Читать книгу LIVING THE FAITH OF OUR FATHERS - Donald E. Wilson - Страница 14

On the opposite side of Louisville, nine year old Alleen Watson, was enjoying her childhood in a quaint unincorporated section of Jefferson County named Camp Taylor, on land formerly belonging to the U.S. Army. She remembers hearing of the attack from the local paper boy barking out the headline: Pearl Harbor Bombed. Like me, she knew nothing about that far off place, and certainly had no comprehension as to the meaning of what the events meant.

Camp Taylor is one of Kentucky’s most unique historical sites. During World War One, it housed army troops for training and deployment to the war in Europe. It was one of the Army’s largest training camps, and at one time home for 125,000 men. Among its distinguished guests was F. Scott Fitzgerald, author of the classic novel of the depression years:The Great Gatsby. He even included a reference to Camp Taylor in his narrative.

But, perhaps the army post was best remembered as the site of the worst influenza outbreak in United States history. In 1917, hundreds of men died and thousands more were infected. This was later attributed to the very close living conditions of camp life making it very easy for the virus to spread.

When the camp closed shortly after the war, the buildings and land were parceled off and sold to veterans and citizens who had been displaced by the depression. Among the latter, Alleen’s father Jim, as he was called, had begun his career in the early thirties’ assisting his father in various plastering and artistic sculpturing of ornate projects around Louisville, including the beautiful ceilings of the historic Brown Hotel, the Lowes (later changed to Palace) and Rialto theaters in downtown Louisville, among other buildings (see chapter 1 ). While the theaters, like many others in the post war years, no longer serve as movie houses, they do house many other downtown cultural events, and the ornate ceilings of the buildings, including the Brown and several other old buildings still survive and add an historic glimpse of the grandeur that was old Louisville.

I must comment on one of the stories that is part of the lore surrounding the Lowes and Alleen’s Grandfather. In the center of the ceiling of the theater’s entrance hall he sculptured out an image of his head, surrounded by images of many of Louisville’s legendary personalities, a real artistic masterpiece that provides a permanent memorial to the man who had such an important role in creating one of the true show places of Louisville and indeed the south. The sculptured image like those of many other famous American figures is well preserved and bears a remarkable image of her grandfather. The ceiling itself is one of the most unique ceilings in the country.

One of the ironies of the family background relating directly to Alleen and me was revealed in an experience I had about eight years before we met. As a 14 year old high school student I went to work in my first job in Louisville's first theater candy stand, located in the Lowe’s theater lobby. I remember admiring everything unique in that theater, and especially the ornate ceiling. I had no idea then that over my head was the image of the man who was the grandfather of the girl I would eventually marry. Life sometimes has strange and interesting twists. In 2012, Alleen and I toured the theater that has been completely restored to its early grandeur and is now renamed the Palace, and there beneath the stairwell images adorning the ceiling was that candy stand (no longer selling candy), and in its center Alleen's grandfather's image. Suddenly, my mind flashed back to 1945, and droves of Fort Knox servicemen on leave from nearby Fort Knox, descending the stairwell; many stopping to purchase one the very few choices of candy available.

Before Alleen’s parents were married, her Dad built and furnished a house on Springdale Drive, a short distance from Camp Taylor. There, in 1932, Alleen was born as the second child in a family of five; three daughters and two sons. Robert (Bobby), was the oldest, followed by Alleen, then Edna, Chester, and Sharon. Alleen has few memories of her Springdale home except that it was a happy existence, with a simple life devoid of many of the difficulties lurking on the near horizon.

Such was the situation by the 1930s, as the depression reached its peak, leaving no employment for men such as her dad, who were engrossed in what had been a profitable building industry. As is often true during severe economic down turns, as that industry collapses, so did the rest of the economy. Alleen’s dad was not only unemployed, but lost everything, including his home. Then, when the structures and land of Camp Taylor, the defunct army post, became available, he scraped together the $100.00 to buy what Alleen describes as a shack constructed of tar paper and wood. It was located on Taylor Avenue in the center of the former camp and formerly had been the camp post office. It had four walls, a roof, and little else. He literally rebuilt the house with his own hands, adding a full basement, two bed rooms, a living room, a dining room, a kitchen and bath; an amazing example of his perseverance and determination. The little house not only served his growing family until 1953 but was a good example of Jim’s building ability. The house still stands today and looks as good as it did in 1953. No one I ever knew had a better work ethic than James Watson. And no one better fit the image of the so called “greatest generation.”

And his work ethic fit in perfectly with the Camp Taylor culture. While the small community of roughly 2,000 residents was located only six miles from downtown Louisville, it was in many ways a separate island. It was predominantly a blue collar working class society with most citizens, like Jim Watson, struggling to survive. Religion played a strong role in the close nit family oriented culture, with over half Roman Catholic, and a high percentage of the remaining, Southern Baptist or Methodist. A few other denominations such as the Nazarene rounded out the church population.

Alleen describes the area as being relatively independent, with a grocery and dry goods store, pharmacy, hardware store, bakery, barbershop, Post Office, and water company, all within walking distance of her house. Among employment opportunities, was a large tobacco warehouse, that held auctions in the fall of each year, much like the tobacco warehouse near my Shelbyville home. It was a most unique community, and the street layout largely followed the pattern of the old army post.

On a recent drive through the area, Alleen was surprised at how little the basic community had changed in the 60 plus years since she lived there, and how well the buildings had been maintained. I noted that you could still clearly visualize what had once been an army camp, and formations of men with rifles over their shoulders marching on the long streets, and training for the horrors of war.

Alleen relates memories of a struggling mother and father, always guided by an unshakable Christian faith, that found the family at Farmdale Baptist Church whenever the doors were open. It was a hard life, but for a child growing up obviously somewhat sheltered from the many hardships her family faced, it was a happy one. She has fond memories of the Saturday night baths in a wash tub, and her father assisting the washing of dirty backs etc., singing in his slightly off key voice, Oh Suzanna.He also entertained the children counting in German, a language he learned in High School. By the time the last bath was taken the water was well used.

Most activities outside of church were associated with the extended family of her mother’s parents, Annie and Melvin Headley, and aunts, uncles and cousins, all living across the railroad track from Camp Taylor. Close by, also across the tracks, her dad’s family, Rose (Mama), and James Watson Jr. (Jay) were overall better educated than the Headley’s, and a bit more worldly in their knowledge of the world beyond their neighborhood. Alleen has many pleasant memories of time spent at both the Watsons’ and the Headley’s. Much of the family entertainment was in their homes, and her world was for the most part a sheltered one, and not until we were married and the Air Force took her to places she only imagined, did she break the tight family circle.

Her Grandpaw Headley spent many hours reclining in his favorite chair always ready to relate stories about the “good old days” and his boyhood home. I do believe that he suffered a mild form of depression, a diagnosis virtually unknown in those years. But, he was a hardworking and successful tailor at the Enro Shirt Company in downtown Louisville. Outside of work and church, Grandpa Headley put his family first in his life, and dreamed of keeping the entire “clan” together forever. The thought of any member of the family ever leaving the area was far removed from his thinking. Years later, when I took Alleen several hundred miles away from the fold, she was the first one to break the bonds, something I am sure Grandpaw Headley never understood.

I must comment on the overall love and admiration Alleen and I had for our fathers. We were both very fortunate in having fathers who were truly representative of what the Tom Brokaw called the “greatest generation.” While they are no longer with us, our memories of them are quite vivid, and we have come to recognize and appreciate more and more what a wonderful legacy they left with us. While their love of family took first place in their lives, they also left behind untold numbers of friends. To know James Watson and Charlie Wilson was to know two remarkable men.

Both men were men of God, and none of the trying times in the depression years could shake that faith, and indeed only strengthened it. Both men lost their jobs, resulting in a struggling existence to feed and provide shelter for their families, that included Alleen and me. Jim lost his job as a skilled builder, and was forced to take on many demeaning tasks to keep his family from starving. Even though his education ended prior to formal graduation from Male High School (perhaps the best High School in Kentucky), he was remarkably educated far beyond many other citizens of Camp Taylor. He became a master craftsman (tool and die maker), who could make anything with his hands, and his curiosity knew no bounds.

While my dad was forced to give up the job he loved the most-teaching school, he was willing to take any job available to meet our family’s needs. Instead of teaching he worked on an assembly line at the Shelby shoe factory, and as indicated above he entered sales, and excelled as a salesman. But, teaching was never far from his mind, and in his later life, in better times, he left sales behind and went back to the class room.

But, as important as their efforts were in the depression years, perhaps our best memories were of their unshakable love of family. And, beyond their families, our dads loved everyone. They understood the Christian concept of loving our neighbors. That love and overall character certainly gave us traits that we can only hope we will pass on to other generations.

Of course Alleen and I are who we are today, not only because of our fathers, but also our mothers. Our dads would never have made it if it were not for our mother’s one major goal in life: rearing and raising a Christian family. In the 40s women had one responsibility: taking care of their families, and both mothers certainly took that responsibility seriously.