MINSCH, Leonard

LEONARD MINSCH KILLED The many friends in this city and vicinity will be pained of the sad accident which resulted in the death of Leonard Minsch, son of Mr. and Mrs. Jake Minsch, formerly of this city, but now residing near Phoenix, Arizona. The following clipping was taken from the Arizona Gazette: "While showing his companion how to load a shot gun shortly before three o'clock Sunday afternoon, August 18th, Alva Baker, ten year old grandson of W. Baker, of the Wilson district, accidently shot Leonard Minsch, the nine-year old boy of Jake Minsch the discharge tearing Off the left arm and tearing a hole in the child's body and penetrating his lung, the child dying from the wounds at nine o'clock the same evening. The two boys had been playing at the Baker home, when Mr. Baker had gone out to shoot blackbirds and on coming in layed the gun on the work bench in the shed, something he had never done before, and while there young Baker was showing the Minsch child the proper way to load the gun, not knowing it was already loaded, and it was accidently discharged. Dr. E. Payne Palmer, of Phoenix, was called and rushed the boy to the hospital for an operation. Everything possible was done to relieve the suffering of the child but of no avail. The deceased was a son of Mr. and Mrs. Jake Minsch, a very prominent family of the Wilson district. The funeral was held from the undertaking parlors of Mohn & Driscoll yesterday, the 20th, where a large concourse of friends, along with the sorrowing relatives, paid their last respects to one who was so suddenly taken from our midst. The bereaved parents and little brothers of "Linnie, "as he was called by his parents and little friends, have the sympathy of the entire neighborhood." (Arizona Gazette, Phoenix, AZ, Wednesday, 21 August 1912) ~~~~~~~~~~~ IN MEMORY OF LINNIE The creeping breeze's face is fair, It's voice Is softer, richer, rare. The sunkist eyes more kind and deep, When they slow-pause where lie's asleep. Where he's asleep the gentlest beams Stroll around his side like golden gleams; Winds kiss his face and murmur low Lone tale to him of long ago. Where he's asleep the gentlest beams Stroll around his side like golden gleams; Winds kiss his face and murmur low Lone tale to him of long ago. To him the birds sing music grand. Song only he can understand; And flower-hearts their tales confide, As long they linger at his side. Sleep on, dear heart, the years slow creep; But when I kneel where you're asleep I hear your voice say low; I wait For you beyond God's sun-set gate. --A Friend.