Charles frederic ulrich biography of donald
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Obituaries
Donald F. Ulrich, 89
Donald F. Ulrich, 89, of Lancaster, passed away Friday, July 24, 2009 at The Glen at Willow Valley. Born in Elizabethtown, he was the son of the late J. Sylvester and Josephine (Sload) Ulrich. Donald was the husband of the late Anne L. (Lineaweaver) Ulrich who died in November 2008.
Donald proudly served his country in WWII in the United States Army. He participated in the huvud European and African Campaigns. He was employed for 39 years by Watt and Shand, and retired in 1983 as a Divisional Merchandise Manager. He was a member of St. Philip the Apostle Catholic Church, American Legion Post 0329, and VFW Post 7294. He enjoyed playing golf and bridge.
Donald is survived by 2 daughters; Phyllis A Taylor wife of Thomas of Parkton, MD, and Helen Tawney wife of Donald of Conestoga. 2 granddaughters; Wendy McMillen wife of Steven of Elizabethtown, and Laura Nissley wife of Michael of Palmyra. 4 grandchildren; Katlyn and Emily Nissley, and Ava
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My featured artist today is Charles Frederick Ulrich, the late nineteenth-century realist painter of portraits and genre scenes who spent much of his life as an expatriate in Europe. He was born on October 18th, 1858 in New York, the son of a German émigré photographer and painter, Friedrich Ulrich and his wife, Caroline Ulrich (née Hartje) . Following his ordinary schooling, he studied at the National Academy of Design in New York and it is thought that he spent some time studying at the Cooper Union School of Art. From there, in October 1875, at the age of seventeen he crossed the Atlantic and travelled to Munich where he enrolled at the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Munich. Here he learnt all about how to capture the subtle effects of daylight and became influenced by seventeenth century Dutch genre paintings as well as the genre paintings by contemporary German artists. In 1879 one of his paintings was awarded a bronze medal. His primary instructors were the German lan
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On October 19, 1885, the S.S. Eider approached Sandy Hook, New Jersey, and the Narrows, twelve days after it had departed Bremen, Germany. As the four-hundred-and-thirty-foot vessel navigated through New York Harbor, it would have passed Bedloe’s Island, on the port side, where an enormous pedestal was under construction. The Statue of Liberty was nearby, in crates, not yet assembled. Like so much of America, she was a work in progress.
On deck, a sixteen-year-old boy was carrying the hopes of his family, back home in Germany. The Drumpfs had long before simplified their name to Trump, and they were shedding the superfluities of Europe in other ways, too. Friedrich, the young man on board, had trained as a barber’s apprentice, but saw little reason to stay in the small town of Kallstadt, in the Palatinate, where his prospects were limited. He harbored higher aspirations.
For Trump, as for most immigrants to New York at the time, the point where he would disembark was Castle Garden