Things to follow up

I’ve finished re-typing Aunt Laura’s “Chronicles.”  Phew—13 pages.  It was good for me.  Back in college I studied for exams by typing my notes.  There seems to be a more direct link between my fingers and my brain than my eyes and my brain.  Some odds and ends that I will be researching more as a result of reading her chronicle:

The Lytle children, at least the girls, seem to have bounced from the Children’s Home to their mother and grandmother and back several times.  I’ve asked for the records of the children from Summit County and received a very positive call from a “records liaison.”    She said records of that age are on microfiche, stored in another state, but she has put in the request and they are being searched for.  She told me if the records can be found, I can expect to see the dates the children were in the home, school records, who visited them, that sort of stuff.  I expect to hear on this front in the next three to four weeks.

Aunt Laura makes a statement to the effect the three girls had to leave the Home because my Dad had to leave when he was sixteen and no longer age qualified.  I’d like to understand more of why his leaving caused their leaving.   I hope there's a hint in the Children's Home records.

Because I assumed the girls went to St. Joseph’s in Cleveland, which is run by Immaculate Heart of Mary, Aunt Ruth’s order, I wrote the Cleveland Catholic Diocese requesting available records.  But, have not heard one word.  Aunt Laura’s chronicle covers those school years very well, and she said she and Ruth were placed at the Good Shepherd Convent in Cleveland and finished school there.  So, that is settled.  As a footnote to Aunt Laura’s story of their high school years, I have a note from my cousin Marge, Aunt Helen Rita’s daughter, that says Aunt Gen took Aunt Ruth out of the Children’s Home in her teens to help Aunt Gen with her sons, so Aunt Gen could work.  Aunt Gen repaid Aunt Ruth by subsidizing nursing school for Aunt Ruth.  Aunt Gen is one of my father’s aunts with whom we were not close during my childhood; my dad accounted her one of the several relatives who steered Aunt Ruth firmly toward taking orders.  Dad always felt she deserved a better life; Aunt Ruth always felt she had a wonderful life.

The great-great grandparents of the five Lytle children were born in Ireland.  Aunt Laura places both husband and wife from Cork.  I have some genealogy work that shows John Maley from County Cork, but his wife, Elizabeth Mulholland from Kilrea Parish in Northern Ireland.  Given the geographical distance, the times (the potato famine in full sway) and the poverty of the country, I assumed they had met emigrating, or in this country.  Aunt Laura says Elizabeth Mulholland was an accomplished mid-wife and John Maley is believed to have been a doctor.  I hope to work this out in the favor of my dad, who was labeled a Shanty Irishman by my mother’s grandmother!  Perhaps instead of starving peasants they were young professionals of the age.  I am grateful that so many starving families were able to emigrate from Ireland and all of Europe as the stupidity of many governments caused death and destruction of millions.  But--wouldn't it be fun to know that superiority is as superiority does, grandma Troike!

Aunt Laura wrote over 8,000 words, and I decided not to edit any out.  I’ve always found a lovely Irish lilt to her phrasing.  We corresponded for years; both of us loved to write.  So, I will post her chronicle in several logical sections.  You won’t be disappointed. And no, none of her letters to me remain.  Too soon old, too late wise, as the proverb says.

Kilrea, County Londonderry, Ireland

From Wikipedia

Letter dated November 3, 1980 to Kathleen from Margaret Ruth Lytle/Sister Ruth

My cousin Kathleen found and sent me an essay by Aunt Laura entitled “My Chronicles.”  There are twelve pages to be transcribed; many pages of detail of her childhood and her brothers and sisters.  So, before I post Aunt Laura’s account, here is the brief account Aunt Ruth wrote when Kathleen asked her aunts to give her a description of their childhood.

Aunt Ruth is the next to youngest sister of my father.  Like Aunt Helen Rita, the youngest, Aunt Ruth was kind, gentle, soft-spoken.  Aunt Ruth was a nun, in the Immaculate Heart of Mary order.  I always felt that Aunt Ruth was moderate and gentle through training; Aunt Helen Rita was so by true nature.  Aunt Ruth was witty and funny and had a store of jokes to rival Uncle Bill’s. Aunt Ruth was a nurse and worked for years at St. Thomas Hospital in Akron.  At the end of her career, she taught nursing. 

She made the change to teaching in the early 1970’s, and approached me at a family gathering.  Dress policies were changing, nuns were appearing in less restrictive habits and even in regular street clothing.  Aunt Ruth was about to exchange her veil for a less restrictive headdress that would, oh horror, reveal her hair to be white.  She wondered if I could explain how to go about dyeing hair, as she thought she could better keep order among students if she looked younger.  I don’t remember if she dyed or not—I always remember her hair as white as Uncle Bill’s.

Aunt Ruth drove, and was responsible for taking other order members to appointments, shopping, and so forth.  She worked her driving responsibilities so that she could spend time with family.  When Aunt Ruth “retired” to her mother house in Monroe, Michigan, she drove back to Northeastern Ohio to visit family, and my mother often drove to Monroe with Aunt Helen Rita, Aunt Laura or Uncle Bill to visit her.

There was an annual rummage sale in Monroe, and Jan and I often sent woven rugs and other stock for the sale.  On a visit we asked Mother Superior if the nuns had enjoyed any of the contents of our boxes and Mother Superior said, “Oh, we can’t afford to buy any of it!”  We were shocked.  The next annual box contained the instruction that nothing went to the rummage sale until every nun had taken everything she wanted.  Then when we visited around the rooms with Aunt Ruth we found rugs on the floors and thanks for the warm feet in the morning.  I’m sorry; no one should have to deal with cold linoleum!

My best and final Aunt Ruth, and then on to her narrative. She died as unexpectedly as mom; went to bed with a cold and just gone.  We went to Monroe for her funeral and the nuns were so happy; Aunt Ruth’s funeral mass would be conducted by a visiting priest, his visit coinciding.  We visited with one of Aunt Ruth’s especial friends, too ill to leave her room. She said she had prayed for three days to die next so she could be buried for eternity beside Ruth.  But, Sister Ann had passed just that morning.  When we went to the cemetery I felt I was at Arlington.  Rows and rows and rows.  There was majesty in the beauty of a cemetery of rows and rows of lives of service.

Letter dated November 3, 1980 to Kathleen-Margaret Ruth Lytle/Sister Ruth-memories….

You probably have heard your mother remember that not much about our childhood was really happy!

Mom used to take us to the Perkins Woods quite often on Sundays.  We had picnic dinners and our chief amusement consisted of rolling down the hills or using the swings and sliding boards.  Often we visited the zoo (at Perkins Woods.)  The foxes’ dens smelt so terrible, we were glad to get away from them.

Even though we were “everybody’s kids,” I felt I belonged to no one.  Our relatives tried to do a good job of making us “hate” our parents.  They said our Dad “was no darn good” and Mom “could care less.”  (I know now that our Dad was dying with tuberculosis, and he probably didn’t want to contaminate us, so he just left home and went to Colorado Springs…where the weather was better for him.  (He died before I got to know him.)

We lived with Grandma (Hogue) for a while, but when things got too difficult for her (18 people living there) we moved out.  We lived so many places I can’t keep track of them.  (I only know Mom moved just about every time the rent was due.)

We were put in the Children’s Home because she couldn’t take care of us.  (I think we were being put up for adoption, but Grandma took us back with her.)

Shortly after we left the Children’s Home, Grandma told us we were going to visit in Cleveland.  She and Aunt Eva took Laura, Helen Rita and me to the Convent Orphanage.  (That was the best thing that ever happened to us, but at the time we detested their deception.)

However, we survived, hale and hearty, and lived to tell the tale.  Isn’t it tremendous what kids can live through.

At Jan's wedding in 1984

In the back line, me, our cousin (2nd) Pat from Texas, Aunt Helen Rita, her daughter Elaine, Aunt Ruth, Uncle Bill

Seated front, Aunt Helen Rita's daughter Marge and her husband Tom

From Grandma Lytle to Shelly

Mom wrote this informational narrative to my daughter, who was assembling genealogical information.  Tommy and Jimmy are mom’s cousins, sons of Grandma Rolf’s brother, Elmore.  Ruby is their mother.  I found some more Rolf vacation snap shots and put them in a reasonably appropriate place.   And, this 1921 labeled by my Uncle Hank.

Letter from Grandma Lenore Lytle to Shelly, May 11, 1990

Dear Shelly

Tommy sent the information I asked for.  Aunt Ruby’s first marriage was to Elmore.  She had an unusual middle name for a girl.  She was an only child.  Her Mother was a widow and married a man by the last name of KOESTLE.

You said Laura’s genealogy listed occupations.  Uncle Elmore was a “moving picture” operator at the Denison Theater on 25^th Street.

Grandma (Lenore) kept a boarding house for the operators of Selzer Ave. because Grandpa Cox (Melvin) was a painter and work was non-existent in the winter.

My father was a watchmaker and was an apprentice in that trade for several years.  In 1923 he went out on his own in the front bedroom at 5214 21^st St. in Cleveland.  Later, he converted the double garage into a shop and assembled clock movements for the Service Records Co.  It is still in business.  The instruments were mainly in the then fledgling trucking industry.  Drivers were paid for running time at one rate and standing time at another.  My Dad also developed other clocks for other purposes.  The biggest headache was to get a strong enough spring in a small enough space to run the clock for 72 hours.  Times have changed.  Now we throw watches away and buy a new one.

Grandma Rolf work alongside Grandpa and was the driving force in his success.  She never let him get discouraged.  She made the deliveries of fixed watches and clocks to the many jewelry stores in Cleveland.  Dad took care of the Grandfather clocks because he had to reassemble the clock when he repaired the clock movement in his shop.

Henry and I cleaned many a clock movement in high-test gas with a solvent to prevent explosions.  Even though we were warned to keep the door and windows open, we occasionally disobeyed.  It didn’t take long to get “high”.  However, we were reminded over and over of the danger so we pretty much “obeyed”.  Guess that’s why I’m still here.

Dad employed my Grandfather Lou Troike’s next door neighbor Wilbur Ludwig, two men he had trained—Harry Maxwell and Eddies Jenkins (only had one eye). Eddies was my secret hero when I was in the 8^th grade.  My Maxwell had polio as a youngster and was on crutches.  Also, a young diabetic boy worked, but I can’t remember his name.

Back in the 30’s no one had much money.  WPA was the form of employment for many men.  Dad repaired alarm clocks at 25c and that’s what kept him going during the worst of the depression.  Then the Lewis Recorder hired him as a contractor and things got better.

Great Grandpa Rolf (Walter Ernst Rolf) loved to travel.  He would love all these highways.  Guess I got my wandering feet from him.  He never was much of a church goer, but, the Broadview Baptist Church and everyone around him benefitted from his generosity.  No one in the neighborhood went hungry.  He was most happy when everyone around him finally recovered from the depression and got off WPA.

Uncle Hank, tourist

Mom, 1933.  Another vacation, I'm sure

Great Grandma Rolf (Ethel) quit school after 9^th grade.  Algebra was enough for her.  She went to work at 16 as a cashier at May Co. downtown.  Money was needed at home.  Typhoid, scarlet fever, and other contagious diseases were the order of the day.  Rows of houses had signs on them.  I don’t know how the well people fared.  They had to stay elsewhere.  Bring groceries and leave them on the steps.  The Mom of the house really had it rough.  She was quarantined too and had to take care of the ill.  Uncle Elmore was about 18 when he had typhoid.  He managed to survive.

Before the stock market crash of 1929, Dad helped an unemployed carpenter by having him build a cottage in the Sheffield Lake Village off Route 2 East of Lorain.  We cousins had a lot of fun with our friends.  Tommy and Jimmy built a miniature golf course in the vacant lot between our two cottages.  You had to pay a penny to play.

Mom (right) and Uncle Hank at the cottage, 1932

We had Catholic neighbors behind us.  Of course, our parents went to Cleveland every day to work.  The mothers went in once a week to do laundry (no Laundromats) and we all were on our own.  We didn’t go swimming that day even if it wasn’t raining.  I was about 12 or 13 and younger than the 4 Catholic girls.  I had to go and hold their hands when it stormed and they were alone.  Never could figure out why they were so scared.  Always felt their religion should see them through any problem.  They went to Church every Sunday.  I didn’t go in the summertime.  Once in a while a visiting preacher would come to the dance hall and the community would attend.

As for me, I finally grew up.  I graduated from James Ford Rhodes in Jan. 1936.  I turned 18 the next month.  I went to a Burroughs Calculator School.  I had to be the fastest operator because I was the only one who had a watch.  I had to get done so I could time the rest of the students.  Good thing my Dad was a watchmaker.

I went to work at Bailey Wallpaper Co. in May, 1936 at 33 dollars a month.  My own claim to fame at that job was helping to set up Social Security.  I typed up those little cards for the employees.

I met your Grandfather through a neighbor who lived on our street.  Daisy Haupt knew Frank Neillie from WPA days.  She helped Laura and Frank and the three children (girls).  Again, neighbors helping neighbors.  Laura and Frank lived in Independence and we would all congregate there to play “Armbusters”.  You removed all valuables from your arms because 10 or more people playing solitaire can get quite hectic.  Iris, another neighbor, and I always made food to take.  We had to hide the cake in the trunk because Henry and Mike Baehm would eat the nuts and or the frosting.

Daisy and Don built a house on Valley Rd. and your grandfather helped wire it.

By the way, Grandfather went into the Army at 17.  He was medically discharged in 1931 and he always said 1932 was the year he didn’t eat.  He did manage to accumulate tools.  Walter still has most of them.  He had been a radio operator and instructor in the Army.  When he couldn’t get a job at the radio station in Cleveland, he got on a wheat carrying freighter on the Great Lakes.  He stayed there until he got caught in a cable and flipped overboard and broke his ankle.  He stayed with Daisy and Don, but I didn’t meet him then even though I walked past his house every morning and he would come to Dad’s shop to pass the time.

He went to work at Babcox and Wilcox in Barberton.  By then, Laura and Frank put two voting booths together and called it home.  We managed to meet there in late 1941.  We were engaged by Easter 1942 and married in June.  He wanted to be married before he was 35.  His birthday was in August.

When I was pregnant with your mother, he got the last work release issued by B&W and went to work for Goodyear Aircraft.

He always felt that he had been born in a wonderful time.  He had come into the horse and buggy age and went out in the middle of the Space Age.

Enough memories for one day.  There are more good ones than otherwise.  I’m grateful.  Love, Grandma

Walter E. Rolf trips

At Quaker Oats on the way to Niagara Falls.  In front to back pairs, Uncle Hank, Grandma Rolf.  My mother is the young girl in front of her tall father, Walter Rolf.  Beside Walter, Grandpa Cox.  In front of him, Grandma Cox.  And assorted friends and other relatives, including Grandpa Rolf's step-father, Lou Troike. 

My mother saw a deal of the country as a child in the late ‘20’s and 1930’s because her father loved to travel.  He packed up more than his family.  These were group excursions, friends and relatives, travelling in vacation convoys.  My grandfather looks quite the expansive and ebullient patriarch in these pictures; I see him as a Teddy Roosevelt, Rough Rider kind of expedition leader.  Mom’s grandparents, Grandma and Grandpa Cox were generally along on these trips.  Grandpa Cox didn’t drive.  Grandma Cox didn’t drive well.  Car transmissions were standard shift back then.  Marcia could navigate the flat well, but the hills were iffy.  To solve this, her car was always between two others.  Her standard instruction was to shift to neutral and be pushed up the hills by the trailing car and go down the hill on the bumper of the lead car.  Apparently it was a standard and well oiled routine for all of them. 

Marcia Cox and Ethel Rolf at Niagara Falls

I understood mom’s stories of Tourist Camps; we passed a lot of these highway cabins and motels in my own family vacationing in the 1950’s.  The link is to an excellent description of tourist accommodations and dining in the 1930’s.   Mom said on their trip west in 1936 she ate cherry pie for breakfast every morning.  My Grandma Rolf told me that Uncle Hank was a difficult eater, who, to her mortification, exclusively ordered mashed potatoes and water.  She only got substantial food into him when she could make him a sandwich from the provender of a grocery store.

Uncle Hank, Grandma Rolf (at the car), unknown friend.

Grandpa Rolf had a movie camera on the great trip west in 1936.  There are hours and hours of moving pictures of scenery. In black and white. In the entire film the one scene with people was my grandmother, mother and uncle emerging from a trading post.  Ten seconds of footage.

The surviving souvenirs of the great trip came from trading posts.  When my grandmother sold her house, most of the Apache trays, olla’s, rugs and pots were packed away at my parents’ house, then sent to my house, where all remained packed away except one large olla, where we threw our wet mittens and scarves every winter.  The souvenirs all moved in here with us and kicked around for a few years until I decided to send them to a more appreciative home via EBay.  The prices the baskets brought were astounding, and even after I took a severe email lashing from someone who could not believe the olla “had been the family junk basket for over one hundred years,” in its very deteriorated condition it sold for several hundred dollars.  As did the pots and rugs.  A winnowing tray was the real sleeper, and as a bonus, we sent the purchaser a tape of the hours and hours of moving scenery from the great trip west.

Mom remained a great traveler and commandeered children and grandchildren for annual vacations.  In 1980 we took our own great trip west, to make another visit to Yellowstone and to see Mt. St. Helens.  Somewhere in Wyoming mom looked out from the interstate and said “Look.  Over there.  It’s the road we took in 1936."  A snaking little road way down in the valley, climbing up the mountain.  We left at the next exit, worked down to the road and took it for the rest of the day.  It was serious, tiring, hand over hand mountain driving. We had a flat on the camper trailer on the mountain and I off-loaded ten kids to the other side of the guard rail while it was being repaired.  A rattle snake backed us all up to the guard rail and we climbed up and just took it all in.  I could just see Grandpa Rolf, jaunty pipe, leaning back in the seat and leading his expedition.

Colchium - Fall blooming lilies

We call them air blooming lilies.

These flowers have been at every home I’ve lived in.  My dad had interesting flowers in his gardens.  Black tulips.  Oriental poppies.  But air blooming lilies were his especial joy.  In the fall he dug some up and gifted his fellow workers, any neighbor who didn’t have a bed of them, the mail man, the Fuller Brush man, the Seventh Day Adventists…    Plant them, but not deep.  In the spring you’ll find broad green leaves.  After the leaves die back, cut them off and just wait for:

Dad left these planted at my home on Strawberry Lane, and at our home on Andover Drive.  Both those have been so extensively remodeled; I wonder if the owners recognized their little treasures and saved them.  We all brought a shovel full to this house.  Twenty three years later the bed is packed full when they are all blooming.  It needs dug up and spread around.  We say that every year, but none of us seem up to it.

These caused a disturbance in the family, I learned (from my grandmother), when the first bulb came home in 1946 or 47.  They apparently were newly introduced, at least to northeastern Ohio, and dad needed one.  He located it at a nursery called Wayside Gardens, which remains in business, I see.  He paid $3.00 for one bulb, the grandsire of all we have today.  His weekly salary was $32.50.  Mother was not pleased.  But they're over five dollars a bulb, these days.

 Enjoy the weather, and the lilies.