The Beginning (57) – Childhood Memories of Trumbull – End of the War For Dave

These are the memories of my Father and his siblings, recorded over several years. When my Uncle Dan passed away, I realized that I had better get started recording the memories of Dan’s siblings before they were also gone. I was able to have two recording sessions with my Father, Lad in California; two with Uncle Ced in New Hampshire, a three-day cruise in our boat with Aunt Biss; one session with Uncle Dave in Stratford, CT and one hand-written session (I forgot my tape recorder going up to the Island in New Hampshire, where Uncle Dick lived) with Uncle Dick. I transcribed them once exactly as they were spoken, again removing the ums, ahs, half sentences started over, etc. I then produced a final copy that was easier to read, but it still needs work getting the chronological order correct. Memories are not recorded with a date stamp. I created 75 binders for family members which include all three translations, pages and pages of photos and memorabilia and the actual recording. Now family members can actually heat their ancestors speaking. It was my first project with all the material my Father saved for me and a true Labor of Love. I hope you enjoy these memories of A Slice of Life at a different time and place.

David Peabody Guion

DAVE – On August 25th, I think, we were all watching a film in a kind of natural amphitheater and one of the guys was from Brooklyn and had a buddy, whowas also from Brooklyn, and I remember this just as if it were yesterday, he came running over – we had gotten some rumors that the Japs were going to quit – and this guy came running over and said, “The signing has been confoimed.”  I never forgot that.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Manila_(1945)

The time between August 25th and September 7th when they signed the Treaty, I left Okinawa and went down to Manila.  Here I am now – the war is over – all I have to do is go home and they are shipping me out in a plane to Manila.  The pilot spent about twenty minutes, maybe, trying to start one engine and I said to myself, “I’m going to die in the ocean and the war is over.”  Anyhow, we got to Manila.  That was quite a sight – buildings where the first floor was completely gone and five or six or seven stories would be on top of it, canted, all kinds of destruction.  If you went to the City Hall and looked up you would see a room with curtains on the windows.  That was MacArthur’s headquarters.  So he had curtains on his windows and the Philipinos were watching dead bodies float down the river.

I would say I was in Manila probably about six months.  It would have been August, September, October, November, December, January, February, March, eight months.  I came home in March 1946.  I got out of the service the day Chiche (Paulette) gave birth to Arla, Danielle, as the case may be. (Dan and Paulette’s daughter was named Danielle Arla Julien Andre Guion but the family always called her Arla.)

I had a friend who had a friend who was MacArthur’s driver, chauffeur, and this guy said that whenever MacArthur went in someplace, he’d always get one of those Oriental houses where there was a porch all the way around the building.  He’d have his staff come up and sit in chairs around the building.  He got up to the first staff member and he would say, “Give me your report.”  It might be a question, it might be a problem, or it might just be a report.  Then he would walk around the whole building, see the whole staff, each giving him these questions.  Then he would get in his car and tell his friends friend, “Drive me”.  They would drive around and pretty soon MacArthur would say, “OK”, let’s go back.”  Then he’d say, “you, — blah, blah, blah. You — blah, blah, blah.”  He went all around the whole building telling each one of his staff members what to do about his problem.  What a brain.  There shouldn’t be enough room in there for an ego, but there was.

Tomorrow, Day Six of Lad’s Voyage to Venezuela. He arrives in Guayra and writes of his experience.

On Sunday, more about My Bradford Ancestors, Caleb Rider and Hannah McFarland.

Judy Guion

 

 

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Trumbull -Dear Newlyweds (1) – Thoughts About THE DAY – November 14, 1943

 

Mowry Addison and Marian (Rider) Irwin, Alfred Peabody and Marian (Irwin) Guion

November 14, 1943

The BIG Day: Let’s go a step farther and simply

call it THE day, otherwise known

to just ordinary folks as Nov. 14th

Dear Newlyweds:

We have been thinking of you all day home here and wishing we had a long-range telescope so that we could focus it in on the Little Chapel of the Flowers in Berkeley and fix in

our memory for all time the setting for so important an event in the archives of the Guion family. With none of our clan present, Lad, I hope you maintained your noted calm and placid mien, and while no one pays much attention to the groom on such occasions anyway, he is apt to forget that fact and feel as though the eyes of everyone were focused on him alone, much as I felt on that Easter so many years ago when I first donned my pair of long pants, and as I walked the few blocks to Sunday school, I was sure the neighbors in every house along the street were crowding to the windows and behind the curtain, peeking out to look at my pants. I didn’t dare look to verify the fact because I didn’t want them to have the satisfaction of knowing I was aware of their scrutiny.

At dinner time today, Aunt Betty decided there ought to be some sort of celebration, so she got down her bottle of port wine, and we all drank a toast in your honor. Did you both feel the surge of good wishes that went speeding over the airwaves on your wedding morn?

It is being borne upon my consciousness that the 14th must be my lucky day  —  my daughter acquisition day  —  for on  February 14^th, just nine months ago, I acquired my first daughter-in-law, and you know, I like it. And I don’t doubt I’ll like it still better when I get better acquainted with the latest blossom from the Little Chapel of the Flowers.

Another bit of evidence that I was thinking of you today is the fact that I went looking for pajamas and bathrobe. I found the former together with a shoe holder I gave you some years ago which I am including in the package with the pajamas on the theory that in your small apartment any device which will aid in saving room will be welcome. I have one more place to look for the terrycloth bathrobe and I am pretty sure it is the right place, so shortly after receiving this first package you can be looking for another. Unless you had a most particular reason for asking that they be sent to you at camp, I’m going to disregard your request and ship them to Bushnell Avenue, because, while there is a limit to the size and weight of packages that is permissible to send to a boy in the armed services, there is no such limitation on shipments to civilians; and I while I haven’t measured the pajama package to see if it exceeds the permissible dimensions, I won’t have to bother with this limitation at all if I mail it to you at a civilian address.

After two weeks in succession hearing from my scattered correspondents, it is perhaps quite understandable that this last week I received nothing at all through Uncle Sam’s mail service. Of course that is not the reason I am ignoring in my salutation all the rest of you to whom a copy of this letter is being sent, but merely that the importance of the occasion overshadows all else and warrants centering the spotlight on “the happy couple from South Pasadena”.

 

Tomorrow, the conclusion of this letter, with a few words of Fatherly advice, then a letter from Lad and another letter from Grandpa will finish out the week.

Judy Guion

My Ancestors (33l) – Alfred Peabody Guion – The End of the Story

 

As I sat down to write this post about my Dad and his life with Marian Irwin, I got caught up in reading the entries in their Memory Book.  This Memory Book was passed around at the Celebration of Their Lives we held for friends and family in California.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  In September of 2002, the Marin Amblers monthly outing was a trip to Gold Beach, Oregon.  Dad was 89 (Mom was 88) and my brother Greg and his wife Euna tried to convince them that this trip might be a little too strenuous for them.  Dad’s reply was, “Marian really wants to go.”  Mom’s only response was, “But Al really would like to go.”  Greg and Euna thought they had succeeded in convincing them and came down on Saturday morning with the usual food for the next week and plans to clean the apartment, just as they did every Saturday.  They were quite surprised when they realized Mom and Dad were not home.  Greg went down to the back parking lot where their RV was kept and saw that it was gone.  They had left on Friday, as usual, to arrive for dinner Friday night.

On the drive north the RV had a flat tire.  They didn’t have a cell phone so they couldn’t call for road service.  They sat on the side of the road for hours until someone stopped and helped Dad change the tire.  They finally arrived four hours later than expected.

The group was thrilled to see them and they had a wonderful time visiting with friends for the weekend.  They planned to leave on Sunday and stop at a familiar campground once they had crossed into California.  When they arrived they discovered that the campground was closed for the season.  Not familiar with the area or other campgrounds nearby, they decided to drive another six hours to reach home.  Needless to say, they were both exhausted from the weekend.  I think it took a heavy toll from Dad and he didn’t recover completely.

In December Dad came down with the bad cold and just couldn’t shake it.  In his typically thorough way, on Sunday evening, December 21st, he arranged all the important papers and then told Mom that he thought he ought to go to the hospital because he wasn’t feeling well.  They treated him with antibiotics and on Tuesday he was feeling much better.  A nurse told him that if he kept this up, they were kicking him out on Wednesday.  As he was eating breakfast Wednesday morning, he aspirated something into his lungs and within a couple of hours he was in a coma in the ICU on Life Support.

Wednesday evening (Christmas Eve) when I got home from my last day at work as a seasonal cashier in a department store, there was a message on my answering machine from Greg, asking me to call him.  I immediately called and he explained what was going on.  I told him I would fly to California the next day.  My oldest daughter, Caryn, flew out with me on Christmas Day.

My sister Lynn arrived on Friday and we all went to see Dad in the hospital.  I spoke with his doctor who explained the seriousness of the situation.  He told me it would be a miracle if he came out of the coma and if he did, he would be in a vegetative state.  We had a family meeting when we got back to their apartment.  Mom told us that she did not want to see him like that again.  She wanted to remember him as he lived, full of life.  We made the decision to turn off Life Support.  Since technically I did not have a job to go back to, I told Mom that I would move to California to take care of her.  On Saturday, December 27th, Greg stayed with Mom and Doug, Lynn and I went to the hospital.  We had the staff remove Life Support and I sat holding Dad’s hand and talking to him until the end.

Caryn had flown home but I stayed until New Year’s Day.  I flew home, closed up my apartment, packed my car and drove back to California, arriving January 15th.

For the next year, Greg, Euna and I had our individual responsibilities.  Greg took care of the financial and estate business, Euna provided already prepared lunches and dinners and also cleaned the apartment.  I was on duty 24/7 covering daily duties, medications and doctor’s visits.

In December 2004, Mom developed an infection and I took her to the hospital.  She was there for a few days and was on the mend when she had another stroke.  A few hours later I was with her when she had a seizure.  I held her and told her I loved her and then she was gone.  She joined my father on December 16th, less than a year after my Dad had passed away

Next Sunday I will share quotes from the Memory Book and pictures of their lives together.

Tomorrow, I’ll begin a week of letters written in 1943, the brginning of the Love Story of Lad and Marian Guion.

Judy Guion

The Beginning (31) – Childhood Memoreis of Trumbull – Biss and Dick

At this point Grandpa’s “Reminiscences of Alfred D Guion” has ended  and the rest of this story will be the memories of the children as they were growing up.

             Elizabeth Westlin Guion (Biss)

 

           Richard Peabody Guion (Dick)

BISS: My favorite game was Caddy.  You got a stick and put a point on either end.  You had a paddle and you hit the pointed end and it made the small stick go up and then you hit it with the paddle.  I don’t remember where it was supposed to go or anything.  I think it was how far you could hit it but I don’t remember what the exact rules were.  My brothers probably could remember, but I can’t, but I enjoyed that Caddy a lot.

DICK: I spent most of my time with Dad.  He was full of information and enthusiasm.  He’d say, “Want to take a walk?  I want to show you something.”  After walking a while, he’d say, “Sh-h-h-h, now lie down and crawl forward.’  And we’d see Fox cubs.  There was always interesting things in the field in back of the house.

I went to White Plains School for one year.  I started at Center School in second grade.  In eighth grade, I went to Edison School.  I went to Whittier Junior High School for a year, and then went to Bassick High School in Bridgeport.

Nelson Sperling tied a rope to a big Hickory Nut tree on the side driveway, near the steps.  We would take off from the steps, swing out in a big circle and come back to land.  The neighborhood kids couldn’t do it so well.

One time I rode our pony, Gracie, down the railroad tracks.  Heading back to the barn, I lost my footing and one leg got caught, held me as she galloped home.  I can still hear Mother saying, “Whoa, whoa!”

We also had a little cart that was pulled by a goat.

At Christmas time, we’d drive down Noble Avenue and look at the Christmas decorations.

We had a circus horse named Goldie, and while she was cropping grass, I would lie down on her back.  When I’d had enough I’d slide off her back.  I didn’t realize that it might annoy her.  The last time I did it, she kicked me.

BISS: I remember Dad always brought his work home with him and had to sit at the desk in the upper hallway.  Beyond the staircase there was a space and he had a desk there, and he always worked there.  Dick and I would be in bed, we’d be talking and he yelled in to us to keep quiet.  So we’d keep quiet … for maybe thirty seconds or a minute, and then start talking again.  He’d say, “I told you children to go to sleep, now keep quiet.”  So we kept quiet for thirty seconds, a minute maybe, and we’d start talking again.  So he’d say, “The next time you talk I’m coming in and spanking you.”  So we waited maybe a minute this time, and started talking again.  Well, boom, boom, boom, boom.  He came in and I was the closest to the door, so he spanked me and spanked me and spanked me, and of course, I was too proud, I wasn’t going to cry.  He could spank me until Doomsday and I wasn’t going to cry.  I guess his hand got sore after a while, I don’t know, but anyway, he went to Dick.  The first time he hit Dick, Dick started wailing, so Dad only gave him a couple of whacks, or something.  When Dad walked out of the room I said, “You big baby, what did you cry for?”  He said, “But Biss, he stopped spanking me.”  I said, “I still wouldn’t cry.”

Tomorrow and Friday, more early childhood memories of Trumbull from recordings I made with five of the six children.

Judy Guion

My Ancestors (33i) – Alfred Peabody Guion – Married Years in Trumbull

Last June I  read about a Challenge, 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks, and I was intrigued. I decided to take up the challenge. Some Ancestors may take more than one week, but I still intend to write about 52 Ancestors. I hope you enjoy reading about My Ancestors as much as I am looking forward to researching and writing about them.

(1) Alfred Peabody Guion; (2) Judith Anne Guion.

From Life history of Alfred P. Guion:

Dec. 1945 – present (April, 1946)     Trumbull, Conn. – Reconditioning property, working with Guion Adv.

When my father returned to the United States in August of 1945, he spent about two and a half months stationed in Aberdeen and Fort Meade, Maryland.  He was close enough to come home most weekends to be with Marian, his wife of two years.  After he was discharged in December, he used his handyman skills to make repairs and improvements to the Trumbull property and also helped Grandpa in his business, Guion Advertising Company, with office space in Bridgeport, Connecticut.

At Christmas, in 1945, Lad and Marian announced to Grandpa and the family that they were expecting their first child in July 1946.  They had no idea until the delivery date of June 28th that Marian was actually carrying twins.  She gave birth to a son, Douglas, and a daughter, Judith.  The way I heard the story was that Mom was on her way out of the delivery room when she realized that something was going on.  The doctor took her back into the delivery room and everyone, including the doctor, was surprised when I appeared.

Fourteen months later another son, Gregory, arrived and a second daughter, Marian Lynn, arrived sixteen months after that.  Lad and Marian now had four children under the age of two and a half.  Since I had twins when my oldest was three, I can begin to imagine what life must have been like for them.

In 1950, when I was about four years old, some alterations were made to the Big House, dividing it into three separate living quarters.  Grandpa had a small apartment with the kitchen and living room downstairs and a bedroom upstairs.

Lad and Marian moved from the Little House to the Big House.  They had a kitchen big enough to include a dining room table, a living room, an enclosed porch and two bedrooms upstairs, one large enough for all four children in bunk beds.

Dave and his new wife Eleanor moved into the oldest portion of the Big House.  They had a kitchen, dining room and living room on the first floor and two bedrooms upstairs.

Dan and Paulette, who had only two children at this time, moved into the Little House.  This house had a kitchen, dining room, living room and bedroom on the first floor and two bedrooms upstairs.

I have some memories of the house before the alterations and I have one picture in my mind when the work was being done.

Judy, Greg and Doug on the Island

 

Lynn on the Island

When Doug and I were probably about four or five, we went up to the Island with Grandpa.  I think it may have been the first time my family went up there, and that was because my little sister was out of diapers.  My Mom and Dad decided to stay on the Island for a while.  My father got a job (doing what, I don’t know) somewhere on the mainland.  In the late afternoon, Grandpa would get Doug, Greg and myself into the rowboat and row us to the mainland beach.  We would walk down the winding dirt road until we saw Dad’s car approaching.  We would all climb in and Dad would drive us back to the beach.  Then he would row us back to the Island.  I think we stayed until sometime in October but came back to Trumbull because we didn’t have any warm clothes.

I have not found anything written about my father’s work at this time.  I do remember that for several years he managed (owned?)  the local Atlantic service station.  I remember that my Dad would come home and have supper with us.  Then he would sit down and read the newspaper before going back to the station to complete repairs on various automobiles.  He was an excellent mechanic and was kept quite busy.

Dave told me an interesting story about this time when I was recording his childhood memories.

One more thought when your father, Al, had a gas station in Trumbull.  I don’t have witnesses but I think Ced told the story.  Somebody came in one day, knowing what a great diagnostician your father was, came in and said, “You hear it?  Something is wrong with my car.  Can you hear that noise?”  Your father, without saying a word, turned around and walked away.  “Well, what is this?  Here I am, asking a question, and the guy ignores me and just walks away”.  He was about ready to take off when your father comes back and he says, “I think the problem is …”, But he never told the guy he was going off to think about what to say.

Marian, like most women at this time, was a stay-at-home mom.  She was active in our church, singing in the choir and teaching Sunday school.  She was also a brownie and Girl Scout leader for me and a Cub Scout leader for my brothers.  My Dad also sang in the choir.

The next job I remember my father having was working for the Frouge Construction Company in Bridgeport.  He maintained their fleet of trucks and other construction vehicles.  I don’t know exactly when he started but I know he worked for them throughout my high school years and even for a while after they moved to California.

When Doug and I were old enough for Kindergarten, my mother found out that Trumbull did not have kindergarten classes.  I’m sure this surprised her because she had gone to kindergarten in California many years before.  She and her good friend, Jeanne (Hughes) Hayden, got together and decided that they would start a Kindergarten using our church education center.  They started the following year with one class, which included my brother Greg and Jeanne’s daughter, Debbie, with both women teaching.  By the time Trumbull started kindergarten classes in all their schools and the kindergarten at our church was closed, I believe they had four classes and eight teachers, but it could have been three classed and six teachers.

Next Sunday I will continue the story of lad, Marian and their children. 

Tomorrow I will begin posting a week of letters written in 1944. 

Judy Guion

My Ancestors (33h) – Alfred P Guion – Marriage and World War II (3) – Lad to France and Marian to Trumbull

(1) Alfred Peabody Guion; (2) Judith Anne Guion.

 

From Life history of Alfred  P. Guion:

Nov. 1944 – shipped over

Marian drove the Buick with the trailer in tow from Jackson, Mississippi, to Trumbull, Connecticut, where she planned to live with Grandpa, get a job and wait for Lad’s return.  We know Marian was still in Jackson on November 1st and grandpas letter of November 12th tells us she is in Trumbull.

“Yesterday was not only Armistice Day but also Marian’s birthday, and following the usual custom, we celebrated it today.  Elizabeth, who came to dinner with her two boys, was able to get through her butcher a nice ham, quite a rarity these days, and that with some of Burrough’s cider of sainted memory, baked sweet potatoes, cauliflower, topped off with Guion’s celebrated prune whip, was followed with the opening of gifts amid the soft glow of candlelight — in the dining room of course.  Lad had sent me a bottle of Marian’s favorite perfume earlier in the week and this happened to be the last gift she opened which topped off things with an unexpectedly pleasant surprise for her.

Yesterday Lad wrote from “somewhere in the United States”, and was unable to give the slightest inkling of what is planned, but at least it is clear he did not sail Tuesday…”

Excerpt from Grandpa’s letter written November 19, 1944:

“From a significant lack of any definite word from Lad, we are all pretty sure he is now on the high seas or has already arrived at his destination, whatever that may be….. We are pretty sure he will go to the European sector rather than the Pacific, but even that is merely conjecture and a rationalization from what few facts we have.”

Excerpt from Grandpas letter written November 26, 1944:

”It was a real Thanksgiving week for us here in the main as far as letters from you boys were concerned.  Lad was the only one we did not hear from and that wasn’t his fault.  From “somewhere in France” the following very welcome message arrived: “Roughing it again!  A good excuse to write a letter!  I am sitting on an Army cot in an abandoned Nazi barracks, somewhere in France.  The pale light of a kerosene lamp acts as a monitor to my flailing pencil.  In the corner, a wood stove adds its pungency to the heavy odor of kerosene fumes, while a group of the boys are playing cribbage on an improvised table in the center of the room.  On the door Jerry has left “Conchita”,a  hard looking  Spanish beauty, smoking a cigarette and staring impersonally toward the doorknob.  Standing beside the stove is a burlap sack, plump with coke which we found near an abandoned gun site.  It will keep the chill from our slumber about 2 o’clock in the morning.  After I have such finished writing this letter I shall pay a visit to the café half a kilometer down the road.  We shall sit in the kitchen talking to the proprietress whose husband is a prisoner of the Germans.  We shall sip a glass of rather innocuous beer and lament the departure of more exciting spirits which accompanied Jerry back to Germany.”

From Life history of Alfred  P. Guion:

Langres, France:  6 months – operator – 1000 kva Diesel-Electric power plant.

Marseilles, France: 10 weeks –

While Lad’s Batallion was in Marseilles, he was able to obtain a weekend pass to Paris.  His brother Dan was getting married in Calais, sixty miles north of Paris.  Lad had been told that he was not allowed to go further north than Paris.  He took a train to Paris, left his duffel bag in a room at the hospitality center, slipped a comb and toothbrush in his pocket and headed north.  Very quickly he discovered the local train had too many stops and was moving much slower than regular street traffic, so he got off the train and started to hitchhike.  A British soldier on a motorcycle stopped and asked where he was going.  When Lad told him Calais the soldier said he would take him and actually dropped him off in front of the pharmacy that Paulette’s father owned.  Lad spent a long weekend getting reacquainted with his brother and getting to know his new sister-in-law and her family.  There is actually quite a bit more to this story but that will unfold in my regular blog posts.

From Life history of Alfred  P. Guion:

Aug., 1945 – returned to U.S.

Trumbull, Conn., – 7 weeks – recuperation furlough

Aberdeen,Md., – 7 weeks – waiting for discharge orders.

Fort Meade, Md. – 3 days – DISCHARGE

Next Sunday I will attempt to give a very condensed version of Lad and Marian’s married life in Trumbull, including the birth of their children.  Tomorrow I will begin posting a week of letters written in 1943 when all 5 sons are serving Uncle Sam in one way or another.  Judy Guion

The Beginning (28) – Childhood Memories of the Children – Young Lad and Driving

At this point Grandpa’s “Reminiscences of Alfred D Guion” has ended  and the rest of this story will be the memories of the children as they were growing up.

Art Mantle, Biss (Elizabeth Guion) and Lad

LAD – When I was eight, Dad took Dan, Ced and I, possibly Biss, for a walk up behind our property, past the cemetery.  There was a slightly sloping hill on the lot, and all of us were rolling down the hill, including Dad.  When he got up he said there was something wrong with his eyes, some dirt or something, so we went home.  His eye got worse and more bloodshot and it began to hurt more so Mother told him he should go see the doctor.  He was reluctant but finally consented.  I asked him if I could go and he said yes.  When he got to the doctors, the doctor told him that a piece of stubble had apparently pierced his eye.  He sewed it up and when Dad came out he could only see out of one eye, and that was blurred and watery.  He asked me if I could steer the car for him.  So I sat on his lap and steered the car, told him when to put on the brakes.  He did the shifting and used the clutch, but from that time on, I was very interested in driving.  I was only eight!

BISS – When Lad was twelve or fourteen, I don’t remember when, he and Ced and Dan and Dad went for a walk.  Dad’s eye got cut with a blade of grass or something.  So Lad drove him to the hospital, even though he was under the age, too.  Of course, Dad couldn’t drive because he couldn’t see.  So Lad drove him to the hospital and back after they took care of him.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: since Lad remembers sitting on Grandpa’s lap, he was probably closer to eight rather than twelve or fourteen.

LAD – By the time I was twelve, I was able to drive a car by myself.  I talked my mother into letting me drive to Kurtz’s store.  We had a 1925 Packard, and at that time, the road was so narrow that when I got to the junction of White Plains Road and Daniels Farm Road, there wasn’t much room to maneuver a car, so I went on down to Reservoir Avenue to turn around.  On the way back, I saw a car coming towards me.  It was Sheriff Stanley Boughton.  He looked at me, turned around and accosted me in the store.  He asked me if I had license to drive, and I guess I said, “No”.  He then asked me if my mother knew I was driving.  When I said, “Yes”, he told me to take the car home and leave it there … But I didn’t.  I never got into trouble after that until much later.  After I got my license I was driving up in the Newtown area and apparently I was driving too fast.  I got stopped for speeding.  Nothing ever came of it because my Dad was the Justice of the Peace and, at that time, First Selectman of Trumbull.

DICK – One time Lad took the Packard touring car, he was quite impressed with its power and high gear.  He started it rolling and slipped the clutch to get it started and went for a drive to Kurtz’s store.  Johnny Austin was the town cop.  He went to see Dad.  “You’d better talk to your boy … I couldn’t catch him and it’s a good thing I didn’t.”

Biss, at about 17, didn’t get along. She had no desire to assume the running of the house.  Dad talked it over with the female relatives and it was decided that Biss would stay with Aunt Anne (Stanley) in St;. Petersburg, Florida, for about a year.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: We will never know if Lad and Dick were talking about the same incident or two different instances.  I do know that my Dad’s love of cars started very early in his life.

Tomorrow, another excerpt from San Jose, California to the Lewis family back in New York. On Sunday, I will continue the story of Lad and Marian during and after World War II.

Judy Guion