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Frauke was born at home in Goettingen,
that charming University town north of Kassel,
on June 17, 1944. Goettingen was on a main north-south run of Allied bombers
during these final months of W.W.II, so that air raids were common, but
the D-Day invasion brought a lull to her birth bed, as allied aviators
were busy elsewhere. Why was she born at home, when the three older children
had the benefit of a hospital? The matter is lost in myth and the fog of
war, but there was the reason given that hospitals had too much disease
for our Frauke, as conditions worsened. As with so many Germans who lived
through those times, the stories are filled with deprivation of food, fuel,
and the other human needs
Frauke's father, Peter Jordan, was a scientist/engineer who worked in
the famous Prandl's laboratory in Goettingen. He had an interest in aerodynamics,
flutter, and flight, the kind of science that seemed to have a relevance
for how the times were moving, from the hot to the Cold War. He came from
a long line of Lutheran pastors and other civil servants, with roots in
East
Prussia. (These long lines inevitably include a sprinkling of the historically
notable, and a few deserve mention, but Frauke is too modest.) Frauke's
mother, Elisabeth, was trained as a school teacher, and hailed from Bautzen
to the east. Their union produced four children, Elke, Hans and Grete (twins),
and the redoubtable Frauke, upon whose herstory we now dwell.
After the family suffered through much pea soup and other post war adventures,
Peter the father was called in 1946 to the Royal Air Force Establishment
in Farnborough, England, with a group of German scientists and engineers
with an interest in flight, mutual it appeared with the RAF. Peter paved
the way, living apart from his family for a year, but in 1947, on the day
of her third birthday, Frauke and her family joined Peter in England, settling
in Tilford, Surrey,
where she lead an idyllic life, cloistered in a mansion (Uplands) with
four other German scientist families. When she was put to school in 1949
at the age of five, she knew no English, for that was not the language
of Uplands. When she came home on her first day of school, her mother asked
her what she had learned. "Nothing," she said, "only the English children
learn things."
These pleasant times lasted for several years, until scientist Peter
was called by the Martin Company to Baltimore
in 1953, rising in the ranks to the office of chief scientist, and working
on such projects as Vanguard and Gemini. Again in Lutherville, Maryland,
where the Jordans settled, Frauke had a another memorable first day in
school, feeling confused, abandoned, and afloat in the New World.
These feelings did not last long. Her cheery good manner won her many
friends. Her perky English accent, so appealing as it faded, set her apart
on the pedestal that she so richly deserved. After a very distinguished
high school career, she matriculated at Goucher College, bright, sunny,
plunging forward to a future without limits. Here was a girl ready for
anything: born in the bang and then the whimper of W.W.II, dumped on Merry
England, then cast into suburban Baltimore. Where could this lead, but
to the Goucher College mixer of 1961!
The rest is theirstory, but a few details seem allowed. Dean Geen warned her that marriage would be a cruel end to her academic career, but life with William a studious and sedate affair. They were engaged on the first day of Spring, 1963, and married on the first day of winter of the same year. Her grades improved, despite Dean Geen, and she graduated magna cum laude, majoring in physics. She started a family, Jocelyn (1966) in Baltimore, leading to Stephanie (1968) in Chicago (post-doc time for William) and Chris (1971) in Columbus. In 1978 Frauke determined to achieve her oldest goal, to become a teacher, gained a teaching certificate from The Ohio State University. She worked at Bishop Hartley high School on the east side of Columbus, then moved Worthington High School in 1980. In 1992, she was honored by being placed in the Hall of Fame, along with many other criminals, scalawags, and ne'er-do-wells, which brings us to the present; thank God, the past is over!