Vashon

After our nomadic treks through various locations in the West Seattle and Burien area we moved over to Vashon Island. I believe I must have been about five or six at the time so it must have been in the early 30’s. A move from the main land was no easy task. By this time my parents had five children and our only means of transportation was a bicycle. From various stories I heard over the years my Dad would take turns giving us all a ride on the bike in stages till we all got to our destination. If you are familiar with the long graded hill on the road leaving the ferry to the center of Vashon you would consider this a Herculean task. I have since wondered if this story falls into the category of other old saws we’ve all heard on how “I walked five miles to school everyday barefooted through snow””. However, my Dad was a hard worker and a very dedicated man, so if that’s what it took to get the job done, that’s what he would do… and he never complained.

Both my parents had a pretty good sense of humor. There is one story that is remembered and often repeated when talking about “the good old days”, much to my chagrin.

I’m not sure what the occasion was…be it birthday, anniversary or a gesture of peace…at any rate my Dad bought Mom this beautiful, chic, green knit dress…quite a classic style; coat style and belted. When Mom opened the gift she was less than pleased with the selection and refused to wear the dress. Dad tried everything to get her to at least try on the dress but she stubbornly refused. After weeks of this exchange with no success, one morning my Dad appeared at the breakfast table “all decked out” in the green dress. My Mom’s jaw dropped and Dad proclaimed “someone’s gotta wear the #$@! thing….if you won’t, I will”. We all got a good laugh out of that. My Dad was 6 feet tall and only about 160 lbs so he in that dress was not a pretty site.

Our move to Vashon had to have been in the summer months because we settled in a little one room shack with a screened in porch down on Ellesport. We were right on the beach practically so we enjoyed swimming, clam digging, fishing and berries. Our stay there was a temporary thing and we moved to a larger home on Dillworth Point. There were also three cabins with the property plus an ample beach. The house still looks the same when we went to the island last year. Maybe next time we go I’ll try to get a picture for these pages. My Dad and Mom were always kicking themselves that they never bought the place as the going price was around $800.00. However that was a lot of money in those days and as my mother used to say "we really didn’t have a pot to #### in or a window to throw it out of".

Dillworth Point was a lot of fun. I think we all learned how to swim while living there. In the summer we had a lot of kids to play with as the posher homes on the beach were owned by “summer people”. They had winter homes elsewhere and only came over on weekends or for the summer. We would be on the beach all day and my Mom would summons us home with blasts from a police whistle. I don’t recall anyone watching over us other than my big brother. It is a wonder we didn’t all drown.

When school started, Marilyn, Sonny and I would walk to Vashon Grade School. I’m not sure of the distance but it took a while. I was in kindergarten, Marilyn first grade and Sonny in third. Nancy and Jim were quite little and stayed at home. By this time my Dad had started working with the W.P.A. This was an acronym for the Works Progress Administration. During the depression President Roosevelt developed this program to offset the staggering number of unemployed men. It offered a job and sustenance to many while accomplishing a lot of public improvements. They built bridges, roads, play fields, etc. For instance White Center Field House is an example of their efforts. There was also the CCC camps … Civilian Conservation Corp … which I believe was for forestry projects. These two organizations were a boon for many in those days. During that era we had our soup kitchens and hobo camps and many were migrating hither and yon looking for a better economic climate.

While at Dillworth we had a small garden in back plus a bunch of chickens for dinner, but we kids didn’t really savor it as we might have. It was our chore to feed the chickens, gather the eggs, etc. As a result you became on a first name basis with the chickens so it was a little distressing to eat one of them. The goat was another matter. I’m not clear as to how we acquired the goat. As I understand it, it was a source of milk but the goat wasn’t too eager to part with her milk. Milking the beast was a constant challenge for Dad and he actually hung the goat by its collar on a hook in the garage. The goat survived and was a little more cooperative during future milking.

At Christmas time we had a heavily wooded area behind the house. My Dad would take us on a hike through those woods to select and cut down our own tree. It always smelled so nice we got it in the house. Our Christmas’s weren’t so extravagant but our stockings were always full of candy, fruit and nuts.

My Mom has passed away now so I can say this without hurting her feelings. She was my Mom, but she wasn’t very good at it. I loved her dearly and she had many attributes but maternal instincts were not one of her string suits. When she and Dad married she was only sixteen and had five children by the time she was twenty one. She never had a chance to be a child herself. My Dad doted on her…she was the baby with four older sisters when she was growing up…so she was kind of spoiled. When you got up in the morning it was Dad who got the fire started, oatmeal mush on the stove, etc. When you were sick it was Dad who sat up with you. He also made a mean clam chowder and black berry cobbler. My Mom was a good cook as well, but it wasn’t her favorite thing to do. She was quick witted and a talented honky-tonk piano player. With five small children and the hard times my parents went through I can only admire them for their survival instincts. At one time my Mom had a nervous breakdown. Helping relatives would take some of us in till she got better.

Upon moving to the island we were in closer contact with Dad’s step brothers, cousins and other shirt-tail relatives, the Larson’s, Ward’s and Soike’s. I am not sure how long we lived on Dillworth Point but from there we moved to Lisabulla. At one time this abode had been a chicken house and all the windows were at shoe level up to your waist. You had to get down on your hands and knees to look out the window. We only lived there a short while and moved into a house offered to us by Uncle Irv and Aunt Elsie Larson. It was on the main drag (Cove Road??) and within walking distance to the grade school. I guess you could say where ever we lived on Vashon was within walking distance to school, because we always walked to school. The last place we lived in was what we lovingly refer to as the “Brown Shack”.

We kids were busy in the summer when the crops on Vashon were ready for harvest. School term ended early in May so there would be more pickers available for strawberries. Our family would pick all day and Dad would cash in our tickets at days end and buy groceries. We became quite adept at picking berries, peaches, cherries, beans…you name it.

My Mom worked as a waitress at the restaurant in Vashon called the Alibi. A few doors down was the theater and we would get to go to the matinee and watch the “shoot’em ups”. As a special treat we would go into the Alibi and buy a “Hot Cha”. This was a small bag with mystery goodies in it…penny candy, gum and other choice morsels. My parents social life consisted of dances held on Saturday nights in Burton and the usual family gatherings. On Sundays we would go for a “Sunday Drive” and stop for ice cream and it was to die for.

As usual we had outdoor plumping. Bathing was accomplished by heating water on the stove, filling the wash tub and climbing in. This was simplified in the summer as we could put the tub in the yard.

We lived on Vashon until the early 40’s. When WWII started Dad got a war job at the shipyards and was commuting to Harbor Island daily on the ferry. This got to be tiresome and a long day for Dad so it was decided to move to Seattle. By this time my big brother had turned sixteen and left home. He was living in Seattle already and working with Uncle Cliff at the chocolate factory. Mom had applied for seaman’s papers and was working as a waitress on the ferry boat.

Sadly after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor many of our Japanese citizens were looked upon with suspicion. As a precautionary measure the Japanese were rounded up and put in camps. Many of our friends and farm owners on Vashon were rounded up. Most were never able to regain their farms and businesses.

Moving to Seattle was quite wrenching as we had lived on Vashon long enough to have made many friends we had to leave behind. Also the pace of rural existence contrasted greatly to “the big city life” of Seattle. We found rental housing in White Center Heights where we lived until the 50’s. This housing was hastily built during the war years to accommodate the many families that were re-locating to Seattle to work at Boeing, the shipyards and the other industries supporting the war effort. Seattle expanded its population during this period with “war workers” and the armed forces. We had army personnel at Fort Lewis and Fort Lawton, Navy bases and Coast Guard.

Our house boasted of three bedrooms, bathroom (indoor plumbing!), living room, dining area, kitchen and utility room. Mom and Dad had one bedroom; we girls shared a bedroom while little brother Jim had a bedroom all to himself. By this time my big brother was in the Navy and serving in the Pacific. When he came home on leave after his boot camp training, the couch was the designated sleeping area for him

Goodrich Side

I have been unable to find a formal portrait of my mother’s family. The earliest photo I could locate is from 1901, prior to my mother’s birth and is shown above. The other picture is the girls all grown up.


Left to right is Edna, Lula, Grandfather Goodrich and on the horse (Jack) is Myrtle. To the far right are Grandmother Goodrich and Nora. There is a great age disparity between my mother and her four sisters. While growing up she felt like she had four additional mothers. She felt closest to Edna and used to think she was her mother.

As I have mentioned before, I regret not having quizzed my parents more about their upbringing. However over the years you do get bits and pieces that can be put together. How factual they are is anyone’s guess. From what I gather Mother’s father was a confectioner and owned his own popcorn stand. Besides not supporting his family too well he also had a bad temper. The older sisters persuaded their mother to leave the marriage when my mother was around ten. Edna the oldest went to work in a laundry to help support the family. My mother said Edna was close to her mother and had lots of patience and was very kind.


My mother met my father when she was 15 years old while visiting Edna and her husband Norman. They were married in 1924 when my mother was only 16. It was a simple ceremony by the Justice of the Peace. They had to borrow the $5.00 to pay the preacher.



Grandmother Goodrich died when my mother was 18. She is buried in Forest Lawn Cemetery in West Seattle. I visited their office and was given the attached map of the cemetery with grave locations. The stone markings the grave is very old and has deteriorated but I am pretty sure I located her grave based on the map.

Growing up we saw much of my Mother’s sisters and their families. Probably the most frequent visitor was Aunt Edna and Uncle Norman as they lived in Des Moines. Aunt Nora and her family lived in Bremerton and Lula and Myrtle lived down in Long Beach and Roseburg. Both Myrtle and Lula were teachers and eventually Lula was Supt of Schools. Their husbands Henry and Martin were in the logging industry. The area around Myrtle and Henry’s house was ideal for hunting and fishing. In later years my older sister Marilyn and her husband Don and their children would go down and visit, and bag a deer if they were lucky. The sturgeon caught in the Columbia would be an added bonus. We would also visit Lula and Martin at Long Beach and enjoy a feast of razor clams as they were easy digging in those days. Pickings are pretty lean now and days that are open for clam digging are highly regulated.


Three guess as to which sister was the wild one!

Aunt Nora and her husband Evan lived in Bremerton. I believe Nora was a stay at home mother and Evan was the Postmaster. As a widow late in life, Nora began a career as an artist and had a one-woman show in Bremerton where her work was highly praised. My sister Marilyn and my mother attended the show and I was lucky enough to acquire one of her paintings. On several occasions my sister Marilyn and I would drive Mother over to Bremerton so the sisters could “do brunch”

Hopkins Side

I’ve tried to record our family tree in some sort of format that isn’t to confusing….probably with little success.

First of all there is a formal family portrait of my Grandfather Frank Hopkins. He is seated in front row left looking quite natty with a handlebar mustache. Seated in the middle is my father’s brother Clifford and next to him is my father in knickers and his hair is neatly combed. The three girls in the back row are his sisters. Esther stands in the middle and the other two sisters, Mabel and Ida died in 1923 and 1930, respectively. If you refer to the family chart you will see that Ida was three years older than Mabel. It is anyone’s guess, as to which sister is which. I am guessing the girl on the left with the bow in her hair appears to be younger and therefore I am guessing Mabel. Ida died before I was born and Mabel died when I was less than a year old, I have no memories of them. Uncle Clifford and Aunt Ester and Grandfather were more familiar and had impact on our lives.

Referring again to the family chart you will note that my father’s mother, Anna passed away in 1906 in giving birth to my father. His second marriage was brief, ending in divorce and was later married a third time. We are of the opinion that this photo was taken after the family migrated to Vashon Island from Minnesota.

I have only vague memories of Grandpa Hopkins. If we visited him often I have no recollection. He lived in a large white house on Vashon, two stories high on a sizable piece of property. As to his trade, I am not sure how he made his living…. possibly farming. In looking at the family portrait he appears somewhat prosperous….maybe a little on the stern side.

Walter’s older brother, Clifford was always a welcome visitor. He was employed at some level at the Washington Chocolate Factory in Seattle. Whenever he called on us he always brought a large slab of chocolate from the factory. When I say a large piece….it was about two feet long, a foot wide and two inches thick!!! If we kids had it our way we would have sat down and eaten it in one sitting, but Dad always rationed it out. He would put it on the kitchen counter; hack off uneven chunks with a large butcher knife and we would all get a piece. It took a while for the selection process as we all wanted to get the largest piece. Then Dad would put it away until the next offering. We never did figure out where dad hid it in the interim. In later years oldest brother Eugene worked at the chocolate factory and made pretty good money, one of his first jobs after he left home.

Walter’s older sister, Esther and her husband Harry were frequent visitors often coming over on Saturday night for drinks and to play cards. Aunt Esther never had children and was not a really warm and fuzzy Aunt. I am not sure she even knew how to cope with children so she came off as somewhat aloof. She and Uncle Harry had a grand house in the Wallingford District. At one time we lived with them during hard times. Marilyn lived with them for a little while when mother had trouble coping with all of us.

My Grandfather died and was buried on Vashon Island. Our family has a plot where he, his sisters Mabel and Ida, Ida son Vernon and my father are buried. We get out to Vashon frequently to visit the graves and drive around the island visiting the old homesteads. Over the years little has changed from the days we lived there.

What started it all

(The author of this story on the day her first Great-granchild was born)


My brother Eugene and his daughter Suzi were over for Sunday dinner. Whiling away the time as dinner was cooking we got to looking at old pictures and explaining to Suzi ‘who was who’ in some of the older pictures. Frankly, in some of the pictures, neither my brother nor myself knew who these people were as they had no notations or dates to identify the time, occasion or what have you.

The conversation turned to how unfortunate that our knowledge of family history is so vague. When I was growing up and in later years I didn’t have a real curiosity about my roots. Now that my parents are gone plus their siblings, there are no elders to relate stories of the past. We can only put together bits and pieces of what we heard and what we can remember of the days of the past.

For starters I asked my brother if he could remember all of the places we lived in the early years. Bear in mind these were the years from 1924-1941. These were tough times during the depression when everyone was dirt poor and few jobs were to be had.

With little effort my brother began reeling off all the times we moved and where and in what order. Must have been a dozen places in as many years. For the most part we lived in shacks, small houses owned by relatives and sometimes with relatives and sometimes even as squatters. We laughingly explained to Suzi that at some places we lived the owner wasn’t aware we were there. This led to some hasty departures when we were discovered. Indoor plumbing was a luxury seldom experienced.

Our numerous moves in the 1920’s were in the Burien and West Seattle area. My brother says we lived in a stucco house up on 35th and Roxbury when I was born in 1929. Nancy and Jim were born in the early 30’s probably around 14th and Holden, a house owned by Aunt Edna, Mom’s oldest sister. My brother started school at Burien Grade School. Recently my brother and I attended a 60th class reunion for Highline High School and he was pleasantly surprised in meeting many classmates he had started grade school with.

With the help of my brother, Suzi and other sources of information I am going to make an attempt to slap something together to pass on to our kinfolk. If you have hopes of finding relatives of note or royalty read no further…perhaps you could dig deeper with the resources available today and find someone to your liking. I will only write of family I grew up with or heard stories of. On review, our lot gives the word ‘dysfunctional’ a whole new meaning.