Sepia Saturday: Mary Theresa in DC

Sepia Saturday challenges bloggers to share family history through old photographs.

This week’s Sepia Saturday photo featuring the handsome Taft Bridge in Washington D. C. brings to mind this photo of my grandaunt Catherine Walsh Barany, my paternal grandmother’s younger sister.

 

Kat Barany 1936

It’s not the Taft, but it is SOME bridge in the Washington D. C. vicinity  oops Niagara Falls.

[EDITED: Thanks to Mike Brubaker, I now know these photos were not from the trip to D. C. but from a trip to Niagara Falls. No wonder I could not find the name of the bridge! Unfortunately, if Mary Theresa wrote home about seeing the Falls, the letter did not survive.]

My great-grandmother Mary Theresa Sheehan Killeen Walsh rode the bus to northern Virginia to visit her two youngest daughters, Kat and Tate and their husbands. The sisters lived not terribly far apart, and they liked getting together to show their mother the sights. On this particular trip, Mary Theresa divided her time staying roughly a week with one before moving on to stay with the other.

In a letter dated March 10, 1936, Mary Theresa wrote all about her visit with Kat and Tate, but not once did she mention a walk across a bridge, going to a park that had a view of a bridge, or even seeing a river.

 

Mary Theresa and Kat in Niagara Falls 1936 [ edited ]

However, Mary Theresa did report on all the things she did. She was especially impressed that they could go to so many different movie theaters and catch a different picture every night. One in particular was “The Prisoner of Shark Island.”

Never heard of it. It sounds like a horror movie but it was actually the story of Dr. Samuel Mudd who was imprisoned for treating President Lincoln’s assassin in 1865. The movie was directed by John Ford.

Other highlights included visiting the Rosemunds (who?), Willie Edwards (who?), and George and Mandy (who?). She had lunch out, visited a Catholic church and a 5 & 10 cent store. What a juxtaposition!

The Rosemunds showed Mary Theresa a fine time. Here is what she said about their driving tour:

“Old man Fleming” was my great-grandfather, John Fleming Walsh who had died in 1918. I wonder what she meant by calling him that.

Since she saw the national cemetery, surely she also saw the Arlington Memorial Bridge.

 

Arlington Memorial Bridge
from Wikimedia Commons

Please cross the bridge to Sepia Saturday.

Wendy

© 2017, Wendy Mathias.  All rights reserved.

Sepia Saturday: Camping with the Terrible Five

Sepia Saturday challenges bloggers to share family history through old photographs.

The gentleman in this week’s Sepia Saturday photo prompt reminds me of so many men and boys captured on the film in my grandaunt Helen Killeen’s little box camera. Aunt Helen rarely labeled her photos with names, opting instead for funny little captions like 

“Oh Boy”

“Actors” 

“Royal 4” 

and “Terrible Five”

Recently that silly caption “Terrible Five” has taken on a whole new meaning. I was going through some photos, letters, and other memorabilia belonging to Aunt Helen and her sisters when I unfolded a typed poem glued to a heavier piece of paper, maybe a folder or large mailer. As I read it, I recognized scenes recorded in photos of a camping trip which was the focus of an earlier Sepia Saturday post.

** A triangle of paper is missing.  Words in brackets represent a logical guess based on the syntax of the sentence. If no logical guess could be made with any certainty, I inserted dashes inside the brackets.

The Memorable Camping Trip

The third of July dawned bright and clear

We all left home with merry good cheer.

Going away on a camping trip

To have a good time, sure you can bet.

Lots of dancing, and things to eat

Nice place to swim, good place to sleep.

Nothing to worry about in the care of the “Terrible Five,”

Now we are lucky to be alive.

Landed at Northwest, Va., about eleven o’clock

Tired, sore and hungry, it sure was a shock.

The roads were something awful, bump, bump, bump all the way

Gee, it’s a wonder our hair didn’t turn gray.

We went in bathing to rest our poor bones

But the water [was] full of snakes, mud and stones.

About that [time] someone called,

“Dinner is [ready], come one and all.”

Everyone [ - - ] for they were starved it seemed

But what [did they] get to eat, but beans, beans, beans.

The [ - - ] under two big trees

And [ - - ] down and ate what they pleased.

After dinner we loafed around awhile, and went out in the canoe

For there really wasn’t anything else that we could do.

Helen and Victrola

Then someone started the Victrola,

So we started to dance, and as we danced,

Someone said the country people were in a trance.

And if we did not stop, they would have us put in jail

And we would have to get someone to go [sic] our bail.

So we decided at last, to go to bed

But soon discovered there was no place to lay our weary heads.

So we stretched out on the ground under a tent

Then the wild animals their weird sounds sent.

They screeched and howelled and cooed

And scared us so bad we couldn’t move.

Somehow the night passed over

And Sunday came and went.

And we welcomed Monday, as some great event.

We left Northwest about half past two

And got bump after bump, until we nearly turned blue.

Arrived home about seven or that way

Only to discover that red bugs had come home with us to stay.

So I tell you dear friends, if you want to die

Just go on a Camping trip, with the “Terrible Five.”

The moniker “Terrible Five” must have been part of a running joke among the friends who seemed to enjoy getting together often whether at the beach or at a riverside camp. Perhaps the poem was written – AND preserved for presentation – to be read at some other gathering of “The Gang.”

 

"The Gang"
Ocean View - Norfolk, Virginia about 1919

Jump in – the water is fine at Sepia Saturday, and so are the photos and stories.

Wendy

© 2017, Wendy Mathias.  All rights reserved.

Sepia Saturday: That "Aww" Moment

Sepia Saturday challenges bloggers to share family history through old photographs.

This week’s Sepia Saturday prompt is the kind that makes you go “Awww” with that adorable puppy peeking out of a wicker basket. Outside the basket are a stuffed dog and hair brush. While there is no hairbrush in my photo, there is a stuffed dog and a sweet face that warrants an “Awww.”

 

Baby boy with toy doll and stuffed dog
How would you date this photo?

Who this baby boy is or was is just another mystery in a long line of mysteries. Likely he was related to someone on my maternal grandparents’ side.

No story today. Aw shucks.

There will be plenty of “Aww” moments at Sepia Saturday.

Wendy

© Wendy Mathias, 2017. All rights reserved.

Sepia Saturday: Ode to the Folding Chair

Sepia Saturday challenges bloggers to share family history through old photographs.

This week’s Sepia Saturday photo of a well-dressed couple camping prompted me to take a second look at the lowly folding chair. In particular, I remembered this one:

The woman is unknown, possibly one of my maternal grandmother’s cousins. It doesn’t matter. The point is the CHAIR. Much like the one in the prompt photo, it was wood with a canvas seat and back. Today such chairs are known as “Director’s Chairs.” Of course! In every movie about the making of a movie, the director is sitting in a chair with canvas seat and back.

I suppose lots of people fussed and complained about those wooden chairs getting loose and wobbly over time. Then the canvas wore out or ripped from dry rot. Enter Fredric Arnold. In 1947 he saved the day with his invention of an aluminum folding chair with fabric strapping for the seat and back. For years that chair has been the mainstay in most households across America.

Sunday picnics, family reunions, graduation parties, birthdays – if it is outside, there is a folding chair involved.

Leota Sullivan Racy, Grandma Lucille Rucker Davis,
Pearl Sullivan Strole, Floral Sullivan Merica, and Elta Sullivan Farrar

In the mid-1960s, the Sullivan cousins came to town and gathered for a cook-out at the home of their sister Elta Farrar. Such an occasion called for LOTS of folding chairs.

About that same time, our family hosted SOMETHING in the backyard but I do not know what. We must have expected a crowd because my dad brought over the more substantial porch furniture from my grandmother’s house next door.

What a nice collection of classic aluminum chairs
with green and white webbing!
Our backyard on Gillis Rd, Portsmouth, VA
There's my grandmother and my sister.
Momma has her back to us. 

Me in my Dorothy Hamill haircut
and Jordan just growing hers

September 1981 found members of my Lamaze class enjoying each other’s babies at a little reunion. We put those folding chairs through their paces reuniting for several years: our babies’ first birthday, second birthday, until well, those chairs were folded up for good as Lamaze reunions began to feel rather silly and everyone went their separate ways.

Folding chairs with traditional webbing and with the longer-lasting
wood slats. Low chairs were perfect for the beach.
Bottom right is a peek at the then-NEW lounge chair with vinyl straps.
We thought they were great but boy were they heavy and did they rust!

The folding chair may not be as charming as the wicker chair

Grandaunt Helen Killeen holding her nephew John Holland
Left and right: my grandmother Julia Walsh and
Mae Killeen Holland

or as comfortable as the Adirondack,

Steve and Cat Barany
at their home in Washington DC

but folding chairs have demonstrated their staying power when it comes to outdoor living.

 

Wendy and Barry on the dock
Smith Mountain Lake

Thank-you, Fredric Arnold!

Grab a chair and enjoy more fun reads at Sepia Saturday.

Wendy

© 2017, Wendy Mathias.  All rights reserved.

Sepia Saturday: Where Were You?

Sepia Saturday challenges bloggers to share family history through old photographs.

This week’s Sepia Saturday prompt depicting a young boy watering his garden left me discouraged. That is because three years ago I shared my only story of a watering can and children tending their garden. But I did not worry long. After all, I have photos of rock walls.

Unfortunately, I have no story to go with them. They are just simple photos of my grandaunt Violetta Davis (later Ryan), a cousin I recognize, and men that I don’t.

While Violetta did not extend me the courtesy of labeling names or location, she did include the date on every single one of these photos: June 29, 1919. Amazing - just a couple weeks shy of 98 years ago that Violetta and her friends went wherever they went to do whatever they did.

It was a Sunday. What was going on in the world?

The Treaty of Versailles was signed the day before, bringing “the Great War” to an end. Big news day! Throughout the United States, newspaper headlines read much like the one in the New York Times.

In other cities, the peace treaty took second billing to news that the liquor ban would not be lifted.

In Leavenworth, Kansas, reports about the signing, the German outrage, and the liquor issue took equal billing along with stories about a drunk driver and about a prisoner who made a daring escape from the Leavenworth jail disguised as a soldier.

The forging of world peace was not the only headline-grabber that day. Still above the fold was the announcement of states voting to ratify the 19^th Amendment granting women the right to vote. It would be another year before the required 2/3 majority of states ratifying was achieved.

Those were exciting times. And on that day, my grandaunt was just standing by a rock wall. 

Violetta (left) and possibly her cousin Leota Sullivan
29 June 1919 

Knowing my grandaunt Violetta the way that I did, I am positive no one was more excited about being able to vote than she was even though she was only 16 when the amendment was ratified. Violetta was a liberated woman long before women burned their bras. She preached the importance of girls getting an education and being able to make their way in the world without having to rely on a man for money.

Violetta as a student 1922
Harrisonburg Teachers College

Don’t just stand there. There is more to read above the fold at Sepia Saturday.

Wendy

© 2017, Wendy Mathias.  All rights reserved.

Sepia Saturday: A Miserable Man

Sepia Saturday challenges bloggers to share family history through old photographs.

The miserable man in this week’s Sepia Saturday photo surely was never as miserable as the ex-husband of my great-grandaunt Sallie Jollett Clift. I have written several times about George Clift. Suffice it to say, the man’s story fascinates me as much as it infuriates me.

 

George and Sallie Jollett Clift
Vernon and Daisey
about 1895

If you don’t care to read all the details HERE, HERE, and HERE, the Cliff Notes version (or CLIFT Notes, har har yeah I kill me) is this: George and Sallie had five children. The first two died as youngsters from injuries in a house fire well before the other three came along. Over the years George enjoyed several affairs while at home he became verbally and physically abusive, even threatening Sallie and their little girl Alda with a gun. In 1914, Sallie found George’s love letters to various women and used them to obtain a divorce and a modest monthly check for child support. To make ends meet, Sallie rented out some rooms, mostly to men who worked for the railroad there in Shenandoah. A cloud of suspicion arose about poor Sallie with neighbors whispering that she was running a bawdy house. Not so, but there it is.

It must have been that gun incident that landed George in jail in Luray, Virginia in 1914, where he became reflective about his life. There he wrote this poem that at times makes me pity him because he obviously loved and missed those sweet children lost in the fire; in other verses the same ol’ mean and miserable man raises his ugly head. I can only shake mine and roll my eyes.

4/15/14

A Song of Reflection

Writen in the Luray Jail By G. T. Clift

(1)

Kid I am sad and lonely

Since from me you ran away

And I feel you would forgive me

If you could see me here today.

(2)

And now I set and wonder

If you think this is right

I no if you could see me

That it would change your plight.

(3)

Twenty two long years dear Wifey

Since we came to old luray

And today my hart is sadist

While I was happy on that day.

(4)

It seems you have forsaken me

For someone else to roam

While I set here in prison

You are happy in my home.

(5)

I no you feel delighted

To have me in a prison cell

And I fear when you reach heaven

They send you Back to hell.

(6)

Some day you will die

You don’t know when that will be

And as the angels do come in

I think you will send for me.

(7)

It was right here in this town

In eighteen ninety two

That I forgot my sweetheart

And went and married you.

(8)

You promist you would love me

And all my words obey

And Friday you had me arrested

And I am in Jail today.

(9)

Today it brings me sorrow

And Some Kind of regret

I have two children up in heaven

And three on earth as yet.

(10)

It was on that fatal day

In eighteen ninety seven

My darling Boy he left me

And went on up to heaven.

(11)

Then there was little daisy

The pride of my life

Was all I had to love me

Except a scolding wife.

(12)

But the angels allso loved her

And I suppose they thought it Best

For Just seventeen years today

Since she went to heaven to rest.

(13)

Shore is nothing in this world

For Whitch I need to care

But I know up in heaven

I have two darlings there.

(14)

Vernon was a sweet treasure

And dear Daisey was the same

How I loved & cherished Both

Till that death angel came.

(15)

Today they are Both in heaven

A singin around the throne

Wondering why Dear Papa

Was driven from his home.

(16)

But while in this lonely prison

George Thomas Clift

I sometimes think I see

Those two dear darling angels

A hovering over me.

(17)

I love those five dear children

Both the living & the dead

While I am here in prison

The scandals on your head.

(18)

But now I have grown old

My limbs are getting frail

A railroad man is in my home

And old Geo. Clift in jail.

Good by. Write soon.

Write soon?! What was he thinking?

George couldn’t spell worth a lick, but he sure could crank out a rhyme.

  

Don’t let this story leave you miserable because there are many fun stories from my friends at Sepia Saturday.

Wendy

© 2017, Wendy Mathias.  All rights reserved.

Sepia Saturday: The Slade Family Tree

Sepia Saturday challenges bloggers to share family history through old photographs.

For every family historian and genealogist, this week’s Sepia Saturday photo of a tree is the iconic symbol of “the family tree” with its roots to the past holding firm, its numerous branches spreading out in all directions, and its individual leaves added anew every year. The title of this post might then make you think you’re in for a snoozefest through the Slade lineage. Not so.

Here is the only photo I have of my father’s paternal grandmother, Mary Morrison Slade. She is standing in front of a Weeping Willow tree in the front yard of my grandparents’ home in the community called Cradock in Portsmouth, Virginia.

 

Great Grandmother Mary Morrison Slade mid-1940s
Portsmouth, Virginia

Even though she died when I was 8, I have no memory of her. She was probably extremely debilitated by dementia and therefore my parents kept me from her. Apparently she had been that way for many years. My dad said that even as a young man he often had to break a date to go look for his grandmother when she wandered and got lost. 

Mary Morrison Slade was widowed at the age of 49 in 1928, the same year my dad was born. Often I have wondered how widows managed in the days before it was common for women to work and have their own income. In 1930, Grandma Slade was the head of household in a house she rented on Henry Street. One son, two daughters and one son-in-law were there too. The only one with a job was the son-in-law.  

In 1940 Mary was living at 416 Randolph Street. According to the 1940 census, this was the same house where she lived in 1935, which tells me she had moved there between 1930 and 1935. Maybe the move was driven by finances because the house she rented in 1930, just a street away, was $20 a month. The “new” house, which she rented for $11 a month, was next door to her sister Effie and her husband Henry Hanrahan. 

 

from Wikimedia Commons
This is NOT where Mary Slade worked, but it is a typical 
sewing project factory or workroom.

Grandma Slade, born in Tennessee, had completed 5 years of school. During her married life, she was always the wife of a farmer, but now she was a working woman employed in the government-sponsored WPA sewing project. The specific job appears to be “Iron lady,” but the handwriting in the 1940 census is unclear. Her statement that she was unemployed for 65 weeks prior to March 1940 contradicts the statement that she worked 52 weeks in 1939 earning $780. She claimed no other source of income.

The Work Project Administration (WPA) was part of the New Deal effort to put people to work. The sewing project was specifically designed for women who were considered unemployed heads of household either because they were widowed, abandoned, or disabled. The sewing project was the lowest paid position, but women received training in using sewing machines. They made clothing, bedding, and supplies for hospitals and orphanages. Grandma Slade is the first ancestor I’ve found who was employed under the New Deal. 

I do not know where Grandma Slade was living when she posed in front of the tree in my grandparents’ yard. The Weeping Willow certainly made a nice backdrop for photos though. On the evening of my Aunt Betty’s music recital, she and her friend Jackie posed there too.

Jackie and Betty

Don’t weep. There are many more stories and old photos of trees at Sepia Saturday.

Wendy

© 2017, Wendy Mathias.  All rights reserved.