Another thing, prior to our getting electricity: I got an old ice box, and cut a hole in the side of the house for it. Every few days, I'd stop on the way home and buy a cake of ice. Worked real well too. But I had a little "interchange" with the seller of the ice. He would always give me a lot of coins for change, and he had a bunch of slot machines there, hoping I'd spend the change there, which I never did. Apparently it made him angry. His pricing of the ice was strange because he charged more per pound for a large block than a very small block. I called him on it, and he got even madder, saying "I don't want your business anyway!"
I may have mentioned that shortly after I began work at Naval Air Test Center, Patuxent River, Maryland, the Korean War started, and things there started humming. Besides receiving offers from firms in Connecticut, I received another offer from the government, for a GS-4 position. I showed it to my boss, who said, "I think we can beat this." And he did, and I got a decent raise, to a GS-5, which actually would be normal for a recent graduate.
Our property straddled the right-of-way for the defunct Washington to Cape Lookout Railway. It had been graded I guess all the way down to the cape, but no tracks were ever laid. Our shack bordered one side of the grade, and the outhouse was just a few feet beyond the grade on the other side. The sspring of 1951 I put in a vegetable garden, hauling chicken manure from a chicken farm willing to give it away for nothing.
In the beginning, we had no next door neighbors at all, but after a while, the previously mentioned "hill-billy" neighbors moved in, but they were friendly. It was a couple and their teen age daughter. One late evening we heard a lot of hollering next door, and a sound like someone in their kitchen trying to quickly rustle up a big kitchen knife. Next, their back door slammed, the car started with a lurch, and as it was "gunning" out of their driveway, there was a big explosion, and a sound of buckshot hitting the side of the car. (I was mindeful that there was only 1/2" or 1/4" of Gyplap on our house as a buckshot stopper). But the next morning, the lady next door was very nice about it and apologized for all the hub-bub. And a day or so later, I heard the man of the house singing "Never speak harsh words to your ever-loving husband; he may leave you never to return", - - a verse from one of my favorite songs entitled "The Wreck of the ole '97". (A railroad song, and as a matter of fact, I think he may have worked for the railroad, but I'm not sure; they didn't believe in "fast time" (daylight savings), and neither did the railroad, nor Virginia at that time).
At work I did testing of electronic armament control systems, in the division called "Armament Test". Occasionally my work would take me over to another hanger where there was another division called "Electronic Test". There there was an engineer by the name of Doganzis, and when he did a test, everyone called it a "Doganzis Special", and it would be somewhat spectacular, making use of oceans of oscilloscopes, oscillograph recorders and the like.
With my wife Marjorie, two little kids plus one on the way, I was very disinclined to participate in any test flights, and as a matter of fact I was successful in avoiding them all. Test flights crashed on occasion, and in fact, the test pilots were all military, but still somewhat nervous about it (though of course always trying not to show it). One test pilot, having to crash-land his plane, took 1/2 hour just to sign his name. My bosses boss and a bunch of others took a Grumman "Wigeon" plane for a trip out west on business, and flew into a mountan; all aboard were lost. In those days, even typically there would be several airline crashes per year, and often it would be flying into mountains.
But the pilots also would have fun. I was there when the first jets came out, and they got a kick out of putting them through their paces. I remember one guy flying a jet to St Louis in just a couple of hours; unheard of in those days. His comment: "Gotta hurry".
As time went on, I felt the need to get more land (maybe like Monopoly, you know). It was cheap, and now I was making more money, so I got the lot next door to the North, and the two lots behind our original one plus the new one. And I fenced them all in. The following year I planted a big potato field with no fertilizer. I planted a peck of seed potatoes, and in the fall harvested a peck of potatoes. So much for that.
In my spare time, I built a shortwave transmitter, put up a long antenna over the potato field, went up to Washington D.C., and took the amateur radio test for morse code and a license. I didn't make the required 13 words per minute for a full licence, but did make the five words, and so obtained a "novice" class licence, and was given the call letters WN3UBI. I went on the air and "worked" hams within a 200 or 300 mile radius.
For some reason the kitchen drain emptied into a large hole in the back yard, and became even more full due to heavy rain. Little Patricia was out there, slipped, and fell into the hole over her head! Marjorie, who was expecting our third at that time, saw what had happened, and rushed out to rescue, but instead she herself slipped and fell on the ground. It could have been a double tragidy. But fortunately, she was not injured, and immediately pulled Patricia out safely.
I was not happy with the mail service, and thought to do someting about it. So I wrote up a petition, and went door to door around the whole area collecting signatures, finally presenting it to the post office. But at the same time, so that it wouldn't simply get lost in the Post Office burocracy, I also sent a copy with covering letter to the local newspaper. It went on the front page, saying that "a group headed by Gifford Neill" got up the petition, etc. Ha! I was the "group". It did bear fruit, but not too long before we were to leave the area.
Later I got promoted to GS-7. With all this wonderful new money, we got a TV set, and were able to watch Jacky Gleason, among others. Also I watched General Eisenhower giving a speach relating to his deciding to run for President. We got an oil-burning stove also at some point. Also for a while I had a truck, and was able to put on a 6' x 8' addition to the back of our little house. To save money, I built it out of slabs I got for nothing from the lumber yard, and covered it with tar paper. At some fairly early point in time, I had decided not to build a regular house here, but rather keep my eyes and ears open for a better position in Connecticut. I didn't care for the environment, both physically and morally here. Physically, the place was full of ticks and mosquitos. Morally, there was lots of heavy drinking and gambling. Not a good place to raise children.
On June 27, 1952, Marjorie said it was time, because of the pains, so we all piled into the car quickly, even leaving all the doors and windows open (it had been hot), and buzzed up to the hospital in Leonardtown. According to the then standard operating procedure, I was sent home with the kids. We got hope just in time before the big storm broke, and shut all the doors and windows. Meanwhile, as I learned later, big things were happening in Leonardtown. The storm hit there too, and knocked out all electricity in the hospital! But it came on again just as Marjorie was about to deliver Yvonne. They kept her in the hospital a week to 10 days, and then we brought them home. The next day, as I came home from work, Marjorie came running out to open the gate as usual. However, the day after that, she was "flat out". Too soon a change.
Generally speaking, she always said that the times she was pregnant were the times that she felt the very best!
Shortly after Yvonne's arrival, while I was at work, Marjorie's mother appeared, with a basinet, baby clothes, and legal forms giving Mrs. Holzer the legal care of the newborn, if only Marjorie would sign! Marjorie "sent her mother packing" pretty fast!
I guess I had neglected to say that after Patricia was born in Connecticut, Mrs. Holzer also had appeared with the same sort of deal while Marjorie was still in the hospital, and my Dad did the same thing then, "sent her packing"!
Now with a wife and 3 kids, there was a big incentive to improve our lot. I thought I had something lined up in Connecticut, but it never did materialize. So we took a little vacation up to Connecticut, and searched the newspapers, finally landing a job with the Allen D. Cardwell Mfg. Co., in Plainville, Ct. Then the thing to do was to find a house. Driving around the source of employmnet in ever increasing concentric circles, I came to a wonderful spot atop a hill somewhere in Bristol. (I never could find that spot again). But I couldn't find any suitable places for sale there. Finally, I found a couple of houses in Unionville, though one was actually just over the line in Burlington. After all the bargaining, we bought the one just over the line in Burlington, at a development called "Lake Garda".
Going back to Maryland, I gave notice and put the place up for sale: "$1,680 or better offer". The "better offer" was so that if there were several buyers, they could bid it up. Turns out psychologically I don't think it works like that. People read it as "or best offer", and would offer less. But I did shortly get the $1,680, and we were on our way.
Well, this is enough for one sitting. Time to go.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
1950-52, Maryland, NATC
The other night I had written a large paragraph covering a little-known footnote in my life, and I accidentally hit an unknown key, and the paragraph disappeared forever! I hope it doesn't happen again soon.
The "footnote": I forgot to mention that while we were living at that lady's place in Scotland, MD, I needed to wash some clothes with no washing machine. We did, however, have a large wash tub. Wanting to get the most effective results with the least effort, I did what to me just came naturally, and with marvelous results, both from the standpoint of a clean wash, and minimal use of my personal energy. I simply TROD out the wash, i.e., I took off my shoes and stockings, rolled up my pant legs, and after putting in the laundry, water, and detergent, stepped into the tub and proceeded methodically to walk over the clothes. Of course the lady thought I was "nuts", and probably Marjorie might have been a little embarased for me, but also she was somewhat used to me by now.
I mention this also, because I did laundry the same way after we moved into our new house, (one-room shack, just built). The next door neighbors, the other side of the fence, were genuine hill-billies from Virginia, but they had also never seen the likes either. So I guess I was a side-show. Oh well.
It was not too effective, to walk 1/4 mile into the woods across the road to get water from a spring. Johnny Wise, the blacksmith across the road suggested a solution. He had an earth auger with pipe extensions whereby one could manually drill for water. But he had loaned it out to Mr. Kupcheck up the Three Notch Road a mile or so. So we waited some days, and some more days. Eventually, I stopped in on the Kupchecks on my way home one evening. He and his wife were from Slovokia. He grew poppies and smoked a pipe. He hadn't gotten around to drilling for water, but since I was waiting for the use of the mechanism, he may have just lent it to me, being very cordial.
I was all excited. First chance I got, I started drilling for water, and at the same time, sent to Montgomery Ward's for a $4.50 pitcher pump, on credit, along with a driving "point" that incorporated a check valve. After a few days of spare-time boring into the ground, I really did hit water-bearing sand. Success! I removed the drilling mechanism, and having gotten sufficient piping, borrowed Johnny Wise's sledge hammer, and drove the point well into that patch of water-bearing sand. Then I screwed on the pitcher pump. Then, as everyone with the experience knows, I got some water and primed the pump. Again, success! We had our own source of water, just 100 feet from the house. We were so happy.
I furnished the house with a lot of used furniture bought very cheaply. I got a little wood-burning stove (I think that was new), and all that winter we kept warm and cooked with wood scraps I obtained free from a local sawmill. On the way home from work one day I spotted a large steel barrel abandoned by a road crew who had been tarring the road. The barrel had been used to hold road tar, but was now empty. I took it home, and constructed an elevated holder for the barrel (wooden crosspieces for legs), and mounted it in the rear of our house. Then with hoses and things, I ran an outlet line through the wall into the house. I took a large handbasin, and pounded out a hole in the middle of it with a ball peen hammer. Then I took one of Gifford Jr.'s wooden blocks, and whittled it down on one side to form a plug for the hole. Under the house, I made a V-shaped drain with two boards. Every evening after work, I carried buckets of water from the pump to the barrel, and filled it. Thus we had running water in the house.
A few odds and ends before I continue, but forget them. Down at the end of the peninsula, where the Patomac joins the Chessapeake Bay, there is a marker with an enscription that follows..
(Please note, I'm making up some of the names & dates so they may not be accurate, but I've always wanted to go back and take a photo of the actual marker).
"Site of the First United Church of Christ, built 1723, burned by the British, 1783
Rebuilt 1793, burned by the British 1813.
Rebuilt 1825, burned by Federal troops 1863."
There were some charred timbers there.
One of the other things I wanted to mention was about Johnny Wise. Several things, in fact. One was he used to keep all sorts of "thing" in each corner of his blacksmith shop. When asked why, he repeated an old saying: "Everything comes into use in 7 years". (I like that saying; it justifys a pack-rat like me).
Another "snapshot" of his personality: He told me that one day he was eating some stewd tomatoes cold, out of the can, and a salesman stopped in on him, and "got after him" to buy a kerosene stove. I don't know that he bought it though.
Back to our situation across the street. Not long after we moved into the house, I wanted to have the kids to be able to roam free, so I fenced in the large lot using cheap 2 x 4's and chicken wire. I put in a driveway gate consisting of another 2 x 4 NOT put into the ground, but made a receptacle for it using another hole next to the terminating post on the other side. The receptacle hole was lined with stove piping. Often Marjorie would see me coming, run out and open the "gate" for me.
Note, I had told Oliver Wise (the carpenter), of my grandeouse plans to some day have an automatic gate opener. When he saw how I was greeted upon coming home, he commented: "Well Mr. Neill, I see that you have gotten your automatic gate-opener."
When growing up I used to read "Moon Mullins" in the funnies. I remembered one case where "Kayo" the mean little kid was so small that his bed was one of the drawers in a chest of drawers. Now we also were quite short of space, and that idea looked pretty good to me, so we put Gifford Jr. to bed in one of the drawers of the chest of drawers. Worked O.K. P.S., he was a little kid, but not mean.
Recall we now had "running water", but no electricity, telephone, nor mail service. But within the fiirst year, electric service came by, and we got it. Also a telphone. One of the first things I got was a used washing machine. It had a very small diameter separate spinner to wring the clothes dry. Open at the top, and dangerous too. Should you put your arm in there while it was spinning, it would twist off your arm in about 2 seconds flat. But it worked for us.
I wanted to get an electric pump and have real running water, but the flow from the driven point was to slow to support it. So I decided to bore down deeper. But in doing so, I broke off the pipe connection about 10 or 15 feet below ground. And temporarily we were again reduced to me going into the woods to get a little water.
At this point, I borrowed money from my Dad, and hired well diggers to dig a proper well, which they did. Then I sent to Sears or Wards and ordered a 1/2 horse jet pump, and started digging a trench from the house to the new well, with a gradual incline up from the well to the house. I bought a lot of piping, plus a check valve to put at the bottom, in the well. Then I started screwing piping together, going from the well to the house, to the corner of the house. I made a hole in the floor in the corner, screwing on a 90 degree elbow, and coming up into the kitchen portion of our humble abode.
At this point, laughing to myself, because I knew it wasn't the proper way to do it (and I didn't know the proper way, which would take too much time and money to find out), I then screwed the jet pump onto the end of the pipe. At the outlet of the jet pump I screwed on more piping to the next corner of the dwelling, where I put a "tee", and a large diameter pipe vertically up almost to the ceiling, and capped it. Continuing from the "tee", I ran piping over to the home-made basin, and connected it to the existing faucet that had been previously fed by the barrel outside. I wired up the jet pump. And we had running water for real, with a vengance! I say this last phrase because about the smallest thing we could fill when turning on the faucet was a pitcher. But we lived with it.
Well, I'd better quit for now.
The "footnote": I forgot to mention that while we were living at that lady's place in Scotland, MD, I needed to wash some clothes with no washing machine. We did, however, have a large wash tub. Wanting to get the most effective results with the least effort, I did what to me just came naturally, and with marvelous results, both from the standpoint of a clean wash, and minimal use of my personal energy. I simply TROD out the wash, i.e., I took off my shoes and stockings, rolled up my pant legs, and after putting in the laundry, water, and detergent, stepped into the tub and proceeded methodically to walk over the clothes. Of course the lady thought I was "nuts", and probably Marjorie might have been a little embarased for me, but also she was somewhat used to me by now.
I mention this also, because I did laundry the same way after we moved into our new house, (one-room shack, just built). The next door neighbors, the other side of the fence, were genuine hill-billies from Virginia, but they had also never seen the likes either. So I guess I was a side-show. Oh well.
It was not too effective, to walk 1/4 mile into the woods across the road to get water from a spring. Johnny Wise, the blacksmith across the road suggested a solution. He had an earth auger with pipe extensions whereby one could manually drill for water. But he had loaned it out to Mr. Kupcheck up the Three Notch Road a mile or so. So we waited some days, and some more days. Eventually, I stopped in on the Kupchecks on my way home one evening. He and his wife were from Slovokia. He grew poppies and smoked a pipe. He hadn't gotten around to drilling for water, but since I was waiting for the use of the mechanism, he may have just lent it to me, being very cordial.
I was all excited. First chance I got, I started drilling for water, and at the same time, sent to Montgomery Ward's for a $4.50 pitcher pump, on credit, along with a driving "point" that incorporated a check valve. After a few days of spare-time boring into the ground, I really did hit water-bearing sand. Success! I removed the drilling mechanism, and having gotten sufficient piping, borrowed Johnny Wise's sledge hammer, and drove the point well into that patch of water-bearing sand. Then I screwed on the pitcher pump. Then, as everyone with the experience knows, I got some water and primed the pump. Again, success! We had our own source of water, just 100 feet from the house. We were so happy.
I furnished the house with a lot of used furniture bought very cheaply. I got a little wood-burning stove (I think that was new), and all that winter we kept warm and cooked with wood scraps I obtained free from a local sawmill. On the way home from work one day I spotted a large steel barrel abandoned by a road crew who had been tarring the road. The barrel had been used to hold road tar, but was now empty. I took it home, and constructed an elevated holder for the barrel (wooden crosspieces for legs), and mounted it in the rear of our house. Then with hoses and things, I ran an outlet line through the wall into the house. I took a large handbasin, and pounded out a hole in the middle of it with a ball peen hammer. Then I took one of Gifford Jr.'s wooden blocks, and whittled it down on one side to form a plug for the hole. Under the house, I made a V-shaped drain with two boards. Every evening after work, I carried buckets of water from the pump to the barrel, and filled it. Thus we had running water in the house.
A few odds and ends before I continue, but forget them. Down at the end of the peninsula, where the Patomac joins the Chessapeake Bay, there is a marker with an enscription that follows..
(Please note, I'm making up some of the names & dates so they may not be accurate, but I've always wanted to go back and take a photo of the actual marker).
"Site of the First United Church of Christ, built 1723, burned by the British, 1783
Rebuilt 1793, burned by the British 1813.
Rebuilt 1825, burned by Federal troops 1863."
There were some charred timbers there.
One of the other things I wanted to mention was about Johnny Wise. Several things, in fact. One was he used to keep all sorts of "thing" in each corner of his blacksmith shop. When asked why, he repeated an old saying: "Everything comes into use in 7 years". (I like that saying; it justifys a pack-rat like me).
Another "snapshot" of his personality: He told me that one day he was eating some stewd tomatoes cold, out of the can, and a salesman stopped in on him, and "got after him" to buy a kerosene stove. I don't know that he bought it though.
Back to our situation across the street. Not long after we moved into the house, I wanted to have the kids to be able to roam free, so I fenced in the large lot using cheap 2 x 4's and chicken wire. I put in a driveway gate consisting of another 2 x 4 NOT put into the ground, but made a receptacle for it using another hole next to the terminating post on the other side. The receptacle hole was lined with stove piping. Often Marjorie would see me coming, run out and open the "gate" for me.
Note, I had told Oliver Wise (the carpenter), of my grandeouse plans to some day have an automatic gate opener. When he saw how I was greeted upon coming home, he commented: "Well Mr. Neill, I see that you have gotten your automatic gate-opener."
When growing up I used to read "Moon Mullins" in the funnies. I remembered one case where "Kayo" the mean little kid was so small that his bed was one of the drawers in a chest of drawers. Now we also were quite short of space, and that idea looked pretty good to me, so we put Gifford Jr. to bed in one of the drawers of the chest of drawers. Worked O.K. P.S., he was a little kid, but not mean.
Recall we now had "running water", but no electricity, telephone, nor mail service. But within the fiirst year, electric service came by, and we got it. Also a telphone. One of the first things I got was a used washing machine. It had a very small diameter separate spinner to wring the clothes dry. Open at the top, and dangerous too. Should you put your arm in there while it was spinning, it would twist off your arm in about 2 seconds flat. But it worked for us.
I wanted to get an electric pump and have real running water, but the flow from the driven point was to slow to support it. So I decided to bore down deeper. But in doing so, I broke off the pipe connection about 10 or 15 feet below ground. And temporarily we were again reduced to me going into the woods to get a little water.
At this point, I borrowed money from my Dad, and hired well diggers to dig a proper well, which they did. Then I sent to Sears or Wards and ordered a 1/2 horse jet pump, and started digging a trench from the house to the new well, with a gradual incline up from the well to the house. I bought a lot of piping, plus a check valve to put at the bottom, in the well. Then I started screwing piping together, going from the well to the house, to the corner of the house. I made a hole in the floor in the corner, screwing on a 90 degree elbow, and coming up into the kitchen portion of our humble abode.
At this point, laughing to myself, because I knew it wasn't the proper way to do it (and I didn't know the proper way, which would take too much time and money to find out), I then screwed the jet pump onto the end of the pipe. At the outlet of the jet pump I screwed on more piping to the next corner of the dwelling, where I put a "tee", and a large diameter pipe vertically up almost to the ceiling, and capped it. Continuing from the "tee", I ran piping over to the home-made basin, and connected it to the existing faucet that had been previously fed by the barrel outside. I wired up the jet pump. And we had running water for real, with a vengance! I say this last phrase because about the smallest thing we could fill when turning on the faucet was a pitcher. But we lived with it.
Well, I'd better quit for now.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Maryland 1950
So I was off to Maryland, starting work there as a GS-3, hired by mistake at a low rate as a student-aide trainee, the government thinking they were hiring me just for the summer. I had to leave the family behind with my folks until I could secure a place for them to live.
New hires were put up on base (Naval Air Test Center, Patuxent River, MD) in what functioned also as Bachelor Officers Quarters barracks. I used all of my spare time to search out a suitable place for my family to live on what amounted to $3,000 per year. I found something way down the peninsula in Scotland, MD, where there was a lady willing to rent to us one bedroom with kitchen and out house priveledges for a small sum.
I hopped into that same trusty old 1936 Ford V-8 4-door, buzzed back to Connecticut, loaded up my family (we were now four), and went back to Maryland to settle in. It was a little rough living in that way. The lady turned out to be not all that friendly. It was a rather long commute miles-wise, and therefore cost-wise. So I joined a commuting group which helped some. But one day, driving down the Three Notch Road, not that many miles from the base, I saw a sign, "Building Lots for Sale, $200, terms if desired".
It looked like the solution to our problem: Close to work, and a place of our own. I sought out the owner and gave him a down payment to get a lot I had selected across from a blacksmith shop. To give you some numbers that are probably wrong, lets say the lot was 200' wide by 400' deep, or 1/4 acre. But there was no electricity going past the place. I was all excited. No electricity? Big deal! We could get along without that. Both of us had had the experience. Me while growing up, and Marjorie summers when her mother put her out on a farm.
I was on the way from work going back down to Scotland to pick up my family and drive the 400 miles back to Connecticut to put them in "storage" with my folks while I intended to build a small place on one corner of the lot that would later be our tool shed. I would do this little construction while living out of my car. I had gotten acquainted with Oliver Wise, a carpenter across the road from our building lot, and stopped in to share the news with him.
It turned out much different than I expected. The story is long, but I'll tell it. Oliver Wise and his wife lived in a nice place right next door to the blacksmith shop owned by Oliver's brother, Johnny Wise, an old bachelor in his 70's. Now the Wise's sister had years earlier moved to Alaska, to an island I think near Ketchican, and had married an original Russian by the name of Sobeloff. They had the only general store around on that island, and were quite wealthy. Then about the time of the above events, he had died, and Mrs. Sobeloff wanted to return to Maryland.
Now Mrs. Sobeloff was afraid of flying, and insisted on travelling on the surface. Furthermore she didn't want to travel alone, and also she had obviously a lot of business to "wind down" there. So she sent six $100 bills in the mail to her brother Olver Wise and his wife, and asked them to come up to Alaska to help her with the transition, which they agreed to do. So about that time they would be gone about one month.
Some years earlier, Oliver Wise had build a very nice tool shed on the edge of his property, and he and his wife lived in it while they were building their nice place. So Oliver very kindly offered to let me and my family live in his tool shed (it was a comfortable place, well built), while he and his wife went to Alaska to bring his sister back. And it worked out beautifully. So I didn't have to take the family back to Connecticut again, and I didn't have to live in the car.
I took all the time off from work that I could get without loosing any pay, and began to build as fast as I could. I put the place on cinderblocks, using pine lumber for framing, and Gyplap (US Gypsum Co.) for the walls. The roof was originally to be double pitched, but to same time and materials, I just made it single-pitched, and covered with tarpaper. It was 10' x 20', with a door and two windows in the front, and a door and one window in the back. I build an outhouse in the back, and attached an office to it where I could study. Johnny Wise showed me a spring in the woods behind his place where we could get good drinking water.
So we were all set! I hadn't QUITE finished when the Wises returned from Alaska, so Oliver helped me finish up especially hanging the doors. And so we were finally established in southern Maryland.
More later.
New hires were put up on base (Naval Air Test Center, Patuxent River, MD) in what functioned also as Bachelor Officers Quarters barracks. I used all of my spare time to search out a suitable place for my family to live on what amounted to $3,000 per year. I found something way down the peninsula in Scotland, MD, where there was a lady willing to rent to us one bedroom with kitchen and out house priveledges for a small sum.
I hopped into that same trusty old 1936 Ford V-8 4-door, buzzed back to Connecticut, loaded up my family (we were now four), and went back to Maryland to settle in. It was a little rough living in that way. The lady turned out to be not all that friendly. It was a rather long commute miles-wise, and therefore cost-wise. So I joined a commuting group which helped some. But one day, driving down the Three Notch Road, not that many miles from the base, I saw a sign, "Building Lots for Sale, $200, terms if desired".
It looked like the solution to our problem: Close to work, and a place of our own. I sought out the owner and gave him a down payment to get a lot I had selected across from a blacksmith shop. To give you some numbers that are probably wrong, lets say the lot was 200' wide by 400' deep, or 1/4 acre. But there was no electricity going past the place. I was all excited. No electricity? Big deal! We could get along without that. Both of us had had the experience. Me while growing up, and Marjorie summers when her mother put her out on a farm.
I was on the way from work going back down to Scotland to pick up my family and drive the 400 miles back to Connecticut to put them in "storage" with my folks while I intended to build a small place on one corner of the lot that would later be our tool shed. I would do this little construction while living out of my car. I had gotten acquainted with Oliver Wise, a carpenter across the road from our building lot, and stopped in to share the news with him.
It turned out much different than I expected. The story is long, but I'll tell it. Oliver Wise and his wife lived in a nice place right next door to the blacksmith shop owned by Oliver's brother, Johnny Wise, an old bachelor in his 70's. Now the Wise's sister had years earlier moved to Alaska, to an island I think near Ketchican, and had married an original Russian by the name of Sobeloff. They had the only general store around on that island, and were quite wealthy. Then about the time of the above events, he had died, and Mrs. Sobeloff wanted to return to Maryland.
Now Mrs. Sobeloff was afraid of flying, and insisted on travelling on the surface. Furthermore she didn't want to travel alone, and also she had obviously a lot of business to "wind down" there. So she sent six $100 bills in the mail to her brother Olver Wise and his wife, and asked them to come up to Alaska to help her with the transition, which they agreed to do. So about that time they would be gone about one month.
Some years earlier, Oliver Wise had build a very nice tool shed on the edge of his property, and he and his wife lived in it while they were building their nice place. So Oliver very kindly offered to let me and my family live in his tool shed (it was a comfortable place, well built), while he and his wife went to Alaska to bring his sister back. And it worked out beautifully. So I didn't have to take the family back to Connecticut again, and I didn't have to live in the car.
I took all the time off from work that I could get without loosing any pay, and began to build as fast as I could. I put the place on cinderblocks, using pine lumber for framing, and Gyplap (US Gypsum Co.) for the walls. The roof was originally to be double pitched, but to same time and materials, I just made it single-pitched, and covered with tarpaper. It was 10' x 20', with a door and two windows in the front, and a door and one window in the back. I build an outhouse in the back, and attached an office to it where I could study. Johnny Wise showed me a spring in the woods behind his place where we could get good drinking water.
So we were all set! I hadn't QUITE finished when the Wises returned from Alaska, so Oliver helped me finish up especially hanging the doors. And so we were finally established in southern Maryland.
More later.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
1950 & Maryland
I wasn't in the dorm more than a few weeks at most when I got a call to come home! Marjorie had started getting pains, and went right ahead and took certain pills the doctor gave her to take just before delivery! It later turned out that she really wasn't ready to deliver, and they were just false labor pains. But it was too late. She had already taken those pills.
So I took her to Hartford Hospital (with my textbooks), and waited there. And waited. And waited. I don't know what I learned from my textbooks, but I suppose something. Finally they wheeled out both mother and daughter. The only thing wrong was, they were both "out", stone cold! Not a good way to start life. So much for "modern" medicine and all the drugs. The day was May 9, 1950, and I've never had a problem remembering it, but for a rather rediculous reason. I used to read the funny papers, and one comic strip was "The Gumps". One day he said "Today is May 9th, Min's (Minerva Gump's) birthday". It just stuck in my mind.
I was ready to graduate with a Bachelor of Science in Engineering (EE major), with 15 extra credits, including several at the graduate level. They decided that I didn't need to take final examinations after all, and in fact was being considered for graduation "with distinction". I took a special test for that, but came up short. Oh well.
One of my graduate level courses was Microwave Techniques, and another was Pulse Circuits. I was particularly interested in Microwaves, and wanted to get a job in that field because it should be good in the future. But nobody was hiring. In fact on the engineering bulletain board was a clipping saying there were 20,000 (or some such number) surplus engineers. Furthermore, our wonderful president, old Harry Truman said right out "I think there's going to be a depression that will make your hair curl!"
Truman is the same president, while I was working for George Horning in Oregon, who got on the radio and said, "To relieve the meat shortage (there were still price controls left over from the war), I considered sending the Army out onto the range and commender the beef on the hoof, but ultimately, and very reluctantly decided to end price controls on beef."
Harry is the same one whose Secretary of State publicly said that "Korea is not within our sphere of vital importance", or something to that effect, implying to the Communists, "do whatever you want".
Another snapshot, and these are things people always forget: The Korean was was going full blast, and somewone asked him, what about using the atomic bomb? Our president's response? "Oh, I think that's up to the commander in the field if he wants to use it!!!!!!!!!!!" As soon as he said THAT, (I believe it was Clement Atlee), the British Prime Minister immediately hopped a transatlantic plane and came right to Washington to straighten him out. Then common sense prevailed. One of my coworkers later made the comment "Churchill has more brains in his cigar than Truman has in his head."
I have dirgressed. Pardon me. My mother wanted me to go to work on tobacco that summer, and wait until jobs opened up in the fall. But I couldn't stomach that idea. I also applied at a lot of places. In addition, I applied for positions as research assistant in combination with pursuing a Master's degree at The University of Illinois Champeign, plus other universities, including one in Tennessee. The later accepted me, but only after I had relocated to Maryland, working full time at the Naval Air Test Center, so it was too late.
I must go now.
So I took her to Hartford Hospital (with my textbooks), and waited there. And waited. And waited. I don't know what I learned from my textbooks, but I suppose something. Finally they wheeled out both mother and daughter. The only thing wrong was, they were both "out", stone cold! Not a good way to start life. So much for "modern" medicine and all the drugs. The day was May 9, 1950, and I've never had a problem remembering it, but for a rather rediculous reason. I used to read the funny papers, and one comic strip was "The Gumps". One day he said "Today is May 9th, Min's (Minerva Gump's) birthday". It just stuck in my mind.
I was ready to graduate with a Bachelor of Science in Engineering (EE major), with 15 extra credits, including several at the graduate level. They decided that I didn't need to take final examinations after all, and in fact was being considered for graduation "with distinction". I took a special test for that, but came up short. Oh well.
One of my graduate level courses was Microwave Techniques, and another was Pulse Circuits. I was particularly interested in Microwaves, and wanted to get a job in that field because it should be good in the future. But nobody was hiring. In fact on the engineering bulletain board was a clipping saying there were 20,000 (or some such number) surplus engineers. Furthermore, our wonderful president, old Harry Truman said right out "I think there's going to be a depression that will make your hair curl!"
Truman is the same president, while I was working for George Horning in Oregon, who got on the radio and said, "To relieve the meat shortage (there were still price controls left over from the war), I considered sending the Army out onto the range and commender the beef on the hoof, but ultimately, and very reluctantly decided to end price controls on beef."
Harry is the same one whose Secretary of State publicly said that "Korea is not within our sphere of vital importance", or something to that effect, implying to the Communists, "do whatever you want".
Another snapshot, and these are things people always forget: The Korean was was going full blast, and somewone asked him, what about using the atomic bomb? Our president's response? "Oh, I think that's up to the commander in the field if he wants to use it!!!!!!!!!!!" As soon as he said THAT, (I believe it was Clement Atlee), the British Prime Minister immediately hopped a transatlantic plane and came right to Washington to straighten him out. Then common sense prevailed. One of my coworkers later made the comment "Churchill has more brains in his cigar than Truman has in his head."
I have dirgressed. Pardon me. My mother wanted me to go to work on tobacco that summer, and wait until jobs opened up in the fall. But I couldn't stomach that idea. I also applied at a lot of places. In addition, I applied for positions as research assistant in combination with pursuing a Master's degree at The University of Illinois Champeign, plus other universities, including one in Tennessee. The later accepted me, but only after I had relocated to Maryland, working full time at the Naval Air Test Center, so it was too late.
I must go now.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
1948-50 Cont'd
For my Junior year at the University of Connecticut, we lived with my parents place in Vernon, and I commuted, as I have already mentioned. Marjorie was expecting our firstborn. Let me state one thing right here. She was always happy to be "expecting". Even she felt better during those times more than any other. Strange maybe, but true.
Somewhere I have a picture of her "expecting" Gifford Jr., taken in Providence during a visit to Great Aunt Louise Blankenburg's place. In the picture, Marjorie looks both proud and happy!
And that tells it all.
In those days, hospitals always sent the father-to-be home. We were NOT welcome at the hospital! So during that nail-biting time, I went home, and while waiting for the telephone call, a very long wait, I pulled one of the heads off the V-8 Ford, as it had blown a head gasket and I had to replace it.
Marjorie and I were both young and full of energy, ready for anything. It may have been that November Thanksgiving vacation from school that we decided to make a 1,000 mile round trip visit to Pittsburgh. I got an extra car heater to keep the baby warm during the trip. I pinned a thermometer to the back seat cushion to be sure we kept the temperature at 70 degrees. Everyone was worried, but WE weren't. We stopped in Elizabeth, NJ to visit Donald McCormick, a shipmate from the USS Topeka. We had a good visit with the new grandparents, and everyone was happy. It was an uneventful trip.
That following summer, we were still staying with my folks in Vernon. I remember one day in July 1949, on the lawn in the front yard, under the maple tree, we had the play pen set up, with Giff Jr. in it. It was the first time he stood alone, hanging onto two clothespins that were attached to nothing.
I didn't like the long commute from Vernon to Storrs and decided to do something about it. I recalled one of the students at Carnegie Tech found a rent-free apartment (former servants quarters over a garage), simply by going door-to-door and asking what might be available. So I decided to do the same. I started out walking from the Engineering building on campus, and went door-to-door at the first houses I encountered. After perhaps only about the 5th house, I hit a good deal!
It was a stone house on top of a hill, and the people were going to go to Florida for the season and needed someone to watch over the place while they were gone. They said they were coming back in the spring sometime, didn't know exactly when, but we'd have to vacate on their return. They would give us very low rent for the deal. So we made the deal and moved in, with our little boy. It had a fireplace.
Once we had a fire going in the fireplace in the livingroom. Giff Jr. was near it, and I was the other side of the living room. There was a little live coal, glowing, and Giff Jr. picked it up! Then of course he screamed! It was as though I saw it all in slow motion, and was to far away to prevent him from picking it up. He let go quick enough that there was no permanent damage done, but it sure was painful for him.
The entire place was furnished, and we had the use of a high chair. I especially remember watching Giff Jr. sitting in the high chair eating peas. He would push them around, talking to them, then mash them with his hand and then eat them.
During the (probably Thanksgiving 1949) break that year, Marjorie wanted to visit Pittsburgh again, but I didn't want to go, though she very much wanted me to come with her. But I didn't, so I took her and Giff Jr. to the train station in Hartford, and they did the round trip by train. Later she told me how scared to death she was to do that by herself. I retrospect, of course I feel pretty bad about it.
Spring of 1950 came, and everything happened all at once. The people returned from Florida, and we had to move out of the house. Final examinations were right around the corner. Marjorie was expecting our second child in May. I had not yet lined up a job. I was way behind in my laboratory write-ups. Things seemed almost impossible simultaneously. We had to take immediate action. We moved out of the house, Marjorie and Giff Jr. went back to stay with my folks in Vernon, and I moved into an on-campus student dorm to be able to do all the school work required.
I remember one late afternoon in the dorm, sitting at my desk with a stack of laboratory notebooks about 1 foot high. It was 4:30 PM as I looked out the window and saw a line of University maintenance employees lined up to punch out at their time clock. I though to my self "luck people". I worked through that night and saw the sun rise the next morning.
Next time: the early arrival of Patricia, my graduation with almost (but not quite) "honors", my search for a job, and finally getting one in Maryland with the government.
Somewhere I have a picture of her "expecting" Gifford Jr., taken in Providence during a visit to Great Aunt Louise Blankenburg's place. In the picture, Marjorie looks both proud and happy!
And that tells it all.
In those days, hospitals always sent the father-to-be home. We were NOT welcome at the hospital! So during that nail-biting time, I went home, and while waiting for the telephone call, a very long wait, I pulled one of the heads off the V-8 Ford, as it had blown a head gasket and I had to replace it.
Marjorie and I were both young and full of energy, ready for anything. It may have been that November Thanksgiving vacation from school that we decided to make a 1,000 mile round trip visit to Pittsburgh. I got an extra car heater to keep the baby warm during the trip. I pinned a thermometer to the back seat cushion to be sure we kept the temperature at 70 degrees. Everyone was worried, but WE weren't. We stopped in Elizabeth, NJ to visit Donald McCormick, a shipmate from the USS Topeka. We had a good visit with the new grandparents, and everyone was happy. It was an uneventful trip.
That following summer, we were still staying with my folks in Vernon. I remember one day in July 1949, on the lawn in the front yard, under the maple tree, we had the play pen set up, with Giff Jr. in it. It was the first time he stood alone, hanging onto two clothespins that were attached to nothing.
I didn't like the long commute from Vernon to Storrs and decided to do something about it. I recalled one of the students at Carnegie Tech found a rent-free apartment (former servants quarters over a garage), simply by going door-to-door and asking what might be available. So I decided to do the same. I started out walking from the Engineering building on campus, and went door-to-door at the first houses I encountered. After perhaps only about the 5th house, I hit a good deal!
It was a stone house on top of a hill, and the people were going to go to Florida for the season and needed someone to watch over the place while they were gone. They said they were coming back in the spring sometime, didn't know exactly when, but we'd have to vacate on their return. They would give us very low rent for the deal. So we made the deal and moved in, with our little boy. It had a fireplace.
Once we had a fire going in the fireplace in the livingroom. Giff Jr. was near it, and I was the other side of the living room. There was a little live coal, glowing, and Giff Jr. picked it up! Then of course he screamed! It was as though I saw it all in slow motion, and was to far away to prevent him from picking it up. He let go quick enough that there was no permanent damage done, but it sure was painful for him.
The entire place was furnished, and we had the use of a high chair. I especially remember watching Giff Jr. sitting in the high chair eating peas. He would push them around, talking to them, then mash them with his hand and then eat them.
During the (probably Thanksgiving 1949) break that year, Marjorie wanted to visit Pittsburgh again, but I didn't want to go, though she very much wanted me to come with her. But I didn't, so I took her and Giff Jr. to the train station in Hartford, and they did the round trip by train. Later she told me how scared to death she was to do that by herself. I retrospect, of course I feel pretty bad about it.
Spring of 1950 came, and everything happened all at once. The people returned from Florida, and we had to move out of the house. Final examinations were right around the corner. Marjorie was expecting our second child in May. I had not yet lined up a job. I was way behind in my laboratory write-ups. Things seemed almost impossible simultaneously. We had to take immediate action. We moved out of the house, Marjorie and Giff Jr. went back to stay with my folks in Vernon, and I moved into an on-campus student dorm to be able to do all the school work required.
I remember one late afternoon in the dorm, sitting at my desk with a stack of laboratory notebooks about 1 foot high. It was 4:30 PM as I looked out the window and saw a line of University maintenance employees lined up to punch out at their time clock. I though to my self "luck people". I worked through that night and saw the sun rise the next morning.
Next time: the early arrival of Patricia, my graduation with almost (but not quite) "honors", my search for a job, and finally getting one in Maryland with the government.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Univ. of Conn, 1948-50
The old 1936 Ford V-8 held up very well for the daily commute from Vernon to Storrs and the University of Connecticut. At times I also had a car pool with Everett Gardner, Della Worcester's husband. However, due to schedules, mostly I was by myself. One winter trip is etched in my memory. I was going down hill in slush, about an inch of it, and suddenly it happened that the steering was not "answering the helm", i.e., NO RESPONSE to my steering! But that wasn't even the worst of it. Looking down the hill at the bottom, there was a car CROSSWISE across the highway. Now you must realize that going down hill in slush absolutely precludes the use of brakes, and you must steer your way out of any situation.
So what happened then? Well, amazingly enough, the car at the bottom of the hill straightened out, and somehow, steering was restored. End of story.
I have to go now, will return later.
So what happened then? Well, amazingly enough, the car at the bottom of the hill straightened out, and somehow, steering was restored. End of story.
I have to go now, will return later.
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