Harold Leddy's Big Trip to Washington

Jack, who is sometimes given to exaggeration, says that his farther, Harold was the sole person on the west coast who was approved to argue before the U.S. Supreme Court.  He says that Harold traveled through the Panama Canal which has just been built (it was opened in 1914) on a freight ship, landing in New Orleans.  He eventually went to Washington and appeared before the Supreme Court. He wanted to practice international law:  whether he ever did I do not know.  Jack says that his father's adventures were written up in the Pasadena papers.

How Harold met Margaret.  The story is that Harold was friends with Margaret's brother Hamish, who was also a lawyer.  Harold and Margaret met at U.C. Berkeley when students there.  Harold fell in love and decided not to be a priest.

The Harold Leddy/Margaret Eddie family lived at ll75 Woodbury Road in Pasadena according to the 1930 census.  The house was built in 1925 and they were renting it.  It still stands today.

Wanamaker's Department Store 1909

 

 

John T. Leddy, Jack's grandfather was a cabinetry carpenter at Wanamaker's in Philadelphia.  He retired at a very young age and took his entire family to California by train.  The first place they arrived at was Pasadena and they got off there.  He built himself a house in Pasadena and a barn.

Jane Remembers Des Moines and her mother Edna Winter

Downtown Des Moines 1940, Vachon, John, 1914-1975, photographer.

Jane remembers that when she was a child she had to go to Des Moines to see the dentist.  It was in a very tall building and they could see all of Des Moines from it..an insurance building?  Her dad paid for braces ahead of time, but the dentist died before the job was done, and it was never finished.

Jane remembers discovering her parents stuffing money under the bed.  They had taken their money out of the bank for fear of a crash.  They told her never to tell anyone.  She always wondered whether they really thought it was safe to tell a child that!

Jane remembers that her dad hoarded coffee during the war.  There were bags of coffee in storage.  He just couldn't do without coffee and was worried that it would be rationed.

She remembers a trip to Washington D.C. to visit her mother who was working for the U.S. Census Bureau. She was in college at that time. The mother, my grandmother Edna Winter, was rooming with a WAVE friend and they had seen all the sights of the city.  Then Edna took her to all the city's sites -- she was exhausted.  They also went to a party at the embassy of some South American country.  It was all very exciting.  She remembers that when she went there she was in a sleeper berth on the train.  She also stopped in Chicago and visited friends on her way back to Iowa.  They took her to see the Chicago Art Museum. 

Edna had been a cook for Boy Scouts, Camp Fire Girls and various colleges.  She moved to the town of  Jane's college and was a cook there as well, to be near Jane.. 

I found this about Norwalk, Iowa, Jane's home town, on Wikipedia:
Norwalk's darker history includes this mass killing. "Mrs. G.R. McAnich killed five of her seven children and then turned the gun on herself in 1937."  I believe Jane mentioned this once.

St. Andrew's Catholic Church

Jack says that his grandfather put money into St. Andrew's Church in Pasadena.  I should also mention here that his Leddy grandparents had six children: Helene, May, Harold, Joe, Alma, and Jane.  Jane [Winter] says that she met the whole family once in Pasadena shortly before she got married.

Jack Sees Herbert Hoover as a Kid

Jack says his father took him to see Herbert Hoover in Pasadena.  Hoover arrived at the train station.  He probably spoke from the train.     

In 1928, Hoover ran for President with the slogan "A chicken in every pot and a car in every garage.".

One Room School in which James Winter Taught

Jane's father James taught in this one-room schoolhouse in Iowa.  His wife and my grandmother Edna Winter also taught there.

Jack Also Met Marconi!

Guglielmo Marconi 1874-1937



Jack says he won a prize for a science project in High School and part of the prize involved meeting Marconi. (It must have been shortly before Marconi died, when Jack was around 15).  Marconi was famous for developing the radio-telegraph system, and received a Nobel prize in 1909.  On a darker side, Marconi became a member of the Fascist party in 1923 and was made director of the Royal Academy of Italy by Mussolini in 1930.

Jack Met Lawrence Welk!

Jack loves to remember famous people he met.  He says he was introduced to Lawrence Welk on evening in Chicago by a Captain Eddy (no relation to us - later Rear Admiral USNR).  He was a 19 year old ensign.  They had a nice chat.  Jane (and the rest of the family) disliked Welk and His music although Jack says that she has recently come to tolerate it on old TV replays.

John T. Leddy

Harold Leddy's farther was John T. Leddy, my great grand-father.  This is a picture of a card that my cousin Claire Leddy took.  I previously had a picture up here that I thought was of him, but Jack says it is not. 

Radar and Sonar Combined and British Navy Chicago July 1943

Jack tells me that during WWII when he was working in Chicago for the U.S. Navy he was assigned to a British ship, and also at one time to a submarine.  (He says his mother complained that he had a British accent when he came home.)  The British had developed radar and had given the information to the U.S.  Jack was a specialist in radar.  He claims that he had a special idea to combine radar with sonar so that submarines could communicate with the war office from 200 feet under water.  The photo is one of Jack's along with writing on the back.

Harold Leddy and the African-American 23rd Engineers

Jack says that his father Harold was a member of the 23rd Engineers.  He says that this was an almost all African-American unit, and that although Harold was only a private he was put in charge of the unit (I supposed because he was white - these were racist times).  Here is information about the 23rd Engineers coming from The Association of the Third Armored Division Veterans http://www.3ad.org/23en/23en_wwi.htm

"The 23rd was constituted on 15 August 1917, in the National Army by the War Department General Order 108, as the 23d Engineer Regiment (Road). In spite of the problems faced by the War Department and the Corps of Engineers since the declaration of war in the previous April, it took just three weeks to gather a nucleus of men and activate the 23d Engineers on 5 September 1917 at Camp Meade, Maryland. There they began their training. Very little has been recorded of these early days of the 23d Engineers except the terse entries in Army Records.
The 23rd Engineers began deploying to France in November 1917, and served in support of various allied actions, earning for itself the title "The Road Builders of the AEF." Based upon the written histories of other units in the same sections, we know that the 23rd Engineers contended successfully with building and maintaining highways destroyed by shell fire, areas contaminated by chemical warfare that had to be rehabilitated in order to be used by the support troops, and as in any war, the enemy of all armies, mud. The degree of success of the unit is measured by their nickname and earning three campaign streamers: Lorraine, Saint Mihiel and the Meuse-Argonne.
From the day of surrender of the Germany Army until June 1919, the 23rd Engineers were engaged in the standard after action (post hostilities) missions of clean up and repair. In that month of June, the unit was returned to the United States." 

My dad says that they dug trenches, buried bodies, and built bridges. 

The picture was taken from a web site "Military Life - World War I, WWI African-American Soldiers." There are more pictures here.

Jack and the MIT Rad Lab

Radiation Lab MIT [I believe this to be an open source photograph]

Jack spent at least a year during the war taking classes at Harvard.  He was also associated with the Rad Lab at MIT.  Here's a description of the Rad Lab.  "During the war, large scale research at the RadLab was devoted to the rapid development of microwave radar. Projects included physical electronics, microwave physics, electromagnetic properties of matter, and microwave communication principles. The "RadLab" designed almost half of the radar deployed in World War II, created over 100 different radar systems, and constructed $1.5 billion worth of radar. At the height of its activities, the RadLab employed nearly 4,000 people working on several continents. What began as a British-American effort to make microwave radar work, evolved into a centralized laboratory committed to understanding the theories behind experimental radar while solving its engineering problems."  This is from the Research Library of Electronics MIT website

Jane's Grandma and Grandpa Robbins

Jane tells me that her grandfather Robbins (her mother's father) died when she was little.  She was two or three at the time and her mother left her with the Winter grandparents at their farm, Winterbourne, while attending to her father.  Later, grandma Robbins lived with her son Don.  They were farmers, but rented their farms.  As a result they often moved from farm to farm, usually in March, which is when these things would happen.  Jane also mentions that the Robbins family came from Indiana, and her grandmother came from Kentucky.   There was also another uncle in the Robbins family named Fred. 

Jane remembers that family reunions in the summertime would usually be head in country schoolyards as they had places to play games and outdoor toilets.

Jack Sees Einstein

Albert Einstein visited CalTech in Pasadena in 1930, 31, and 32.  Jack's dad had some sort of connection with CalTech and Jack was able to attend one of Einstein's events, even though he was between 8 and 10.  He wanted to shake Einstein's hand, but never did.

Pine Inn, Carmel

We recently dropped Jack and Jane off for their 62nd wedding anniversary at the Pine Inn in Carmel.  This is where they went for their honeymoon in 1948.  The Pine Inn is Carmel's oldest hotel. It was built in 1889.  Steinbeck met his future wife there in 1949. 

Hamish B. Eddie

My grandmother's only brother was Hamish Eddie.  One site lists his dates as Oct 9, 1892 to June 1977, with the death benefits location being Glendale, Los Angeles. That seems plausible. We heard that when he was young he was a socialist and voted for Eugene V. Debs.  However when I knew him he was a right-winger and fond of the John Birch Society (we used to tease him about his former views).  He was a lawyer and people referred to him as a lawyer's lawyer.  We visited him once in his law offices in Los Angeles near Japantown.  I have found two on-line references to his cases, both of which were at the appeals level.  One was Adams vs. Bell in the California Supreme Court, 1936.  Another was People vs. Hammer, which was before an appeals court in 1925.  In this case Hamish was standing for the respondent which was "the People."  The case was one of rape in which the appellant claimed that the judge had wrongly instructed the jury.  Hamish's case was successful.  Hamish was a drill sargent during WW1.  The family knew him as a professional boxing fan. I believe he married a Christian Scientist and became one himself.  As far as I know he had no children. I'll try to find a picture of him for a future entry..

California Relatives

Jane says she remembers one summer in Iowa when several members of the Winter family from California came through Iowa used their place as a bed-and-breakfast.  They all remarked on how green the hills were compared to the dry brown hills of California.  She also mentioned once that she visited with these relatives in Sacramento the first time she came to California.  I wonder if there are Winter relatives still in California.

Jack Helps War Department after Pearl Harbor

U.S.S. Arizona, Pearl Harbor, 1941

Jack says that when Pearl Harbor was attacked he was a student at Bakersfield Junior College and was operating a ham radio station in their science building.  He says he was tasked with relaying coded messages about the attacks from Hawaii to the War Department in Washington.  This was through his membership in the American Radio Relay League.  A book called Aacs - Air Communication says that the American Radio Relay League worked in coordination with the Army Amateur Radio System and that after Pearl Harbor amateur radio operations were suspended. (pg. 30.)   Jack was 19 at this time, and had been a radio ham since the age of 13.  I asked him why the army couldn't do this itself and he implied that they just weren't prepared and that the amateurs were better at it.

Harold Leddy in Pasadena

Harold organized the traditional Annual Freshman Banquet at the Maryland Hotel, Pasadena on Feb. 14 for 150 members of the College of Law, this stated in the University of Southern California El Rodeo Yearbook class of 1924, pg. 141.

Bowles Hall

Bowles Hall Today

Jack is listed as one of the Bowles Hall Seniors at Bowles Hall, University of California, in the Blue and Gold yearbook of 1946, page 239.  He says that he and his brother Don were both Presidents of Bowles Hall.  Jack was President in 1941.  I remember seeing a plaque saying as much several years ago.  The Bowles Hall newsletter says that Don was in room 503 and graduate in 1948.

My Grandfather, Jack's Father, Harold D. Leddy

Harold D. Leddy

Jack Leddy, Harold D. Leddy, Margaret Leddy (my grandmother) and Don Leddy (Jack's brother)

Harold was born May 18, 1892 and died in September 1967.  He met his wife Margaret at U.C. Berkeley. He served in WWI with the Engineers digging trenches.  Jack says he was strongly influenced by the French.  The story is that when he came back his hair was completely white even though still a young man.  He was said to have suffered from a mustard gas attack.  Harold eventually became a lawyer.  There is a story that his teeth were very crooked and that one day, to improve his delivery in trials, he had all his teath pulled.  For as long as I knew him he had false teath.  Harold, Margaret and their family moved from Pasadena to Bakersfield maybe in the 1930s. Their place in Bakersfield still exists on Oleander Drive.  It is a two story California bungalow.  My Dad had the attic room with windows on three sides.  When he was young it must have been filled with electrical equipment.  I remember that the floor in the kitchen was tilted because of an earthquake.  During the Depression, for a while, the Leddy family had a place in Mountain Ranch, California.  Eventually that place burned down. Late in life Harold and Margaret moved to Costa Mesa. Their son Jim often lived with for some of that period.   Harold loved to read and he also loved used book stores.  His study in Costa Mesa had quite a few books.  He also loved to gamble.  When we were kids he would take us to the race tracks and give us two dollars to bet.  Jane says that once we went to her and said that we needed more money: we asked her to take us to the race tracks so that we could bet some money.  I remember that when my grandpa took me to the races I always bet $2 for the favorite to show:  I usually made about fifty cents.

Jack, Jane and Tom

Jack looks so handsome, Jane so beautiful, and Tom ....

Something I never knew before:  my parents named me after Jack's best friend, Tom Nelson.

Little Old Ladies from Pasadena

My grandfather Harold Leddy had four sisters: Iona, Alma, May and Helen.  I remember Auntie May and Helen as little old ladies who lived in Pasadena.  Jack informs me that May was considered the smart one of the family, although she may have never finished high school.  He says she worked in Washington and was Secretary to the Secretary of the U.S.  He says she met all the Presidents of the U.S. I have not been able to confirm any of this.  I remember their house as a one story California bungalow... very dark.  Auntie Alma was a nun.  I remember little about her except that she was very nice.  Both she and my Aunt Marie ended up at the Sister of the Holy Names Convent in Los Gatos. Jack says that she taught mathematics. I believe her order was Sisters of Mercy.  Jack also informs me that his grandfather Leddy had worked as a newspaper boy in Philadelphia a carpenter and eventually as a clothes store entrepreneur.  He made enough money to retire at a young age.  He packed the entire family onto a train and came to California.  They got off, Jack says, in Pasadena, as that was the first stop.  He bought a plot of land there and built a house and a barn, although the area quickly became up-scale and not appropriate for barns.  Jack says that his grandfather was a devout Catholic and built a church for the black Catholics of South Pasadena. Holy Family Church appears to be the Catholic Church in South Pasadena.  They had a "bungalow" church as early as 1910.  They started building their current church in 1923. I've got to find some pictures of May and Helen, and more about them.  I don't think they every drove hot-rods.

Jane's Grandparents,William Murray Winter and Margaret Wright Winter

My relative Malcolm Winter (Jane's cousin) has done a lot of genealogical work including this material on my mother's grandparents.

WILLIAM MURRAY WINTER* (JOHN4, THOMAS3 WINTER, JOHN2, JOHN1) was born Sep 29, 1854 in Bovina, NY, and died Mar 25, 1945 in Truro, Iowa. He married MARGARET ANN WRIGHT* Apr 29, 1886 in Grant Center, Lyon County, Iowa, daughter of JAMES WRIGHT and MARGARET MCCLELLAND*.


Notes for WILLIAM MURRAY WINTER*:

Bought Lyon County Iowa farm 1/3/1894 from Amber & Esdert Arrnds for $4,880 SW4 sec17 twp100 rng43 160acres + $2,000 mortgage due 6/1/97 7%

Sold farm 6/2/1902 to Eno Reiter for $7,680 + $2,000 mortgage c int from

12/1/1901 & 2nd mortgage $1962.3 c interest from 6/17/1901

Bought Clarke County Iowa farm 2/26/1903 from Sam J. & Flora B. Ray for

$7,200 NW4 sec9 twp73 rng26 160acres

Farm sold by Margaret Winter to Gertrude E. Maxwell 9/14/1978

NW4 & E2,NW4ofSW4 sec9 twp73 Nrng26

I remember my grandfather as an old man sitting in a rocking chair reading. He was tall with white hair and an easy grin. He died of a stroke when he was 90. I imagine he had had hypertension for many years, but in those days it was a problem for which there was little treatment.



More About WILLIAM MURRAY WINTER*:

May 10, 1902, sold Little Rock to German neighbor $50/ac

ABT 1912, fell, hurt back

Occupation: farmer

Ethnicity/Relig.: Methodist

Comment 3: LittleRock frm now owned Walter Brewer

Notes for MARGARET ANN WRIGHT*:


My paternal grandmother was born in 1855 in New Delhi, New York, became a teacher and I believed moved to Iowa when she married my grandfather. She was a short small lady with lots of energy and a keen sense of humor. Among her many talents were that of being a painter. We have a number of her pictures in our home. I have many happy memories of her down on the farm near Truro, Iowa. She would tell me stories and get me involved in various fun projects. She was 4 years older than my grandfather, but in my mind acted younger than he did. Like him though she was hypertensive and died of a stroke when she was 90, 4 years before he did.



More About MARGARET ANN WRIGHT*:

1855, started school with Libby as teacher

1859, Father Wright stricken c pain in 4 d died

1867, teacher

1884, Sibley Ia

 

Margaret Wright Winter and Willaim Murray Winter

Jack meets J. Robert Oppenheimer

J. Robert Oppenheimer ca. 1944 when he was director of the Los Alamos National Laboratory

Jack says he met Oppenheimer when he was a physics student at UC Berkeley and Oppenheimer was a professor there.  Oppenheimer was at Berkeley from 1929 to 1942.  He would have been 37 when he left Berkeley to direct the Los Alamos National Laboratory. Although Oppenheimer was not a radio ham, Jack says that the ham radio operators were interested in the Cyclotron which used the same frequencies as were used in radio. Wikipedia says that the first cyclotron was manufactured by Ernest Lawrence of Berkeley in 1932. 

Masquerade Ball for my Great Grandfather Eddie

I discovered more information about my great grandfather, Rev. James B. Eddie.  In the Carson City News in Sept. 28, 1896 he invited those "who wish to take up some literary work during the coming winter" to meet at the rectory at eight o'clock.  Twelve people signed up to the Leisure Hour club which met between 1896 and 1900 at St. Peters under Rev. Eddie.  In 1900 the article indicates he resigned to become Dean of the Cathedral, Salt Lake City, Utah.  Nevada State Museum Newsletter, May/June 2000  The article also includes of photo of a Masquerade Ball honoring Eddie and his wife.  The literary club still existed in 2000.

James B. Eddie, Jack's mother's father, rector of St. Peters, Carson City

Picture of St. Peters probably taken by one of the Eddies c. 1900

Early Picture of St. Peters Church

I found this material about my great grandfather who was rector at the St. Peter's Episcopal Church in Carson City Nevada.  It is in a document called Rectory "In 1900 it was reported in the St. Peter’s news sheet, The Parish Rubric, that “The rectory is in perfect condition now, thanks to the good women of the Guild. Aside from new carpets, upholstering and fresh paper, electric lights have been put in.” The first rector to occupy the refurbished house may have been the Reverend J. Fred Holmes, who served the parish from 1890 to 1892. Holmes was followed by J. W. Hyslop (1892-96) and James B. Eddie (beginning in 1896)."  The electronic version of the first photo thanks to my cousin Claire Leddy.

Uncle John Converts to Catholicism

Altadena Country Club Altadena Country Club, called the Pasadena Golf Club (1920 - 1932)

I ran across this item I wrote probably in the 1970s.  “Margaret Leddy (my grandmother [Margaret Eddie]) remembers Uncle John and her father seated in the living room debating scripture. At that time her farther had become interested in Christian Science. Uncle John had converted to Catholicism after having introduced Catholic novelties into his Presbyterian Church. Margaret says that Uncle John converted 27 people to Catholicism on the boat over from Scotland. When he arrived in Altadena where the Eddies were then living he also converted Margaret and her sisters. The children had already been attending a Catholic Church services as they were much disillusioned with the Episcopal church. Margaret says that her father resigned from the Church because of jealousies on the part of the Bishop. However many of the parishioners supported them and when they moved to Altadena they were largely supported by contributions from the former perish. Mr. Edie became a real estate man at one point, and was fairly successful in this capacity.” Tom Leddy

Jack Saves Tarzan's Life!

Jack worked at the Bakersfield Inn as a lifeguard before he entered the navy. Johnny Weissmuller, famous for the Tarzan movies, used to visit.  Once, according to Jack, the pool was being cleaned and was empty.  Weissmuller was drunk and was about to dive into the pool.  Jack convinced him to come down and saved his life.  I make no claims to the truth of this story: it may well be part of family mythology.  I remember seeing the Bakersfield Inn when we would drive down from Fresno to visit my grandparents. (The image is of Weissmuller at a swim meet in 1924 and is a public domain image by George Grantham Bain. Images of Weissmuller in 1944 would tend not to be in the public domain.)

Jack's Childhood Ku Klux Klan Incident

Ku Klux Klan match on Washington 1925 20-40,000 people.

Jack says that when he was three years old the Ku Klux Klan burned a cross on his dad's front lawn.  He saw it all from across the street where he was staying in his cousin's house. This was one of the most frightening experiences in his life. The Ku Klux Klan was very active in Southern California during this period.  They targeted Catholics, and Jack's family was Catholic.  Also, his dad, Harold Leddy, was a lawyer who sometimes ran for judge.  This would be 1925.  Jack was living in Pasadena. Other cities in the L.A. area were noted for the Ku Klux Klan presence, for example Inglewood and Anaheim. Wikipedia says that "On February 20, 1925, it was reported that the 'Ku Klux Klan element' in Inglewood was supporting the recall of five city trustees (council members) in an attack on Street Superintendent O.O. Farmer 'because of the employment in his office and field force of men who are not yet American citizens.'" (Anti-immigrant sentiment is no new thing!) Another source says that "the Klan decided to make Anaheim, California, into a model Klan city; it secretly took over the city council, but was voted out in a special recall election" En.Citizendium.org

Ku Klux Klan in Anaheim California, 1924

Here is an account of the Anaheim takeover from the Anaheim Police Department History "Through the election, the unsuspecting populace placed the KKK in a position to effectively take control of city government. Many city employees wisely chose to resign their employment with the city. However, nine of the ten officers on the Anaheim Police force, including Chief Moody, chose to retain their jobs and sided with the Klan. The Klan spread their messages to the townspeople entering into the city. The letters  'K.I.G.Y.' (Klansmen I greet you) were visible to all entering Anaheim as the letters were painted on the pavement entrances to the city. Anaheim temporarily and jokingly became referred to as 'Klanaheim.' Although the Klan claimed a large Anaheim membership, it is believed that the total Anaheim membership never exceeded 300. The Klan, who restricted its membership to Protestants, centered its cause on Puritanism, calling for the strict enforcement of prohibition laws. The KKK of Southern California did not make race a major issue, but instead centered their wrath against local churches. The Klan attempted to tie drunkenness and lawlessness as a conspiracy by the Catholics. Klan parades and public demonstrations were common to Anaheim in 1924. On at least one occasion, Anaheim Policemen had been seen directing traffic while wearing their white robes and hoods. When crosses were burned in town, Klansmen were stationed on top of nearby buildings ready to shoot anyone who attempted to extinguish the fiery cross. In August of 1924, a large nighttime initiation rally was held at City Park, now known as Pearson Park. The rally was the largest Klan rally ever held in California at the time. It was attended by an estimated 10,000 people, some from as far away as San Bernardino and San Diego. The townspeople of Anaheim would only tolerate so much. On February 3, 1925, a successful recall election was held by the citizens of Anaheim to oust the four Klan-affiliated City Trustees."  This report confirms that Catholics were special targets of the Klan in the Southern California area and that crosses were burned.

Jane and the Iowa Mountaineers

Jane joined the Iowa Mountaineers before she moved to Califonia.  Click on the link to see a web site which has some impressive photographs.  I like this one.  It was the largest University mountaineering club in the world.  It was founded in 1940. 

Driver for Earl Warren

Earl Warren as Governor of California 1943? (The photo is public domain from Wikipedia, photographer unknown.)

Jack says he was a driver for Earl Warren in Bakersfield. Warren later became Governor of California and then Supreme Court Chief Justice.  Bakersfield was Warren's home town and Warren went to Bakersfield High.  Jack says he was his driver when he was in Bakersfield. He drove his dad's Buick. He says his dad and Warren were good friends. Jack says he started this job, which was unpaid, when he was 13! Since he was born in 1922 he would have started in 1935. Jack says that he was Warren's driver when he was D.A. in Alameda and later when he was running for Attorney General. This is what Wikipedia says Warren was doing this period.  "In 1938 he won the primaries in all major parties, thanks to a system called "cross filing," and was elected [as Attroney General] without serious opposition. Once elected he organized state law enforcement officials into regions and led a statewide anti-crime effort. One of his major initiatives was to crack down on gambling ships operating off the coast of Southern California. As Attorney General, Warren is most remembered for being the moving force behind Japanese internment during the war—the compulsory removal of people of Japanese descent to inland internment camps away from the war zone along the coast. Following the Japanese Attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, Warren organized the state's civilian defense program, warning in January, 1942, that, "The Japanese situation as it exists in this state today may well be the Achilles heel of the entire civilian defense effort." Throughout his lifetime, Warren maintained that this seemed to be the right decision at the time."  Warren was elected Governor in 1942. Warren recommended Jack to be a commissioned officer in the Navy, and I believe he was the youngest Lieutenants during that time.

Harrison Leddy

Jack and Jane's Grandson Harrison, son of John Charleson Leddy and Sheila Quarry.

Tom Leddy and Jane Leddy in San Francisco in 2006?

Margaret Eddie as a Child in Carson City

Photograph of my grandmother, Margaret. On the back in Grandma's hand, it says: Margaret F.C. Eddie, Carson City, Nev. 1898.  Her father was a minister at the Episcopal Church there.  My cousin Claire Hackett sent me this image.  Margaret was birn Oct. 4,1894 and died in 1984 in Costa Mesa, California.

Visit to North Dakota

Jane remembers the big trip of her childhood being from Iowa to North Dakota where her father owned a farm that he had homesteaded.  Her father rented the house to a large family and Jane remembers sleeping in a bed with three other girls.  As a single child, that was quite an experience.

John Philip Souza

Jane remembers being taken by her father to Iowa City to hear John Philip Souza.  He had formed his own band which, between 1892 and 1931 toured the United States.  He died in 1932.  Here's another picture of him available from Wikipedia from a 1940 stamp.

My grandmother, Jack's mother, Margaret Leddy (Eddie)

This photo of my grandmother looks like it was taken in the 1920s.  I remember her as a wonderful old character who lived in Costa Mesa, California.  We would go down often during the summer and walk to the beach in Newport.

Margaret was a teacher and retired August 6, 1964.  She had a diploma from State Normal of Los Angeles dated June 24, 1915.  She was a holder of a Grammar School Certificate for Imperial County in Jan. 1919 and taught at the Brawly Grammar School from Feb. 1918 to Dec. of 1920.  At that time she was called Margaret Forbes Charleston Eddie.  She was also a teacher in Los Angeles City in 1920.  Between 1935 and 1939 she taught in Kern County.  Kern county schools she taught at were Edison School, Hospital School, Norris School, at well as Arvin Night School In 1939 she started teaching in Bakersfield City. When she started as a teacher then of the special evening class of the Arvin Migratory School, Arvin, California her salary was $4.00 per night, teaching Tuesday and Thursday night from seven to nine. During WWII she taught full-time from 1942-1945 at Bakersfield City Schools.  In 1954-55 she also taught full time. . She resigned from the Bakersfield City School District at the close of the 1954-5 school year.  She also taught at he Horace Ensign Junior High School in Newport between 1955 and 1957 as a substitute, also at Capistrano Beach.  This information is collated from drafts of letters Margaret wrote at the time of her retirement and from official documents.

In 1939  Margaret lived at 130 Oleander Ave., Bakersfield, CA. with her husband Harold, and her as many of her four boys who were living by that time (need to check).


Margaret was called Margaret Eddie Leddy after she married.

One of their addresses was 396 East 15th Street, Costa Mesa, CA.  That's where I remember them the most.  After Grandpa Leddy died Jim Leddy moved in for a time.  Grandma (Margaret) loved to talk.  She also enjoyed her sherry and cheese and cracker, which she shared with us when we were grown up.  Grandpa had his own study filled with books.  He was fond of book collecting and I probably caught that from him.

Jack's trip to Tijuana while in the Navy during WWII

Jack, on the right, was in the navy, presumably stationed in the San Diego area at that time.  He went with his commanding officer and the officer's wife to Tijuana.  Another woman in the photo was supposed to be Jack's date, but he says he didn't really like her. The story he tells is that they got into some trouble and had difficulties getting back across the border.  I think they were escorted by Mexican authorities to the border-crossing.  I check with him on the details of this story and revise this post if I got it wrong. 

Family audience members for Andrew's graduation at Stern Grove 2010

Bill Leddy, Marsha Maytum, Win Maytum, Marilyn Maytum, Robin Giustina, Rachel Siegel, Tom Giustina

Andrew Leddy at his high school graduation

Jack and Jane waiting for their grandson Andrew Leddy's high school graduation ceremony

My grandfather, Jane's father, James Winter

BRANDYWINE PATRIOT by Jack Leddy

This family story introduces you to Captain John Barnes, one of our early American ancestors, formerly a British Officer during the War for American Independence. His picture, hand-etched on ivory in London around 1775, is shown on the adjacent page. This picture, along with old family stories passed on by my father, cousins and other, more distant relations provide an interesting insight to our family history in the beginning of America. A recent trip to Philadelphia and the Brandywine River area, south of the city and to Valley Forge National Historic Monument brought inspiration and uncovered more confirmation of this story. Also, some help from a British friend, who gave useful British Army reference websites to further confirm some of the information.



On September 11, 1777 the battle of Brandywine River, the largest conflict of the American Revolution was fought on a hot, humid day. This battle brought defeat to George Washington’s troops as he was largely outnumbered by the British Redcoats. Philadelphia, the capital of the newly formed nation, was the goal of British General Howe during the campaign of 1777. The British approached Philadelphia from the Chesapeake, landing at Head of Elk (now Elkton), Maryland. Washington chose the high ground in the area of Chadds Ford to defend against the British advance. Chadds Ford allowed safe passage across the Brandywine River on the road from Baltimore to Philadelphia. Today, Chadds Ford is still a small village near the Brandywine River Battlefield with several art galleries. The famous Wyeth family of artists live nearby and a beautiful art museum dedicated to them is next to the Brandywine River. It is now very peaceful and difficult to believe that such a bloody battle took place in that area.



A British officer’s comment on the battle: “What excessive fatigue. A rapid march from four o’clock in the morning till four in the eve, when we engaged.. Till dark we fought…….

There was a most infernal fire of cannon and musquetry. Most incessant shouting. ‘Incline to the right! Incline to the left! Halt! Charge! etc. The balls plowing up the ground. The trees cracking over one’s head. The branches riven by the artillery. The leaves falling as in autumn by the grapeshot.”



In 1777, George Washington lost the battle due to inferior intelligence. He had studied all the possible crossings of the Brandywine River and assumed that Chadd’s Ford was the only logical crossing of this natural barrier on the road to Philadelphia.

However, the British commander, General Howe, discovered another location of a crossing much to the north of Chadd’s Ford and managed to outflank our Continental Army and put Washington’s troops in danger of being completely surrounded. Washington was assisted for the first time in the War for Independence by the French Marquis de Lafayette, already a General in the American Army at the age of 19. Saved by nightfall, Washington managed to retreat to West Chester.



However, the American troops had some sharpshooters that were expert at picking off the British officers, who marched at the front of their troops. Washington had some of these riflemen stationed in trees on the road to Philadelphia with orders to shoot every Redcoat officer through the heart with the thought that this would discourage and frighten the British troops.



By coincidence, my great, great, great grandfather, a British Army officer, Captain John Barnes, was shot by one of these riflemen, who missed his heart, and shot him through the left shoulder. Wounded severely, but surviving in great pain, he was carried on a stretcher to Old Swede’s Church in South Philadelphia. The church had been made into a temporary hospital by the British when they occupied Philadelphia in the fall of 1777. It is still standing, known as Gloria Dei National Monument, and is a functioning church, surrounded by a cemetery where some of our ancestors are buried.



The oldest traceable ancestor buried in that churchyard was a Swedish lady, Elizabeth Salonius. Born in 1620 in Philadelphia and died in 1690. She was the widow of Augustin Salonius, an early Swedish settler and the grandmother of Sarah Johnson. Sarah was a nurse at Old Swede’s Church attending the British troops.



After several months, John Barnes found that he was deeply in love with Sarah. Suggesting marriage to her she told him that she would not marry him unless he left the British Army and joined the American Revolution. According to our family history he actually deserted the British, and we recently have traced his enlistment in the American army at the bitter winter encampment in Valley Forge in January, 1778. But he became very sick and was discharged after a few months. He disappeared for awhile amidst the Swedish farm settlers in upstate Pennsylvania but family history indicates he was commissioned as a Captain in the US Army and was present at Yorktown when the British Army admitted defeat and surrendered to Washington.



Peacetime in the beginning of America had its difficulties and we don’t know how John Barnes made a living but it is surmised that he was in the hotel business. One quotation from a letter from Mary B. Reynolds to Mary Barnes (Allaben) follows:

“Now Mary, I will do the best I can to tell you a little about the Barnes Family history.

One of the very first things I remember was my Father taking Lucy and me for a walk on Sunday afternoons. We had one favorite walk, that was to the Delaware River, about nine blocks from our home. We loved the busy wharves with the sailors, foreigners, earrings in their ears, a monkey jabbering and climbing about, and a parrot with its bright plumage, sitting on a sailor’s shoulder or wrist. Then we stopped in at Old Swede’s Church cemetery to take a look at the grave of our great-grandmother Johnson, the mother of our grandmother Barnes. A pleasant place, that quiet God’s acre, nothing of sadness.”



“Then on we fared to Grandmother Barnes’ house on Wharton Street near Moyamensing Avenue; a rather French looking house with lovely wrought iron balconies outside of every window, a remembrance of the many years in New Orleans. We always found visitors at grandmother’s, but we were quiet and well behaved children. I can remember her sitting there looking at a picture book. It was always the same one: ‘Fox’s Book of Martyrs’ and the ghoulish delight I had in Saint Lawrence, who was shown on a gridiron, toasting over the flames, like my mother cooked lamb chops.



One of the visitors was an old sea captain, my grandmother remarked that he followed the sea, and I know how envious I was, happy fate, to follow the sea, to what far mysterious port did he follow? I wondered. He always showed us children how he drew a bright gleaming sword out of his cane and brandished it. Captain Kidd had nothing on him in my estimation. He never appeared anywhere but in grandmother’s parlor.



Then I used to wonder how grandfather, John Barnes, a handsome young fellow in stock and ruffles, whose portrait smiled down on us, could be the husband of that little gray haired old dame we all loved. He looked younger than any of her sons.”



When Thomas Jefferson made the Louisiana Purchase he told the loyal veterans that he had no money to give them but he had lots of land. Captain Barnes asked for a lot in down-town New Orleans and took his wife and two children down the Mississippi River and settled in New Orleans and built the largest hotel in that city.



“When grandmother Barnes married that handsome young Englishman, John Wall Barnes, and started out for New Orleans, it was quite an undertaking. They went by stage to Pittsburg, from there took the comfortable boat that went down the Ohio and then swung into the Ole Man River and down to New Orleans. They were in the hotel business and I have heard it said, had the finest hotel in New Orleans. It was on the corner of Schoupitoulas and Grand Streets near the French Quarter on the river front.



However, when the British invaded from the South in the War of 1812 he knew that they were aware that he was living in New Orleans and he would have been hanged as a traitor if they captured him. Our family history shows he left New Orleans, abandoning the hotel, which burned to the ground, and returned to Philadelphia by horseback with his wife, son and daughter. General Andrew Jackson managed to stop the British invasion of New Orleans just twelve miles south of the city. There is no record as to what caused the fire that gutted the hotel.



The horseback trip must have been very difficult at that time as there were very few roads and a lot of unfriendly Indian tribes, bloodthirsty river pirates and robbers in the unsettled parts of the South. One has to keep in mind that there were very few places available for food and shelter and it must have been many weeks before they reached Philadelphia with exhausted horses.



Captain Barnes family lived in the South Philadelphia area for many years and his descendants married into other families such as the Breen, Grimshaw, Murray and, eventually the Irish Catholic Leddy family, who emigrated to America during the disastrous potato famine in the 1840’s. Quite a few of our ancestors are buried in Old Swede’s Church, now an Episcopal Church surrounded by a large cemetery, next to busy Highway 95. One of these ancestors was my cousin, Anna Breen, whose family dated from 1804, and was , by marriage, related to the Barnes family. She was the person that left me this locket with the picture of Captain John Barnes and inspired me to write this story.



John Barnes Leddy

June 11, 2004

Jane Winter Leddy's account of her Aunt Margaret

AUNT MARGARET

"You don't lose nothing good you ever had as long

as you can do your rememberen." A quotation from Family

History finished by Aunt Margaret in l950.



Aunt Margaret was a part of my life from almost the

beginning of my memories, but not a big part at first.

We came to appreciate each other slowly. During those

early years when I spent many happy days visiting on the farm I adored my Grandpa and Grandma Winter and Uncle

Bill most. Each had a special place in my awareness.

I realize now how much I took Aunt Margaret for granted,

and why and how that has changed.

When I was very small it was Grandma who combed my

hair and let me comb hers, put me on the potty chair and

later took me on companionable trips to the two-seated

outhouse, played "let's pretend games in the old wheeless

cars behind the chicken houses, and tucked me into her

own bed when bedtime came.

It was Uncle Bill who teased me about the bear waiting

for me on the steep dark spiral stairway going upstairs,

and rumpled my curls when he called me Parley Voo, and

tried to teach me to double whistle. It was Grandpa who

built a special enclosure for my pet frog, whittled tops

from wooden spools, tiny baskets from peach pits, as well

as many willow whistles. Each one in their own special

way knew how to play with me.

Aunt Margaret was in her thirties by then,unaccustomed to dealing with small children, and for the first

time replaced by another as the youngest in the family.

I knew she liked me, but there were problems. She gave me an

inkling one day as we sat reminiscing over coffee. She

told me of the time she received a celluloid kewpie doll

for Christmas, and how I was such a brat, and wanted to

play with it, and how certain she was that I would break

it, or get it too close to the fire and it would melt

away.

My first meaningful connecting with Aunt Margaret

took place because I was often sent upstairs to nap in

her bedroom. It was the only pretty bedroom in the house,

light and airy, the window facing south across the slope

of lawn and road to the woods. Lacy curtains swayed in

the afternoon breeze. I remember laying there studying

the flowered wallpaper, and then the two rain stains on

the ceiling, after that the bits of dust floating in the

golden light, and when very near sleep the little particles

we chase with our eyes hither and yon.

Sometimes I defeated sleepiness and explored the items

on top of her bureau. I sampled the dusting powder and the

cologne, and marveled at the china jar full of hair, all novelties to me. My mother used face cream at night and

face powder when she dressed up, but no cologne, and no

decorated jar on her dresser dedicated to saving hair

from her comb.

Were there any pictures? I don't remember, perhaps of her three brothers. Well yes, there was one of Grandpa and

Grandma, the one I still have of them standing together

all dressed up in their Sunday best. There were no

pictures of boy friends. I watched her flirt in a big sisterly sort of way with the hired men who came and went,

but I overheard no talk of anyone special.

In the top drawer there were tiny round boxes of rouge

and hair pins, nets and necklaces, a neat pile of em-

broidered handkerchiefs, a package of Camel cigarettes

which was almost as thought provoking as the hair. I never

saw her smoking. Did Grandmother know? Somehow I realized

that this was a very secret and daring item and I spoke

of it to no one.

Aunt Margaret's clothes hung behind the bureau mirror.

There were two or three house dresses, two good dresses,

one for summer and one for winter. None of the bedrooms

in that old Victorian farm house had closets.

As I grew older there were more interactions and

sparks flew on occasion. Once I became angry with her and called her an "old maid' to her face, no doubt echoing my father who didn't guard his tongue as carefully as my mother

did when I was present. Another time I was homesick at the

end of the day, and cuddled up, and she shoved me away

brusqely, probably because I was hot, sticky and dirty,

and because cuddling was not her way. I was a tough little

one, but it brought tears,and I still remember Grandma

gently remonstrating and her quick reply. "Her parents

don't baby her. Why should I?"

I don't remember picking her prize dahlia and

presenting it to her as a gift, but she reminded me

laughingly of it often in later years. I think by then I was partially forgiven, but it was a good story used to

illustrate how far back we went.

The summer I was ten I went to Camp Hantesa, a Camp

Fire Girls camp, for the first time, and among other things

experienced the sociability and the joy of group singing

morning, noon, and night, at flag, at meals, at morning sing

at the evening camp fire. When I went to the farm later that summer for my annual week long visit I was still so

full of this joy of singing that I wanted the entire house-

hold to join me in song at meals. It would be just like camp

I told them, but they quickly vetoed that idea. My most fav-

orite new song was MacNamara's Band. Lacking group support I chose to sing it solo over and over again. The others in

their wisdom tried to ignore me, but Aunt Margaret,obviously

at her wit's end, finally bribed me five cents for each day

I could refrain from singing it, with one exception: she

couldn't resist inviting me to perform at her Thursday Smile

Awhile club, all of the verses "...the drums go bang, the

cymbals clang, the horns they blaze away..."



In spite of many similiar happenings, when I look back

I realize how close we came to being soul mates. Grandma

grew older and Aunt Margaret found more and more time to

roam the country side with me. We explored the gullies and

creek beds on the farm and beyond and collected rocks for

her rock garden, not really a garden, but a bank by the west

side of the house with a great variety of rocks: pink, red

black, spotted, striped, some full of holes, some like black

glass.

There was always a problem. Each rock picked up to

admire and keep seemed more unique than the ones we had

chosen earlier. Which ones must we leave behind? Was the

peanut cluster more intriguing than the white quartz? Which one was heavier? Did she already have a better piece of quartz at home? We couldn't carry them all. Hard decisions

to make.

When I reached college I was drawn to a geology class

by those first adventures with rocks, and from that class

acquired a life long interest in landscape forms. It fas-

cinated me that our wonderful treasures all tumbled to-

gether in the creek beds and gullies at Winterbourne were

gathered by ancient glaciers from land far to the north,

carried to Southern Iowa and deposited when the glacieral

force petered out and the forward ice began to melt. Gifts

arrive in strange and various ways from the past.

I began to learn other things from Aunt Margaret.

"Aunt Margaret, I'm hungry."

"Oh come on Jane Ann, let's go just round this bend. I

wonder how far we can see from the top of the hill. Maybe

we can see the house and barn. If we go on beyond those trees we'll find enough gooseberries for Grandma to make us a pie,just a little bit farther and we'll come to South River. Won't it be fun to tell them that we went as far as

South River? If we crawl through this fence we may find the

wahoo bushes." I still dream of finding the wahoo bushes

and going on into the "beyond".

One day Tuffy, the collie, spooked a ground hog, caught him by the nap of the neck and shook him to death. Another

day while wading in the creek I tried to catch a big some-thing that was moving through the muddy water. "Watch out

Jane Ann, what if it's a snapping turtle?" I gave up on him.

Next we spied some tiny fish. How to carry them home safely?

"Why don't you fill your shoes with water?" This solution

worked perfectly, but after awhile I began to wonder if the

poor little things could be happy and healthy in a small

glass bowl. In the end we put them back into the creek.

Aunt Margaret always had pets, wild pets, as well as

cats, dogs, and chickens. She gave me my first kitten, and

helped me mourn the first loss of a dog. Huck was an air-

dale who suffered pulmonary problems brought on or agravated

by the clouds of Kansas and Nebraska dust blowing across

Iowa during the dust bowl years. He belonged originally to

a farm manager, a friend of my dad's. The farm's owner be-

came disturbed by the dog's hacking cough and gave the order

to have him put to sleep. My dad's friend, Charlie, was

heartbroken, and my veterinarian dad felt it was a shame to

destroy an animal who, with proper attention and a change

of weather, might have a long and happy future, so we

adopted him. Huck was affectionate and adaptable and got

along well with our collie, Bruce. He bonded with me in-

stantly, and like the lamb in the nursery rime, followed

me to school one day. For awhile the air cleared, medicine

soothed his throat, and it seemed that he might recover,

but the skies turned yellow and gritty again, and one Sun-

day morning we woke up to find that Huck had stopped breath-

ing. I wept. It was so unfair. My Mother and Father tried

to comfort me. I stopped crying finally, but refused to be

comforted and withdrew into morose silence. Plans for a trip

to Winterbourne had already been made, so we went.

After dinner,a noon meal in those days, Aunt Margaret

suggested that the two of us take Tuffy for a walk in the

woods. We walked for miles. We picked wild flowers. There

was very little talk. Whatever there was, it was enough.

Not long before Aunt Margaret died I sent her a little book about a wild pet named Robert and this is her response:

"Janie Dear, You are such a honey to write to me and send me that adorable little book. If I were not such a complete nut over pets I couldn't swallow all the things "Robert" did but having dealt in them all my life, I think I know most anything is possible and I remember many years ago of being down east of the windmill in what we called the walnut woods and finding a squirrel nest on the ground with three baby squirrels in it. Something had evidentially happened to their mother. So----I gathered them up and took them home. Two of them did not survive the first night , but one lived. He was adorable. I called him Pinky Poo and he had a nest in a glass churn on top of the kitchen cabinet. Of course as he got older he became somewhat of a problem and would try to gnaw his way wherever he wanted to go. It was late in the fall when I found him so I kept him in the house all winter. Grandpa was not keen about having him have the run of the house, but he was cute, and I couldn't turn him out in the middle of the winter. When spring came I opened the kitchen window onto the porch and he went out. I think he would have come back but Grandpa found the window open and that ended that. Of course I have had pet chickens. Do you remember the hen who layed an egg behind the dining room door? Dogs and cats galore plus two parakeets--always a heart break to part with them which of course is inevitable......"

Gift giving and receiving was not a big thing with the extended family, except for Uncle Mac and Aunt Martha, who showered us all with many thoughtfully chosen items. Home grown or handmade gifts were the norm. The year I was ten I wanted a bicycle more than anything else. I asked my parents for a bicycle. I saved money for a bicycle. I wished for one on every chicken wish-bone. I dreamed about getting a bicycle, an then, alas, having it turn into a broomstick when I rode it around the dining table. I neither expected nor received many gifts from Aunt Margaret, and I knew she couldn't afford something as expensive as a bike. Much to my surprise, however, she started hinting about the wonderful birthday present that she had already gotten for me. She was so excited about this present that she found it hard to wait until the proper time for presenting it. "Oh, Jane Ann, you'll love it so much!" Time went by and I convinced myself

that she was the one who would finally satisfy my heart's desire. I couldn't begin to imagine anything but a bike.

When the moment arrived and she placed the small package in my hand I realized how foolish I had been to have allowed my expectations to get out of control. I tried to hide my disappointment. I tore away the wrapping slowly. What was this?! I was wide awake and the bicycle was turning into a Baby Brownie camera instead of the broomstick of my dreams.

Of course Aunt Margaret thought the camera was an inspired choice. I agree with her now, and am grateful. I remember examining her box camera and her other camera with accordion-like extension, and taking pretend pictures with both. She knew she was introducing me to a life long pleasurable activity. I started right out taking pictures of family and friends and pets and plants and travel scenes,and I still do. Not too long after that my mother convinced my father that I really did need a bicycle.



My understanding of and affection for Aunt Margaret matured as we both grew older. My mother and father separated and divorced. My father married Helene. Grandpa, Grandma and Uncle Bill died and were buried in Old Field Cemetery near the farm. I moved to California, married Jack, and started having a family, Tom, Bill, Robin and John. Aunt Margaret was living in a small white house on the western edge of Truro.

She moved from the farm under duress not long after her brother Bill died. My Dad and Uncle Mac decided for her that she shouldn't be living alone out in the country. We all thought she would hate leaving Winterbourne, and she probably did for awhile.

At first my Dad rented a place for her. In a year or so, when the house across the street, one of the oldest houses in Truro, went on the market, he bought it. He got it for a song, $900 I think. There was one bedroom downstairs and two upstairs, an indoor bathroom, a front lawn and a backyard garden patch. Open fields and woods beckoned from beyond the back fence.

The main part of town, the grocery store, the post office, the library, were only two blocks away, the churches not much farther. Many old friends lived within walking distance.

Trips from California were few and far between. We were busy raising the children and making a living. The Norwalk house was no longer "home". When we did come we always managed a day or two with Aunt Margaret in Truro, and the homey ambiance of her house welcomed us with open arms.

Although Aunt Margaret possessed many material hungers she never thought she could afford or needed new furnishings. She seemed quite content with the old familiar things: Grandma's secretary, the family dining table, an over stuffed sofa, wooden rocking chairs, what-nots, pictures and dishes, rag rugs and handmade quilts, all of which had moved with her from Winterbourne. I loved visiting her. I could relax there soothed by the scent of the past, sinking into the luxury of feeling at home with my roots.



Recently I began to think of how different our lives were, how thankful I was that her lot had not been my lot, but also how thankful I am to have had an Aunt Margaret. Now she is long gone, and I am moved to rexplore our relationship, and to pass my impressions along as she passed on so much family lore and affection to me, my cousins and our children.

My Grandmother, my Dad, my Uncle Mac and Aunt Margaret were the letter writers in my family. Weekly letters went back and forth between my Grandmother and the two sons who moved away from the farm. In addition she kept a network of family connections from California to upper New York State alive. When Grandma died, Aunt Margaret carried on. She and my father seldom missed their weekly exchange. When he died I began writing to her more often. I knew it wouldn't fill the gap, but it was a bonding activity and we both enjoyed it. She relished describing her daily adventures, mishaps and memories.



My bird feeder outside the window is a busy place these days, sorry to say mostly sparrows, tho occasionally a magnificent red bird and often sassy bluejays....



The tail end of the year always presents problems for

me. I always manage to surmount them but I lose a little sleep in the process, etc. Prior to Uncle Bill's death I never handled money other than very personal expenses which I guarantee you were few in those days.

About all I was responsible for was the grocery bill.

Now, of course, I have many decisions and lots on my mind. I smile to myself as I say that as my problems moneywise are a drop in the ocean compared to most...



...I don't think I have written you since my friend, Amy Denly was stricken and died. She had a stroke and was in a nursing home for many weeks..I had known and loved Amy since I was ten years old and she was six- teen.

She was a beautiful girl with coal black hair and at the time I first met her she was doing housework for a

friend of my mother's. Mother stopped to see Mrs. Kelly

and I, kidlike explored and came across Amy in what was known as the summer kitchen. She was churning butter.

She has told me since that she too remembered that day

and that she being only sixteen and in those horse and buggy days she was quite a way from home and homesick.

She and Dave would have celebrated their 70th wedding anniversary while she was ill. Dave is past ninety but

living alone. Very brave...



I must interject here that Aunt Margaret later confided

that it was awkward in a small town for an unmarried woman to visit with a friend who had become a widower. She was careful to drop by only when the weather was good and they could sit on the front porch to talk.



...Thank you dear. You filled in the Valentine gap left by your father. As far as I can remember he sent me a Valentine and as a child I looked forward to them. Even in very recent years when he did not feel well he would never fail...

...I am cleaning house. Believe it or not. When I get on one of these jags I remember our experiences at

Norwalk and I think to myself, Why? Do I accumulate all

this junk. Of course only one answer to that. I am a junk collector and enjoy every bit of it. Things being as they are of course someone will have the doubtful

pleasure of sorting it over one of these days, but I

found it extremely interesting in Norwalk, and of

course I managed to add a few choice bits to my collection. Ha!....



Later she told me that helping clean out my Dad's house was a post-graduate course in getting one's affairs in order. She took the Norwalk experience so much to heart that when the day did come for my cousin Mal, his wife Beth, and me to deal with her belongings there was lots to do, but the attic storage space, once described by Tom, much to her delight, as a real museum, was almost bare.



Iowa was a mid-point stopping place for all family members traveling across the country, first her own aunts and uncles, later the grown-up nieces and nephews, and finally the fourth generation. She was horrified, tittilated and delighted by that last wave, young people from the 60's and 70's. I am not sure what the following was about--but I can guess:



"...I have not heard from Mal Winter, Jr. since he was here, but I am sure he has other things on his mind.

I don't doubt you know all about it. Of course you no

doubt know how I reacted. No, I did not react. Took it in my stride and was proud of myself. Decided it was

just as well I do not live near the young generation of

my family as you know my tongue is long and sooner or later!!..."



Routinely, every February, she included a clipping from the Des Moines Register on how to deal with the late winter blahs. It was her way of letting me know about the restlessness of cabin fever brought on by the long weeks of coldness and icy sidewalks and social isolation.

I wrote to her once of how much I cherished my memories

of my childhood visits to the farm, and how sorry I was that my suburban children would never have those great times.

She did not mince words in her reply which went something like this---"those great times you remember were miserable years for me. The depression years and the drought years brought little but bad news and harder work for farmers. The cinch bugs came, the grasshoppers came. There were very few treats"---and she concluded,"I am sure your children will cherish memories that are every bit as important to them as yours are to you!"

In addition to the wide spread correspondence, Grandma and Aunt Margaret both, in their turn, sent columns of neighborhood news to the local paper. It was customary to be paid by the line for such offerings.

To my knowledge everyone except Uncle Bill recorded some family history to pass on. My cousin Mal has preserved his father's and Aunt Margaret's complete with pictures. When I shared my copy of Aunt Margaret's with Tom, ( college instructor by then), he applauded her style. "How can a country person, whose formal education, went no further than a country grade school write so well?" My reply--she reads a lot and always has, and she writes a lot of letters. Education is ongoing.



When I was growing up few women drove cars, certainly not my mother, and very few of my friends' mothers. However the unmarried aunts on both sides of my family did have that skill and that freedom. Perhaps it was because their brothers had no sons to help them with the farm work. Aunt Margaret and Aunt Leola did all of the traditional womens' tasks: gardening, canning, baking, cooking and washing, and processing the dairy products and the poultry. In addition, once or twice a week, they drove into town to pick up repair parts for the farm machinery or to take care of other farm business, which included trading their dressed chickens, cream, butter, and eggs to the grocer for bread, cornflakes, coffee, sugar and flour and other necessities. Aunt Margaret often took Grandpa and Grandma along for the ride and a little sociability with the tradespeople and some of their older friends. On Sunday morning she chauffered them to church.

I remember Uncle Bill coming from the direction of the barnyard to crank the Model T for her to help get us on our way. The strange thing is, I don't remember whether Aunt Margaret cranked it herself when we were ready to start home, or whether some man on the street was drafted. That would not have been a problem. In a small town everyone knows everyone else.



Aunt Margaret loved to "go" on more extended excursions as long as her parents were able to take care of themselves,

and there was a lull in the farm routine, she was free to take off. Various friends cooked up tours. They went hither and yon: Camping in the Ozarks, visiting ex-neighbors in Minnesota and cousins in California. Her brother Mac included her in many trips with his family. They went to the World's Fair in New York City and to Walton in up-state New York where their parents lived before they moved to Northern Iowa and discovered each other.

As the years went by the friends became less mobile and so did she. The long trips were no more. When Robin and Bill got married within two weeks time I thought I might be able to coax her into coming for the weddings, but it was too late. She said she couldn't leave her pets.

She stopped driving her car. I never knew the deciding moment or reason. Truro became land-locked. The last train came through sometime in the late 40's. It was not easy for the elderly non-driver to get out of town. An enterprising young woman was on call to taxi people to the Des Moines airport or the railroad station in Osceola. Once or twice a month a van took senior citizens to Winterset or Osceola,

the nearest county seats.

The trip Aunt Margaret looked forward to the most was when her friend Daisy's daughter, Esther, took the two of them to Indianola to see their doctors and dentists, etc.

I heard many times by a letter and in person how they got weighed in at the doctors and how the checkup went, and then on to celebrating with a big restaurant breakfast of bacon and eggs and pancakes or waffles, all of the no-nos. After that they shopped and had a light lunch and chatted until their chauffer was through work and ready to take them home.

It was a long day and always full of small delights to be savored and cherished in memory.

By the time the children were older I traveled to Iowa alone by air, and rented a car to get to Truro. When I arrived I was greeted by hugs and great affection, and then we would settle down to plot a schedule for the number of days I would be staying. Going to the shopping mall in West Des Moines was often first on the list.

Daisy always joined us when we headed up the interstate. We had lunch at Bishop's Cafeteria. The air-conditioning in the enclosed mall and benches for resting and people-watching were all part of the treat. They liked to shop for costume jewelry, tea cups and bells for Aunt Margaret's collections, needlework kits for the long winter evenings, African violets and new wigs as well as seasonal clothes.

Daisy was ten or fifteen years younger than Aunt Margaret. She and I scouted for new things of interest while Aunt Margaret rested and waited serenely on one of the convenient benches. When we found something exceptional we would go back and get her. Few purchases were made.

In telling me about a trip instigated by a younger friend she reminded me of the time Robin and I visited her and did the usual shopping bit.

"...I have a very dear friend, Lucille McClure. I don't know as you ever met her but she is about your age. She was so dear and helpful at your Dad's funeral. She came for me early one morning and we went to the shopping center. My main object was a new wig. I have to get a replacement about every two years. She also wears wigs

and is an expert on design and helps me keep mine set and looking nice. We hit the jackpot as Yonker's washaving a spring sale and I got a honey for twenty dollars. I had recently got a lovely navy blue polkadot dress from Yonker's and as I have good shoes and bag

plus the dress I had last summer when you were here. I am all set for summer. Of course I have a number of pantsuits for various occaisions. Lucille loves to shopbut, of course, I get tired. One shop we visited one of the clerks said to me, "what a pretty coat" the same one

Robin helped me choose. It is old hat to me of course but every winter when I get it out someone is sure to express "what a pretty coat!". I will always give Robin full credit for the final decision between that and a long brown (horrors) one."



Our list of places to go included the annual trip for her fat little rat terrier, Lassie, to the vet in Osceola.

These routine trips provided us with many intimate real life vignettes. One one such trip, in addition to the usual veterinarian waiting room smells, fumes of non-medicinal alcohol rose from the tiny scruffy old man and the tiny scruffy old dog sitting on his lap. He muttered to no one in particular, "Yes sir--me and Madge, we're real partners, her and me. Madge, she sleeps right there beside my bed. When I have my breakfast coffee I give her a little sip. She likes it with milk and sugar, so that's the way I have it. And when I have a nip of something stronger she gets some of that too. Well, this very morning, you know how animals get all concerned when they sense they're going to be hauled off to the vet. Would you believe this smart little thing hid under the bed and wouldn't come out. I called and I coaxed and tried to explain that this here trip was for her very own good, but she wouldn't have none of it. Well, you know what I finally did, I had me a good slug out of the bottle and then I poured some in a saucer and put it down beside the bed. Hee Hee Hee! She had herself some and then we both felt better about this whole thing. I had to call a taxi to bring us over. Neither one of can walk that fer any more."

During all this Madge whined steadily and buried her head under his arm. "I just hope the Doc can fix her up one more time. I jus don know what I will do without her" The folks in the waiting room clucked sympathetically and withdrew to the privacy of their magazines as boozy tears trickled down his cheek and onto his unshaven chin.

"Well," said Aunt Margaret, when we were in the car headed home. "It's sure true, some people and their pets do start looking and acting a lot like each other. What will he do without her, poor old soul?"

One trip back to Truro was not so pleasant, but a learning experience nevertheless. Two or three weeks before my expected arrival I got a long distance call from Daisy. She was worried about Aunt Margaret. Her blood pressure was high and Daisy felt she should get a checkup at a hospital in Des Moines, something more complete than the monthly trip to Osceola. It would be so convenient if this could be accomplished while I was available with my rented car. Perhaps it wasn't Daisy's idea , perhaps the local doctor had made the suggestion, my memory is hazy here. Aunt Margaret was turning a deaf ear to everyone. Daisy wanted to know my exact travel dates, and asked what I thought about a strategy she had in mind to get her to the hospital. Since it was necessary to make the appointment ahead of time she would take the responsibility of doing it without consulting Aunt Margaret, knowing full well that Aunt Margaret would reject the whole project if she was consulted. The day before the appointment we would tell her, and because it was a done deal, Aunt Margaret would agree to cooperate without making a fuss. What choice did she have? I was a bit nervous about all this, as well I should have been.

When I got to Truro, Aunt Margaret had already made plans for our first day. We would take Lassie to the vet in Osceola, run a couple of other errands, stop and see my Aunt Leola. Daisy was included. Daisy said to me privately, "when are you going to tell her?" I said, " Oh no, it's your scheme, you tell her." So it was settled for Daisy to broach the subject on the way home.

It is not an exaggeration to say that all hell broke loose! Aunt Margaret swore. I had no idea she had such words in her vocabulary. She tried to hit Daisy, but Daisy, in the back seat, was able to dodge. I thought Aunt Margaret's blood pressure would go over the top and she would die of a heart attack right there. Daisy wisely kept silent, and Aunt Margaret also retreated into silence. Our very subdued group finally reached Truro. We dropped Daisy off at her house without a word from anyone, and went on to Aunt Margaret's. After we got inside I was able to screw up my courage, apologize for such bad judgement and assure her that Daisy was undoubtedly just as sorry as I was. We mistakenly thought we were doing it for her own good. Now I realized how disrespectful it had been to try to make decisions for her behind her back. I told her that I would call the hospital and cancel the appointment if she wanted me to. She gave me a hug and said she would think about it, but she could never forgive Daisy.

We spent most of the next day at the hospital, and eventually they decided to send her home with a monitor to wear for a couple of days. The mechanism was not comfortable, but she was stoic about it, no fuss, no complaining. As it turned out her heart was functioning as well as it had been, nothing to be alarmed about. The only directions were to continue with her low-fat, low-sugar diet, etc.

Everything turned out fine, except that a long term friendship was broken forever, As far as I know they never spoke to each other again. Aunt Margaret died peacefully in her sleep two years later at 87 years of age. I kept in touch with Daisy via Christmas letters for many, many years until she either died or became too feeble to answer.



Aunt Margaret approached her last days with equanimity.

She joked about being a mouse in a corner watching us clean out the house. She had early on willed her teacup collection to her insurance man in exchange for his paying the extra insurance. Mal was to be her executor. Mal, Beth and I were to choose what we wanted for our families, and what remained was to go to the Clark County Historical Society. They were to keep what they wanted for their museum and sell the rest. They would also do the final house cleaning so the house could be put on the market. She stated confidentally that we shouldn't worry about her, she was ready to go. In many ways

she was quite practical and modern in her decisions. I still have a letter in my files which I have labeled: Important-Save. She began by: " Jane Dear, I know you are not nearly as concerned about this as I am." And she proceeded to explain why she had not written to me in a while, about the tail end of the year always presenting problems for her, after that she rambled on in her normal chatty style about protecting her house against frozen pipes, another friend dying, going to Indianola and spending too much money Christmas shopping, what a beautiful day it was, and finally "I'm enclosing a clipping that I want you to read carefully. It is a quote from your Governor Brown and applies to California law but I am instructing you to see to it that this is my wish in case circumstances require such measures and I will depend on you to see to it that it is carried out insofar as it is possible. I wouldn't trust Mal to carry out this wish without a little pressure tho he told me Mac could have had further surgery but Mac said no. When one has lived their three score years and ten and are no further comfort to themselves or anyone else: Why prolong Life?"



I was in Truro a few days before Thanksgiving 1979, a drop-in on the way home from a trip to the East Coast. She was wondering whether a couple of her buddies would get together with her as they often did to share the Holiday.

No plans had been made. Everyone was getting a little bit tentative in their old age.

It was a very satisfying visit. I still remember standing at her kitchen window watching as she took Lassie for a walk through the neighbors unfenced backyard, two figures attuned to each other and the moment. It was dusk, the trees and bushes bare, the grass frozen brown. She was bundled against the cold. As my eyes followed their progress I wondered at the games life plays with us.

Here was a woman, the youngest child and only daughter, who was sheltered and taken care of by her parents, and then her older brothers until they were all gone. Her formal education did not go beyond the old Jones one-room school on the hill, except for a short effort to become a nurse which was halted by poor health. She returned home to continue as her mother's helper. Gradually she took on the traditional responsibilities of the unmarried female of a family by caring for the parents as they faded and departed. Along the way she helped her brother farm, taught Sunday School classes, played the piano for church services, helped with church harvest bazaars and dinners, and finally, here she was in the midst of the same old age that came to her parents, but living alone, taking care of her own home and her own life with sturdiness and aplomb. She knew she couldn't do it all by herself, and reached out to family and friends and her God. She received much, and, in her own way, she gave much.

When I left, her hug goodbye was as strong as usual, perhaps stronger.

The day after Thanksgiving the call from Hilda, her next door neighbor, came. Aunt Margaret was a regular at the noon meals for Seniors downtown. When she didn't show up they sent someone to see if there was anything wrong. She had died in her bed. Lassie was still cuddled up beside her. Hilda was prepared to pick me up the next day at the airport and to have me stay with her until Mal and Beth arrived the day after. They were driving non-stop through a big blizzard on the Great Plains.

Aunt Margaret's minister told us how pleased she had been when they invited her for Thanksgiving dinner. She had seemed to be her normal self. He did have a favor to ask of us. He had long wanted to change the traditional order of funeral events, which began with the church service, the body in the casket in front of the mourners, then proceeded to the Field Cemetery out in the country for burial, and finally back to the church hall for lunch. If any of the participants complained he could say that the change was at the request of the out-of-town relatives, and they, the locals, could go back to the original program in the future.

His thought was that it would be better to get the cemetery part over first, because it confronted the end of life on this earth with such finality, and therefore was the most emotionally unsettling. Back at the church the emphasis would be a celebration of a life well-lived with God's Help.

And then the congregation would move on to the church hall for a continuation of that celebration by sharing their memories of Aunt Margaret and enjoying the lunch prepared by the good ladies of the church.

His proposal didn't seem too startling to us. We knew that Aunt Margaret liked to shake people up a bit. How about the time she decided to have her house repainted a warm tan instead of the classic, in those days, small town white.

All went well. The weather was drizzly unpleasant, but it could have been worse, snowing and blocking the roads to the cemetery. If there was any fussing about the change of traditional routine it did not reach our ears.

When the ceremonies were over, and our responsibilities were completed, and I was flying home high above a snow-bound world I jotted down the following in my sketch book:



Margaret Winter, May 26, 1893 --Nov. 23, 1979.



Cold, drizzly, grey, brown November;

A proper time to be buried, to say goodbye, to let go,

The end of the growing year and just before real winter

begins in Iowa.

The old Field Cementery at the end of a country lane,

A proper place to be buried among family and friends.

Gnarled cedars bend and wave in the wind.

The woods beyond are quiet.

The farms nearby still known by the names on the stones:

Loomis, Patterson, Denly, DeLong, Teller, Dodd, Vandermey, Winter.

Under the canopy, chilled by the wind, heads bowed.

The same families, the living and the dead, in this proper time and place.





Jane Winter Leddy, March 11, 2003





















































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