As I’ve mentioned earlier I have very few recollections before I was six years old. That was when school started for me and perhaps it was this break in the established pattern of my life that caused me to have more recollections about my life.
My first grade teacher was Hazel Rice and she, like the rest of the female teachers in the Gowrie school (with one exception) was single. Probably a spinster as she stayed on for a long time in her position. I think the reason why the female teachers were not married was that it was subtly frowned on in the community for families to have two incomes — teaching posts were to be reserved for persons whose sole source of livelihood was the teaching job. The one exception was Mrs. Wood, the second grade teacher, but in her case her husband had some sort of disability so couldn’t work or was kept from continuous employment.
Also perhaps the reason why the female elementary teachers were unmarried was that they were newly graduated from college and the school district could hire them for less salary. They would teach for a few years, then get married or drift off to more profitable positions. It was certainly true that there was considerable turnover in some of the elementary teaching positions.
During more if not all my elementary grades, textbooks were not provided by the school — they were purchased by the parents for their children. Bowman’s drug store oddly enough was the local source of these textbooks in my earlier school years until the school took the function over, say around the time I was in junior high. Even then the books were not free, though they may have been partly subsidized by the school district. Later on, when I was in high school, I think the district provided the textbooks but my memory is not clear on this.
At any rate, my first grade class had our readers, purchased for us by our parents. There was however a set of primers belonging to the school which Miss Rice used on occasion and I remember how delighted I was at this new book to use. Probably it was that the first primer suffered from too much exposure. The school set of primers were kept in a cupboard on the north side of the room. The doors to the cupboard were glass paneled so these attractive reading books were always there as a distraction.
Another distraction in the schoolroom was a small-scale model of a medieval castle, complete with a moat and a little drawbridge which sat on a table at the rear of the room. Who made it or why it was sitting at the rear of the first-grade classroom I have no idea. Certainly it was an attraction for little hands and we were instructed not to touch it, though what harm that would have done I don’t know.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Erector Sets and Electric Trains
While I was a young boy I was attracted to such toys as Erector sets and electric trains. I was given an Erector set, perhaps as a Christmas present, but it was one of the smaller or intermediate sets. The larger set which I craved came with a small electric motor for activating the steam shovel or other item that had been made from the parts of the set. This desire on my part was never fulfilled.
I recall that one of the boys of my age had such a set and on one occasion I saw what he had made with it and was enthralled. Although I envied him his Erector set I surely didn’t envy him his later boyhood experience. His father was a rural mail carrier, a good stable job back at the time, and had in addition the income from some farm property — probably an inheritance. The father started to speculate on the Fort Dodge Board of Trade, lost the farm and the family home, and committed suicide.
My friend, his mother and sister had to move in with his mother’s parents as a place to live. His grandfather was Jonas Lindquist who had operated a clothing store in Gowrie for a long time — at the time of Clare’s father’s suicide he may have retired from the business.
I sort of lost touch with Clare in later years — he was retained a grade at school so he was no longer in my class and after our move to the farm I had limited contact with the boys I had played with in Gowrie.
Clare died quite some time ago. He died at a relatively early age. I think his sister still lives in the Twin Cities — she was Vivian’s grade and I think Vivian always liked and admired her.
As to electric trains my interest was aroused by the set Lennarson and Johnson (one of the two hardware stores in Gowrie in my youth) always set up in their window at Christmas. It appeared year after year, perhaps it was not for sale or was too expensive for the Gowrie clientele. It was a Lionel train, green as I recall.
During this time I had a subscription to American Boy magazine, and in this magazine there would be advertisements for both the Lionel and American Flyer electric trains. These usually offered a free booklet describing the various train sets and other items they had for sale and I sent for the booklets and dreamed of the trains shown. There was one train set for $13 and I calculated that if I were to save my weekly allowance for a full year I would have enough saved to purchase it — of course this never materialized.
I guess if I had saved the little booklets they might now be worth as much as some of the trains described in them. I seem to recall having read about these being real collector’s items.
I recall that one of the boys of my age had such a set and on one occasion I saw what he had made with it and was enthralled. Although I envied him his Erector set I surely didn’t envy him his later boyhood experience. His father was a rural mail carrier, a good stable job back at the time, and had in addition the income from some farm property — probably an inheritance. The father started to speculate on the Fort Dodge Board of Trade, lost the farm and the family home, and committed suicide.
My friend, his mother and sister had to move in with his mother’s parents as a place to live. His grandfather was Jonas Lindquist who had operated a clothing store in Gowrie for a long time — at the time of Clare’s father’s suicide he may have retired from the business.
I sort of lost touch with Clare in later years — he was retained a grade at school so he was no longer in my class and after our move to the farm I had limited contact with the boys I had played with in Gowrie.
Clare died quite some time ago. He died at a relatively early age. I think his sister still lives in the Twin Cities — she was Vivian’s grade and I think Vivian always liked and admired her.
As to electric trains my interest was aroused by the set Lennarson and Johnson (one of the two hardware stores in Gowrie in my youth) always set up in their window at Christmas. It appeared year after year, perhaps it was not for sale or was too expensive for the Gowrie clientele. It was a Lionel train, green as I recall.
During this time I had a subscription to American Boy magazine, and in this magazine there would be advertisements for both the Lionel and American Flyer electric trains. These usually offered a free booklet describing the various train sets and other items they had for sale and I sent for the booklets and dreamed of the trains shown. There was one train set for $13 and I calculated that if I were to save my weekly allowance for a full year I would have enough saved to purchase it — of course this never materialized.
I guess if I had saved the little booklets they might now be worth as much as some of the trains described in them. I seem to recall having read about these being real collector’s items.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Chores and Allowances (and other memories)
As children we had certain prescribed tasks that we were expected to do in order to receive our weekly allowance. Mine was to sweep the kitchen and the sunroom every day in the morning. My recollection of this task was that there was not much dust accumulated but there was always a lot of paper debris etc. I think Clarice and Vivian had either the dishes to wash and wipe, or perhaps the beds to make. I don’t recall that Vincent was as yet assigned any chores. Perhaps he was still too young.
My allowance was 25 cents per week and I suppose Clarice’s was also. Vivian’s was I think a little less. The use of the allowance was not however at our discretion, 5 cents of mine being designated for the weekly contribution in my Sunday school class.
I don’t really recall what I used my allowance for — perhaps some went for popcorn at the summer band concerts in the park. Periodically our family would make a shopping trip to Fort Dodge, all of us more or less tightly packed in the Essex (I don’t recall the old Chevrolet in this regard).
On one such occasion I recall throwing caution to the winds and buying two little toy cars — cast iron red-colored with stamped metal wheels. One was a coupe, the other a truck. Each cost 25 cents — no sales tax in those days. I bought these toys at one of the dime stores, Kresge’s or Woolworth’s.
I also remember candy purchases, particularly the gelatin candy in the shape of orange slices — sugar-coated on the outside and with orange flavoring. There were also such goodies as either an ice cream sandwich at one of the dime stores, or perhaps a stop at the start of the homeward journey for an ice cream cone for everyone. The stop was made at some store on the outskirts of Fort Dodge along the Callender road back to Gowrie.
After the cones were consumer we children were naturally thirsty but no stop was made (or practical) to slake our thirst and we had to wait until we were home for a drink of water. The Callender road passed along the west edge of Gowrie, and en route passed through the little towns of Callender and Moorland.
The other route to Fort Dodge lay east of town and the north-south portion of the trip was along highway 169. Originally this route near Fort Dodge ran along the Des Moines river and was characterized by several (to us) spectacular hills. It was along this “river road” that Vivian and Gene had their little blue house before moving to Urbandale near Des Moines.
The road also had the attraction for us of an overhead tramway on which little cars ran along the wires of the tramway carrying loads of gypsum ore from where it was mined t o the processing facility. The tramway passed right over the road at one point. Sometimes they were not operating which was a disappointment to us. Some time in the 1930s the highway was routed to the west of Fort Dodge along a more level route and the river road became just a local access road.
I should say that there was a third route which my father used in commuting from the farm to the courthouse in Fort Dodge. This route ran north about a mile east from the farm, past the Bohemian hall and the county “poor farm” and joined up with highway 169 near Fort Dodge.
Vivian and Gene’s house was close enough to the river so that it had some danger of being flooded in the springtime. The river road was between it and the river and there was a fairly respectable rise between the normal level of the river and the house — I suppose vertically it might have been as much as 20 or 30 feet. Despite this the house had been flooded before they bought it and was also after they sold it and moved to Des Moines.
Gene was an individual who delighted in projects and one of the things he did while they lived in the little blue house was to put a basement under it. I happened to be back in Iowa on vacation while this project was underway and helped out one day when the concrete floor of the basement was being poured. I suppose at that point the house had already been raised and the basement walls erected. As I recall my part in the proceedings was wheel-barrowing the mixed concrete from the mixer into the basement. Gene I think was running the mixer and he had hired someone to actually finish off the floor properly.
My allowance was 25 cents per week and I suppose Clarice’s was also. Vivian’s was I think a little less. The use of the allowance was not however at our discretion, 5 cents of mine being designated for the weekly contribution in my Sunday school class.
I don’t really recall what I used my allowance for — perhaps some went for popcorn at the summer band concerts in the park. Periodically our family would make a shopping trip to Fort Dodge, all of us more or less tightly packed in the Essex (I don’t recall the old Chevrolet in this regard).
On one such occasion I recall throwing caution to the winds and buying two little toy cars — cast iron red-colored with stamped metal wheels. One was a coupe, the other a truck. Each cost 25 cents — no sales tax in those days. I bought these toys at one of the dime stores, Kresge’s or Woolworth’s.
I also remember candy purchases, particularly the gelatin candy in the shape of orange slices — sugar-coated on the outside and with orange flavoring. There were also such goodies as either an ice cream sandwich at one of the dime stores, or perhaps a stop at the start of the homeward journey for an ice cream cone for everyone. The stop was made at some store on the outskirts of Fort Dodge along the Callender road back to Gowrie.
After the cones were consumer we children were naturally thirsty but no stop was made (or practical) to slake our thirst and we had to wait until we were home for a drink of water. The Callender road passed along the west edge of Gowrie, and en route passed through the little towns of Callender and Moorland.
The other route to Fort Dodge lay east of town and the north-south portion of the trip was along highway 169. Originally this route near Fort Dodge ran along the Des Moines river and was characterized by several (to us) spectacular hills. It was along this “river road” that Vivian and Gene had their little blue house before moving to Urbandale near Des Moines.
The road also had the attraction for us of an overhead tramway on which little cars ran along the wires of the tramway carrying loads of gypsum ore from where it was mined t o the processing facility. The tramway passed right over the road at one point. Sometimes they were not operating which was a disappointment to us. Some time in the 1930s the highway was routed to the west of Fort Dodge along a more level route and the river road became just a local access road.
I should say that there was a third route which my father used in commuting from the farm to the courthouse in Fort Dodge. This route ran north about a mile east from the farm, past the Bohemian hall and the county “poor farm” and joined up with highway 169 near Fort Dodge.
Vivian and Gene’s house was close enough to the river so that it had some danger of being flooded in the springtime. The river road was between it and the river and there was a fairly respectable rise between the normal level of the river and the house — I suppose vertically it might have been as much as 20 or 30 feet. Despite this the house had been flooded before they bought it and was also after they sold it and moved to Des Moines.
Gene was an individual who delighted in projects and one of the things he did while they lived in the little blue house was to put a basement under it. I happened to be back in Iowa on vacation while this project was underway and helped out one day when the concrete floor of the basement was being poured. I suppose at that point the house had already been raised and the basement walls erected. As I recall my part in the proceedings was wheel-barrowing the mixed concrete from the mixer into the basement. Gene I think was running the mixer and he had hired someone to actually finish off the floor properly.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Early Memories
I’ve written some about my life in the little brown house during my childhood there. I believe I’ve mentioned that my recollections up to the age of six are very limited. One that I believe I haven’t mentioned was once when I was supposed to be napping in a crib but wasn’t and my mother came in and instructed me firmly to lie down and go to sleep. The crib was in the northwest corner of the bedroom that my parents slept in, right next to the door to the stairway leading to what was then the attic. I could only have been a couple of years old.
Before the attic was finished off into the two bedrooms I don’t know where the four older of us children slept. I have a vague feeling of having slept in the second downstairs bedroom of the little brown house (in the northwest corner of the house). But I have no idea where the girls slept.
After the upstairs was finished off this room was turned into sort of a play room. The piano was moved into it from the parlor and it is here I recall having my aunt Ruth giving me piano lessons. Scales, arpeggios plus short little compositions like Robert Schumann’s “The Happy Farmer” which was one I liked and so remember.
Before the attic was finished off into the two bedrooms I don’t know where the four older of us children slept. I have a vague feeling of having slept in the second downstairs bedroom of the little brown house (in the northwest corner of the house). But I have no idea where the girls slept.
After the upstairs was finished off this room was turned into sort of a play room. The piano was moved into it from the parlor and it is here I recall having my aunt Ruth giving me piano lessons. Scales, arpeggios plus short little compositions like Robert Schumann’s “The Happy Farmer” which was one I liked and so remember.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
California Residences
I stepped out of 931 Seaview for the last time the morning of our wedding day. Actually I still had some last-minute things to do there so I did not attend a church service that morning. We had already moved our belongings into 411 Bonnie Drive and we spent our wedding night there.
931 Seaview Drive, El Cerrito, CA
After I had to move out of the Quadrangle because of WWII, I roomed in a house on Iowa Avenue in Iowa City, several blocks due east of the old capitol. Did I spend the night after my graduation ceremony there? I must have since I did not ride back to Gowrie that evening with my parents and Vincent. I can’t remember walking out of the house for the last time.
In San Pedro I roomed in about four private residences as I recall most notably and for the longest time in the home of Hugo and Palma Johnson. They lived in one of the home that Hugo had built in his career as a carpenter and contractor. Another very well-built house. It was while I was living there that Vincent was visiting me at the time the atom bombs were dropped on Japan. He was stationed at the time out near Malibu as I recall.
Hugo had been one of those quick-active people but had developed Parkinson’s disease and was even more restricted in what he could do than my father when he had the disease. It was a sad situation. I suspect that it was because of their reduced finances that they took me in as a roomer.
In San Pedro I also lived briefly in an apartment and I also spent some time at the YMCA over in Long Beach. I cannot recall when I stepped out of all these places for the last time.
And then there are the two houses I lived in, in Berkeley and Oakland after the move from the Los Angeles before rooming at 411 Bonnie Drive in the first of my two residences there. The first was on Shattuck Avenue right next to a little park (Love Oak? Codornices?). The second was on Grove Street (later Martin Luther King) another well-built house that was torn down when Children’s Hospital of the East Bay expanded.
Then there was the house on Seaview that I owned while still a bachelor. That house was greatly expanded and modified by the people that I sold it to. And the house in Houston which looked the same the couple of times we drove past it later on, in 1977 and 1980.
I forget the name of the people in the Shattuck Avenue house but they were quite elderly then in the late 1940s so they are long since deceased. So are the Reymanns on Grove Street and the Wilsons at 411 Bonnie Drive. They were also well into their 60s when I knew them so they have been dead for years. I never kept in touch with the Reymanns but we did keep up with the Wilsons for awhile — actually visited them once or twice near Felton where they moved to after we bought 411 Bonnie Drive from them.
411 Bonnie Drive, El Cerrito, CA
931 Seaview Drive, El Cerrito, CA
After I had to move out of the Quadrangle because of WWII, I roomed in a house on Iowa Avenue in Iowa City, several blocks due east of the old capitol. Did I spend the night after my graduation ceremony there? I must have since I did not ride back to Gowrie that evening with my parents and Vincent. I can’t remember walking out of the house for the last time.
In San Pedro I roomed in about four private residences as I recall most notably and for the longest time in the home of Hugo and Palma Johnson. They lived in one of the home that Hugo had built in his career as a carpenter and contractor. Another very well-built house. It was while I was living there that Vincent was visiting me at the time the atom bombs were dropped on Japan. He was stationed at the time out near Malibu as I recall.
Hugo had been one of those quick-active people but had developed Parkinson’s disease and was even more restricted in what he could do than my father when he had the disease. It was a sad situation. I suspect that it was because of their reduced finances that they took me in as a roomer.
In San Pedro I also lived briefly in an apartment and I also spent some time at the YMCA over in Long Beach. I cannot recall when I stepped out of all these places for the last time.
And then there are the two houses I lived in, in Berkeley and Oakland after the move from the Los Angeles before rooming at 411 Bonnie Drive in the first of my two residences there. The first was on Shattuck Avenue right next to a little park (Love Oak? Codornices?). The second was on Grove Street (later Martin Luther King) another well-built house that was torn down when Children’s Hospital of the East Bay expanded.
Then there was the house on Seaview that I owned while still a bachelor. That house was greatly expanded and modified by the people that I sold it to. And the house in Houston which looked the same the couple of times we drove past it later on, in 1977 and 1980.
I forget the name of the people in the Shattuck Avenue house but they were quite elderly then in the late 1940s so they are long since deceased. So are the Reymanns on Grove Street and the Wilsons at 411 Bonnie Drive. They were also well into their 60s when I knew them so they have been dead for years. I never kept in touch with the Reymanns but we did keep up with the Wilsons for awhile — actually visited them once or twice near Felton where they moved to after we bought 411 Bonnie Drive from them.
411 Bonnie Drive, El Cerrito, CA
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Homes Past
I reflect sometimes on the houses that I have lived in and wonder what goes on in them now, how the occupants use and consider their abodes, what changes have been made.
The little brown house was not as well constructed as my grandmother’s house but when I last saw it (during the year of the Strand reunion and my high school class fiftieth reunion [1988]) it looked very neat and well cared for. Several years ago when we visited the Midwest, Vincent had arranged for us to see the inside of the little brown house (which was now white). We saw the downstairs rooms and I was struck at how small they seemed. We did not see the basement or the upstairs.
Grandmother’s house was better built and could stand another hundred years with proper maintenance. But it was not been kindly treated since sold and it has been reported to me that it stands neglected and perhaps empty. I have no specific remembrance of the last time I left each house for good perhaps for the last time.
I sort of recall leaving 411 Bonnie Drive; the movers had finished packing and we walked out to start the drive to Houston. On our trips to the Bay Area since then we have occasionally driven by the look at it. For a long time it appeared that only nominal attention had been given to the exterior and the bushes and shrubs. But lately it has been spruced up a bit.
I still feel that it was a mistake to move to Houston, although Jean and the two older girls do not regret the experience. I’m not sure how Laurel feels about it. We had lived in the house for 19 y had had an interview with Bechtel but I had not heard from them. Actually the interview was after I had told Shell that I was going to Houston. Maybe they checked with Shell who told them I was going to Houston.
The way I look at it now I could have got a job as a chemist doing routine work that would have met our living expenses. Perhaps at one of the refineries in the north Bay Area. Or if not Bechtel with my background in design of distillation equipment I could have got work at Chevron or Union Oil. Or I could have taken some courses that would have qualified me as a bookkeeper — I had had in high school a class in bookkeeping and I liked it.
Financially also it might well have been advantageous to stay in El Cerrito. I would have received $1000 a year for ten years as severance pay. The increase in value of the property would have been more than the increase on 1070 Terra by far. We could have moved eventually to Auburn, a town that I much liked (even more than Ashland). Our life could certainly been different.
The little brown house was not as well constructed as my grandmother’s house but when I last saw it (during the year of the Strand reunion and my high school class fiftieth reunion [1988]) it looked very neat and well cared for. Several years ago when we visited the Midwest, Vincent had arranged for us to see the inside of the little brown house (which was now white). We saw the downstairs rooms and I was struck at how small they seemed. We did not see the basement or the upstairs.
Grandmother’s house was better built and could stand another hundred years with proper maintenance. But it was not been kindly treated since sold and it has been reported to me that it stands neglected and perhaps empty. I have no specific remembrance of the last time I left each house for good perhaps for the last time.
I sort of recall leaving 411 Bonnie Drive; the movers had finished packing and we walked out to start the drive to Houston. On our trips to the Bay Area since then we have occasionally driven by the look at it. For a long time it appeared that only nominal attention had been given to the exterior and the bushes and shrubs. But lately it has been spruced up a bit.
I still feel that it was a mistake to move to Houston, although Jean and the two older girls do not regret the experience. I’m not sure how Laurel feels about it. We had lived in the house for 19 y had had an interview with Bechtel but I had not heard from them. Actually the interview was after I had told Shell that I was going to Houston. Maybe they checked with Shell who told them I was going to Houston.
The way I look at it now I could have got a job as a chemist doing routine work that would have met our living expenses. Perhaps at one of the refineries in the north Bay Area. Or if not Bechtel with my background in design of distillation equipment I could have got work at Chevron or Union Oil. Or I could have taken some courses that would have qualified me as a bookkeeper — I had had in high school a class in bookkeeping and I liked it.
Financially also it might well have been advantageous to stay in El Cerrito. I would have received $1000 a year for ten years as severance pay. The increase in value of the property would have been more than the increase on 1070 Terra by far. We could have moved eventually to Auburn, a town that I much liked (even more than Ashland). Our life could certainly been different.
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