HARD TIMES FOR THE CLARKS

We had been married about 2 years, and decided to move to Hillsboro, Oregon. Before that we had been in Sweet Home, Oregon where Bob started the learning process to be a baker while working with my dad in his bakery. We found out that he could go to work in Portland in an apprentice position in a bakery under the G.I. Bill, and draw a small salary while learning. This sounded good to us, and we decided to take a chance on it. We were so poor that we had no funds in the bank, and had to be very careful to make it from pay day to pay day. Being right after the war, there were no houses or apartments to rent, so we decided to see if we could buy one. We found this little tiny "chicken coop" of a house, so we sold our old car to make the down payment. The seller of the house was going to carry the papers, and told us that our payment would be $145 per month, plus a percentage per annum. Both Bob and I thought that percentage was once a year on the balance. Ha ! It was every month on top of the $145. I can remember crying the first month when I took the payment to the landlord and he advised me that I owed another $40. He was a kind man and waited until we could scrape that $40 together.

Bob was working 30 miles away in Portland and we had no car, so he had to ride the bus to and from work each day. In our house we had an unfinished kitchen with a sink and one cupboard in it. There was no cabinet below the sink. I got some material and hung a skirt around it so that it was not open for all to see. There was linoleum on the front room floor, and a little tin stove in that room. It gave very little heat.

We had lost a full term child our first year while we were in Sweet Home. Now we were expecting another child and this house was certainly not a good place to be. Some friends had an 8 x 10 rug and gave us that to cover the floor. We had an antique electric stove that we had previously purchased, but the house was not wired for 220, so we could not use it. Friends had a 3 burner gas stove that we were using. I was working for the gas company, and when we got enough money to bring in the 220 wire so we could use our electric stove I nearly lost my job with the gas company. They felt I should have been faithful to the gas company.

Pretty soon we were able to scrape together enough to buy an old Hudson car, and were we ever proud. We had only had it a couple of days when we went to pick up our friends Glenn and Liz to take them for a ride. When we were taking them home, some kids crossed the highway and hit us, turning the car over on its side. I was hysterical because I was so afraid I would lose this baby too. Liz was also pregnant and had a bad bump on the head. I had a broken arm, but was OK otherwise. Now we are again without a car.

In January our beautiful little daughter Linda was born and only a week or less after that, the bakery that Bob was working for laid him off. business dropped suddenly after Christmas and they didn't feel they needed him. Times were tough ! Bob's Dad had an old oil heater stored in a shed at their house and brought it over for us to have some good heat to keep the baby warm.

Eventually Bob did find some work and we were able to save enough to buy a refrigerator to keep Linda's milk cold. I had no washing machine so each day would fill up the wash tub and with a scrub board would do the daily diapers and hang them out on the line to dry. After about 3 months of that my sweet aunt Agnes came over one day and was shocked to see me washing on a scrub board. She said she had an old ringer washer in storage and would get it out and give it to me. What a blessing that was !

Not too long after that Bob went back into the Navy because the Korean War was on, and he felt he would be drafted. He had been in the Navy Air and wanted to get back into that. Things went some better after that for this family. We knew what it was to be poor, and always appreciated what we had when things got better for us.

WORLD WAR-2

Having lived on this earth for 81 years I have seen a lot of changes . During world war-2 we could not buy meat, canned goods, butter, cheeese, or even shoes without producing stamps to purchase them. Each family was authorized a certain amount of blue stamps for canned goods, and red ones for meat or dairy products. As I recall, we could have two pair of shoes a year, but most of the tops on ladies shoes were made from cloth, not leather. My dad worked in the shipyard, which was considered an essential job, and he was allowed stamps to purchase gasoline for his car so that he could drive back and forth to work from our home in Hillsboro, Oregon to Portland five days a week. If he carried passengers he received some bonus stamps. We did a lot of walking in those days, and only used the car when it was absolutely necessary.

Dad's real profession was a baker, so when Bob and I were going to get married dad was going to decorate our wedding cake for us. We decided to let the local baker make the cake, but he did not put the icing on it. In order to get him to bake our cake we had to furnish the eggs, shortening and the sugar to make it. We skimped on sugar for other things for a long time prior to the wedding so that we would have enough sugar for all the decorations. Dad raised about 10 chickens in a coop in our back yard, so we always had nice fresh eggs.

As it got dark in the evenings we had to draw all shades on the windows so that no light would shine through. People in the neighborhood took turns being "neighborhood wardens". We would have an assigned section of the neighborhood that was walked every evening, and if we saw a glimmer of a light we would go to the door and alert the residents to get that shade pulled properly so that there was no light shining through. This , of course was so that if any enemy planes were to fly overhead at night, they could not see the cities below.

Most people had minimal training so that they could sit in the air-raid post too. When you were on duty you had to be sure to stay awake, and if you heard any plane fly overhead, you tried to spot it. We had diagrams of the various types of U.S. military planes, and we would try to see how many engines were on those planes for identification. If it was too dark or cloudy, the little building in which we served as spotters had a phone, and we would call in to report the direction the plane was flying so that people who knew what was up there would know if it was enemy or friendly.

I was in high school during those years, and girls in high school all wore anklet socks, never hose. That was because we couldn't find any to buy. One time I went to a senior tea in which we were instructed to dress up in heels and hose. I recall that because I didn't own any hose, I borrowed some from my mom, and she always wore a corset (another thing of the past). On the corset she had suspender-type things to hook onto the hose to hold them up. I was very thin and couldn't wear the corset, so she made me some garters out of elastic. I'd pull up the hose and make a roll with the socks. The elastic band inside that roll was to hold the hose up. I think that miserable experience was what convinced me to never again wear hose. The few socks that ladies would find to buy were made of silk. It was after the war that the first nylon hose came out, and ladies used to line up to get a pair of those beautiful inventions.

If you had a car with worn tires, you were pretty much out of luck. There were no tires to be purchased. That was the case for 2 or 3 years after the war ended, and did become quite a problem for people who needed replacements. That was the time when the retreads came out. You would take in your old worn tires and they would put new tread on them. I can remember seeing the first new car after the war. It was a 1946 Chrysler. Everyone wanted to see and touch that beautiful piece of machinery with so much chrome that when the sun shone on it, it nearly put your eyes out.

Some of you youngsters probably don't even know about what we went through during those days, and many of the older group has forgotten some of the trying times we had. But everyone was very patriotic, loving their country and the military personnel who were risking their lives for us, and we did not complain. We are so lucky to live in the good old U.S.A. and maybe this little story will remind us how fortunate we are .

EARLY ALASKA LIVING

For years Bob and I had our own Bakery in Juneau, Alaska. We grew from a tiny little "hole in the wall" to a two oven, two mixer large bakery. We were sending bread to neighboring islands , and supplying a good share of the homes in Juneau. Bob learned to bake from my Dad who was a top notch baker. We were in business when you did everything from scratch. There were not all of these mixes that bakeries use today. If you've never eaten real danish pastry, you've missed a lot. Dad invented a danish donut that was the best thing you ever put into your mouth. When Dad was out of the bakery, Bob continued to make those danish donuts one day a week. They were so much work that he only took the time to make them once a week. People would stand in line to get those donuts.

Bob was also a good cake decorator, and did many wedding cakes and other special occasion cakes for our city. Linda was very young then, but would stand on a box beside her Dad and watch him decorate. Bob would turn a cake pan upside down and let her ice it and decorate it like a real cake. She was very good, and in no time could decorate better than many who call themselves bakers.

Our bakery had a large, full basement that was always damp. When the tides were high, some of the sea water would leak through cracks in the basement walls. This was a perfect enviornment for unwanted pests. We kept on our payroll a man that we called the "rat man" because that was his only job. He used to sleep under the docks, and learned all about rats and termites. He had a key to our place and would come in a night or two every week to keep the rat population down. This probably sounds pretty gross to those of you who have never lived on the water front. But, in Juneau, the whole town was built up on piling and the water was under the streets and buildings of the entire down town. If the tide was out, you could go down under there and walk the "beach" under all the stores. No one would do that for fun, because the odors were not good.

We had a good old friend who brought Bob a gift one day. It was a little sawed off pistol that he said would fire very quietly. Some times the rats would get brave and come up out of the basement and we would see one in the shop. When that would happen, Bob would get that little pistol, and would signal me to get ready. You need to know that we had a restaurant too, and there were always people in there having coffee and eating some of our goodies. When Bob would signal me to get ready, I would get a stack of 3 or 4 full sheet pans, which were very large, and I would stand holding them until Bob would fire that little pistol at the intruder. When he fired, I would drop that pile of pans at the same time, and everyone in the shop would jump and wonder what happened. I'd just pop out into the area where the people were trying to see what happened, and I would say," I just dropped a pan of empty pans, everything is OK. "

We moved to Juneau in 1957, before it became a State. We used to keep a stack of counter checks beside the cash register, and people would come in and write a check for their purchases. You might be surprised to know that we never had bad checks. Some time, toward the end of the month when finances were running short, we might get an NSF check, but after the 1st of the month, we'd run it through again and it would be good. Most people were not excited about becoming a State. I recall that after we were officially named the State of Alaska the people built a huge bonfire at the area we called the sub-port, and that night hundreds went there to take part in the bon fire " celebration." We all stood around the fire, holding hands, and it was like a wake. People were not talking or singing, but acted as if an old friend had just died. There was a lot of sadness that night. We didn't know what to expect now that we would be considered officially one of the States.

Living in Juneau in those days was certainly different than it was a few years later when it modernized with the times.

MY MOTHER

My Mother came to the United States when she was about 2 years old. Her Father came before she and her mother did. He had to work and make enough money to bring the family from LaHarve France . Mother's mother, Adeline passed away soon after they made it to the United States. Mother's sisters, both older than she, married and were on their own but were also living in Kansas. That was where the family settled because there were many coal mines, and these head of household males were all uneducated and spoke little or not English, and they could get menial jobs.

My mother, Rose went to school through the 3rd grade, then she was pulled from school to stay home and keep house and learn to cook for her dad. Life was not easy for this little girl because her dad would hit the bar when he got off work, and rarely arrived home in a sober state. He had an old horse and buggy, and the horse knew the way home. He'd just tell the horse to "giddeup" and the horse would take him home.

Rosie would have coffee and bread to eat, and rarely had much more than that. One day she decided she could make some bread, and got busy doing what she thought was right. When the bread was finished it did not rise, and it was extremely heavy. When her Dad got home he laughed at her efforts and took a nail and hammer and put it on the wall for all to see. Of course it broke her heart to see that failure displayed so prominently.

When Rosie was allowed to go to a movie on a weekend, it only cost 5cents, and she went whenever she could. She would sit with her feet tucked under the seat so that 0thers could not see that she had no shoes on her feet.

Despite all the drawbacks she grew up to be a very pretty young woman, and when she was 22 she married a fine gentleman and was extremely happy. They left Kansas and went to Oregon where he worked in the logging industry. When my mother was 25 she gave birth to me, Margaret, and was a proud, happy lady, until when I was 15 months old my father was killed in a logging accident. Not only was Rosie devistated to find herself alone, she had no education and did not know how she was going to take care of me. In those days there was no such thing as welfare to help in such a situation. She found herself doing what she knew best, cleaning and cooking for others. She took in washings for the loggers, and did ironings for anyone who needed her help. This is where she met another fine gentleman who married her. His name was Ivan and he cared for me as if I were his blood child. When I was 4-1/2 they provided me with a baby brother, and I loved him so much.

As a family we made many moves during my growing up years. I rarely went to any one school more than a year, and sometimes not even that long. It was depression times and Dad cooked for the logging camps and had to move as the camp work was relocated.

In 1942 Dad was working on the island of Dutch Harbor, Alaska teaching sailors to bake. It was good money, and he liked doing that work. My mom got her first real job working for Birds Eye frozen foods in Hillsboro, Oregon. She worked nights, and I was responsible for watching my brother in the evenings. When I was 16 I was allowed to date, but I could not go out to a movie or any other place unless I took my little brother with me. My first real boyfriend had an old car with a trunk seat, and he got to ride out there while we were inside the one seater car.

This was when my mother started studying for her citizenship. I used to help her memorize the things she had to know when she went for her test. She worked very hard on learning the facts about our government and when she took the test...she passed ! She was so excited to have made it and to be a U. S. Citizen after so many years.

She later took some adult classes to learn basic math problems, and was always able to get a job to support herself. Dad passed away in 1964, but she was able to take care of herself and was proud that she could .

I look back now and think of the days when I was a high school student who thought she knew all about everything, and I used to correct her english from time to time. I recall that she would say that I had the opportunity to go to school and learn those things and she did not. Because I was a "smarty" high school kid, I didn't realize that I probably hurt her feelings many times being that know-it-all girl.

My mother lived to be nearly 90 before she passed away. She lived a good life, even though she worked very hard at times, and we always wondered how someone who was raised on bread and coffee could live to be such a healthy older lady. She defied all the health rules about eating a proper diet.

ALASKA VACATION

When you are a baker, you are lucky to get more than 5 or 6 hours of sleep a night. My husband, Bob used to get up at 2 or 3 a.m. to start his day, and many times he was still working at 6 p.m. One year Labor Day was approaching and the employees were asking to have Saturday off so they could have a long weekend. I talked with Bob and asked him what we were going to do without enough help to operate. He grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen, and on it he wrote GOING FISHING. CLOSED ALL NEXT WEEK. He pasted it on the glass door of the shop.

He called a pilot that he knew and asked him if he could fly us up to Young’s Bay for a week. He said he was available and would carry us up to the mountains, and would pick us up the following week. I had never done anything like that, so it was a real adventure for me. When we got there it was a charming lake with a canoe waiting for us to row it. The Forest Service had this pretty little A-frame cabin for us to stay in. When the pilot flew away we were left there as the only people on the mountain.

The front of the cabin had a huge plexi-glass window, and I found an old bed sheet up there which served as a curtain to cover that window. Bob thought I was silly because there was not another soul anywhere near, but I felt better having the window covered. When I crawled into my sleeping bag,I was located on one side of the room, and Bob was on the other side of the room. It was just a flat board on which we slept—not really a bed.

The table was at the foot of my bunk and I could her little mice crawling in and out of the box of food we had brought for the week. I was determined to be a good sport and not complain about it, so I just buried my head in my sleeping bag and finally fell asleep. Later on I awoke hearing what I thought were mice chewing in the walls. After awhile I realized that there were no double walls. I knew this because before I went to sleep I could see through the cracks. So what was that noise ? I leaned over the edge of the bed and pulled the sheet back to peek outside. THERE was a bear clawing on the walls and looking at me nose to nose. I could not speak out loud I was so frightened, and I could not wake Bob up. He had a gun right beside his bed. I finally got up and went over to his bed and shook him. I was not nice ! I said “some protector you are. You don’t even hear me when I cry for help.”

Bob got up and stepped outside, but saw no bear. Later that night the bear returned and was fiercely tearing at the walls. I put up my cry for help again, and Bob got up again, but each time I looked outside, the bear would jump off the porch and disappear. We finally carried our sleeping bags to the loft. There was a ladder through the ceiling to the loft. I felt much safer sleeping up there the rest of the week. In the morning we could see the claw marks on the wall, and knew why he was doing that. I had put cantaloupe, bacon, and other smelly things in a cooler box fastened to the wall. This was enticing the bear to try to get it.

Each morning we’d go out in the canoe and fish for trout, then come in and fry them up. They were so good. Then we’d nap until late afternoon when we’d go back out on the lake again to fish for some more food for our supper. We caught up on lots of sleep that week, and it was wondeerful. When the sun shines in Alaska, it is truly beautiful, and enjoyable to be able to bask in it.

There was an outhouse some distance from the cabin, and Bob had brought a gun for each of us. I was told to not go up there without my gun. The first day I ignored that order, but after seeing the bear for myself, I learned to shooot that gun, and carried it with me.

That was one of the best week vacation we ever had. It was so wonderful to sleep and eat, and get up when we felt like it. The week went too fast, and the plane was soon there to pick us up. That meant going back to town to work many long hours in the bakery again. The best part of the week was the memories with which we were left.

MOVE TO ALASKA

Our family was living in Salem, Oregon and Bob was working in a downtown bakery. One day we got a letter from my mom and dad asking us to come to Alaska. Dad was having problems with his eyes, and he was going to just sell the bakery for “peanuts” unless we could come to help him out for a year. He wanted to go to Seattle and have surgery on his eyes, and have the rest of the year to rest up from working so hard. Dad had no help in the bakery, except my mother who took care of all the business of dealing with customers. The food business is a difficult one to find competent help. Anyone can fry a hamburger, but not just anyone can make bread or decorate cakes. Consequently he just had to do it all himself.

We decided to go for one year. We stored our household goods, rented our house, and left our car sitting in the yard of a friend. It was the first new car we ever had, and when we contacted AAA about driving to Alaska they discouraged us by telling us how terrible the Alcan highway was, with large boulders in the middle of the road etc. This was in 1957 and the highway was rough, but they certainly exaggerated the driving conditions, but they scared us enough that we decided to park the car and fly to Juneau, Alaska.

When we got there dad wanted Bob to buy the shop so he would be completely out of the business. We had no money, and didn’t think any smart bank would loan us that much money. Consequently Bob worked for Dad that year and drew no pay for his services. If we found ourselves in need of money we could make a payroll draw, but we tried hard to not draw from the fund that was building up. I worked for Northern Commercial Company and was making $350 a month. From that we paid the rent on our 1 bedroom apartment, sent a car payment, and bought groceries. We ate a lot of beans and spaghetti for an entire year, and never once had a hamburger in a restaurant.

Linda was in the 3rd grade at this time, and she was not used to living like this, and she told her teacher that she didn’t have her own bed. She would start out in our bed with her daddy who got up around 3 a.m. to go to work, and when mama was ready for bed, Linda was carried out to the sofa bed for the rest of the night. Teacher thought she should maybe report this little child’s living conditions to the welfare office, but she investigated us more, as we became friends, and saw what we were sacrificing to pay for this business.

At the end of the year we had a good down payment, but not all the money we needed, when one of the salesmen came into the shop and Bob was telling him how we had been living to buy the shop. He said, “take off that apron and come with me to the bank.” Bob went with him and he agreed to co-sign on a loan so that we could borrow the rest of the money from the bank. We were in business.

At the end of the day if we had some cash profit, we would go over to the shipping dock and buy a sack of sugar or flour to operate the next day. That was how we managed for quite awhile, until we finally had some money in the bank.

While we were there we moved the bakery location from the original spot to two other spots. Each time we grew and it was no easy job moving those ovens and huge mixers

across the street to the new location. We lived in apartments above the shop until Linda was in the 6th grade and I wanted her to have a home to go to, not an apartment on one of Juneau’s streets, so we found a house and bought it. Finally we were home owners again.

Not only did we have a bakery, but we had a small eating establishment associated with the bakery, and we both worked very hard to keep things going. After 3 years with Northern Commercial I finally had to give up my nice job and work in the shop because we could not get dependable help, and I was doing double duty already.

Remember that we went there to spend a year, and here we were owners of a new business. This all took place before Alaska became a State. We did well, and worked hard and finally found our way out of Alaska to return to Oregon 30 years later.

BEGINNING A NEW LIFE

All of you young married ladies probably think it is a chore to cook dinner when you come home. When I was first married, I knew nothing about cooking. I mean truly NOTHING. We moved to our first home in Walla Walla, Washington where we had a basement apartment. After World War-2 rentals were very difficult to find. You may know that materials were scarce, therefore building came to a halt. Also, the men who might be your carpenter were likely still in the military service. Consequently, we thought we had a jewel in our little three room, one bath basement apartment. The first thing that I had to learn was to cook with coal. Let me tell you, for those of you who know only electricity or gas stoves, there is nothing like trying to cook with coal. I had seen my mother cook with wood, but not coal.

One morning, Bob was going to show me how to quickly get that black stuff to catch fire. He went to the bathroom and came out with some rubbing alcohol, lit some paper, then shook the alcohol out of the bottle. It lit so quickly that he suddenly had a bottle full of fire in his hand. One thing I learned was to not do that again ! Of course we had to get this fire going in order to have any hot water too. The stove had coils in it which when heated, produced hot water. That was a lot of fun in the summer time when the Walla Walla heat would register around 100 or more degrees.

Our windows were ground level, and there was a mulberry tree outside our bedroom window. There were earwigs in the fruit of the tree, and they could crawl through our windows when they were totally closed. We had only an ice box instead of a refrigerator, but most of the time we didn't have enough money to buy ice for the chest. We used to keep things that needed to be cooled, sitting on the kitchen window. We would push a cardboard lid onto the milk bottles, then turn a small glass upside down and let it rest over the neck of the bottle, but those earwigs could even get through that. We had to be super careful that we did not have earwigs in what we wanted to eat or drink.

One day we had the opportunity to move into a nicer basement apartment, and we did not hesitate to accept the offer. We still cooked with coal, but did have some nice quarters, and made good friends with the family that lived upstairs. When we moved in they told us that no children were allowed. I didn't tell her that I was already pregnant, and thought we'd face that when the time came. Actually, the landlady was no dummy, and she figured it out right away. When we got the courage to tell her, she told us that she already guessed .

Bob and I worked for Birds Eye Snyder frozen foods. At that time (1946) it was the largest frozen food plant in the U.S. Bob was a lift truck driver who worked in the huge freezer area of the plant. I worked in the office, starting out as a telephone switchboard operator. In the summer time we worked as many hours as we could stand, including weekends. We had little or no time off. There was no such thing as unions in the plant, and we thought we were very fortunate to have jobs. Many of the workers in the plant were homeless, or winos that Birds eye could pick up on the street. They insisted on being paid every day, so that kept the office workers busy as bees.

Finally, my dad was going to open a new bakery in Sweet Home, Oregon, and he thought this would be a good trade for Bob to follow. I was not sure about that, because as I was growing up in the back end of the bakery, I saw my mother work very hard to support my dad in his business. But, because Bob did not have a trade at that time, we decided to go back to Oregon and give it a try. This led to many other stories , and I will tell you some of them at a later date.

SINGING OPPORTUNITY

SINGING OPPORTUNITY

One of the most exciting things I have done in my life was to play the second lead in the opera The Bartered Bride, by Smetana. The lead was played by a senior girl, and was only a lowly freshman. I was attending Pacific University in Forest Grove, Oregon at that time, and had never undertaken anything quite this big before.

These were World War-2 years, and we had very few young men going to school. The ones who were there were older and married. Most were men who had already served their time in the military. There were lots of girls, but literally no men. When we had a dance function Navy men from a Tillamook, Oregon base were invited to attend. Otherwise, the girls had to dance with each other to show off their lovely ball gowns.

To fill out the cast of men we had to recruit from the Registrar's Office to get a nice tenor voice. It's amazing what you can do if you set your minds to it. We spent many hours rehearsing for a large production. The school had it's own orchestra, so we were set for music to accompany the singers.

The first performance was at home, in a Forest Grove auditorium. Everything went very well. I had done a lot of singing before, but had never received flowers while on stage. What a thrill it was for this young freshman. The next performance was at the Neighbor's of Woodcraft Hall in Portland, Oregon. I had a very bad cold, and was sucking on lemons the whole day prior to the performance. With a little luck I was able to sing OK, and we got a standing ovation from the audience who packed the auditorium. Now for the third performance we were going to The Dalles, Oregon. We were all told that we were being put up in private homes, and that we were to go directly to the houses and get to bed. No horsing around.

This dumb girl rode in the back of a pickup (it did have a top over it) but it was extremely windy . If you have ever traveled in that area of Oregon, you know the winds can howl in that Columbia River Gorge. When we arrived, we found our homes where we would stay, and then decided we should go bowling. Now our Professors would not have liked that if they had known. After all , we were just kids and were not ready to hit the feathers just yet.

In the morning when I awoke I could not talk. I had a very severe case of laryngitis. We had a 10 o'clock rehearsal scheduled, and a 1 o'clock radio production, as well as the opera that evening. I showed up at rehearsal with big tears running down my cheek. I croaked, "I can't talk. I have no voice." Everyone said "don't cry, it will only make it worse." As far as I was concerned it could be no worse. This was a University production and we had no such things as under studies. If I couldn't sing, we would have to give all the money back to the people who paid to hear us perform. They quickly changed the songs prepared for the radio production so that I didn't sing, and went to a doctor who was recommended to me.

When I saw the doctor he actually laughed when he heard my predicament. He said , "young lady, I have tickets to that performance, and you are going to sing." He gave me something to gargle, and I was to use it just before going on stage, and about half way through I could do it again. Then he said to throw away any that was left. I have learned since that it was some sort of dope, but it worked.

My voice was tight, but I was able to sing. The director was in the orchestra pit directing the orchestra and the opera singers. Each time it was my turn to sing he had sweat running down his face in fear that the voice would not come out. Everything turned out OK, and I did perform.

A few days after that I had an appointment at one of the radio stations for an audition to tour with a group that was selling war bonds. I was competing against Susan Burce, or better known as Jane Powel. I asked if we could postpone the audition because I still could not sing, but that was nixed right then and there. I had to sing if I wanted a chance at the job. Of course, I couldn't sing, so I tearfully went back home and walked away from the opportunity. Jane Powel became a famous singer in Hollywood movies, and most of you have heard her voice many times. She is still a star.

STEPDAD

I was born in a little town called Enterprise, Oregon. This was mostly a logging community then, and my father was in the logging business. My mother had waited several years for a child to arrive in their home, so I know that I was very special. When I was just 15 months old

the bad news came to our household. My father had been killed when a logging speeder, that ran on the railroad tracks, had dropped some of its pipe which was in the process of being moved from one location to another. This caused the speeder to overturn and it landed on top of my Father.

My mother was born in France, and her father did not consider it important for girls to have an education. Her mother had died shortly after they came to the United States at the now famous Ellis Island in the early 1900's. Her father was very fond of his alcohol, and that seemed to be the most important thing in his life. My mother had to learn to stay home, cook and clean at a very early age. She only had a third grade education. I tell you all of this just so you see the gravity of a young woman, recently widowed with a child to care for, and no education to go out and find a paying job.

Mother soon found a logging camp where we could move and have a very small cabin to live in. To earn some money she decided she would take in washing and ironing because she knew how to do that very well. She would get up early in the morning and start the old gasoline engine- powered washing machine. You could hear it all over the camp. There was no sleeping in if you lived near us.

This is where she met a suitor for her hand in marriage. He courted her, and immediately began to show me favors. He was a baker in the cookhouse and used to take me up there and set me on the end of his work bench. While there, he would feed me the biggest, most delicious cream puffs anyone ever tasted. He began calling me cream puff, which lasted throughout his entire life.

After they were married they moved to Estacada, Oregon where they opened their first bakery. This is where we lived when my only brother, Ivan Jr. was born. I had a hard time calling him Daddy, and continued to call him by his given name. I resented that this man had moved into my mama's bed, which was where I had become used to sleeping. My mother said,"Margaret, if you keep calling Ivan by his name, what do you think your new little brother is going to call him?" That really did register with me, so I made the effort and was soon calling him daddy.

We had a good life, moving many times, but even during depression days always had food on the table. People always have to eat, so even in difficult times most people in the food business can find work.

I have to say, my step father was never referred to as "step", but he was always my Dad . And neither did he ever introduce me as a "step" daughter. I was his daughter and both of us were proud of that. No one could ever have had a better dad than I did growing up. I loved him very much, and was sure to tell him that before he died of cancer in 1964. He gave me a brother who I never refer to as a "step" brother either. He is my brother, and we have a close relationship to this day.

Cherish the families that you have, and the love will always come back to you in many ways.

TRIP TO ADAK

When the Korean war broke out Bob decided that he should get back into the Navy Air. He did not want to be drafted by the Army so chose to make his own move so that he could get back into what he loved. Anytime he could get into an airplane, he loved it. After some training he was sent to Adak, Alaska. In case you are not familiar with Adak, it is way out there in the Aleutian Islands, where there is some of the toughest flying a person can find. The winds howl at 100 miles per hour, and the visibility can be very poor. To top it off, he was with a crew in a PBY, which is an amphibian-type plane. The PBY was an old plane, but known for dependability, but it flew at low speeds and took time to get between the islands. Their mission at this time was delivering mail, picking up ill people who needed to get to a hospital, or whatever need the Navy had for them. Most of the islands had no air strips, so the plane was then landed in the water.

Bob was living in a barracks situation, which for a married man who was used to his comforts of home, and home cooking, it was a bit difficult to revert to this military life. He was out there for a year, and in order to get him to extend for another year in the Aleutians, they offered to bring his family to Adak . I was eager, and this sounded like lot of fun. They had beautiful duplex homes that were new places with lovely furnishings and all the comforts anyone could want.

Linda and I reported for a departure date of December 27, 1951. We agreed that Christmas would wait until we got to Adak to have that exciting day with her Daddy. We were assigned a fairly nice stateroom on the USS Funston, a military ship. It had a nice dining room with fancy dressed waiters who took excellent care of us. We were on the 4th deck, and were told that we could not go below that deck. We didn't know at first, but soon found out that the lower decks had military men headed for active duty in Japan.

We sailed that December 7th into a world we had never seen. Linda got sick the first night out. Poor little girl was very miserable , but by morning time, she seemed to be OK, and it was her Mother who was sick. Each day out at sea got rougher and rougher, and I got sicker and sicker.; Can you imagine a snow storm at sea, with 150 m.p.h. winds? That's what we experienced, and it was horrible. I was not alone. Many on board were sick, including the nurse who was supposed to be taking care of us. She had made that trip many times without getting sick, but the other trips were not in the middle of winter. The crew would tell us that we still had it good. They said "you should see what those poor military men are experiencing on the lower decks." They could not even get to an outside deck where there was some air to breathe.

When we got near Adak 10 days later we were told we would have breakfast prior to docking . All the wives and children were so excited to get off that ship and stand on something that was not pitching up and down. Every child was spit and polished so their daddies could see them at their best when we debarked. Breakfast came and went. We headed for the docks, but pretty soon we turned and came back away from the docks. We did that 4 or 5 times before we heard the announcement that the winds were too strong, and we might wipe out the docks. Now we were going to have lunch on board and try again after lunch. After lunch it was the same old story, we could not dock and would try after dinner. Oh, yeah ! Now we are getting very impatient with all of this, and I recall saying "I am not going to spend another night on this ship." To make a long story short, I did spend another night on that ship. When morning came again, the kids did not look spit and polished anymore. No one wanted to open suitcases to get fresh clothes; all we wanted to do was get off the ship.

Adak has no trees, except for their "National Forest" which was planted in World War 2. Those trees had been there all those years, and although they were alive, they were about 3 or 4 feet tall. They just sat there and did not grow. It was like landing on the moon, with everything being brown and bare. As Linda saw her Daddy, and he carried her to the car, this little child who was nearly three years old said it all. She said "grey, grey, grey." Even she was awed with what she saw.

This was an experience I shall never forget, and a boat ride that I would never like to take again.

CALIFORNIA LIVING

When I was about 11 years old we were living in San Pedro, California. I was due to go into the Junior High where everyone had to wear a uniform. I thought that was really a neat idea. This was my first year of living in a big city and going to a huge school. I think that in the 6th, 7th, and 8th grades we had about 1,400 kids in that one school. My Dad got a job working in a cookhouse in Glenwood, Oregon and we were going to move again. I have always said that Dad was half gypsy because he was always moving. I rarely went to one school more than a year. It was very difficult because I would just make friends and feel comfortable when we would move to another school. I can attest to the fact that this is not easy on a child. I cried a lot. When this new move came up I pled with Mom and Dad to please leave me there in California so that I could go to a junior high where they wore uniforms. Surprisingly, they decided to allow me to do that. I stayed with my Aunt Francie who was my Mom's sister. Everyone in that home spoke French. My grandpa lived there with my aunt, and one of her daughters lived there because her husband was in the Navy and rarely got home. So I was the only one who spoke only English. When they wanted to talk about me, it was easy for them because I could not understand anything they were saying.

On Sunday afternoon I was always allowed to go down town on the bus to see the movie. I remember seeing Flash Gordon weekly serials, and what fun I thought that was. I had been told many times to never get off the bus and walk in front of it to cross the street. I was to wait for the bus to move. One day I was coming home, wearing a new dress and a pretty new coat that I got for Easter. I went skipping in front of the bus just as a car was passing , and he hit me hard. I went flying.. The man wanted to take me home, but I insisted I was not hurt, and that he didn't need to do that. It was hard to talk him out of it. Actually, I was hurting all over my body, but didn't want anyone to know that I disobeyed and went in front of the bus as I had been told so many times not to do. Aunt Frances always had Sunday dinner for her family, and instead of me coming home hungry, I told them I didn't feel very good, and I went in to bed. I could hear them talking about what could be wrong with me, but they had no clue about the car hitting me.

The next morning I managed to get up and keep my skinned up knees and elbows hidden from my aunt. I went to school anyway. When I came home I told a big lie ! I said that I had fallen on the graveled yard where we played basketball. In California we always played basketball on the outside grounds and never in a gym. I got away with my story, and have thought so many times since then that I could have been hurt seriously, and because I lied about it the conclusion of that story could have been a bad one. I have used this story when working with children's bible classes to impress upon them the importance of always telling the truth.

This proved to be a wonderful year for me, and in the summer time I was allowed to be a passenger on a train that took me to Portland, Oregon. I thought I was pretty big stuff to do this alone. My folks met me and took me back to the country, to live in another logging camp area in Glenwood. This was where I went to a two-room school house where we had about 50 kids in attendance. Life was good there, and I have good memories of living right beside a beautiful creek, and being able to walk to the swimming hole where we swam in water that came right down from the mountains. Rarely did we wear shoes all summer long. I adjusted to living there where I found new friends and teachers, plus life that was full of fun and had many things for kids to enjoy.

Logging Camps

Not being a youngster, my memories are mostly all from many years back. I grew up living mostly in logging camps, or small towns. We rarely lived anywhere that we had electricity or running water. I recall living in Tidewater, Oregon, which was 30 miles from Astoria. When we went to town, we would park the car in a covered area and walk about a mile to our house. If we had groceries, we would leave them by the covered barn area and the camp would send a speeder, on the railroad tracks, and pick up our groceries and bring them to the camp for us. Can you imagine doing that today? If you did, you likely would have no groceries left.

The school I attended was a one room school house with a very large pot-belly stove near the entry. We had all 8 elementry grades in one room, and there was a total of 11 students in those 8 grades. It took some concentration to study when the teacher was talking with one of the other classes.

To get to school my brother and I had to walk the railroad tracks to the school building. It was probably about a half mile, but when it snowed my brother, who was just a first grader, couldn't walk the tracks by himself, so Dad would leave work and come home to carry him to school. I would trudge behind him so that I could step in his tracks and not have to make my own path. When we got to the school building we would be pretty wet, so the teacher had us sit on curved benches placed around that big hot stove until we were dry enough to go to our desks. I recall that we thought that was a lot of fun.

It was nice living in those days. Parents never worried about where their children were, or what they were up to. There was no place to even get into trouble. Some may think we missed out on a lot of things, but we made our own fun and built memories that are still strong in my mind. It was not easy for Mom's who had no power for washing machines or other nice appliances, and some times had to walk a long way to get water when the summer sun dried up our usual source of spring water.

Now that I have all the conveniences of modern day, I can think back on days like this and smile at the wonderful memories that were built by living in remote areas.

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