My Life in the Little Brown House, part 27: Mel Rosene, Nellie Scott

The other incident which involved Mel and his wife while they were in the house across the street occurred when some large cottonwood trees were being felled along the west side of their home. There were two or three of these large cottonwoods, and as cottonwoods are when fully grown they were rather tall trees, with a large crown of correspondingly large branches. Whoever was cutting down the trees had completed the task except for the last tree by the middle to late afternoon. I’m not sure at this time whether it was in the spring (as in March) or in the fall (as say late in October) but the day had become increasingly cloudy and windy as it progressed and so as the tree felling proceeded, climatic conditions were steadily deteriorating. The fellers had attached ropes to direct the line of fall but with the wind the way it was they were rather ineffective and the tree finally came crashing down somewhat prematurely. Fortunately it did not fall against any structure but the situation was rather frightening for awhile. I recall looking out the south windows of the little brown house either in the parlor or the dining room and watching as the workers struggled with the tree in the rising wind. After Mel’s moved out of that house it was refurbished and used as a combination residents and funeral home. The business competed not too successfully with the well-established mortician business of Lennarson and Johnson who captured most of the local business.

Beyond the vacant lot to the south of us was the home of Nellie Scott, a stooped little lady of indeterminate age. A spinster, she had no visible means of support and to my recollection had never been employed. Perhaps she lived on funds from some inheritance. I don’t think she was elderly enough to have developed osteoporosis, but she had the rounded back and stooped stance characteristic of the condition. At the rear of the property was a building that could be partly used as a garage (though wasn’t as Nellie had no car) and was partly used by Nellie for her flock of chickens. These roamed outside in a large enclosed yard along the west side of her property, Nellie was a friendly person and both Clarice and I spent time in her kitchen and parlor/dining room visiting and talking with her. This contact began at an early age for Clarice and me and was the reason why we never developed a real facility in the use of Swedish for talking. Clarice I think was able to understand Swedish some, but I never really developed any understanding except for a few commonplace phrases or expressions. Neither of us could speak it. Nellie was not of the Swedish community so spoke only English and Clarice and I soon adopted it and our Swedish fell into disuse. I think that my parents spoke Swedish in their early married life so had it not been for Nellie I’m sure Clarice and I would have acquired a working facility in it. I know this happened with one of my contemporaries, Arthur Holmer.

Nellie maintained a more haphazard style of housekeeping that did my mother — her little kitchen table always had salt and pepper shakers on it, condiment containers and other material. My mother always cleaned off the table completely after a meal. One of the attractions that Nellie provided was contained in a women’s magazine she subscribed to called I believe the Delineator, whatever that signifies. Each issue would have a page of paper doll cutouts, which she would let us have (after she had read the reverse of course). I recall that the reverse was a complete page of text — no advertiser would buy the space there.


























Cover of Delineator magazine, October 1930

Nellie had various relatives that imposed on her. During the depths of the Depression, either a brother or nephew with wife and son Jackie lived with her for some time. Later Curtis and Lowell Smith lived with her — Curtis was a little older than I, Lowell younger; how they were related to Nellie I don’t know. Nellie later either had to sell her home or lost it via the mortgage foreclosure route. She spent her last days in a substandard and rather decrepit structure in the far west end of the town. One day, after people noticed there was no sign of her, she was found to have expired in bed. This all happened after I had left the community so I only learned of it third hand or even more indirectly. The news caused sort of a pang of sorrow in me, for a friendly person who had fallen on hard times and whom I had not thought of in years.

I have a couple of memories related to Nellie’s house and lot. Her lot had several larger trees on it, compared to the trees growing up around the little brown house. These produced a correspondingly larger amount of leaves which of course fell in the fall. I remember assisting Nellie in a superficial way by raking these into piles, which were then burned. No EPA or local burning criteria in those days to hinder such a practice. Whether it is because of this early and pleasurable experience with the smell of burning leaves or not I am not sure, but the distinctive odor still rouses a sense of pleasant reaction and nostalgia in me. I also recall playing at one end of her front porch — there was a low spot in the ground which afforded access to the open area beneath the porch and I recall using this to get under the porch. Inside the house I remember using the stereopticon viewer she had and the various pictures to look at, and wondering how the perception of depth was achieved. Although I’m sure Clarice was along most of the time when I was at Nellie’s I don’t really remember her presence, in my memory of Nellie and her house.




















Stereopticon viewer