Rose Monika Müller Bueltmann, 1873–1911

Rose “Rosie” Monika Müller, the oldest daughter of Franz Anton Müller and Monika Kühn. was born 6 June 1873 in Stettfeld, Germany, and had her first communion in 1881 at St. Marcellus Catholic Church. The following year, she came to America with her parents and four siblings. The family lived in St. Louis, Missouri for two years before moving to the farm they purchased in 1884 near Witt, Illinois. The boys worked on the farm and had little education. As soon as they were old enough, two daughters, Rose and Emma, found work as domestics in St. Louis. In this environment, they learned to read and write English. Rosie also worked at Marx Grocery Store in St. Louis.

On 2 September 1902, Rose and Karl August Bueltmann (1874–1919) were married in Clayton, Missouri, by Henry B. Albers, Judge of the 1st District of St. Louis County, probably because August was Protestant and Rosie was Catholic. Their son, August John Gerard Bueltmann was born on 14 August 1906 at their home, 2615 St. Louis Avenue in St. Louis and was christened at St. Augustine Catholic Church. In 1910, August, Rosie, and Gus lived at 2627 Sullivan Ave. in St. Louis. On 19 May 1911, Rosie died during childbirth from a pulmonary embolism. The child also died. Both are buried in Bellefontaine Cemetery in St. Louis.

Gus, Rosie’s son, who would turn five in August, recalled his mother’s death in a memoir he wrote in 1931. In the memoir, Gus mentioned Tommy English, Rosie’s nephew, had been living with the Bueltmanns after his mother Emma, Rosie’s sister, died in 1907.

In May of 1911 my mother gave birth to a baby boy. For months I had been saving my pennies to buy a baby sister. When I heard it was a boy, I said, “It’s all right, but I’m not going to pay for him.” We, Tommy and I, had been taken to a neighbor’s home, and when both the baby and my mother died, the priest came and told us. I can still remember him whispering to the good people with whom we were staying. I was taken home and shown my mother and my little brother. All I said, and I said it repeatedly the next few days was, “The Lord gave, the Lord takes away.” Where I had picked it up, I do not know, perhaps from the people with whom we stayed. I can still remember the funeral: the casket being wheeled into the dim church. The priest followed the casket to the cemetery, but he did not officiate at the grave because mother was buried in a Protestant cemetery. After the funeral, my mother’s relatives got hold of Tommy English and would not let him go back home with my father. They finally placed him in an orphans’ home. The priest wanted to place me in an orphans’ home, but my father told him where he might go and it was not purgatory.”

Written by Faith Stern
May 2025

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