizabeth and Edie. (1892)
father), Luzetta
(Thomas) Bohm-
ker and Edie Mae
(Thomas) Shoupe.
Sadly, Madeleine
never had the chance
to get to know her
grandfather Thomas
because he died sud-
denly of a heart attack
in 1915 when she was
just a baby. v

Enchanted Days
 Enchanted Days
“There is a garden in every childhood, an enchanted
place where colors are brighter, the air softer, and the
morning more fragrant than ever again.”
- Elizabeth Lawrence

As a beloved, only child in a well-to-do fam- her were both sets of grandparents, her Aunt
ily, Madeleine had a sunny and happy child- Edie Mae and Uncle Mack Shoupe, friends,
hood. She thrived among a close-knit circle neighbors and even members of the hospital
of family and friends who supported one board. Her grandfather,
another and shared in life’s joys and sorrows. Dr. J.C. Tritch, marked
the momentous occa-
She is so sweet, good and pretty sion by taking 10 Kodak
In the early evening of a cold and snowy pictures. While many
November day in 1914, a tiny baby girl made women in the early
her entrance into the world at the hospital twentieth century gave
in Findlay. She weighed a healthy 8 pounds, birth at home with only
14 ounces. The hospital room danced with a midwife in atten-
shadows in the fading light of day, so the dance, Baby Thomas
baby’s father, Dr. Earl J. Thomas, a respected and mother had three
Findlay physician, carried her over to the doctors overseeing their
window to get a good look at what fate had care.
brought him. “She is so sweet, good and
pretty,” gushed the baby’s mother, Gail Tritch After a 20-day stay at
the hospital, the baby and her weary, but re- One of the Kodak photos taken by
Thomas, in her journal on November 21, Dr. J.C. Tritch of his newborn grand-
1914. lieved mother, returned to their home at 812 daughter, Madeleine, with nurse Zoe
Maple Avenue. On December 19, 1914, Gail Binley (November 1914).
In the days that followed, the new baby (who penned in her journal, “Babe’s name finally
Pictured on opposite page:
was yet to be named) was showered with decided upon. We will call her Madeleine Madeleine, 3 months old.
gifts and flowers. Stopping by to fuss over Tritch.” Madeleine was named after La Mad-
11
 eleine church in Paris, France. Her mother
had visited the church on a European trip
she took as a young woman. “Her mother
said it was the most beautiful church she had
ever seen,” said Jean (Moran) Elsea in a 2008
interview.
The patience of Job
Madeleine’s early years were
filled with joyous times. In her
neighborhood, she ran around
with a lively group of girls that
included Grace (Firestine)
Heck, Betty (Hodge) Smith,
Pauline (Jackson) Phillips,
Mary (McCullough) Knox
Heidtman, Anne (Moran)
Maher, and Virginia “Dinny”
(Swartz) Saveland. Many of
these girls remained Made-
leine’s close friends through-
out her life.
In a 2008 interview, Pauline
Madeleine age 3 (1917).
(Jackson) Phillips said the girls would walk
to school together every day. “I lived the far-
thest south, so I would walk down to Grace’s
house and she and I would pick up the others
and go on to school. If it was really cold out,
Mr. Firestine would drive us.”
On the way home from school, the girls
would sometimes stop at Johnston’s Drug
12
Store to buy a penny candy or a nickel candy
bar. “Poor Mr. Johnston had the patience of Job,”
recalled Pauline, with a laugh. “We would stand
there and stare at the choices for the longest
time. It was a big decision.”
The girls often would gather at each other’s
homes for snacks and playtime. “Had a taffy pull
for Madeleine’s club after school, also lunch of
baked apples, fudge cake and popcorn,” wrote
Gail in her journal on November 9, 1923.
“I loved going to Madeleine’s house,” said Virginia
(Swartz) Saveland in a 2008 interview. “Mrs.
Thomas was delightful and so was Dr. Thomas.”
Virginia can still taste the delicious eggnog that
Mrs. Thomas would make to “build up” a slender
Madeleine.
Pauline couldn’t resist Mrs. Thomas’ homemade
grape juice. “I always made sure that Madeleine
and I had something to do together at her house
when the grape juice was ready,” she said in a
2008 interview.
A child in the house makes Christmas
worthwhile
Holidays and birthdays were festive occasions for
Madeleine’s family. Before Christmas, Madeleine
and her mother would walk downtown to shop at
Patterson’s Department Store and Jackson’s De-
partment Store where Madeleine would be capti-
vated by the vast selection of toys. On Christmas
Day 1917, Gail wrote in her journal: “Christ-
mas tree and beautiful gifts and Madeleine
had a very happy day. A child in the house
makes Christmas worthwhile.”
On Easter, Madeleine would receive small
baskets of treats and she and her parents
would dress in Easter finery for dinner at
the Elks’ lodge or other local establishments.
On her birthday, her family would gather
for cake and ice cream. “Madeleine aged 3.
Papa gave her $10 pearls and she had other
little trinkets and a happy day,” wrote Gail on
November 20, 1917.
In the 1920s, Halloween in Findlay was a
time for mischief and frolic. Madeleine would
carve jack-o-lanterns with her dad and dress
up in a costume to attend children’s parties.
“Madeleine was at a Hallow Eve’s party at
Donnell’s barn and I helped serve and chap-
erone. 24 there,” wrote Gail in her journal on
October 27, 1921.
Spanish influenza has broken out
here
Madeleine’s childhood wasn’t without hard-
ships, however. Viruses and other contagious
diseases, for which there were no vaccina-
tions or effective medicines at the time, were
an ever-present threat. Madeleine contracted
Spanish influenza, chicken pox, measles,
scarlet fever, and whooping cough when she
was young.
“Spanish influenza has broken out here,”
wrote Gail in a journal entry on September
28, 1918. The 1918 flu pandemic (called
the Spanish flu) was a terrible virus that
killed 50 to 100 million people world-
wide, many of whom were young and
healthy individuals.
For several weeks, Madeleine saw little
of her father and grandfather as they
tended to patients who were stricken
with the influenza. “Epidemic unabated.
Earl and Papa are almost worn out.
People are dying like flies of pneumonia
and influenza,” wrote Gail on October 9,
1918. A few days later she wrote, “Queer
Sunday—not a church service or public
gathering in Ohio on account of the epi-
demic. Also no cars out except doctors! Madeleine age 9 (August 1924).
Earl not here for any meals. Working hard.”
On October 10, 1918, 3-year-old Madeleine
came down with an extremely high tem-
perature and was delirious and almost
unconscious. Her mother and grandmother
Tritch bathed her with cool compresses all
evening to keep her temperature down. By
the next day, Madeleine was much improved.
Was it Spanish influenza? There is no way
to be certain, although her mother wrote in
13
 her journal, “Amazing illness. It when Madeleine was young, so she didn’t begin
must have been the influenza.” her formal education until first grade. However,
When she was 6 years old, Mad- her mother enrolled her in Sunday school, music
eleine contracted scarlet fever, a lessons with Mrs. Bacon, and dance lessons at
bacterial disease characterized a young age. On Madeleine’s first day of Sunday
by a high fever and a red rash school, she was given five pennies to put in the
over the entire body. Her house donation box. When she returned home, her
was placed under quarantine, parents discovered that she still had four of the
a common practice in the early pennies. When asked why, Madeleine replied,
twentieth century. “I packed “I had such a good time there that I thought I
Earl’s clothes and he moved to would like to go again!”
hotel. A big red and black sign
Madeleine and Wiggles (1924). on the house and I am alone Madeleine did enjoy school and it showed in the
with her,” wrote Gail in a journal entry dated high marks she received at Lincoln Elementary
November 27, 1920. and Donnell Junior High. In the 1920s, reading,
writing and arithmetic weren’t the only subjects
For several weeks, Madeleine was absent
from school as she was nursed back to health
by her mother. She spent her days resting and
cutting out paper dolls. Gifts of meals, flow-
ers, and small toys for the isolated invalid
and her mother poured in from concerned
family members and neighbors. She received
a beautiful doll dressed as a nurse from Miss
Hackenberger, a family friend, and a little
doll’s Christmas tree from her Aunt Martha.
Just before Christmas, her doctor declared
her to be fully recovered. The house was
fumigated and the quarantine sign removed
from the front door.

I had such a good time there

Preschool and kindergarten weren’t available Madeleine and the Kirk children, Charles, Ruth and James.

14
covered in the public schools. Teachers also
extolled the virtues of self-reliance, kindness,
duty, truthfulness, and other character traits.
For Madeleine, even a simple exercise to
practice penmanship was a lesson for life.
There is no place like home
Although careful and frugal with their finan-
cial affairs, Madeleine’s parents nevertheless
enjoyed a comfortable lifestyle. They had
hired help for housekeeping, laundry, and
landscaping chores, owned an automobile,
and went on numerous trips.
In 1920, about half of the U.S. population still
used horses for transportation; but by the
end of the decade automobiles were in wide-
spread use. Travel by automobile was still
difficult, however, because the interstate and
superhighway systems hadn’t yet been con-
structed. Dirt and stone roads were the norm
and automobiles didn’t have air conditioning.
It’s no wonder that Madeleine often suffered
from car sickness.
Despite the bumpy roadways, Madeleine’s
family would often embark on long-distance
motor trips for entertainment, dinners, and
vacations. In the summers, they traveled to
Cedar Point in Sandusky, Ohio, and Platte
Lake, Michigan, to sunbathe and picnic by
the lakeside. In the fall, they traveled to Ann
Arbor for University of Michigan football
games. And throughout the year, they
dined at restaurants in nearby towns.
Travel by train to Toledo, Detroit,
Cleveland, and Chicago for sight-seeing
and shopping was a common occur-
rence. “Madeleine and I went to Toledo
with Mama. Madeleine’s first experi-
ence on train and street cars. Very
successful day. Bought silk dress. Mama
got lynx furs,” wrote Gail in her journal
on October 16, 1917.
When she was 9 years old, Madeleine
and her parents took a summer vaca-
tion to Washington D.C., Philadelphia,
New York City, and Niagara Falls. It was
a big trip, and Madeleine must have
felt relieved when the vacation came to
an end because she wrote in her travel
journal on June 29, 1924: “Reached
home 6:30 p.m. Central time, Grand-
daddy was there to meet us. Home!
Home! Sweet, sweet home! There is
no place like home. There is no place
like home.” Four years later, she and
her parents went on a two-week trip
through New England and Canada. At
the end of that trip, Madeleine wrote:
“We had a wonderful trip but we were
glad to get home.” v
Top: Madeleine by the lakeside. Bottom: Mad-
eleine in the backyard garden.
15
Biggest Blessings

Dr. Earl J. Thomas
Dr. Earl J. Thomas, Madeleine’s father, was a
man of strong character who was dedicated
to his family, the Findlay community, and
his medical profession. He showed the world
a stoic front, but on the inside he had great
depth of emotion.
No assignment was too tough
Earl was born on October 7, 1882, in Han-
cock County to Alvin Thomas, a former
teacher-turned-businessman, and Elizabeth
(Swindler) Thomas. He had two sisters,
Luzetta, known as Zetta, (who married J.
Bohmker, moved to Illinois and had three
sons: Tom, Jim, and Fred) and Edie Mae (who
married Mack Shoupe and had one son,
Richard).
When Earl was little, he was his parents’
pride and joy. Very bright, he started school
at age 5 where he was placed in a reading
class with 8-year-olds. That same year, he
was stricken with a serious illness. “When
Biggest Blessings
“One of the greatest titles in the world is parent, and
one of the biggest blessings in the world is to have par-
ents to call mom and dad.”
- Jim DeMint
Brad Thomas and Dr. Brayton got off their
horses at the gate that night, they
could hear the sick child’s breathing,”
wrote Gail in a 1953 letter to Mad-
eleine. Earl’s mother went into another
room to pray and Earl told her “Don’t
cry, Mama.” That night, Earl made a
miraculous recovery that formed the
basis of his mother’s strong religious
faith throughout her life.
In 1905, Earl graduated from the Uni-
versity of Michigan’s medical school.
On his 24th birthday, he opened a
practice in Findlay and became known
as “Dr. Thomas.” He served patients
in the community for 40 years dur-
ing a time in history when doctors A young man, Earl J. Thomas.
made house calls. For many years,
Dr. Thomas shared office space in the Ohio
Bank Building in downtown Findlay with his Pictured on opposite page:
father-in-law, Dr. J.C. Tritch. Madeleine, age 2, and her father,
pose for a portrait (1916).
17
 Dr. Thomas was a tireless and dedicated
physician who often put in long hours. Gail
wrote a letter to Madeleine in 1953 recount-
ing this “typical story” from his practice:
“One terrible winter
night, deep snow,
sleet, ice, and wind,
a night not fit to be
out in, Daddy was
going to Chicago
from Mortimer,
Ohio, on a midnight
train, but was keep-
ing evening office
hours, as usual. A
phone call came
in from a man way
out in the country
(Mr. and Mrs. Earl
Earl, Edie and Zetta Thomas Beard), saying that
(1895).
they needed a doctor, their first baby was
about to be born and they wanted help right
away … Daddy answered ‘I’ll be there.’ So, he
started and got part way there when his car
stalled and he couldn’t go any farther. So he
put on his boots and started on foot with his
obstetrical bag, medicine case, and Big Kelly
pad, which he used in home deliveries. He
finally got there, the baby was born, he got
back to his car, got it going and returned to
Findlay and made his train to Chicago! How
he would glory over an achievement like that.
No assignment was too tough for him. …
Needless to say, the Earl Beards became devoted
patients for life.”
Though he had a reputation as an excellent
physician, Dr. Thomas possessed a gruff bedside
manner. His nephew, Dr. Richard Shoupe, once
jokingly said that hospital patients would make a
miraculous recovery when they saw Dr. Thomas
approaching.
Dr. Thomas had a distinctive, booming voice, re-
called Ed Heminger, chairman of the board of the
Findlay Publishing Company, in a 2008 interview.
Dr. Thomas was Ed’s childhood physician. “When
you were sitting in the waiting room, you could
hear him talking to patients in the other room.
His voice kind of crackled,” said Ed.
There were times, however, when Dr. Thomas
would show a tender side. In 1965, more than 10
years after her father’s death, Madeleine received
a letter from Natalie Chester with this story: “I
often think of your dear father—he was so good
to me during my mother’s long, hard illness.
Often, he would stop in passing to visit with
her—he’d yell ‘social visit’ and his hi-phi laughter
would ring through the apartment. I don’t
know what they found to talk about: but those
visits—to her—were just like medicine.” Ms.
Chester wrote that the night her mother died,
just a few minutes after midnight, Dr. Thomas
arrived within 10 minutes of being called and
helped the undertaker with his duties. In an

18
effort to comfort Ms. Chester, he went into voter’s ballot for Dad to vote,”
the kitchen and made coffee for everyone. wrote Gail in a letter to Madeleine
Madeleine replied: “I was particularly in 1951.
interested in your story about my father
and astounded that he ever did anything Dr. Thomas was a member of the
so domestic as go into a kitchen and make Findlay Country Club and the
coffee! It was an accomplishment that he local Elks’ lodge. He served as a
carefully concealed at home.” member of the board of direc-
tors of the First National Bank
Dr. Thomas was active in local and national of Findlay for many years and
medical organizations. He was a member of he invested in the bank’s stock
the Hancock County Medical Society, the and many other Findlay-owned
American College of Physicians, the Radio- corporations.
logical Society of North America and the
American Medical Association. He was a To escape from the demands of
leader in x-ray technology. “Included among his work and civic duties, Dr.
the exhibits … is the first x-ray equipment Thomas went on fishing trips
used in Hancock County and was the prop-
erty of Dr. Earl J. Thomas, a pioneer in x-ray
work in Ohio,” reported an article in the
Findlay Republican Courier, June 20, 1953, Earl displays
regarding a University of Findlay museum his catch from
exhibit. a fishing trip
to Platte Lake,
Michigan
Watching the corn grow (1914). In later
years, Mad-
All his life, Dr. Thomas was a staunch eleine would
Republican who closely followed local and accompany her
national politics. A few months before his father on trips
to visit her uncle
death, his friends facilitated his participation Mack Shoupe’s
in the November elections. “Glenn and Otto cottage on the
Donnell were here Thurs. p.m. for a call. South Shore.

While here, Otto phoned to Jack Firmin

Dr. Thomas was born in the country in Biglick Township. He felt drawn to the
to come down here pronto with an absent peace and quiet of country life and spent many long hours at the family farm.

19

Dr. Richard Shoupe and Dr. Earl
Thomas (April 30, 1944). Shoupe
was Dr. Thomas’ nephew, the
son of his sister Edie Mae.
20
to Michigan, played golf, and relaxed on a
farm he owned in the country. In a 1937 let-
ter, Gail wrote: “Our chief recreation is going
for our chocolate soda each evening. Earl,
of course, spends long hours at the farm,
watching the corn grow, and playing with
the dogs.” In a 1945 letter, she wrote: “… that
farm has been his greatest delight for as long
as I can remember.”
I want to see what you look like
Family was important to Dr. Thomas, al-
though he wasn’t Earl and Gail Thomas, Madeleine’s parents. (1951)
often demonstra-
tive of his feelings. the group stopped in New Orleans where a letter
He had a deep love from Gail was waiting. The letter mentioned that
for his wife, Gail, it was their wedding anniversary. “Mr. Hardwick
and his only child, said that Dad’s spirits fell, and he was gloomy the
Madeleine. He also rest of the day and would hardly talk except to
was close to his say that his place was at home,” wrote Gail in a
nephew, Richard 1953 letter to Madeleine.
Shoupe, whom he
inspired to become Unlike Gail, who wrote long and expressive let-
a physician. ters, Dr. Thomas wrote succinct and direct notes.
This note to Madeleine, written in 1937 when she
A year after Dr. was at Smith College, was one of his longer mis-
Thomas died, Mr. sives. It was written shortly after the untimely
Hardwick, a family death of his sister, Zetta, of a massive heart at-
friend, stopped tack, and it reveals his vulnerability. “Dear Mad-
by to visit with Gail. He shared a story that eleine – I am sending you $30.00 in cash for your
revealed Dr. Thomas’ affection for his wife. ticket home. From your letters I take it that your
Once, when Dr. Thomas was on a cross coun- Mother was saying you did not need to come
try trip with Mr. Hardwick and other friends, home if you had other places you wanted to go.
You won’t misunderstand my letter. I have
placed the old Jack in our envelope – and I
say, come home, I want to see what you look
like. I will try and find some more money for
a new spring outfit. Your grandfather came
home from the hospital Sunday evening. He
was in the office for a short time yesterday
and came down again today. Poor Zetta. It
makes me sick when I think of her. She was a
dandy girl and I cared for her a lot. I will see
you next week. I think I have a turkey lined
up. Sincerely, Dad.”
No longer capable of those feelings
During World War II, when many young
doctors were leaving Findlay to serve their
country, Dr. Thomas was overworked and
suffered from headaches, exhaustion, high
blood pressure, and other maladies. “Daddy
had carried a crate of apples from the back
seat of the car into the garage and then drove
on into the garage with the car door open.
The door was ripped off and the fender and
body smashed on the pretty new car. Mother
said his excuse was that he is so tired every
night he hardly knows what he is doing. Now
that Richard is gone I don’t believe there is
a doctor left in Findlay under 45 years age
and darn few under 55,” wrote Madeleine in a
1942 letter to Dick Schneider.
Ill health led Dr. Thomas to retire in 1947.
Much to his family’s dismay, his health con-
tinued to deteriorate, possibly as the result
of a series of strokes. “… In his active years
he was a person of many and varied interests
and one who was easily excited and enthused
about things. The fact that that side of his
personality has been gone so completely for
so long has convinced us that he is no longer
capable of those feelings …” wrote Mad-
eleine to her cousin, Dr. Richard Shoupe. Dr.
Thomas passed away in the hospital on May
23, 1952. Madeleine was 37 years old at the
time.
Mary Gail Tritch Thomas
Mary Gail Tritch Thomas, Madeleine’s
mother, had a tremendous influence on
Madeleine’s life. Gail strived to be the “per-
fect lady” and she passed these qualities on
to Madeleine.
A thrilling glimpse of foreign land
Gail was born on April 11, 1883, in Findlay,
Ohio, to Dr. J.C. Tritch, a well-known local
physician, and Lydia (Wolf) Tritch. For 11
years, she enjoyed an only-child status until
her sister, Martha, came along in 1894. De-
spite their age difference, Gail and her sister
had a close and loving relationship. Martha
moved to Minnesota after college where she
married Charles Fuller in 1921 and had two
children, Virginia (Binny) and Andrew.
21

High school graduation portrait
of Mary Gail Tritch (1901). Her
dress was made by Miss Sallie
Beebe, who spent two weeks
sewing it by day at the Tritch
home.
22
Although Findlay was
Gail’s home her entire life,
she possessed a cul-
tured outlook that came
from higher education
and travels. She gradu-
ated from Smith College,
Northampton, Massachu-
setts, in 1905. Founded
in 1871, Smith was one of
the first institutions for
women’s higher education
in the United States. It was
also one of the infamous
“Seven Sisters”—women’s
colleges in the Northeast
often compared to the
men’s Ivy League schools.
The fact that Gail was
encouraged to further her
education at a time in his-
tory when women’s roles
in society were extremely
limited (they didn’t even
have the right to vote), re-
veals her parents’ progres-
sive outlook.
Throughout her life, Gail maintained an
intellectual curiosity. She was a lifetime
member of the American Association of
University Women. She was a voracious
reader of newspapers, magazines, literature,
and poetry. She also was intrigued by history and
spent years tracing her genealogy.
Before she was married, Gail traveled abroad to
Europe and exotic locales where she experienced
different cultures. She described one trip in a let-
ter to her son-in-law in 1942: “I, too, have a Medi-
terranean past … I made two trips to Europe via
Gibraltar and Naples before I was married … col-
orful Gibraltar, where we went ashore, is a bright
and beautiful memory. Smart red-coats walking
briskly and carrying swagger sticks, beautiful
English ladies in their open carriages, Arabs in
white burnooses, strawberry vendors, bare-foot
Orientals of many complexion hues—all made an
exotic picture and certainly a thrilling glimpse of
foreign land by a traveler from the Black Swamp
of Northwest Ohio.”
After graduating from Smith, Gail returned home
to teach Latin at Findlay High School for five
years. Former students described her as an excel-
lent and inspiring teacher. During these years,
she was courted by Dr. Earl J. Thomas, a young
Findlay doctor. On April 24, 1912, they were mar-
ried in a small ceremony at her parents’ home,
859 South Main, and departed for a four-week
honeymoon in Bermuda. As was customary for
the times, Gail left her teaching job before she
was married. “The marriage of these two most
estimable young people means the uniting of two
families who for almost a hundred years have
been prominently identified with the history of
the county, and with the business, profes- Gail was also a
sional, and social life of the city,” reported the prolific and expres-
marriage notice in the local paper. sive letter writer.
Often she would be
Throwing little beans so far out the first to send a
into the big world friend an encourag-
Throughout her life, Gail was extremely ing or sympathetic
interested in the Findlay community and note when she
the lives of her friends and neighbors. Every learned of their
day she faithfully read the Findlay paper troubles. Mad-
and other newspapers in search of items eleine must have
of interest about Findlay-area people and inherited this trait
events. She would clip these news items to from her mother, as
file away or to share with others. “Mother is evidenced in this
the family’s most voluminous clipper. I am letter, written by
a close second,” Madeleine wrote in a let- Mrs. H.G. Fuller, a year after
ter to her husband. Gail’s community pride Gail’s death: “Dear Madeleine,
was evident in this 1953 letter to Madeleine: you are your dear mother’s
“Here is a bale of clippings—sorry for the daughter—considerate and
deluge, but it seems that Findlay is always kind. And I missed the letter
making news. I often wonder if every small from her which would have
city throws its little beans so far out into the come to me early and with
big world—or are we unique?” comforting words. You must
have realized that, when you
Gail’s interest in those around her stemmed wrote the sweet note with
from a compassionate nature. She enjoyed the little extra thoughts so
giving gifts and fussed over finding the per- like your mother.”
fect present for everyone on her Christmas
list. In a 2008 interview, Wendene Shoupe, P.S. Don’t forget to
Gail’s niece, said that every time Gail would butter your toast
come to her house for dinner, she would Madeleine, Gail’s only
bring a family memento, such as a framed child, was her pride and joy. Top: Gail and Madeleine.
picture, as a gift. Though Gail poured her life’s Bottom: Gail Tritch Thomas (September 1924).

23

Gail and Earl’s exchange of wed-
ding vows was a small family af-
fair. But later that evening they
hosted a large reception with a
string orchestra playing on the
hall balcony at the Tritch’s 859
South Main home.
24
energy into being a nurturing and loving
mother, she also was a mother who wasn’t
afraid to give her child wings.
After Madeleine left
for college in 1932, she
returned to Findlay often
for summer vacations
and visits, but never
again to live. Across the
distance, Gail and Made-
leine kept in close touch
through phone calls and
letters. For years, they
would exchange several
letters a week.
Gail’s letters to Mad-
eleine were mostly filled
with accounts of every-
day life. But her wit and
intellect would some-
times shine through.
“I’ve been isolated, or
should I say ice-olated
because of the winter weather,” she wrote
in one letter. In another letter, she wrote, “I
wish to report that my 40 days for Eterna 27
face cream are up and I can’t notice any great
transformation in my face! Of course, they
only promised that 6 out of 10 people would
notice the change. So I’ll have to go sit with
the unlucky 4 … Well, it was a Noble Experiment,
anyway.”
Like any mother worth her salt, Gail often would
slip advice into her letters. “Why not have a little
party for your anniversary?” she wrote to Mad-
eleine in 1953. “These nice milestones do not
come so often. An old lady, in retrospect, could
say to put all the gaiety into your life that you can
so that you have bright things to look back on.”
In a 1955 letter she tempered a critique with
praise: “Your new dress is very beautiful … but
it does require an arrow straight figure, which is
hard for you. Practice your side views in front of a
mirror—try hard at it. Mrs. Eoff tells me you are
very, very beautiful. How did I achieve a child like
that?”
In another letter, she expressed concern about
Madeleine being too thin. At the end of the letter
she wrote, “P.S. Don’t forget to butter your toast!”
That which does not die
When Gail’s husband, Dr. Earl J. Thomas, died
in 1952 after years of ill health, she was heart-
broken. Yet she overcame her loss and lived a
fulfilling life her remaining years. She enjoyed
spending time with an intimate circle of friends
that included Mary (Blackford) Fowler, a Findlay
artist. “It was always a pleasure to stop in and see
her,” wrote a friend, Margaret Conaway, to Mad-
eleine, after Gail’s death. “She grew older with so
much courage and spirit. I often thought that
her education and interest in others made
her later years enjoyable.”
On April 28, 1962, shortly after her 79th
birthday, and what would have been her 50th
wedding anniversary, Gail suffered a debili-
tating stroke. “In spite of being so severely af-
flicted she lived fourteen weeks, all that time
in the hospital and I lived in the family home
in Findlay to be near her,” wrote Madeleine to
a friend.
Gail’s death on August 3, 1962, was devastat-
ing for Madeleine. After the funeral, she had
the painful task of dismantling and selling
the family home at 859 South Main. Mad-
eleine moved most of her family’s heirlooms
and antiques, which her mother had meticu-
lously maintained and kept records on, to
her home in Ann Arbor. “Since I am an only
child and have no children of my own, we
were very close to each other and I miss my
mother very much,” Madeleine expressed to
a friend. In another letter, she wrote, “It is
a big job to go through the possessions of a
home that our family has lived in for 63 years
and the end is not in sight for me. I do miss
my mother so much.”
Among the items that Madeleine came
across when she cleared out her family’s
home were her mother’s beloved literature
and poetry books. She sent this poem, one of
her mother’s favorites, to Pastor Ernest Big-
elow, of First Presbyterian Church in Findlay.
“The Song Celestial” is a translation by Sir
Edwin Arnold of a famous work of Indian
literature in the Hindu tradition.
Never the Spirit was born:
The Spirit remaineth forever,
Never the Time that was not,
End and Beginning are dreams,
Birthless, deathless, and changeless
Remaineth the Spirit, forever—
Death hath not touched it at all
Dead tho the house of it seems!
Pastor Bigelow responded to Mad-
eleine: “How thoughtful of you
to send me the copy of the poem
which meant so much to your
mother. … It certainly has some-
thing to say to those of us in the
Western World. … Your mother
was a person of great capac-
ity for friendship and human
warmth; people never forget
this. It speaks to them of that
which does not die.” v
Dr. and Mrs. Earl J. Thomas pose in the
garden (July 1924). Gail delighted in her
flower and vegetable gardens. She spent
many summer days canning vegetables
and fruit preserves.
25
Places of the Heart

Clearest memory of our family days
Madeleine’s family home in Findlay was 859
South Main Street, a Georgian Revival style
house built in 1900 by her grandparents, Dr.
J.C. Tritch and Lydia (Wolf) Tritch.
Dr. Tritch was quite proud of his beautiful
home. According to family folklore, when he
discovered that Mr. Cratty, who was build-
ing a house at 835 South Main, was copy-
ing architectural elements of his home, he
marched down the street and told Mr. Cratty:
“You are not going to build a house exactly
like mine!” Cratty decided that a close second
would be better than an irate neighbor.
In 1910, Dr. Tritch, after returning home
from Europe, so loved the architecture of
the homes he had seen that he had the front
porch changed to include a massive brick
porch supported by four round columns.
The massive overhanging roof topped by a
balcony included turned balustrades. He also
Places of the Heart
“Home is where the heart is.”
- Pliny the Elder
enhanced the original front entrance with
leaded and beveled glass.
While growing up, Madeleine spent count-
less happy hours at 859 South Main in the
loving company of her grandparents. Until
age 3, she lived at 812 Maple Street, a rented
home her parents settled in after they were
married. She and her parents then moved
into the Campfield Apartments at 923 South
Main Street.
In September 1925, they moved once again
into a newly-constructed house at 110
Hancock Street, which was just around the
corner from her grandparents’ home. The
backyard of 110 Hancock practically adjoined
the backyard of 859 South Main. “Earl and I
and Madeleine are at last in our own home,
Pictured on opposite page: 859
the function of many years of hoping and South Main Street, Madeleine’s
planning,” wrote Gail in her journal. The family home, built by her grand-
parents, J.C. and Lydia Tritch in
small family spent many memorable years 1900.
together in the home. “The days at 110
27
 Hancock seem to be my clearest memory of our
family days … the days of Mrs. Bacon, our beloved
wood fire, Saturday evening shopping, radio … it
seems were all Big Stuff in those days,” wrote Gail in
a letter to Madeleine.

In 1936, a year after Madeleine’s grandmother

Lydia passed away, her parents, Dr. Earl J. Thomas
and Gail Tritch Thomas, moved into the 859
South Main dwelling with Dr. Tritch. By this time,
however, Madeleine was no longer living with her
parents because she was working on her master’s
degree at Smith College. She did have a bedroom
at the family home, though, where she slept when
visiting.
Above: A closeup
view of the ornate
architectural details of On February 12, 1943, Madeleine and Dick Sch-
859 South Main. This neider were married at 859 South Main, following
photo shows the side
entry of the home. in the tradition of Madeleine’s parents who were
Note the leaded and married in the family home 31 years earlier. On that
beveled glass window. memorable day, Madeleine’s wedding gown was
Right: The staircase at adorned with an ivory and gold cameo brooch that
859 South Main that Dr. Tritch had given to his wife as a bridal gift. She
Madeleine descended
on her wedding day.
descended the sweeping staircase on the arm of her
father. Dick was waiting for her at the bottom step
and together they proceeded into the front parlor
and exchanged vows in front of the fireplace.

When Gail died in 1962, Madeleine had the sad

task of cleaning out the possessions and selling
the house which had been in her family for over 60
years. In the fall of 1963, 859 South Main was sold
to Robert and Mary LaForrest. A few months after

28
moving in, Mary LaForrest wrote Madeleine
a short note: “I just wanted you to know how
much we have enjoyed living in your house. 921 and 923 South
Main Street, the
… The children all love the house and take Campfield Apartments,
such pride in keeping it nice. … I am sure your where Madeleine lived
mother and grandfather would be pleased to see from age 3 to 10.
Their apartment (923)
how much it is being enjoyed.” was the result of the
Campfield House being
In 1981, the house was purchased by Scott and “duplexed” in 1916
following the death of
Linda Beltz, its current owners. They have lov- Henrietta Campfield.
ingly maintained the house, keeping the original The house has since
been restored to a single
woodwork and lighting fixtures. 859 South Main family home.
is listed on the National Register of Historic
Places and has been a part of historic home
tours. The Beltz’s have a great appreciation for
the home’s heritage, even placing framed photo-
graphs of Dr. and Mrs. Tritch on a bookshelf in
the library. “This is a special home. It has been a
joy to live here,” said Linda in a 2008 interview.
“Maintaining this house has been a labor of love.”

According to Linda, Madeleine came to visit her family

home on several occasions. The most memorable visit
occurred in June 1986, just a few days after Madeleine’s
husband, Dick, had died. Madeleine and her Fuller cousins
were in Findlay for Dick’s gravesite service and stopped by
to tour 859 South Main. “It was an emotional and touch-
ing visit,” remembered Linda. “We walked through every
inch of the house.” During this visit, Madeleine shared the
story of her wedding day. Madeleine then invited Scott
and Linda to visit her Ann Arbor home where she gave
them a chair that was part of her grandparents’ original Madeleine lived at 110 Hancock Street in Findlay from age 10 until she
left home to attend Smith College.
furnishings at 859 South Main.

29

Dr. Tritch’s cabin, built in 1906,
was also known as “The Orchard
Cabin.”
30
Who’s all right?
A log dwelling, fondly known as the “Cabin,”
served as a family gathering spot and peace-
ful country retreat during Madeleine’s
younger years.
Located four miles east of Findlay on Tiffin
Road, the Cabin was constructed in 1906 for
Madeleine’s grandfather, Dr. J.C. Tritch. An
article in the Morning Republican in June
1906 reported: “In building this cabin, Dr.
Tritch has aimed to preserve all those styles
of architecture and interior fixtures that were
found in the humble homes of our forefa-
thers.” The rustic Cabin, which had several
rooms and two porches, was constructed of
hued black ash logs. The floors were laid with
heavy white oak. A large piece of sandstone
weighing 800 pounds created a fireplace mantel.
Dr. Tritch decorated the Cabin with historical
items, including a 180-year old rocking chair and
a horse pistol that was used in the War of 1812.
The Cabin was nestled in a lovely apple orchard
and the trees growing there reportedly came
from the nursery of John Chapman (a.k.a. Johnny
Appleseed).
The construction of the Cabin was big news in
Findlay. Dr. Tritch, delighted with his new dwell-
ing, hosted a dedication ceremony attended by
650 men. Those who gathered enjoyed refresh-
ments and orchestral music. “Perhaps no private
gathering contained so many representing such
a diversity of industries and professions. There
were farmers, oil pumpers, merchants, clerks,
lawyers, public officials, reporters, all enjoying
themselves as though they were of the same walk
of life. Dr. Tritch met each individual and greeted
him with a hearty handshake at the corner of
the orchard,” reported the Morning Republican
article. Several men addressed the crowd, includ-
ing a Colonel Charles Niles, who ended his talk
by asking, “Who’s all right?” “More than half a
thousand voices rang out on the still night air
with the answer, ‘Dr. Tritch, he’s all right,’” the
news article stated.
The Cabin served as a weekend retreat for
Madeleine’s entire family; they would gather
there for picnics, mushroom hunting, hikes
in the woods, and pleasant times roasting
marshmallows by a roaring chimney fire. In
June 1923, Madeleine spent a week living
at the Cabin with her mother Gail, Aunt
Martha and baby cousin Binny. “At Cabin.
No abatement of heat. Earl brought us ice.
Mama and Papa out to enjoy the beautiful
moonlit evening,” Gail wrote in her journal
on June 25, 1923. Madeleine still visited the
Cabin, sometimes with her friends, during
her college years.
When Dr. Tritch died in 1943, however, the
Cabin lost its heart and soul. The family
stopped going there and the Cabin fell into
disrepair. In 1953, Gail sold the place to Rus-
sell and Grace Hippensteel. She wrote to
Madeleine on May 4, 1953: “Like you, I am
relieved to see the Cabin go, for thinking of it
always made me feel sad and troubled as to
its deterioration and its future. This young
couple seem to be plain nuts about it.” A
week later, she wrote: “Mr. H spent an hour
here yesterday p.m. and is all set to become
the new owner of the Cabin. … He wishes to
start work on the place this weekend. He is
so happy about it, says it is apple blossom
time out there and just heavenly.”
According to Ed Heminger, chairman of the
board of the Findlay Publishing Company,
several individuals were interested in pur-
chasing the Cabin at the time. The Hip-
pensteels managed to charm Gail with their
plans to restore and preserve
the character of the place. “It
was a trial of character to win
her over,” said Ed in a 2008 in-
terview. Since then, each owner
of the Cabin also has carefully
screened potential buyers to
ensure that they share in an
appreciation and respect for the
Cabin’s Tritch-Thomas heritage.
Ed and his wife purchased the
Cabin from the Hippensteels in
1956. They completed extensive
renovations that more than
doubled the size of the place.
“During our occupancy, Mad-
eleine came once to call and
view the Cabin. Mrs. Thomas
(Gail) also visited several times.
Dr. Shoupe made a house call
on one occasion when I was ill.
They all expressed nostalgia
during their visits,” Ed recalled Gail, Madeleine, Aunt Martha
in a 2008 interview. (Tritch) Fuller, and cousins Binny
and Andy Fuller at the Cabin.
The Fullers were visiting from
In 1968, Ed sold the Cabin to Dr. and Mrs. Minnesota.
Richard Beckett who are its current owners.
The Becketts further enhanced the place by
adding a swimming pool, tennis court and
horse barn. “It is utterly charming,” said Ed.
31
 “And the original log cabin is still the heart of the
place and part of its character.”

Watching nature and entertaining

Madeleine lived in Ann Arbor, Michigan, for
most of her adult life. In 1952, she and Dick pur-
chased their first house together—a newly-built
three bedroom brick ranch located at 1101 Pau-
line Blvd. The cozy dwelling was an ideal starter
house for the young couple.

Within a few years, however, they outgrew the

small home. In 1963, they moved into a four-story
brick house at 2110 Hill Street, which included

Dick and Madeleine purchased their first home in Ann Arbor, a small
brick ranch, at 1101 Pauline Blvd.
After her mother’s death in 1962, Madeleine moved the many family heirlooms to
her Ann Arbor home. Pictured above are the dresser brought to Hancock County
on a Conestoga wagon in the early 1800s (left), and a large desk once owned
by Dr. Charles Oesterlin (right). Both items are on loan to the Hancock County
Historical Museum from the Foundation.

32
a walk-up attic and a walk-out basement. The
home was exquisite, and even the staircase to
the attic was just as ornate as the main staircase.
The lovely home had ample room to showcase
the many antiques and heirlooms that Madeleine
had inherited from her mother when she died.
The spacious backyard also provided plenty of
space for Madeleine’s gardening hobby. She and
Dick enjoyed watching nature and entertaining
friends on their back terrace. Dick also appreci-
ated the home’s close proximity to the Univer-
sity of Michigan campus where he worked as a
neurosurgeon. Madeleine lived at 2110 Hill Street
until a few months before her death. v

The Schneider home at 2110 Hill Street in Ann Arbor, just a few blocks from
campus, was ideal for entertaining. The lovely home was filled with antiques
and possessions from Madeleine’s family home in Findlay, 859 South Main.

33
Growing Old Friends

At Findlay High School (FHS), Madeleine
excelled in academics and formed a strong
bond with her classmates. She treasured the
memories of her student days at FHS and
kept close tabs on her childhood friends her
entire life.
The happiest of a lifetime
Madeleine was a member of the FHS Class
of 1932. She was a reserved and quiet girl
who didn’t join many clubs or organizations,
yet she enjoyed socializing with her group
of childhood friends. “Someone has wisely
said that the years spent in high school are
among the happiest of a lifetime. We of the
Class of 1932 have learned the full meaning
of this statement through our three years
of study and companionship at Old Findlay
High,” read the class notes in Madeleine’s
yearbook.
Although the United States was in the grips
of the Great Depression, the economic hard-
ships didn’t dampen the youthful spirits of
Growing Old Friends
“It takes a long time to grow an old friend.”
- John Leonard
Madeleine and her friends. They engaged
in many pastimes reminiscent of inno-
cent days—formal dances at the Findlay
Country Club, bridge parties, vacations at
lakeside cottages, after-school trips to the
soda fountain at the Central Drug Store, and
nickel movies at the Harris Theatre. “We had
common sense fun,” said Virginia (Swartz)
Saveland, childhood friend, in a 2008 inter-
view. “We just enjoyed being together”
Many warm summer evenings, Madeleine
and Virginia would stroll down to Dietsch’s
Ice Cream Parlor on North Main Street for a
hot fudge sundae. “We didn’t think anything
of taking such a long walk,” said Virginia. “Of
Pictured on opposite page:
course, eating a sundae undid all the calories Madeleine’s childhood friends
we had lost on the way over!” gather in the Moran family’s
backyard. Pictured left to right:
Ruthanna (Maxwell) Brushart,
Madeleine’s social engagements often were Anne (Moran) Maher, Betty
reported in the local newspaper. In December (Hodge) Smith, Grace (Firestine)
1929, she and her cousin, Richard Shoupe, Heck, Betty (Weaver) Van Wart
and Madeleine Thomas Schneider.
co-hosted a dancing party at the Elks’ lodge
for 64 guests. “Social Findlay is dancing the
35
 year of 1929 into history,” reported the article in the Findlay Republican Cou-
rier. “The promenade in the ballroom of the Elks presented a beautiful sight,
with the younger social set in their party frocks, and dinner jackets, and the
ballroom glittering with Christmas trees, Yuletide candles, and scarlet holly
berries. Balloon and serpentine dances made a galaxy of colors. At 11 o’clock a
supper was served buffet style in the private dining room. Scarlet tapers lighted
the table, and other Christmas decorations prevailed.”

Madeleine’s ten-day summer vacation with eight friends at Lake Chemung in

Michigan also was reported in the newspaper. The trip, which was chaperoned
by Mr. and Mrs. W.D. Humphrey, took place in July 1932. The girls had a grand
time at the cottage, recalled Virginia in a 2008 interview. “We went swimming
and hung out with the fellows who would come up for the day.”

Pauline (Jackson)
Phillips,
childhood friend,
remembered only
one occasion
when Madeleine
was rebellious
during her
Above: Madeleine with her cousins
Richard Shoupe (left) and Tom Bohmker teen years. “We
(right). Richard was Madeleine’s only weren’t supposed
first cousin who lived in Findlay and
they enjoyed a close relationship.
to go to the
Victory Theatre
Right: Lake Chemung, Michigan sum- downtown
mer vacation in 1932. Front row: Mrs.
Margaret Humphrey, Anne (Moran) because it had
Maher, Ruthanna (Maxwell) Brushart, a reputation for
Helen (Yearwood) Murray. Back Row: being the place
Mr. Bill Humphrey, Betty (Hodge) Smith,
Betty (Patterson) Flemion, Pauline where rough
(Jackson) Phillips, Mary (McCullough) and rowdy kids
Knox Heidtman, Madeleine (Thomas)
Schneider, Virginia (Swartz) Saveland.
went to watch

36
Westerns. One afternoon we decided to go anyway,” recalled
Pauline in a 2008 interview. “We thought we were really
daring.”

Cannot fail to swell the hearts

Madeleine’s high school days weren’t all fun times, though.
Madeleine focused intently on her studies and it served her
well. “She was the smartest one of the bunch” said Pauline
in a 2008 interview. “If you had a problem with your home-
work, you’d ask Madeleine.”

Madeleine was an academic star not only at FHS, but

in the state of Ohio. In the 1932 senior scholarship test
given to more than 4,000 Ohio high school seniors from
all across the state, Madeleine tied for eighth place. This
position placed her as the highest ranked girl in the state.
In a second test taken by scholarship teams all across Ohio,
FHS was awarded first place honors. Madeleine took the
American History test for her team and she placed third in
the state. She and her scholarship teammates traveled to
Columbus where they were recognized in a special awards
ceremony hosted by Ohio Governor George White. “It can-
not fail to swell the heart of every loyal resident of Findlay
to note the honors won by Findlay’s high school students
in recent state-wide tests,” read an editorial in the Findlay
Republican Courier.

Madeleine was co-valedictorian of her class, sharing the

honor with Ralph Cole, Jr. They tied for highest class honors
by maintaining a scholastic average of 96 percent during
their three years at FHS. “Grammy sent me the clipping
about your valedictorian triumph, and I must snatch a
minute or two to tell you how proud of you I am!” wrote

37
 Madeleine’s Aunt Martha in 1932. “I think Always very interested in us little
it’s perfectly splendid, and I am afraid I am common folks
a bore to my friends and relations, because I Madeleine’s high school classmates remained
insist upon telling them all of the genius of an important part of Madeleine’s life even after
my niece.” graduation. “Madeleine was always very inter-
ested in us little common folks she grew up with,”
At the commence- said Pauline in a 2008 interview. “She was un-
ment exercises, usual in that way.”
Madeleine took her
place on the stage When Madeleine’s mother was living, she would
dressed in a white keep Madeleine informed of the latest news of
dress, carrying a her classmates. After Gail died in 1963, Made-
corsage of roses and leine became a lifetime subscriber to the Findlay
baby’s breath. Her newspaper and she would clip out articles on
valedictorian oration her classmates and put them in her yearbook
was titled “Durable beside their picture. She also would record in her
Satisfactions of Life.” yearbook the date when classmates died. Often,
She gave a copy of her she would send clippings out to her high school
handwritten address friends who were scattered across the country.
to her friend, Anne
(Moran) Maher, who Madeleine also looked forward to her FHS class
was seated in the first reunions and made an effort to attend each one.
row behind the po- In 1996, she couldn’t make her 64th reunion
dium. Madeleine told because she had signed up for a group tour of
Anne that if she saw English homes and gardens. “I think this will be
her wiggle her fingers the first high school class reunion I have missed,”
behind her back, she she wrote to the reunion organizer. When she
Madeleine’s senior portrait (1932).
should whisper the next line to her. “At one was sent a list of attendees for the reunion, she
point, Madeleine began to wiggle her fingers wrote: “It was very thoughtful of you to send me
but Anne had lost her place following along the newest class list with a check mark indicat-
and couldn’t give her the line,” recalled Pau- ing those who attended the ’96 reunion. That was
line, with a laugh, in a 2008 interview. “But something I was very interested to know.”
Madeleine kept right on going anyway.”

38

Madeleine’s close friends in high school
remained close friends her entire life. “That
is the beauty of a small town,” said Virginia
(Swartz) Saveland in a 2008 interview. “We all
went our different directions, but we stayed
Findlay High School Class of 1932 at their 55 year reunion (June 21, 1987).
in close touch.” Through Christmas cards,
letters, and occasional visits and small trips
together, they shared the latest news in their
lives, chatted about old acquaintances, and
reminisced about the past. v
39
Lighting a Fire

On September 25, 1932, Madeleine, age 17,
boarded a train in Toledo, waved goodbye to
her parents, and embarked on an exciting
journey. She was headed to the East Coast
for her freshman year at the esteemed Smith
College. For the next ten years, Madeleine
immersed herself in the world of higher edu-
cation as a student and a graduate assistant.
She expanded her horizons through the
sciences, arts, travel, and connections with
interesting and successful people.
I am not the least bit homesick
Madeleine’s mother, Gail, must have been
thrilled when Madeleine decided to attend
her alma mater. Located in the quaint village
of Northampton, Massachusetts, Smith was
the college of choice of many forward-think-
ing women in the twentieth century, includ-
ing such notable people as Margaret Mitchell,
Julia Child, Betty Friedan, Nancy Reagan,
Barbara Bush, and Sylvia Plath.
A letter from Smith’s admissions office in
February 1932 reveals that Gail fretted over
Lighting a Fire
“Education is not filling a bucket, but lighting a fire.”
- W.B. Yeats
whether or not Madeleine would be accepted
into Smith. “My dear Mrs. Thomas: Your
letter of February 18 has been received and I
wish to assure you that there is not need for
you to worry about Madeleine’s application
for entrance here. She has an excellent school
record, and her psychological examination
which she took last year is quite satisfac-
tory. The marks which she obtained in her
preliminary examinations are more to her
credit than you apparently think, as she is
probably in a school which does not do as
much preparing for college as some of the
schools do.” Indeed, Madeleine was not only
accepted into Smith, the college awarded
her a full tuition scholarship of $500 for her
freshman year.
On the train to Northampton in September
1932, Madeleine played cards with several
other young women heading to Smith. Pictured on opposite page:
Although she approached her first experi- Madeleine (far left) and
schoolmates at Smith College,
ence away from home with courage and Northampton, Massachusetts.
maturity, she was disappointed to experience
motion sickness on the train. “I threw up just
41
 a little but I don’t think a soul saw me in the
excitement of getting off the train,” she wrote
to her parents. Later in the letter she assured
them, “I am not the least bit homesick.”
What a lovely thing to have
happen
Madeleine joined the
Class of 1936, which at
478 students was one
of the smaller classes at
Smith. “The diminished
size of the Freshman
Class draws attention to
the fact that the Depres-
sion is at last making
itself felt on the size and
resources of the college,”
wrote Smith’s president,
W.A. Neilson, in his 1933
Report of the President.
Most of Madeleine’s
classmates were educated
at private institutions
and were from Northeast
states such as Connecti-
cut, Massachusetts, New
York, and Pennsylvania.
As an Ohioan educated
Madeleine at Smith College at a public high school,
(1935).
Madeleine was in the minority. Less than 20
of the 478 freshmen were from Ohio.
42
In the 1930s, campus life was governed by strict
rules and formal procedures. At Smith, Mad-
eleine lived in the Ellen Emerson House, a lovely
brick building that is still housing students today.
Each evening, the residents would dine together
in the formal dining room. A “house mother” was
in charge of the residents’ welfare and kept close
track of their comings and goings. “Students
who are planning to be away from the house
overnight, whether in town or out of town, must
sign a blue card in the presence of the Head of
House who is at liberty to inquire into the details
of their plans, and must report to her immedi-
ately upon their return,” stated Smith’s 1935-36
Rules and Regulations book. Also, presumably to
ensure student virtue, was this rule: “Freshmen
who wish to ride or motor with a man or with
men should bring permission from their parents
which may be for the year to the Office of the
Warden.”
For women, the college curriculum in the 1930s
focused not just on academics, but also on
domestic issues. This explains the two widely
divergent lectures that Madeleine attended in
February 1934, which she wrote about in a letter
to her mother: “Mrs. Dwight Morrow talked in
assembly today … she talked about the thousand
and one things a housewife must know how
to do in a day. You would have appreciated it,
Mother. Last night I went to a lecture, strongly
urged by the physics department, on transmuta-
tion by a theoretical physicist of the Bell Because of Northampton’s close proximity
Telephone Laboratories.” to New York and Boston, Madeleine often
went on weekend jaunts with her friends for
In the 1936 Smith yearbook, the senior class shopping and entertainment. In 1939, she
notes poked fun at the limited career op- and a friend traveled to New York City where
portunities for college-educated women in they were guests in an 11-room Park Avenue
the 1930s: “We were going to integrate our apartment and visited the World’s Fair, one of
knowledge, so we could teach the young the largest world fairs of all times.
for nothing next year, or be extraordinary
secretaries to literary gentlemen, if we The summer of 1937, Madeleine took a six-
didn’t indulge in the felicity of unbounded week trip to Paris with a student group. She
domesticity.” sailed from
New York on
For social activities, Smith students would the French
often attend dances at nearby men’s schools ocean liner
or throw parties at their residential houses. Normandie.
In fall 1932, Madeleine participated in the “She will
Emerson House’s first medieval Christmas explore the
feast. This event was the beginning of a streets of the
house tradition that continues today. French capitol
and study the
Cultural events also were an important as- historical back-
pect of life on the Smith campus. Madeleine grounds of that
attended concerts featuring the Boston city,” reported
Symphony Orchestra, the Harvard Glee an article in the
Club, the Princeton Glee Club, the Cleveland Findlay Repub-
Orchestra, and the Detroit Symphony Or- lican Courier.
Madeleine (far left) and a group of friends at Smith College.
chestra. She also heard many famous lectur- “Students will
ers, including Harvard professor and poet be from all parts of the United States.” While
T.S. Elliot and poet and playwright Edna St. in Paris, Madeleine met up with her Aunt
Vincent Millay. Edie Mae and cousin, Richard Shoupe, who
were visiting France at the same time.

43

Madeleine (center) was chosen
to serve as an usher during her
Junior year at Smith College.
(1935). Pictured here is the Ivy
Chain, a longtime Smith tradi-
tion. The chain, which is actually
made of laurel leaves, is placed
on the shoulders of the Junior
class ushers. The ushers precede
the seniors in the ivy procession.
44
Smith College traditions, such as Ivy Day
and Illumination Night, were highlights of
Madeleine’s college years. As a junior, she
was honored to be selected
as an usher for commence-
ment exercises, which
involved carrying an ivy
chain on a shoulder clothed
with a bath towel. “What a
lovely thing to have happen
to you!” wrote her mother in
a letter. “I would have given
my eye-teeth to have been a
Junior Usher.” Gail traveled
to Northampton to attend
those 1935 commencement
exercises and she and Mad-
eleine were thrilled to catch
a glimpse of Mrs. Coolidge,
Anne Lindbergh and Charles
Lindbergh who were at the
event. “Well, you must admit
it was some morning,” Gail
wrote to Earl. “Imagine seeing Mrs. Coolidge,
Lindy and Anne all at once! Share this letter
with the folks, will you? These famous people
are Mama’s special ‘pets’ and I know she’ll be
interested to know we saw them.”
I am overwhelmed by the outlay
of candy bars
During her years at Smith, Madeleine
returned home for summer vacations and
Christmas breaks. But traveling from Massa-
chusetts to Ohio was arduous and expensive
and Madeleine’s family, like so many others,
was feeling the impact of the Great Depression.
This meant there were many occasions, such as
Thanksgiving time, when she stayed at school.
When her grandmother, Elizabeth (Swindler)
Thomas, passed away, Madeleine was sad to miss
the funeral. “I am so shocked that I can hardly
believe it yet,” she wrote to her parents in March
1933. “In just a little while now the funeral will
begin – oh, it doesn’t seem possible. She was
always so kind to me. … Give my love and sympa-
thy to Aunt Edie and Aunt Zetta and, of course,
lots of it to you, Daddy.”
Madeleine’s parents kept in touch during the
school year through a steady stream of letters
and care packages. When Madeleine needed
clean clothes, she would pack her laundry and
ship it home. Her clothes would arrive back
cleaned, pressed, and with goodies and money
tucked inside. “My laundry just arrived and I am
overwhelmed by the outlay of candy bars. I could
start a store!” she wrote in 1936.
Sometimes, though, Madeleine chafed at her
parents’ long-distance concern. When she told
her parents that the campus doctor said her
blood pressure was at the lower limits of normal,
they sent her several anxious letters. “I’m still
in the dark as to why you are so upset about my
health,” she scolded. “I said my blood pressure
was normal, but was on the lower limit of
normalcy. I’ve never worked less in my life
than I have this year so why you should think
I am all worn out and ‘need a rest’ I don’t
know.”
Lucky flunker or lucky Thomas
Madeleine was modest to a fault and often
downplayed her intellectual abilities. During
her first semester at Smith, she worried that
she wouldn’t be able to keep up with college
academics. “I had my first day of classes. I am
very discouraged,” she wrote to her parents.
“They gave us such immense assignments
and everything seems so difficult.” A few
days later, she wrote, “Mother always said she
knew I could do college work if I could only
get in. Well, I got in, and I find I haven’t the
mental capacity to do college work. It’s just
so far beyond me that I don’t know what to
do – flunk out, I guess.”
As she became immersed in her studies,
however, she thrived at Smith. She even
garnered several high academic honors. The
Findlay Republican Courier raved about her
achievements her freshman year: “Graduates
of Findlay High School in last spring’s class
are making a name for themselves at colleges
and universities in the country, reflecting the
high standard of education offered at Findlay
schools, Prof. F.L. Kinley, principal of the high
school, said yesterday. Some of the Findlay
graduates have entered Eastern Schools and
are in competition with students who have
been trained in exclusive eastern private
institutions before entering the colleges and
universities. Included in this group is Miss
Madeleine Thomas, daughter of
Dr. and Mrs. Earl Thomas, who has
a prominent place on the fresh-
man honor roll at Smith College,
Northampton, Mass., for the first
semester.”
Her junior year, Madeleine was
elected to membership in Phi Beta
Kappa, the national honorary scho-
lastic organization. Only a small
number of students received the Phi
Beta Kappa key during their junior
year, so this was regarded as a high
honor.
As a woman majoring in physics
in the 1930s, Madeleine was a true
pioneer in the field. In 1936, she was
elected into the Sigma Xi, a national
honorary scientific society. Smith A college-age Madeleine (left)
enjoys a picnic with friends.
had just become the first women’s college to
have a Sigma Xi chapter and Madeleine was
part of the first group of Smith seniors to be
elected into the society.
Madeleine also received the Frank A. Water-
man Prize for excellent work in physics. All
45

Clockwise from top: Madeleine (4th from
left) poses with classmates at Smith. Two
generations of Smith women, Madeleine and
her mother Gail. Madeleine smiles following
the successful conclusion of her undergradu-
ate experience. (1936)
46
these honors had her family reeling with
pride. “Dear Smartie: The Big News just
arrived and we are proud of you! And you
know you said you had practically flunked at
mid-year. You surely are a lucky flunker. Or I
should say, a lucky Thomas. Well, congratu-
lations by the bushel,” wrote her mother in
March 1936. Her Aunt Martha wrote: “My
word! When is this thing going to stop? Not
that I want it to, you understand, but you
are a bewildering child to a non-intellectual
auntie to live up to. Many, many congratu-
lations on your new layer of honors. I am
increasingly proud to know you, and that’s
no baloney.”
More worlds to conquer
After Madeleine received her bachelor’s
degree in physics from Smith in 1936, she
stayed at the college to complete her mas-
ter’s degree. She was then awarded a $500
fellowship to be used for graduate study at
any institution she selected. She considered
delving into the field of biophysics at the
University of Pennsylvania, but she encoun-
tered discrimination. “They had never had
any women students in the department and
quite firmly didn’t want any. If they ever
did break down and admit one it certainly
wouldn’t be someone like me who scarcely
knows an amoeba from a dinosaur,” she
joked in a letter to Dick Schneider.
Madeleine’s grandfather, Dr. Tritch, was
pleased by Madeleine’s interest in furthering
her knowledge. When Madeleine came home
for summer break in 1938, she found this
note from him: “Dear Madeleine, We are all
glad to see and have you home for awhile. I
am very proud of your progress and achieve-
ments and glory in the fact that you feel you
still have other worlds to conquer. Instead of
giving you some trifling, some forgotten me-
mento of the occasion, I beg the privilege of
procuring for you the text book most desired
for your future endeavors and I will ask you
to name it when you have determined your
selection. With love, Your Granddad.”
Madeleine applied her fellowship to two
years of study and teaching undergraduate
courses at Bryn Mawr, a women’s college in
Philadelphia. While there, she furthered her
knowledge in the fields of chemistry, qualita-
tive analysis, and advanced physiology.
From there, Madeleine accepted a teaching
position in the physics department at Wilson
College, Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, for the
1941-42 school year. Even though she was
sometimes mistaken as a student, she en-
joyed her faculty position immensely. “I was
taken for a freshman twice—once by another
freshman and once by the wife of one of the
trustees. I would be more complimented,
however, by this time to think I possessed
a small amount of poise and maturity,” she
lamented in a letter to Dick Schneider.
In October 1941, a parents’ weekend took
place at Wilson; Saturday’s panel discussion
topic was “National Defense and the College
for Women.” “The purpose of this discus-
sion is to ask what large area of defense
and morale falls
to college women;
what contribution
the college student
can make now and
in the future as a
college woman; what
a typical liberal arts
college for women
can do to ‘render
ever more efficient
service in support of
our cherished demo-
cratic institutions’,”
stated the brochure.
This event foreshad-
owed the future. In December 1941, after Madeleine at a Smith College
reunion. She maintained close ties
the surprise attack by Japanese forces on the with her alma mater throughout
U.S. naval base in Pearl Harbor, the United her life as a donor and member of
the Smith College Alumnae Club
States declared War on Japan and Germany. of Ann Arbor.
Less than a year later, Madeleine left Wilson
to embark on a new career that utilized her
scientific knowledge for the United States
war effort. v
47
Glimpse of Heaven

For 50 years, Madeleine enjoyed a love affair
with Richard “Dick” Schneider. As husband
and wife, they were a perfect match, sharing
interests in travel, football, music, and na-
ture. Their personalities complemented one
another. Dick was intense and career driven;
Madeleine was supportive and understand-
ing. Madeleine was reserved and practical;
Dick was outgoing and adventurous. Their
love was a wellspring of great joy to both of
them throughout their lives.
Perfectly lovely people
Madeleine and Dick, though growing up
states apart, came from similar backgrounds.
Dick was born on May 29, 1913, in Newark,
New Jersey, to Dr. Louis and Elizabeth Sch-
neider. Like the Thomas family, the Sch-
neiders were well-to-do, conservative, and
immersed in the world of medicine. Dick’s fa-
ther was a general practitioner who earned a
reputation in Newark for being a proponent
of better care for the chronically ill. Dick’s
Glimpse of Heaven
“To love is to receive a glimpse of heaven.”
- Karen Sunde
Uncle Charles was also a physician and
his Uncle Ernest was a dentist. Four of
his five aunts were nurses.
Dick’s family also highly valued educa-
tion. When Dick was a teenager, he was
sent to Culver Military Academy, a col-
lege preparatory boarding school in In-
diana, which paved his way into an Ivy
League college. His years at Culver were
a formative experience and he main-
tained close ties to the institution his
entire life. After Culver, he received his
bachelor’s degree from Dartmouth Col-
lege and pursued his dream of becom-
ing a doctor by entering medical school
at the University of Pennsylvania.
Madeleine met her future hus-
Madeleine met the man she would eventually band, Dick, through his sister, Betty,
Madeleine’s roommate from Smith
marry through his younger sister, Betty, her College.
Smith College roommate. In early February
1936, she accepted an invitation from Betty Pictured on opposite page: Made-
leine’s wedding portrait. (1943)
to spend the weekend at her parents’ home
49

Dick’s parents, Dr. Louis and
Mrs. Elizabeth Schneider.
50
in Newark. That Saturday, Madeleine and
Betty took the train to New York City to see
Carmen at the Metropolitan Opera. Dick
and a college buddy met them at the station
upon their return to Newark and the spark
of attraction was ignited. That evening the
foursome planned to see a movie but seats
were sold out. “We popped corn, sat by the
fire and talked,” wrote Madeleine in her
journal. In a letter
to her parents
describing her visit,
she wrote: “The
Schneiders are per-
fectly lovely people
and I felt perfectly
at home.”
A nervous
breakdown
might result
From their first
meeting, Dick
was smitten with
Madeleine. He saw her as an “ideal girl”— at-
tractive, intelligent, even-tempered, and
understanding. They began a courtship that
spanned seven years and several locales.
Madeleine and Dick’s romance had to
overcome the obstacle of distance, however.
From 1936 to 1943, Madeleine moved from
Massachusetts (Smith College) to Pennsyl-
vania (Bryn Mawr and Wilson College) and back
to Massachusetts (Massachusetts Institute of
Technology). She spent summers and holidays
with her parents in Findlay. During the same
time, Dick lived in Pennsylvania (University of
Pennsylvania) and then in New Jersey (Newark
City Hospital), Ohio (Cleveland City Hospital)
and Michigan (City of Detroit Receiving Hospi-
tal) for medical residencies. Needless to say, it
wasn’t easy for the two of them to arrange for
regular dates.
When Madeleine and Dick did manage to meet
for the weekend in places like Findlay, Cleveland,
Philadelphia, and New York City, they had a mar-
velous time. Their date activities included formal
dances, concerts, movies, and dinners. In early
August 1941, Madeleine visited Dick in Cleveland
where her high school friend, Virginia (Swartz)
Saveland, showed them around town. “The week-
end was over entirely too soon to suit me, and by
now it seems like it was all just a dream. Really
I have not enjoyed a weekend as much in ages,”
wrote Dick in a letter to Madeleine.
While Madeleine and Dick enjoyed each other’s
company immensely, their relationship faced
an obstacle bigger than physical distance. As a
young man, Dick was reluctant to make com-
mitments. He was an adventurer and a serious
student of medicine, which left little time for
romance. His adventurous side first reared its
head when he was an undergraduate student
and spent two summers cruising around the
world as a merchant seaman for the Dollar
Steamship Lines. When the urge for adven-
ture struck him, he would embark on skiing,
camping, and canoeing escapades with his
buddies. He also was intently focused on
being a top-notch medical resident and often
put in long hours at the hospital.
Madeleine endured cancelled dates and
infrequent letters. Not surprising, she grew
frustrated with Dick’s unreliable behavior.
But she wasn’t shy in letting him know that
she deserved better treatment. “I am in a
quandary,” she wrote in November 1939.
“Shall I try the Old Testament system of an
eye for an eye, or in other words, a letter in
three weeks for a letter in three weeks or
shall I follow the Christian ethic of do unto
others?”
In April 1940, she wrote: “Dear Dick, When
I got back from Findlay on Monday I found
your letter and was interested to hear that
you hadn’t expired completely. I regret to say,
however, that I am not entirely convinced.”
In November 1940, Dick alluded to com-
ing to Bryn Mawr for a Saturday night date,
but Madeleine was skeptical about his good
intentions. “As for this Saturday, it is my
night to go to the symphony. If a) you were
a man of your word and b) it was a nonde-
script concert, I would get rid of the tickets
but since neither a nor b can be proved true,
we must assume they are false and the ticket
and I remain an indisolvable union.”
A week later, she scolded him again: “First
you have a hot-headed stage in which you
tell me you are coming down. However,
as the time draws near you pass into a
second or cold-feet stage and tell me
you aren’t. You have gone through three
stages of these cycles now but the last
two were at shorter intervals indicating
the progress of the disease. If the two
symptoms occurred together a ner-
vous breakdown might result from the
indecision.”
Dick was indeed hot and cold. When
Madeleine casually mentioned meeting
another Dartmouth graduate in Findlay
in July 1940, he wrote: “When are you
due back to Bryn Mawr? I do miss you
and most certainly do not trust you be- Dick Schneider, 1935-36, around
ing in the hands of another Dartmouth man the time he first met Madeleine.
consistently.”
In another letter in May 1942, he wondered
why Madeleine stuck it out with him. “Aren’t
you sorry that you ever teamed up with a fel-
low like me? Here I have stood you up again
for a weekend, but I suppose by now you have
gotten used to it. At times I secretly worry
51
 that you are going to abandon me completely
for a more reliable chap,” he wrote.
Put my troubled mind to rest
When the United States entered World War
II in December 1941, many young people had
their hopes and dreams for the future turned
upside down. Madeleine and Dick were no
exception. “I didn’t know until I got to the
Harrisburg station at 6 o’clock and saw the
Extras that we were at war,” wrote Madeleine
to Dick on December 10, 1941. “It was a ter-
rible shock, of course, and we have no idea
of what great changes the immediate future
is going to bring, but there is no doubt that
there will be changes.”
Dick responded that he was eager to join
the war effort as a medical officer. “With
tremendous increases in the Army, Navy, and
Air Corps, the first Draft will be run through
rather rapidly. In order to avoid being drawn
in as a private I shall have to beat them to
the drum and apply for a commission in the
Medical Corps. I would like to do that now,
but Dad wants me to wait awhile,” he wrote.
A couple of months later, Dick reached the
end of his patience. He applied for a commis-
sion with the Navy and considered joining
the Royal Canadian Air Force. He longed
to be a surgeon but feared he would make
a wrong move and get stuck fixing runny
52
noses and sore throats. He was unsettled by the
uncertainty. In a fit of despair he wrote a melo-
dramatic letter telling Madeleine that she would
be better off without him. “Life has been much
more enjoyable these past years and I fervently
hoped there was a future. Dearest, that dream
is pretty much shattered now, for when, and if, I
come back from this thing I shall throw myself
into my work completely. This is a horrible thing
to say, but the truth must be faced. I believe you
had better forget me and you must do so. For
several years, I have been very much in love with
you, and I know well how much I meant to you,
for we both are quite honest people. You are a
grand person who deserves the best things in life.
You are still young enough now to forget me—to
adjust to a split between us. … May you find the
grandest man in the world and be happy Mad,”
he wrote on February 5, 1942.
Madeleine’s response revealed a maturity beyond
her years: “Dearest Dick, Your letter just came.
I am a bit rocked to the foundation, naturally,
but I am determined to come back fighting … A
lady isn’t usually called upon for quite a revealing
confession, but you asked for honesty, so here it
goes.” She eloquently explained that she was not
interested in pursuing a professional career or
finding another suitor. “The alternative you sug-
gested for me is to find ‘the grandest man in the
world and be very happy.’ Well, I have, and he is
you. … Now I take up the point that I ‘deserve the
best things in life.’ I don’t know what I’ve done to
deserve them, but I’m willing of course. The
point you seemed to have forgotten is that
old remark about the best things being free.
In fact the only thing worth anything at all is
happiness and that consists mostly in being
with the person you want to be with.”
After pouring out her heart, Madeleine
waited anxiously for a response which didn’t
arrive. “Dear Dick, I have haunted the col-
lege post office the past week hoping for an
answer to my letter and am much distressed
and saddened by your silence. … You do me
an injustice if you are assuming I am only
a ‘fair weather friend.’ It seems to me that
times like these human relationships should
mean more than ever, when every day we
are seeing how transitory and unessential
material things are. I sometimes wonder if
you have any idea how much you mean to
me. Certainly even more than when you were
safe and happy in your hospital life do I want
to keep in close touch with you now when
you are unhappy, discouraged, and perhaps
in danger. Please write soon, Dick, even if
you only have time for a few lines, and set my
troubled mind at rest.”
Dick eventually responded, but his pessimis-
tic attitude hadn’t waned. “This has been
a dreadfully long silence, I know, but I have
been in quite a state and did not feel that I
should write to you until I really had time to
do so.” He explained that he still believed he
wouldn’t come back from the war alive and
if he did, he would be a “very different Dick
Schneider” from the one she had known.
A few months later, Dick’s future course was
finally decided. He joined the U.S. Army with
the 36th General Hospital Unit being formed
at Wayne State University in Detroit. As he
prepared for active duty overseas, his outlook
on life, and love, changed dramatically.
Save that ring
On September 14, 1942, Dick asked Mad-
eleine to marry him. He gave her his Culver
Academy signet ring as a promise until he
could select a real engagement ring. A few
days later, he wrote to her: “Several hundred
times my fingers would rub together, and I
would stop in my tracks subconsciously be-
fore it would dawn on me where my ring was.
It was then that I would look at the worn
groove on my finger, and stop and recall what
a lucky fellow I am to have you really care for
me. Save that ring, Mad, I shall be back for it,
and more important, for you.”
Dick wrote Madeleine’s parents a note ask-
ing for their blessing on the engagement.
It was a difficult letter to write, he penned,
but he hoped they would be agreeable: “It is
true that I am going away some day, perhaps
soon, but it will give us both something to
53
 At left: Dick Schneider’s letter to Madeleine’s parents asking for their consent to the couple’s engagement. At right: Dr. Thomas’ reply.

54
live for. I know that we would both be very
happy.”
Madeleine’s mother, Gail, was overjoyed by
the news of the engagement. She wrote to
Madeleine: “Darling! I certainly wanted to fly
on the wings of the wind to greet you, and to
wish you the happiness that I know you feel,
but I am afraid this letter is getting a pretty
late start to receive any rating for prompt-
ness! Any way, please know that I think this
is all very nice. It is a big step to take, of
course, but I am sure I can trust your own
good judgment. I surely wish you to be happy
and would not think of withholding my ap-
proval. Daddy feels just as I do—that if this
is your wish, then it is our wish, too. Fathers
choke up very easily, tho, did you know it?”
She explained that Dick’s letter arrived while
she was busy preparing for Dr. Tritch’s 85th
birthday party. “I was in more of a dither
than ever after that, and whenever it was
possible to release my mind from such mat-
ters as chicken frying and what to put in the
relish tray, I kept mentally composing an
answer to the letter whether to make it 1.
sentimental, 2. dignified and matter-of-fact,
3. gay and silly, or what have you! However,
Dad announced that it was his place to
answer that letter and to compose it, too!
Which was done. I went with him for a late
call, and we went to the office about 10 p.m.
and he wrote the letter. I passed on
it and thought it was a worthy an-
swer to a very nice letter. We took it
to the post office and Dad thought
there was a pretty good chance
that it would be delivered today. I
hope so, for otherwise Dick might
think that we were holding out on
him or were showing indifference
to his letter and his probable state of mind.
I was dissatisfied in one respect only about
the letter—it left me out! Of course, Dad kept
saying ‘we’ all through it, and maybe that
was sufficient, but what do you think? Dick’s
letter was addressed to both of us and sent to
the house. It was a lovely letter. I’ll save it for
the archives, of course.”
True to his nature, Dr. Thomas got straight
to the point in his response: “My dear Dick
In October 1942, Madeleine and Dick
traveled to the Finger Lakes region
in central New York state where Dick
gave Madeleine a half carat dia-
mond engagement ring that he had
purchased by selling his own blood for
transfusions. Madeleine was wearing
a black suit and what Dick described
as a “striking cap from Paris.” In a
letter to Madeleine written 10 months
later, he recalled that special day. “The
girl, she closed her eyes and I gave
her the ring, as I put it on I wished it
had been a hundred times larger. She
deserved the best, and I had so little
to offer. That was a grand day.”
55
 – After receiving word from Madeleine we
were expecting your letter which arrived
today. As you know, any desire of Madeleine’s
would be what we would want
her to have and as she has made
the decision we are very glad to
give our permission to you two
to become engaged. We hope
this war condition will soon
change and we can welcome
you both to Findlay. Very sin-
cerely, E.J. Thomas.”
Life really did have
something to offer
One month later, in October
1942, Dick and Madeleine
took a weekend trip to
central New York and the
beautiful Skaneateles area,
known as the Finger Lakes.
It was a warm and sunny
day and the trees were
aflame with fall colors. The
deep blue color of sky was
reflected in the jewel-
clear lake. Down on the
lakefront in a small park,
Dick gave Madeleine
a half carat diamond
engagement ring. He had sold his
blood for transfusions to obtain the money
to purchase the ring. Engraved inside the
56
ring was “R.C.S. to M.T.T. 9-14-42,” which was the
day he proposed. “The ring is beautiful. I love it,”
Madeleine wrote to her parents.
When the weekend ended, Dick wrote to Mad-
eleine: “Darling that Sunday afternoon and
evening I wandered about Syracuse in a dream.
I pinched myself several times and looked at my
Culver ring—took a deep breath of fresh air. Yes,
it was all true—you must be wearing a diamond
ring. We were engaged, and life really did have
something to offer. Gosh, I am happy and oh so
proud.”
An engagement announcement appeared in
Dick’s and Madeleine’s hometown newspapers
and even the New York Times. The future bride
and groom were flooded with letters of congratu-
lations from family and friends. “We certainly
were announced and I have been quite excited
over it. You know, Madeleine, this has been the
finest thing that could ever happen to me,” wrote
Dick.
The wedding went off beautifully
Madeleine and Dick wanted to marry soon be-
cause Dick could be ordered to ship out with the
36th General Hospital Unit at any time. Mad-
eleine’s grandfather’s health was failing so they
decided to keep the ceremony small and simple.
The date was set for February 12, 1943.
Just a couple weeks before the wedding, on
January 24, 1943, the entire family was saddened
when Dr. Tritch passed away. Dick’s mother, Elizabeth, sent
Madeleine her sympathies: “Madeleine, I was sorry to have Dick’s
telegram saying your grandfather had passed away and yet it was
expected but the final moment hurts so much. I am sorry for
your dear mother to have to endure so much at a time when she
wants to do so much for you. I am sure it is most difficult for her.
In a recent letter your mother said your grandfather idolized you
and he was fond of Dick so she knew he would want you to go
on just as you are with your plans. As I said to your mother, you
have such happy memories and that is a great consolation. It is
sad that he could not see you and Dick married but I guess those
are things in life we must accept.”

Madeleine and Dick were married in the family home, 859 South
Main, at 4 o’clock in the afternoon, in the same room where
Madeleine’s mother and father were married 31 years before.
Just a few close friends and family were on hand to witness the
ceremony. “The bride descended the open stairway on the arms
of her father,” read the announcement in the Findlay Republican
Courier. “She was attired in an ivory faille period gown fashioned
with long fitted sleeves, sweetheart neckline and a short train.
At the neckline she wore an ivory and gold cameo brooch, which
belonged to her maternal grandmother, Mrs. J.C. Tritch. Her veil,
of heirloom Spanish lace in a floral design, was caught to her
head in a halo effect. She carried a handkerchief of Bruxelles lace
which her mother had carried at her wedding.”

After a reception with cake and ice cream, Dick and Madeleine
departed for a two-week honeymoon in Asheville, North Caro-
lina. “Dick and I thought the wedding went off beautifully. It just
couldn’t have been nicer. We are very happy,” Madeleine wrote to Dr. Richard and Mrs. Madeleine Schneider on their
her parents on her honeymoon. v wedding day. This photo was taken on the front
porch of her family home at 859 South Main.

57
Rendezvous with Destiny

Madeleine and Dick belonged to the great
generation of courageous men and women
who honorably served their country during
World War II. They engaged in challenging,
and sometimes dangerous and heartbreak-
ing work, as they endured a separation from
each other of more than two years.
Don’t tell anyone anything about
your work
Through her college connections, Madeleine
learned of the urgent need for scientists to
work in defense. Eager to do her part, she
applied for the position of technical aide
with the Office of Scientific Research and
Development (OSRD) at the Massachusetts
Institute of Technology (MIT) division in
Cambridge, Massachusetts.
Established in May 1941, the OSRD was a ci-
vilian-controlled organization headed by Dr.
Vannevar Bush and given almost unlimited
access to funding and resources during the
war years. OSRD research projects included
new and more accurate bombs, reliable deto-
nators, radar and early warning systems, and
Rendezvous with Destiny
“This generation of Americans has a rendezvous with
destiny.”
- Franklin Delano Roosevelt
the infamous Manhattan Project to build the
atomic bomb.
Dr. Joseph Boyce at MIT wrote Madeleine a
letter in March 1942 describing the duties of
a technical aide. Research problems in the
Army and Navy were farmed out to suitable
laboratories such as universities or com-
mercial organizations, he explained. Govern-
ment contracts were issued to finance the
projects. “The major problem is to carry a
large share of the responsibility of getting out
every month or two an up-to-date report on
the status of all the research projects in the
whole division. The individual reports are
prepared by technical aides in the sections, Pictured on opposite page:
but a large amount of editing has to be done Madeleine receives a Certificate
of Appreciation from the War and
by someone with a general knowledge of Navy Departments for exceptional
physics,” he wrote. service during the war. The award
was made in military ceremonies
on the stage of the Hippodrome
Madeleine left her faculty position at Wilson Theater in Cleveland. Presenting
College to take on this new assignment. She were Lieut. Com. Hugh Haines-
arrived in Boston the end of June 1942 to worth, Navy; Lieut. Col. H.J.
Watkins, Air Force; and Col. J.F.
begin work. During her orientation, she dis- Van Wakeman, Army.
covered she was breaking ground as the first
woman technical aide to be hired in the divi-
59
 sion. She was cautioned that her work would
be top secret. “I think my work is going to be
very exciting, but it is extremely hush-hush
so I can’t be very specific, of course,” she
wrote to Dick. “I signed all sorts of papers
today promis-
ing the death
penalty at
most or 30
years in
prison at least for even unwittingly let-
ting important information slip!” Dick
responded: “For heavens sake! Do not tell
anyone anything about your work. I would
60
like to be assured that you would still be here
after the war.”
Through her work, Madeleine closely associated
with many distinguished physicists, including
Dr. Karl T. Compton, president of MIT
from 1930 to 1948. Appointed by Presi-
dent Franklin Delano Roosevelt to chair a
Scientific Advisory Board, Compton was
at the forefront of scientists working for
the government. He also was one of the
eight members of an interim committee
that advised President Harry Truman on
the use of the atomic bomb.
Madeleine and Dr. Compton sometimes
chatted about their Ohio connections.
Compton grew up in Wooster where his
father was a professor at the college. In
October 1944, Madeleine wrote to Dick:
“Did I tell you that I shared a taxi from the
office to the 11 p.m. train with the great
KTC? We discussed the Findlay High
School basketball team in 1901, which
he assured me was a world-beater. I was
skeptical because I am very well-versed in
most of the illustrious events of Findlay history.
The next morning I found on my desk in Boston
a note from him saying ‘your bewilderment was
justified. It was Fostoria, not Findlay.’”
Madeleine worked long hours at MIT and spent
many evenings, weekends, and holidays editing
and compiling reports. She was eventually
assigned the task of hand-delivering im-
portant documents to the Pentagon. One
weekend, her courier activities took her to
the Empire State Building. Her customary
routine was to depart for Washington, D.C.,
mid-week and then board the sleeper train
returning to Boston on Friday evening.
Madeleine’s superiors appreciated her dedi-
cation and exemplary work. In November
1943, Dr. Alan Waterman recommended her
for a promotion: “Since the establishment of
the OSF, with the consequent absence of Dr.
Compton and me from Cambridge for the
major part of each week, she is left in charge
of our MIT office and has the responsibility
of handling correspondence and other NDRC
business for our attention. In addition, as
you know from a previous memo, she is serv-
ing part-time in assisting the OSF, where she
has the responsibility for keeping track of as-
signments and movements of field personnel
and the study and abstracting of technical
reports and correspondences relating to OSF
activities.”
When the atomic bombs were dropped on
Hiroshima and Nagasaki on August 6 and
9, 1945, Madeleine hinted in a letter to Dick
that she had intimate knowledge of the de-
velopment of the nuclear weapons: “I knew
what was cooking from the scientific angle,
but not the timing, of course.” When the war
ended, she revealed that some of the secre-
tive documents she carried back and forth
from Cambridge to Washington, D.C., were
about the Manhattan Project.
In December 1948, three years after Made-
leine resigned from her position at the OSRD,
she was honored for her
work in a special cere-
mony at the Hippodrome
Theatre in Cleveland.
The event was broadcast
live on a Cleveland radio
station. A columnist for
the Findlay Republican Cou-
rier noted her achievement:
“Mrs. Madeleine T. Schneider,
daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Earl J.
Thomas, 859 S. Main Street, was
given a square piece of paper
the other day which probably
brought her more pleasure than
any Christmas gift she will
receive. For it was a Certificate of
Appreciation from the War and
Navy departments of the greatest
nation of the world presented to
her for her part in the war effort.”
Throughout her life, however,
Madeleine downplayed her role
in the scientific developments of
61

Dick kept this photograph of
Madeleine in a special photo
wallet. He once told her in a letter
that her photographs were ad-
mired by his friends who thought
she was attractive and showed
strength of character. “You see,
your face is a reflection of your
inner self,” he wrote.
62
World War II. She believed Dick’s service as a she wasn’t working, Madeleine stayed busy with
medical officer with the U.S. Army surpassed social engagements such as dinners, concerts,
her own contributions. “You are saving lives. movies, and weekend trips. In November 1942,
All I do is shuffle her friends hosted a small engagement party for
papers and travel her and served a delicious three-tiered frosted
around in Pullmans white cake with pink and blue sugar rosebuds. “I
impeding the war ef- certainly will never believe that Bostonians are
fort for a comfortable cold and inhospitable. Can you imagine older
salary,” she wrote in and more important people in Findlay or any-
an August 1944 letter. where else going to that trouble for a working girl
who but recently came to town?” she asked her
So many trees parents.
in a city
Madeleine loved liv- Madeleine also enrolled in a Fanny Farmer Cook-
ing in Boston during ing class because Dick liked to tease her about
the war years. She her lack of culinary skills. “Mad, I am taking quite
had a room at The a beating here from the boys who tell me you will
College Club, an make me eat smashed atoms. Really, I’d love it,”
exclusive social club he joked in a letter in November 1942, shortly
for college-educated after they were engaged.
women located in
Boston’s historic Back Madeleine was determined to master the fine art
Bay. The club was of food preparation before Dick returned home
within walking dis- from overseas. “I am just home from cooking
tance to Beacon Hill, the Public Garden, and school and I knew you would be palpitating to
Copley Square. “For some reason, this part of hear what happened,” she wrote to him in Janu-
ary 1944. “My partner and I drew the biscuits and
Boston reminds me a great deal of Paris,” she
wrote to her parents. “I guess it is because of boiled cabbage. Now of course traditionally every
having so many trees in a city.” bride is supposed to have a catastrophe with
her first biscuits. Personally I don’t think even
Shortly after arriving in Boston, Madeleine a good biscuit is very good and scarcely worth
made several friends, many of whom were the trouble, however, that is beside the point.
also residents of The College Club. When They weren’t a failure, but they weren’t as good
as they should have been, because someone
unknowingly turned out the fire in our oven
and the biscuits were in a warm, not hot,
oven for 20 minutes, which dried them out.
The cabbage was very nicely cooked (said
she with no modesty at all). Of course these
two minor items on the menu took the two
of us over two hours. How one person ever
produces a whole meal all at once is some-
thing I can’t imagine just now.”
Events that I will always remember
During the war, Madeleine witnessed several
historical events that remained fresh in her
memory throughout her life. In April 1945,
she was in Washington, D.C., when the na-
tion learned the news of FDR’s death in Geor-
gia. “Thursday, of course, and the President’s
death are events that I will always remem-
ber,” she wrote in a letter to her parents. “It
seemed unbelievable at first. I decided to put
away my work and walk down to the Statler
for supper and a newspaper to learn some
of the details. … I finished supper about 7
p.m. and my steps naturally turned toward
Lafayette Park, two blocks away, which faces
the White House. It was warm and sunny.
There were a number of people standing in
the park gazing silently at the White House.
There wasn’t a trace of a breeze and the
half-mast flag swathed in the mid-section of
the flagpole. The big doors at that end of the
White House were standing wide open and
one could see the brilliantly lighted chande-
liers within. It was a considerable distance
away, of course, but there was nothing to
impede the view. I now know that I was
watching there during the time that Truman
was sworn in. That occurred at
7:09 p.m. and I remember notic-
ing as I was walking away that it
was about 7:12 p.m.”
On V-J Day (Victory over Japan),
she was caught up in the mad-
ness of the wildly celebrating
crowds in the streets of Boston.
“This is it! This is victory at last
and Boston is going wild, has
been for the last three hours,” she
wrote to Dick in August 1945.
“It is real bedlam. Miss Clark,
Miss Hardwick, Mrs. King and I
were between dinner and dessert
when the news came at 7 p.m.
We gulped the latter and set out
on the street to see the excite-
ment. Planes were swooping low
overhead, horns blowing, people
swarming. … We went on to St. Madeleine on Commonwealth
Paul’s Cathedral (Episcopal) where we all Avenue in Boston, Massachusetts
(December 27, 1944). “You get
went in and said a silent prayer of thanks- the idea that the war is very close
giving. The crowds by this time were tre- here. There are many soldiers,
mendous and boisterous. I have never seen sailors, and marines in evidence,”
Madeleine wrote to her parents
anything like it. Service men kissing all the about living in Boston.
girls in sight, etc., etc. … by this time all the
63
 cars from the suburbs had come into Boston
filled with people and noisemakers. The traf-
fic jam got so bad that they could scarcely
move and they have been sitting on their
horns ever since. The din as I write is terrific.
… Oh, isn’t it wonderful to think the war is
over. I have worked toward it so long it seems
almost impossible it is really here.”
In November 1945, a month before she left
Boston, Madeleine was delighted to catch
a glimpse of General Dwight Eisenhower
cruising by in a victory parade. “Eisenhower
went past the Club twice today and I gave
him a couple of loud claps for you and me
both,” she wrote to Dick. “The day was dark
and wet but not really raining and he sat
up on back of a big touring car smiling and
waving at everyone. … I got a big thrill out of
seeing him and he was just as nice as I had
expected.”
Brings the action a bit close
While Madeleine was engrossed in scientific
work on the home front, Dick was saving
the lives of U.S. servicemen overseas. Just six
months after their wedding, Dick’s hospital
unit was deployed to North Africa. “I got a
letter from Mother this morning. She had
just heard the news that you were presum-
ably on your way and seemed to be quite
affected by the news. She said she was doing
washing at the time and in her excitement
64
burned the starch dry!” wrote Madeleine in Au-
gust 1943. “She wondered how I was bearing up.
One day last week I left a safe open all night, but
I don’t know whether to blame that on you or my
own natural absentmindedness.”
As Dick’s train rumbled across the miles of track
from his base in Denver, Colorado, to his point of
departure on the East Coast, his emotions vacil-
lated between melancholy and excitement. When
he passed through the Toledo station on the late
afternoon of August 14, 1945, his close proximity
to Findlay and the realization that he may not
see Madeleine again for months, maybe years,
caused him to experience “an awfully low feeling,
as though the bottom had fallen out of the train.”
In a farewell letter to Madeleine written on
the train, he recounted fond memories and
expressed hope for the future: “The past six
months of my life have been the happiest of
my thirty years. They have been difficult for us
both, because we have been unable to be to-
gether throughout five-sixths of it. However, I am
amazed how little adjusting we have had to do. …
You know that my affection will continue for you
forever. When we were engaged I told you that
sitting on the shores of the Finger Lakes. As for
you, well, I have never known or heard of anyone
like you. Your loyalty, devotion and character
stand out. For years I have realized that. No – I
am sure we will neither one of us change. Darling,
I’ll come back and as I once told you a better The 36th General
person than when I went into this affair.” Hospital Unit arrived
in hot and dusty North
While sad to leave Madeleine behind, Dick Africa after the major
knew his surgical skills were urgently needed campaign there had
on the front line and he was anxious to do ended. Since there was
his part. He was approached by Major Jack little need for medi-
Webster, a neurosurgeon, who asked him cal services, Dick’s unit
to serve as his first assistant. He also was merely marked time for
invited to specialize in facial surgery. “Prob- a couple of months. Dick
ably the former would be of more value if settled into tent life,
I were to be a general surgeon,” he wrote. contending with dis-
“Jack could certainly teach me a great deal, comforts ranging from
however. Time will tell.” Indeed, fate had its mosquitoes to dysentery.
say. Dick chose neurosurgery thus setting the “I am sure we will have
course for his future prominence in the field. to eat out in the back
yard for the first two weeks (after I
Heading to North Africa, Dick saw a little ac- return home). I would most certainly
tion on his last night at sea. “The convoy was get claustrophobia being surrounded
attacked by planes apparently on a return by house walls instead of tent walls,” he
run from a mission. Our signal apparatus wrote to Madeleine.
picked them up when they were still miles
away, and the Navy crew immediately headed In early October 1943, Dick’s unit left
for their stations. The army was ordered to North Africa, setting sail on the “briny
quarters. … The guns of all calibers opened deep churning of the blue Mediterra-
up at full blast. … It looked like a July 4th nean” en route to Italy. Their mission
celebration when many Roman candles are was to set up a base hospital for the
discharged,” he wrote. “As far as I am con- Fifth Army which was engaged in fierce
cerned, there are no heroics about war. I have fighting with the Germans. Aboard the ship, Dick and Madeleine both nobly
served their country during
had enough of a taste to be satisfied.” The Dick was relieved to once again experience World War II.
attack downed seven German planes. One the comforts of hot water and clean lava-
torpedo hit a destroyer which was the only tories. Each day at sea, his crew reviewed a
Allied damage. variety of drills, including the doomed “All

65

Dick made several amphibious
landings during the war. Above,
he participates in the invasion of
Southern France as part of the
auxiliary medical team (September
1944).
66
Hands Overboard.” “When I look out at the
cold black seas, then look back at the crowd
of anxious faces of the lads lined up on
deck I pray we will never use it,” he wrote to
Madeleine.
On October 28, Dick’s unit made an amphibi-
ous landing at a recently captured port and
entered a city slightly north of
Naples. “During the few days
they bivouacked near the city,
the members of the 36th slept
on cold marble floors and suf-
fered the added discomfort of
frequent German bombings.
After the fall of Caserta, the
hospital set up there, becom-
ing the first general hospital
to open on the mainland of
Italy. The front line was at
that time only 12 miles away,”
read an article written by a
Red Cross reporter in the Detroit Free Press.
After an uneventful time in North Africa,
Dick was glad to finally join the fray. “For
the first time since we were married and I
have entered the Army I can say that I have
worked as hard as you have,” he wrote to
Madeleine in November 1943. “I have re-
ally had a guilty conscience, for you have
been slaving away. Now I shall be busy with
neurological examinations, ventriculograms,
encephalograms, throwing plaster, operating, and
in my spare time, studying neurosurgery. I am
very pleased and only hope that you may be only
one quarter as happy in your work.”
The 36th General was initially authorized as a
1,000-bed hospital, but served a maximum of
2,300 patients at one time in Italy. With casu-
alties pouring in, Dick’s days began early and
ended late. He would collapse on his cot at the
end of the day only to get a few hours of sleep
before starting again. Madeleine chastised him
in a January 1944 letter: “I am worried about how
little sleep you are getting. Remember you can’t
abuse yourself too often and have the steady
nerves necessary for a neurosurgeon. Also, I want
you to come home looking young and healthy.”
Air raid sirens and bombings frequently inter-
rupted the work of the hospital crew. “Night be-
fore last I was O.D. and we had a surprise air raid
attack. The Jerries pounded the dickens out of
the adjoining countryside. By the papers you will
know that we retaliated pretty much by blasting
Cassino. It sort of brings the action a bit close
to us, and makes us realize that we are still in a
zone of major activity,” Dick wrote to Madeleine.
In mid-August 1944, Dick participated in the
invasion of Southern France as a member of
an auxiliary medical team aboard the hospital
ship John L. Clem. In early September, the 36th
General set up two hospitals in France—one for
Americans and one for POWs. Dick joked
that his unit was on a roll. “I have a motto
for us,” he wrote to Madeleine in September
1944. “The First in Italy, the First in South-
ern France, and the First back in the United
States. I hope it holds true.”
At the POW hospital, Dick encountered
some of Germany’s most despised villains.
“These are the SS or Stormtroopers; they
are a most arrogant, fanatical, detestable
patient, far different from what any of us
or the forward hospital installations have
seen before. They are the gang of Hitler’s cut
throats who have kept this other bunch of
Germans, Russians, Poles, Czechs, etc., in
line. Other Germans fear them greatly and
even now are more afraid of them than of the
Americans because of the possible effects on
their families at home. They could not quit if
they wanted to. The SS are so bad that they
have spit in the face of the American doctors
and nurses who are caring for their wounds.
When those situations arise, very little
further attention is paid to them, and time
is distributed among the other patients,” he
wrote in September 1944.
As the 36th General followed the path of the
Army into central France, Dick was once
again “doing sheer hard labor for most of
the day and a good part of the night.” “It is
indeed strange to contemplate the size and
mobility of so vast an institution as we are—
a 3,000 bed hospital. … At home one would
never think of moving out 2,400 patients in
48 hours and be prepared to move person-
nel and equipment in such a fashion as to
be on the go to another site, not a previous
hospital, and set up to take patients within
four days and be in full swing in one week.
And yet we do that. Consider that we have
330 large 6x6 trucks loaded with equipment
alone. Our personnel runs about 650 E.M.,
165 nurses, 76 officers. In addition, we now
have a work battalion of Italians added to the
group,” he wrote in an October 1944 letter.
Freedom from the doggone Army
Witnessing the tragic human consequences
of war day in and day out took an emotional
toll on Dick. The energy and enthusiasm
with which he approached the early days of
his service slowly waned and was replaced by
exhaustion and disillusionment.
While he received numerous commenda-
tions for his dedicated service, including a
promotion to captain and several campaign Dick in Italy (September 1944).
ribbons and bronze stars, he insisted that he
didn’t deserve any praise. “I scarcely have the
right to wear any ribbons when I see some of
those boys who have been constantly on the
front lines for six or eight months at a time.
On numerous occasions I have patched them
up only to have them return with a few more
bullet wounds shortly thereafter. … To them
67
 should go every glory associated with this
business of war,” he wrote to Madeleine.
On Christmas Day 1944, Dick and his fellow
medical officers shared a drink and made a
toast to celebrating next Christmas at home.
He wrote to Madeleine that he had received
30 Christmas packages from home. But the
gift he most treasured was a lovely
Schrafft box from a former patient,
Eddie Dare. “For five days he had lain
on a mountain side near Cassino, un-
able to be hauled out and finally came
to us unoperated eight days after
injury. He had a brain abscess, and
a year ago last night he was one of
the boys in the Quiet Room who was
close to death. I remember well going
in and sitting on the beds of the boys
and speaking a few words; I recalled
I could not say ‘Merry Christmas’ to
those fellows. Ed is now out in civilian
life with a plate in his head, doing very
well. I wonder how many will be able
to do the same next year. This crop at
Dick Schneider in Maastricht, present is so much sicker.”
Holland (May 1945)
Dick once expressed frustration that Mad-
eleine, living in her comfortable world in
Boston, hadn’t any idea what he was going
through. On New Year’s Eve 1944, Madeleine
wrote: “I am sorry to hear that you feel the
‘folks at home have no conception’ of what is
68
going on in the fighting lines. Perhaps we don’t.
Perhaps no one can who hasn’t been there and
lived in it; but most of us try to. I don’t speak of
it much, because I supposed you wanted cheer-
ful letters from me, ones that would be an escape
from your present surroundings, but please don’t
think, dear, I am unsympathetic or that I am
unaware of the pathetic and heartbreaking cases
you are surrounded with all the time. I’ll be glad
to say goodbye to 1944. I didn’t see you in it; so I
considered it a total washout as far as years go.
My motto for 1945: See Dick or bust.”
When V-E Day (Victory in Europe) was declared
in May 1945, Dick received the news with lack-
luster enthusiasm. He wrote to Madeleine that
just that morning he had operated on a soldier
who had been through six invasions and injured
four times. The soldier wept with joy when Dick
told him he was finally going home. “Yes, it’s V-E
Day and we are all very glad it is over. There were
days when everyone spoke of what they would
do (when the war ended), but no one seems to
be doing that anymore. … The ward, which I just
left, is quiet, almost subdued. There are too many
buddies that have been killed or are lying in ad-
jacent beds. Many of the cases are going home to
the Zone of the Interior, but there are also some
who know that there are many more days to be
spent in the fox holes of China, Burma, or Japan.
Many of us feel that there is only one V day, and
that is when we get back home.”
A month later, Dick visited the gravesite of
an acquaintance in a cemetery perched high
on a wooded hillside in Epinal, France, where
8,000 were buried. “The place was very quiet
and peaceful with a slight breeze rustling
through the trees as though the voices of the
boys were struggling to be heard. A bitter
sense of futility came over me for I could not
help but feel that there will be many more
of these plots and world peace still a bit of
speech.”
On the Fourth of July, 1945, he expressed a
wry disdain for his situation: “To be sure I
feel very independent today, for is today not
Independence Day? There are several new
freedoms above the original four for which
we fight at present. There is freedom from
dust, freedom from large and small crawling
creatures, freedom from griping, and most of
all, freedom from the doggone Army.”
Like getting married all over again
As the war stretched on and months turned
into years, the strain of their separation
became difficult for Dick and Madeleine.
They grew increasingly anxious for the day
when they would see each other once again.
They both harbored fears, however, that they
would seem like strangers to one another
when that day finally arrived.
One year after they said goodbye, July 1944,
Madeleine wrote to Dick: “It is late and I am
tired but I couldn’t let this important day
pass without some message to you. As you
know it was a year ago today I last saw you.
I suppose the first year is the hardest. Hope
I won’t have to test that by comparison with
many others. Somehow just the last few
weeks it has begun to seem like a long time.
I have been very busy and I think that makes
time pass quickly, and of course we are used
to being separated. We must admit that. The
crucial test when you come home is to see if
you can stand seeing me every day for more
than 16 consecutive days (our honeymoon
record). Gosh, what if you found out I was a
deadly bore after one month!”
In January 1945, Madeleine wrote: “I bet
you don’t know what this is the anniversary
of. Eighteen months ago, or 1 1/2 years ago
today I said goodbye to you at the Rochester,
Minnesota R.R. station. … That day seems
quite a long while ago, but yet it doesn’t seem
that you have been gone long. You seem to
be very close to me, very near, very real. …
However, the reason you are still close to me
is mainly a spiritual one and can probably be
described by those three little words … I love
you.”
A month later, on the second anniversary
of their wedding, Madeleine wrote: “It will
69
 be like getting married all over
again when you come home,
won’t it? I almost feel as if we
should call in Mr. Muir to say
a few words over us again and
make it legal.”
The day before Dick’s 32nd
birthday in May 1945, Madeleine
noted that she had never seen
Dick when he was 31! “In fact,
I’ve only seen you for 5 1/2 days
since you were in your twenties.
Photo above: December 28, 1945 - Madeleine and Dick Schneider
outside Ft. Devens, Massachusetts, following his discharge from the
Army. In this photo, Dick had been a civilian for only 15 minutes.
70
But 32 is going to be a better year. I feel it in my
bones—Hail to 32.”
Madeleine and Dick rejoiced with others across
the world when the devastation of the Second
World War finally came to an end on V-J Day
(Victory over Japan) in August 1945. “Gosh, isn’t
it wonderful,” Madeleine wrote to Dick. “It seems
like a miracle.”
Dick had been promoted to chief of neurosurgery
for the 236th General Hospital and was en route
to the Philippines when Japan surrendered. He
changed course and headed home. On August
28, 1945, Dick sent a Western Union telegram to
Madeleine’s parents from Camp Patrick Henry
in Virginia: “Arrived safely. Second Boston Tea
Party now being arranged. Hope to see you soon.
Love, Dick.” Shortly thereafter, he and Madeleine
had a blissful reunion. On September 4, 1945,
Madeleine wrote to her parents: “Dick met me
as scheduled and we have been having a grand
time.” They traveled to Findlay and Newark to
visit family and took a second honeymoon to
New Hampshire and the coast of Maine.
In December 1945, Madeleine quit her position
with the OSRD and Dick was discharged from
the army. They moved to Ann Arbor where Dick
became a resident of neurosurgery at the Univer-
sity of Michigan. At long last, almost three years
after they were married, Madeleine and Dick’s life
together began in earnest. v
Madeleine received the letter at left from Dr. Vannevar Bush,
Chairman of the National Defense Research Committee (NDRC)
later known as the Office of Scientific Research and Development
(OSRD).

OSRD directed 30,000 men and oversaw the Manhatten Project

and the development of some 200 weapons and instrumentali-
ties of war, including sonar, radar, the proximity fuse, amphibi-
ous vehicles, and the Norden bomb sight, all considered critical
in winning the war. At one time, two-thirds of all the nation’s
physicists were working under Bush’s direction. In addition, OSRD
contributed to many advances in the physical sciences and medi-
cine, including the mass production of penicillin and sulfa drugs.

The “Dr. Compton” referred to in the letter was Dr. Karl T. Comp-
ton, the President of M.I.T. and also a member of the NDRC and
OSRD. In 1945, Compton was selected, along with Bush, as one
of eight members of the Interim Committee appointed to advise
President Harry S. Truman on the use of the atomic bomb.

71
The Measure of Success

Madeleine’s husband, Dick Schneider, was
world renown in the field of neurosurgery.
He was a hardworking, but gentle-natured
physician, whose success stemmed from his
desire to make a difference in people’s lives.
As Dick inspired medical residents, cared for
his patients, and engaged in groundbreaking
research, Madeleine supported and encour-
aged him unconditionally.
His character is of the highest
As a young boy growing up in Newark, New
Jersey, Dick gave no indication that he was
destined to achieve greatness. In grade
school, he was an unimpressive and restless
student. His school’s headmaster once told
him “if by some mistake you get into a good
college, you’ll certainly never graduate.”
Dick’s parents were convinced of the need to
change his course. They sent Dick to Cul-
ver Military Academy in Indiana where he
The Measure of Success
“To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intel-
ligent people and the affection of children … to leave
the world a better place … to know even one life has
breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have
succeeded.”
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
indeed made a turnaround. He took
his studies seriously and excelled in
the classroom and on the swim team.
According to his friends, Dick often
commented that attending Culver
was the best thing that ever hap-
pened to him.
His last year at Culver, Dick devel-
oped a mastoid infection, which at
the time was a serious and some-
times fatal condition. He spent
several weeks in a Chicago hospital
where the competent care of his
doctors and nurses inspired him to
become a physician.
Dick attended Culver Military
After graduating cum laude from Culver, Academy in Indiana.
Dick attended Dartmouth College in Ha-
nover, New Hampshire, for his undergraduate
Pictured on opposite page:
degree. One summer break during college, he Madeleine and Dick.
saved a life while working as a lifeguard and
73
 swimming instructor at the Orange Lawn
Tennis Club in New Jersey. An administrator
at the club recounted this story about Dick
in a letter of recommendation written in
1937: “At one time a small boy was found at
the bottom of the pool unconscious. If it had
The Schneider Family (from left), Dick, Louis, Betty, Elizabeth and
Grandmother.
not been for Mr. Schneider’s quickness and
training, without a doubt the boy would have
died. However, after working on him for over
half an hour he revived the child. The young
people were very fond of Mr. Schneider and
he did a great many things outside his posi-
tion to teach them how to dive and swim.
74
He is very dependable and his character is of the
highest.”
Dick attended medical school at the University
of Pennsylvania where he was active in student
activities and served as the president of the
Undergraduate Medical Society. For several years
following graduation, he worked long hours for
little pay as a medical resident. He then joined
the U.S. Army’s 36th General Hospital Unit dur-
ing World War II. He worked alongside Dr. Jack
Webster in neurosurgery, which at the time was
an emerging medical specialty. Dick’s experiences
during the war were the catalyst for his lifelong
career in the neurosurgical field.
Always modest and unassuming
From the beginning, Madeleine was a wise coun-
selor for Dick in his career. When Dick was wind-
ing up his army service, he received an offer from
the University of Pennsylvania for a neurosurgi-
cal residency. He planned to accept the offer, but
his Army sergeant told him the typewriter was
busy and he would have to wait a few days to use
it. In the meantime, the University of Michigan
contacted him. Madeleine steered him toward
the Ann Arbor residency because she had a high
regard for the institution where her father had at-
tended. Also, Ann Arbor was only 100 miles away
from her parents in Findlay.
As they planned for the future, Madeleine de-
tected an overconfident tone in Dick’s letters. She
didn’t hesitate to put him in his place. When $10 on the morning mail. Of course, as I
Dick wrote to her that he wanted to plan his told you there was a period from May 20 to
course of study at Michigan, she responded: June 2 when we only took in $10. There has
“Don’t you think it might be politer to let never been any slowing down in our busi-
Dr. Peet suggest your course of study and ness, of course. Dick has had six new patients
then you suggest a few changes if it isn’t referred to him since he has been back this
exactly what you want. After all, Michigan week and we already had three patients
has trained other neurosurgeons and might lined up to go
have a few ideas about how to go about it.” In into the hospital
another letter, Dick indicated that his nurses this week and
would have to conform to his style. Mad- a couple next
eleine answered: “I don’t want to belabor the week,” she shared
point, my dear, but I fear such an approach in a letter dated
isn’t likely to win friends and influence June 9, 1949.
people in your new group. It doesn’t sound
like the Dick I knew, either, who was always Dick’s Cleve-
modest and unassuming.” land practice
was short lived,
A humbled Dick engaged in a neurosurgical however. In 1950,
residency under Dr. Max Peet, who estab- he and Madeleine
lished the neurosurgical program at the moved back to
University of Michigan in 1926 by taking on Ann Arbor where
his first resident, Dr. Edgar Kahn. he had accepted
a position as
When Dick’s residency ended in 1948, he assistant professor in neurosurgery at the Dick Schneider (center) in
surgery during World War II.
and Madeleine moved to Cleveland where University of Michigan.
Dick joined the private practice of Dr. Spence
Braden. Madeleine played a central role Dissect it to bits
in operating Dick’s office and she kept her Dick’s productive career at the University of
parents updated on how they were faring. Michigan spanned 33 years. During this time,
“Collections have improved this week. As he rose through the ranks from assistant
I wrote on Monday there was $30 that day. professor to Chief of the Section of Neuro-
Tues. brought $35, yesterday $20, and today surgery. He also established a neurosurgery

75
 service at St. Joseph Mercy Hospital in Ann Edgar Kahn, respected neurosurgeon. Together
Arbor, authored and co-authored numerous they engaged in clinical research on functional
books and articles neuroanatomy, describing many relationships
for medical journals, and conditions. Their last project involved the
and served in leader- study of “space sickness.” “Doctor Schneider’s
ship positions with association with Doctors Crosby and Kahn
national neurosurgi- was remarkable. It produced new knowledge,
cal associations. three books, many scholarly papers, a produc-
tive laboratory and unique clinical approach to
His colleagues the neurosurgical problems, and a special bond
described Dick as a that made and will continue to make their three
tireless worker who names inseparable,” said Dr. Julian Hoff, at Dick’s
could effectively man- memorial service.
age multiple projects.
Most were amazed Dick’s passion, however, was the study of sports
by his ability to ac- injuries to the head and spine. His work in this
complish so much. area earned him the title of “father of sports
“He was an extremely neurosurgery.” Dick loved all athletic pursuits but
hard working person,” had a special place in his heart for football. For
recalled Dr. Saeed years, he served as a team physician for the Uni-
Farhat, at Dick’s versity of Michigan football team, a position that
memorial service. “He afforded him and Madeleine four prime seats on
would get interested the 50-yard line for games at “The Big House.” An
in a subject and he avid Michigan football fan since her childhood,
would not let go of it. Madeleine delighted in attending the games.
He would dissect it
to bits until he knew all about it. He worked In the 1950s and 60s, Dick, along with Dr. Kahn
long hours. I would call him at night and he and other colleagues, published a series of im-
would be in the office.” portant papers about spinal injuries. “This work
described the anterior cord syndrome (1951), the
Dick formed a close partnership with Dr. central cord syndrome (1954), and the hangman’s
Elizabeth Crosby, a pioneering woman fracture (1955) as well as brain stem ischemia
scientist who studied brain anatomy, and Dr. due to vertebral artery injury associated with

76
spine fracture (1961),” wrote Dr. David Kline,
Boyd professor of neurosurgery at Louisiana
State University’s Health Science Center, in
“The Making of an Academic Neurosurgeon:
Richard Schneider.” “These landmark papers
eventually changed not only the evaluation
but also the management of most incom-
plete cord injuries,” wrote Kline.
Dick was concerned about the number of
deaths and catastrophic injuries that oc-
curred in football. In the early years of the
game, the only protective gear used by players
was a leather cap. By the 1940s, helmets were
required gear in the NCAA and the NFL. Yet
Dick ascertained from his extensive research
that the helmets weren’t preventing injuries.
He believed helmets should be designed on
anatomical knowledge of the skull and brain
and an understanding of the mechanical
principles of head injuries. In his laboratory,
he designed and patented one of the earliest
pneumatic football helmets. Using movies
and other visual aides, he shared his findings
with coaches and athletic directors at col-
leges and universities all across the country.
Michigan coach Bo Schembechler became
a vocal advocate of better helmet gear after
spending several hours talking with Dick and
viewing his films. “Dr. Schneider knows more
about headgear than anyone in the country,”
he said at a press conference in 1970. “I’d like
to see something done about his research.”
Dick’s efforts not only led to the modern-
day football helmet and neck devices, but
also to major rule changes in football ban-
ning so-called spearing and butt-blocking.
As a result, there was a dramatic reduction
in the number of “serious” football injuries
to the head and spine, as documented in
the National Football Head
and Neck Injury Register
and the National Center for
Catastrophic Sport Injury
Research data statistics.
Throughout his career, Dick
received many accolades.
He served in leadership
positions with the American
Association of Neurological
Surgeons, the Neurosurgical
Society of America, and the
American Board of Neuro-
logical Surgery. He was in
demand as a guest lecturer
at universities and neuro-
logical societies around the
world. In 1985, the Rotary Dick is pictured here with the
Club of Ann Arbor bestowed upon him its football helmet he designed.
highest honor, the Distinguished Service The Sydney Morning Herald
(Australia) which printed this
Award for outstanding service to commu- photo, hailed Dick as “a world
nity, nation, and mankind. Dick told several authority on sports injuries.”
(February 1978)
friends that this award was one of his finest
achievements.
77
 His devotion to duty is most
remarkable
Dick was not only an outstanding clinical re-
searcher; he was a compassionate physician.
He saved and improved the lives of many
grateful patients. His friends and acquain-
tances described Dick as simply “a wonderful
person.” “I don’t think there was a soul living
who didn’t like Dick,” remarked Madeleine’s
childhood friend, Pauline (Jackson) Phillips,
in a 2008 interview.
Dick showed respect for his patients every
day through his bedside manner and dedica-
tion to their cases. The depth of his respect
is revealed in the following story. During
one class lecture, when Dick thought his
students were inappropriately attired, he re-
fused to bring in the patient he had lined up
as a case study. “Doctor Schneider’s explana-
tion was simply that the patient was taking
time out from his day so that many young
physicians might learn from the patient’s un-
fortunate pathological condition. He felt that
his patient deserved the full respect of these
students as reflected in both their attention
and dress,” said Dr. John Feldenzer, at Dick’s
memorial service.
Dick’s patients sometimes wrote Madeleine
gushing letters of praise for her husband.
Mrs. W.F. Holcomb wrote her in 1966 after
Dick operated on her for a brain tumor. “Fol-
78
lowing surgery I began to realize from his visits
the depth of human feeling and understanding
he has for people. I also saw firsthand the sched-
ule he usually follows and wondered how he does
it. His devotion to duty is most remarkable. One
can easily get the impression that you are his
only patient. He just seems to have the ability to
devote his full attention to you while he is in the
room despite the fact that he is due in surgery in
ten minutes or has a dozen other patients to see.”
In 1986, a woman named Helen Childs expressed
profound appreciation for Dick’s years of care
to her daughter who suffered from spina bifada.
“Many times Mary was brought to your husband,
many of these times she was at death’s door. He
was always so calm and so kind to Mary and to
us, that somehow we would already feel better
knowing that he was in charge of the situation,”
she wrote to Madeleine. “I will always have a
special place for you in my heart. Although I have
never met you, I thank you for all you gave up so
that your husband could help so many people.”
Clark Warren, who served with Dick in World
War II, never forgot the time in 1949 when Dick
dropped everything he was doing to come and
care for his brother who had been seriously
injured in an automobile accident. When Dick
arrived at the farmhouse below Norwalk, Ohio,
he realized the man was too severely injured to
survive. Yet he stayed to make sure the man was
comfortable in his final hours and then spent
hours consoling his wife. “There was no
way in which to compensate him or express
gratitude, he would not accept anything,”
Clark wrote to Madeleine. “He was that kind
of friend. That kind of man.”
In 1974, Dick once again rushed to someone’s
aid—this time all the way to Venezuela. The
daughter of Venezuelan television star Renny
Ottolina had suffered a serious injury, break-
ing two vertebrae in her back. Dick arrived
the day after he was called by a colleague
to examine her. His trip was reported in the
Ann Arbor News: “Dr. Schneider refused to
accept any fee for his services, saying, ‘I prac-
tice medicine in Michigan, not Venezuela.’
Ottolina insisted and the Michigan specialist
finally said he would accept a donation made
not to him, but to the Fund for Neurosurgi-
cal Research of University Hospital in Ann
Arbor. Ottolina said he made the dona-
tion publicly through the U.S. ambassador
‘because this type of exemplary attitude
should be made known that it may serve as a
stimulus and inspiration for the highest hu-
man quality. Men such as Richard Schneider
are an honor not only to the profession
they practice but also to the country which
has the good luck to count them among its
citizens.’”
Molded our characters
Dick’s dad, Dr. Louis Schneider, a general
practitioner in Newark, New Jersey, firmly
believed that established physicians had a
responsibility to pass on their professional
knowledge and ethics to the next genera-
tion of physicians. Perhaps because of his
dad’s example, Dick became
a highly regarded teacher
and mentor to many medical
residents during his tenure at
the University of Michigan.
“The new resident and his
young wife would arrive in
Ann Arbor, each filled with
excitement and potential, but
each also insecure in a new
environment,” said Dr. Floyd
Haar, in an address he gave in
1986. Madeleine, he contin-
ued, would take the young
wives under her wings. “Mrs.
Schneider would come to
serve at least as a local guide
and hostess, and frequently, if
needed, as a confidante and
advisor. … She was always
there guiding, helping and
training but with subtlety and Dr. Dick Schneider was
sensitivity.” nicknamed “The Boss” by
neurosurgical residents at
the University of Michigan.
For the resident, Dick quickly became “the
Boss,” as he was nicknamed. He was some-
times a demanding and formidable teacher.
79
 “Some people thought he was rigid and
unforgiving, but this was far from the truth,”
said Dr. Farhat, at Dick’s memorial service.
“He believed in certain rules and ethics and
he would not deviate from them. He did not
think you could cut corners in neurosurgery
and could not accept anything but what you
would call a good job.”
In essence, Dick wanted to mold his resi-
dents into his image. He wanted them to
become self-disciplined and excellent neu-
rosurgeons, but also respectful and compas-
sionate physicians. According to Dr. Edward
Stasheff, a friend and communications
professor at the University of Michigan, Dick
became increasingly concerned in his last
years of teaching with physician responsibil-
ity, not only to the patient, but the patient’s
family. “He stressed that careless words,
misunderstood by the family, or a technical
term that would only confuse and frighten,
was not the thing to do, and that the sensi-
tivity and awareness of the patient’s family’s
feelings was as much a part of a physician’s
job as anything he learned,” he said at Dick’s
memorial service.
As a resident earned Dick’s respect, he came
to realize that Dick had his best interests at
heart. For Dick would never fail to praise, en-
courage or support residents when needed.
And in this way, many said, he was like a
80
father figure. On Dick’s last birthday, Dr. Haar
wrote him a heartfelt letter of thanks: “I know
I speak for the other Schneider-trained men in
saying that we’ll always remember how much
of what we are today came from you and we’ll
always be deeply grateful. Our careers, our liveli-
hood, our professional skills, reputation and self-
respect all came out of your training. You molded
our characters, our medical ethics and our sense
of professional responsibility. You taught us the
meaning of research and clinical integrity. You
praised us when we earned it and you let us
know when we could do better. If this doesn’t
amount to fatherhood, I don’t know what does.”
Dr. Kline wrote in his biography of Dick: “Dick
had learned relatively early in life the value of
hard, steady work and by example he taught
this to others. Both he and his wife Madeleine
were always there when advice or a push in the
right direction was needed. Others have said it
so many times but it bears repetition. Dick was
indeed a dependable and good man!”
Keeper of the flame
Dick retired from the University of Michigan and
became professor emeritus in 1983 when he was
70 years old. A year later, he discovered he had
colon cancer. He underwent a successful opera-
tion and enjoyed a year of renewed health. “Quite
characteristically he managed to keep busy,
going to the office daily and attending to medi-
cal meetings and conferences at the University,”
wrote Dr. Kline. He also began to assemble himself hard and accomplished much. This,
materials and write chapters for a biogra- of course, was possible with a generous and
phy on his friend and pioneering colleague, helpful partner like you, Madeleine. He was
Dr. Elizabeth Crosby. But in the fall of 1985, more than a friend to
Dick’s cancer reappeared in the liver. His us all.”
health rapidly declined and he passed away
at University Hospital on June 9, 1986. “The Shortly before he died,
courageous, uncomplaining way he faced a Dick called his friend,
painful illness and death was his final, and Edward May, who was
characteristic lesson,” wrote Dr. John McGil- also a Culver Military
licuddy, Dick’s former resident, in a letter to Academy graduate.
Madeleine. He told Ed that he
wanted his money to
When Dick died, Madeleine lost her devoted eventually go to Culver
love and life’s companion. Since Madeleine because the academy
and Dick had no children or nieces and had played such a
nephews, her only remaining relatives were formative role in his
cousins. Perhaps it was her grief that caused younger years. He felt
her to leave Dick’s study in their home un- that he and Mad-
touched until her own death almost 20 years eleine had generously
later. “She left it exactly as it was. It was like supported the other
he was going to come back after buying a institutions they cared
quart of milk,” said Warren Kahn, vice presi- about during their Madeleine left Dick’s study
dent and trust officer of Fifth Third Bank in lifetime. “He believed strongly in duty and untouched after he died in 1986
Findlay, in a 2008 interview. honor,” said Mary May, Ed’s wife, in a 2008 in- until her own death nearly 20
years later.
terview. Madeleine set aside the inheritance
In June 1987, Madeleine received a letter that Dick left her when he died. Upon her
from a friend, Betty Castillo: “One year later death, she left $5 million to Culver Military
we still lament losing Dick and shall for ages Academy. “She was a keeper of the flame,”
to come ‘one-in-a-million’ he was – so bright, continued Mary. “She followed exactly what
so gentle and kind, so dedicated, loyal, hon- he wanted her to do.” v
est and true to his convictions plus other
virtues too numerous to name. He drove

81
Planting Trees

While Dick achieved eminence in his career,
Madeleine made her own mark in the Ann
Arbor community—and beyond—as a gra-
cious hostess, obliging volunteer and gener-
ous donor. In her final years, she planned
her last act of generosity, leaving a sizeable
legacy to her beloved hometown.
Great capacity to learn
Madeleine followed the traditional path of
many women of her era who devoted their
lives to their husband’s career. “She was
the ideal wife of the times,” said Wendene
Shoupe, Madeleine’s cousin, in a 2008 inter-
view. “She went into the shadows with her
brilliancy and supported him.”
As the wife of a neurosurgeon who worked
long hours, though, Madeleine had to seek
out opportunities for personal growth.
Throughout her life, she pursued her varied
interests with great vigor. She was a patron of
the arts, a swimmer, a sports fan, a voracious
reader, and a gardener, just to name a few
Planting Trees
“The true meaning of life is to plant trees, under whose
shade you do not expect to sit.”
- Nelson Henderson
avocations. “She never gave up on learning.
She had a great capacity to learn,” said War-
ren Kahn, vice president and trust officer at
Fifth Third Bank, Findlay, in a 2008 interview.
For friendship and intellectual stimulation,
Madeleine was a long-time member of the
Faculty Women’s Club at the University of
Michigan. The club offered monthly educa-
tional meetings on various topics ranging
from art history, to literature, to gardening.
She also was active in the Smith College
Alumnae Club of Ann Arbor and the Ameri-
can Association of University Women.
Madeleine delighted in the performing and
visual arts. “She loved the musical theatre
and had a wide collection of records, mostly
classical music and opera,” said Warren Kahn
in a 2008 interview. She had season tickets
for the concert series at the University of Pictured on opposite page: Dick
and Madeleine outside their Ann
Michigan and often traveled to large cities to
Arbor Home on Hill Street (June
visit museums and attend performances. 17, 1984).
83

Dick Schneider (center) and two colleagues
in front of the University of Michigan’s foot-
ball stadium “The Big House.” Dick and
Madeleine were both avid Wolverine fans.
Madeleine’s football fervor extended back
to her childhood when she attended Uni-
versity of Michigan games with her father.
In college, she would listen to the games
on the radio in her dorm room. In 1933,
she wrote a letter to her parents while
listening to the Ohio State vs. Michigan
game. “Well, the game has just started and
I am so excited I can hardly write.” Later in
the letter: “After the first quarter it was all
Michigan’s game. Poor Ohio. The trouble
about this game is that I always feel rather
sorry no matter who wins. Of course, I
would feel much sorrier if Ohio had won.”
84
Madeleine picking daisies in a field a
few miles west of Ann Arbor (July 4,
1946).
Madeleine also shared her husband’s love of
sports. She religiously attended University of
Michigan football and basketball games and
read Sports Illustrated up until her death. “She
wouldn’t miss out on the games,” recalled Diane
Hoff, Madeleine’s friend, in a 2008 interview. Di-
ane and her husband, Dr. Julian Hoff, often drove
Madeleine to the games after Dick died.
Since her childhood, Madeleine was enthralled
with the natural world. Gardening became one
of her favorite hobbies in Ann Arbor where she
was a member of a garden club. In 1944, she
expressed her feelings about nature in a letter to
Dick recounting a vacation in Findlay, “The thing
I seem to miss most after almost two years of city
life is Nature. The beauty of Ohio in June seemed
to quite overwhelm me—honeysuckle, roses, lush
green grass and trees. It sounds sort of silly—like
Ferdinand the Bull—but I went around smell-
ing flowers all the time.” On her travels around
the world, she was an observer of nature, writing
detailed accounts of the flora and fauna in letters
and postcards to her family and friends.
Hostess with the mostest
Friends and acquaintances remembered Mad-
eleine as a consummate hostess. Madeleine was
quiet and reserved, yet she liked to plan and
prepare for social gatherings. She had no short-
age of opportunities to entertain. When Dick
was chief of neurosurgery at the University of
Michigan he was always bringing home medical
residents and visiting neurosurgeons and
their families from all over the world. In ad-
dition, Madeleine would frequently open her
home to the many social clubs and volunteer
organizations to which she belonged.
The Schneider’s first home in Ann Arbor
was a small brick house at 1101 Pauline
Blvd. Later they settled into a large home
at 2110 Hill Street, just a few blocks from
campus, which was ideal for entertaining.
The lovely home was filled with antiques and
possessions from Madeleine’s family home
in Findlay, 859 South Main. It also had a
spacious terrace that overlooked a verdant
backyard. In temperate weather, Dick and
Madeleine preferred to entertain outdoors. “I
have thought many times about your beauti-
ful house—inside and outside. We enjoyed
seeing all of it and eating out on your nice
porch overlooking the beautiful garden. That
is a pretty view to have outside all the time!”
wrote Ruthanne (Kirk) Stauffer, Madeleine’s
childhood friend, in a 1964 letter. “You have
done a wonderful job of fitting the furniture
from Findlay into the house up there. I am
surprised how well it all fits in, and every-
thing is very pretty.”
As a young woman, Madeleine didn’t know
how to cook. Determined to learn, she
evolved into an accomplished cook. She
admired Julia Child, also a Smith College
graduate, and owned an autographed first
edition of one of her cookbooks. “One of my
favorite recipes came
from Madeleine,” said
Karen Shoupe, Made-
leine’s first cousin once
removed, in a 2008 in-
terview. When Karen at-
tended the University of
Michigan for two years
in the 1970s, she helped
serve at Madeleine’s
parties. She remem-
bered the meticulous
preparations, delicious
food and elegant table
settings. “Everything was always very well Madeleine put a lot of care
and preparation into enter-
done—linen tablecloths, china, sterling silver taining. She is pictured here
tea set,” she said. with a pewter tea set she
received as a Christmas gift
from Dick (December 1952
In many ways, Dick and Madeleine were Uni- or 1953).
versity of Michigan ambassadors. They espe-
cially enjoyed sharing their football season
tickets with friends and hosting pre-game or
post-game parties. They also served as unof-
ficial campus guides and mentors to stu-
dents who were the children of their friends.
“When my son was at Michigan, they were
awfully nice to him,” said Virginia (Swartz)
Saveland, Madeleine’s childhood friend, in a
2008 interview. “We had some grand times
there.” In 1968, Madeleine’s high school
friend, Mary (McCullough) Knox Heidtman,
85
 wrote: “I was so proud of John being graduated from this great university.
The ceremony was most thrilling. But, being with you both afterwards in
your lovely home really made the day … I have always said you two are the
‘host and hostess with the mostest’ and ‘mostest’ means the most in kind-
ness, graciousness, good food and drink, repartee, great charm, etc.”

According to Mary May, Madeleine’s Ann Arbor friend, Dick and Mad-
eleine loved sharing their home with others. “They were divinely happy
together. They were the perfect couple. And even though they didn’t have
any children, they sort of adopted everybody else,” she said in a 2008 inter-
view. “It was a joy to know them. They enriched the lives of everybody.”

Every place in the world

When Dick and Madeleine weren’t entertaining guests, they were embark-
ing on trips to exotic locales across the world. For Madeleine, travel was
Edith Tanner, Dick Wortham, Madeleine, Dick, Marjorie an avenue to new experiences and knowledge as well as a chance to spend
Wortham. Photo taken by Peter Tanner (October 1959). time with Dick, whose intense work schedule often kept them apart.

Dick and Madeleine belonged to a collegial group called “The Neurosurgi-

cal Travel Club.” Sixteen accomplished neurosurgeons from different parts
of the country were the core of the group. Each year, the neurosurgeons
would gather at a host’s hospital or institution to share research findings
and observe operations. After the meetings, the neurosurgeons and their
wives and children would gather at a nearby resort for fellowship. “This
became a very influential, albeit small, neurosurgical group,” wrote Dr. Da-
vid Kline, Boyd professor of neurosurgery at Louisiana State University’s
Health Science Center. “All eventually became leaders in American neuro-
surgery as well as close personal friends. The group stimulated each other
academically, for each member tried to have something new and stimulat-
ing to talk about at their annual get together.” Club members had such a
close bond that even after Dick died, Madeleine still attended the annual
Madeleine and Dick (1959). meetings. Over a 30-year period, meeting locations included Nashville,

86
Montreal, Houston, New York City, Sea Is- Madeleine and Dick
on one of their
land (Georgia), Toronto, Pasadena, St. Louis, many adventures.
Minneapolis, and Boston.

Dick and Madeleine also had the opportu-

nity to travel to many different countries due
to Dick’s popularity as a presenter and visit-
ing professor. In 1976, they spent six months
in Switzerland where Dick was on sabbatical
to study the embryology of blood supply to
the brain. Over the course of Dick’s career,
among the places they traveled included
Australia, Brazil, China, Egypt, England,
Germany, Japan, and Mexico. Their trips
were filled with adventures such as exploring
famous sites, visiting museums, attending
concerts, and making new friends.

Not all of their travels had a business pur-

pose, however. For many years, Dick and
Madeleine would escape the Michigan win-
ters to celebrate their February 12 wedding
anniversary with friends at an exclusive inn,
Runaway Hill, in Harbour Island, Bahamas.
“Can it be that a week from today we will
look out of the window at palm trees bend-
ing softly in the breeze and not at snow
flakes floating down? It begins to seem
almost possible now that I actually have
the tickets in hand … We will be taking the
next ferry crossing after you with Tugboat
Arnie—a lovely name for that colorful old Madeleine with Dr. and Mrs. Saeed Farhat (left) and Dr. and Mrs. Julian Hoff (right)
pirate. Frankly I always thought that ride at Banff, British Columbia, Canada, during a meeting of the American Academy of
Neurosurgery in September 1997.

87
 must be something like crossing the River
Styx with Charon,” wrote Madeleine in a 1974
letter to friends who were joining them on
the trip.
In 1974, Madeleine’s friend, Rosamund Clark,
commented on Madeleine’s widespread
travels in a letter to her: “I loved hearing your
news! And now you’ve been to every place in
the world you would really want to see.” Yet
at the time, Madeleine still had more than 20
years of adventures ahead of her. Even after
Dick died in 1986, she continued to travel
into her 80s, visiting many U.S. cities as well
as the countries of Turkey, Italy, Greece, Swit-
zerland, and England.
Countless hours of unpaid work
While living in Ann Arbor, Madeleine also
dedicated her time and energy to volunteer
work. Many of her volunteer activities were
related to the medical field. In the 1950s and
60s, she was a member and president of the
Ann Arbor Visiting Nurse Association, which
sponsored classes for expectant mothers and
a well baby clinic. She also was active in the
Washtenaw County Medical Society Auxil-
iary, serving as its treasurer and president.
She volunteered in the auxiliary shop at St.
Joseph’s Mercy Medical Hospital intermit-
tently for almost 15 years.
Other organizations that Madeleine was
involved with included the American Red
88
Cross and Meals on Wheels. “She put in count-
less hours of unpaid work for these organiza-
tions,” said Warren Kahn in a 2008 interview.
“We came across many service pins when we
went through her house after she died.” In fact,
Madeleine delivered Meals on Wheels until her
physical health declined to the point where she
could have used the service herself.
Dick and Madeleine also were generous donors
to the many charitable and educational institu-
tions that they highly valued, including their
church, Culver Military Academy, Dartmouth
College, Hancock Historical Museum, the Ameri-
can Red Cross, Smith College, and the University
of Michigan. They gave to annual funds, donated
to building campaigns and established scholar-
ships. They even donated the royalties from
Dick’s football helmet patent to the University
of Michigan. For years, the university received
money for every football helmet sold in the
United States.
It was home
Throughout her life, Madeleine was prudent
with her finances. There were many modern-day
conveniences that she did without. To the won-
derment of her friends, she owned only a small,
outdated television and didn’t have an automatic
garage door or a home security system. In her
later years, she covered her daily expenses with
a small social security check she received each
month.
Sharing her father’s interest in investing, Mad-
eleine owned numerous stocks and bonds. She
closely followed her holdings by studying finan-
cial reports and other earnings information. “She
was a very shrewd investor. She would buy and
hold,” said Richard (Dick) Zunkiewicz in a 2008
interview. Dick was a former vice president and
trust officer with Fifth Third Bank, Findlay, who,
along with Warren, served as Madeleine’s wealth
transfer advisors. “When we went through her
stocks she knew the history and details behind
each one,” he added. Madeleine had inherited
from her parents a large number of shares in
Fifth Third Bank. All her life, she maintained an
account at the Fifth Third Bank in Findlay where
her father, Dr. Thomas, had served on the board.
(At the time, it was known as First National
Bank).

Madeleine’s ties to Fifth Third played a substan-

tial role in her leaving a gift to The Findlay-Han-
cock County Community Foundation. In 2000, a
Findlay customer service representative noticed
the large sum of money that Madeleine had sit-
ting in her account and told Dick Zunkiewicz
about it. Dick contacted Madeleine to see if she Madeleine enjoyed returning to Findlay to visit with friends, Pictured
would be interested in setting up a trust. Made- here are, left to right, Mary Kirk, Ruthanne (Kirk) Stauffer, Jane (Eoff)
Burson, Wendene Shoupe, Madeleine, and Betty Moorhead.
leine agreed to meet with him and a relationship
was established.

Madeleine’s openness to working with Fifth

Third in Findlay on estate planning may be
explained by this bit of advice her mother gave

89
 her more than 40 years earlier in a letter:
“I came across a folder one day that I had
saved. It was about the value of making
a will. I found an excellent suggestion in
it, good for you to remember. It says that
there should always be a 2nd executor
with a member of the family being No. 1.
No. 2 should preferably be your bank – I
believe that would be your best help – so
impersonal, yet so dependable. Consider-
ing Daddy’s place with the bank, I doubt
the fee would be large. So ‘write that down
behind your ears’ as they say in Germany,”
Gail wrote in 1957.

Findlay was never far from Madeleine’s

mind, despite the fact that she’d lived in
Ann Arbor for over 50 years. Through visits
with her Shoupe cousins and childhood
friends, high school class reunions, and
her subscription to the Findlay Courier,
she kept track of the town’s progress and
its citizens. She was especially interested
in reading about The Findlay-Hancock
County Community Foundation. A
Findlay friend, Fred Phillips (husband
of Madeleine’s childhood friend, Pauline
(Jackson) Phillips) shared the Foundation’s
annual reports with her and gathered
other Findlay information for her as she
prepared her estate plan. In the end, she
decided to leave the bulk of her fortune,
Madeleine was especially interested in reading about The Findlay-Hancock County Community
Foundation and kept articles about its growth.
$25 million, to the Foundation, telling Dick

90
Zunkiewicz: “The money came from Findlay, Pauline (Jackson) Phillips, Madeleine’s child-
and it should go back to Findlay.” She wanted hood friend, in a 2008 interview. “None of us
to keep the gift under wraps until her death, (childhood friends) had any idea that she had
declining to meet with the Foundation’s that much money.”
president. It was the biggest secret they ever
had to keep, agreed Warren and Dick, in 2008 When asked why
interviews. Madeleine left her
estate to ben-
In August 2004, Madeleine fell in her drive- efit the people of
way and subsequently ended up in a nursing Findlay, her friends
home. She never returned to her home at agreed that Mad-
2110 Hill Street. Although her mind re- eleine had a special
mained sharp until the end, her heart gave place in her heart
out and she passed away on January 18, 2005. for her hometown
She was 90 years old. Following her wishes, that held so many
a small gravesite service was held in Find- wonderful memo-
lay that was attended by a handful of close ries and rich family
friends and family members. history. “I think
she and Dick both
When Madeleine’s $25 million gift to The believed that your
Findlay-Hancock County Community Foun- roots are impor- Madeleine visits with Dr. Donna
dation was announced, many people, from tant and you should not forget them,” said Shoupe, Karen Shoupe, and Cindy
Shoupe Parke, daughters of Dr.
the Foundation’s staff and board members, Mary May in a 2008 interview. Pauline said, Richard and Wendene Shoupe
to Madeleine’s friends, to average Findlay simply: “Well, it (Findlay) was home.” v (July 8, 1994). Dick Shoupe and
Madeleine were first cousins.
citizens, were stunned and overwhelmed Madeleine and her husband, Dick,
by her incredible generosity. Because of this spent almost every Christmas holi-
gift, the Foundation was able to double the day with the Shoupes in Findlay.
amount of funds it distributed yearly to
civic and nonprofit groups in Findlay and
Hancock County. The Foundation’s assets
nearly doubled, elevating it to the position
of the 12th largest community foundation in
Ohio. “It’s just wonderful what she did,” said

91
 Epilogue
Following Madeleine’s death in 2005, the Mad-
eleine Thomas Schneider Fund was established
as a fund of The Findlay-Hancock County
Community Foundation. As directed by her
will, the funds are distributed at the sole dis-
cretion of the Foundation’s board of directors
without restriction. It was Madeleine’s belief
that the Foundation would use its expertise
and resources to ensure that the money would
be used where most needed.
Grantmaking from Madeleine’s fund began
in 2006, and in only two short years her gift
has had a tremendous impact on Findlay and
Hancock County. More than $1.8 million has
already been granted to our community from
Madeleine’s fund.
While Madeleine’s gift is unrestricted, the
Foundation has had the opportunity to match
grants from her fund with interests that would
have been close to her heart. One example was
a grant to the Findlay Branch of the American
Association of University Women (AAUW)
which sent nine Hancock County girls to math
and science camps. One can only imagine the
smile this would have brought to the face of
our pioneering female physicist.
Another project made possible by Madeleine’s
fund enabled the Hancock County Agency on
Aging to develop and implement a program
92
where volunteers serve as guardians for vulnerable
citizens of the county. Remembering Madeleine’s
countless hours of volunteer time to programs that
aided seniors, Foundation staffers knew this was a
perfect fit.
Recognizing Madeleine’s strong ties to the medi-
cal field, the Foundation has also used her fund to
support prescription drug assistance programs,
programs to promote healthy lifestyles for children,
and the purchase of Automatic External Defibrilla-
tor (AED) devices and related training.
Madeleine’s fund also has supported the operating
costs of The Family Center, a multi-tenant non-
profit facility; C.H.O.P.I.N. Hall, a nonprofit food and
clothing distribution center; and Homework Cen-
tral, a program which assists local at-risk children
with their school work.
These are just a few examples of the good work
Madeleine’s gift has already accomplished in our
community. And perhaps the best part is that this
is only the beginning. Because only a portion of the
income generated by the investment of the fund’s
principal is used for grantmaking, the Madeleine
Thomas Schneider Fund will continue to support
the community she loved—forever. v
Acknowledgements Dr. David Kline
Dick and Madeleine’s friend
Boyd Professor of Neurosurgery
Virginia (Swartz) Saveland
Madeleine’s childhood friend
Olmsted Township, Ohio
Louisiana State University’s Health Science Ctr.
This book provides a glimpse into the ex- Laura Yeager
New Orleans, Louisiana
traordinary life of Madeleine Thomas Sch- Stewardship Manager
neider through the journals, letters, records, Edward and Mary May Culver Academies
photographs, and friends she left behind. Dick and Madeleine’s friends Culver, Indiana
Ann Arbor, Michigan
We express sincere appreciation to the Nanci Young
Rosalinda Paul College Archivist, Smith College
following individuals who shared personal
Local Historian Northampton, Massachusetts
remembrances or provided information for Findlay, Ohio
this story: Dick Zunkiewicz
Pauline (Jackson) Phillips Former Vice President and Trust Officer, Fifth
Scott and Linda Beltz Madeleine’s childhood friend Third Bank
Owners, 859 South Main Street Findlay, Ohio Madeleine’s estate advisor
Findlay, Ohio Findlay, Ohio
Alec Reinhardt
Dick and Barbara Deerhake Board of Directors, The Findlay-Hancock
Findlay, Ohio

Jean (Moran) Elsea

Sister of Madeleine’s friend, Anne (Moran) Maher
County Community Foundation

Karen Shoupe
Madeleine’s first cousin, once removed
Credits
Principal Research and Writing
Findlay, Ohio Ashburn, Virginia
Laurie Wurth Pressel, Wurth Writing
Wendene Shoupe Findlay, Ohio
Larry and Darlene Hammond
Owners of the Davis Homestead/Ohio Farmhouse Madeleine’s first cousin
Additional Research and Writing
Findlay, Ohio Findlay, Ohio
Barbara M. Deerhake, President
Francis Simonds The Findlay-Hancock County Community
Ed Heminger Foundation
Chairman of the Board, Findlay Publishing Company Madeleine’s friend
Findlay, Ohio Ann Arbor, Michigan
Graphic Design and Art Direction
Don and Pat Sink Christa K. Steiner, Communications Officer
Diane Hoff The Findlay-Hancock County Community
Madeleine’s friend Davis Family descendents
Findlay, Ohio Foundation
Ann Arbor, Michigan
Renee Smith and staff at Printing
Warren Kahn Kennedy Printing Company
Vice President and Trust Officer, Fifth Third Bank Hancock Historical Museum
Findlay, Ohio Findlay, Ohio
Madeleine’s estate advisor
Findlay, Ohio

93
The Findlay-Hancock County Community Foundation

In 1976, Findlay resident L. Dale Dorney left the

Cleveland Foundation a $5 million dollar bequest
dedicated to two interests: strengthening collegiate
business education in Ohio and improving the Board of Directors
quality of life in Findlay and Hancock County. David S. Healy, Chairman
He hoped that the Findlay portion of this gift G. Norman Nicholson, Vice-Chairman
might one day form the nucleus of a community Karl L. Heminger
foundation.
Michael S. Needler
His dream came to fruition in 1992 when The Jennifer Payne-White
Findlay-Hancock County Community Foundation J. Alec Reinhardt
was established as a supporting organization of Judy M. Rower
the Cleveland Foundation. From 1992 to February Ralph D. Russo
1999, The Community Foundation operated under
Charles J. Younger
the mentorship of the Cleveland Foundation. On
February 28, 1999, The Findlay-Hancock County
Community Foundation became an independent
entity and the portion of the Dorney Fund assets Officers of the Foundation
designated to Hancock County were returned to Barbara M. Deerhake, President
our community. Ralph D. Russo, Secretary
Charles F. Stumpp, Jr., Treasurer
What started as one man’s generous gift to his
community, has been built upon and expanded by
the residents of Hancock County. Over the years,
the Dorney Fund assets were joined with gifts from
other donors, like Madeleine, and today the assets
total more than $75 million. All gifts support the
Foundation’s efforts to improve the quality of life in
our community, today, and for generations to come.
101 West Sandusky Street, Suite 207
Findlay, Ohio 45840
Phone: 419.425.1100
www.community-foundation.com