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”.
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
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
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