| Remembrances of Carl Smith This will be an attempt to record what I remember or heard about my father's life. The accuracy of these first and second-hand memories will certainly be suspect. As I write this, my father Carl has been gone for 34 years. Were he still alive, he would be 108. I've long marveled at the changes that occured during Dad's lifetime. When he was young, there were no automobiles, no electricity, no indoor plumbing, no airplanes, and no telephones. Towns were spaced about 7 miles apart, because travel by horse-drawn vehicles required the convenience of short distances. By the time he died, man had gone to space, Dad had flown on a jet airliner, freeways were omnipresent, and we all took modern conveniences for granted. Champion Hill Dad had 5 older brothers and an older sister, and a younger brother and sister. They all grew up on a farm in the Champion Hill area northeast of Wellman, with other relatives on neighboring farms. His father, Sanford, had married Ada Mozelle in Licking County, Ohio, had two children, then lost two baby boys. In 1892, like thousands of other farm families, they made the trek to the excellent farmland of Iowa once the Indians were removed. They added 4 more sons within the next 7 years. Farming in Iowa had to be simple compared to the hilly southeastern part of Ohio where they came from. The family left the farm in 1913 and moved to Wellman. Dad was 14 then. Sanford, then 53, became the custodian at Wellman High School, until he died in 1927 at age 67. By that time, he had become the school's beloved accordian-playing "Sankey". Dad, however, was long gone by then. At age 16, I believe, without finishing high school, he set off for Chicago. It seems likely that Carl headed straight for "Smith's Place", a successful saloon opened by Sanford's half-brother Albert Ellsworth Smith in 1914. A bit of introduction to Albert is due: In 1862, Sanford's father, John Wesley Smith, was killed in the Civil War, in Tennessee. His mother, with 2 small children, married Alexander Smith (no relation). They left Ohio, headed to Iowa, by wagon, in 1871, and Sanford's mother was quite pregnant. She gave birth on the way, near Alton Illinois, to Albert. They turned around and went back to Ohio. Although they made another, successful trip 18 years later, Sanford and his older sister were both married by that time, and didn't make the trip. So... Sanford's mother and her husband Alexander Smith and 6 younger children were still the first of the Smiths to move to Iowa. Three years later, Sanford and Ada made the trek. Older sister Cynthia (Dora) remained in Ohio the rest of her life. By 1899, when Carl was born, there were a lot of Smiths in the Champion Hill area, plus relatives by marriage. When I looked through the Champion Hill church cemetery, virtually all those buried there were relatives, including Sanford's maternal grandmother. I have only bits and pieces of Carl's 20 years in Chicago. I know that he worked as a horse-and-buggy milkman servicing apartment buildings, and as a boxing sparring partner. At one time, he went to school to learn electrical engineering. He worked at Brooks Brothers, a very large men's clothing merchandiser. In 1917 or 1918, he enlisted for service in WW One, but it ended before he could be inducted. During those 20 years, he married a woman named Ruth (last name lost) and had a daughter, Elaine, in 1922. Great Depression I know almost nothing about Dad's life in the years between 1922 and 1936. In late October of 1929, depression struck the U.S., which certainly affected everyone. Sometime during those 14 years, Dad divorced, but he didn't leave Chicago until 1936, when he returned to Wellman, driving a new 1936 Chevy coupe. To my knowledge, he never saw his daughter Elaine again until 1951, when he suddenly left our home in search of her. There must have been some contact with her in the 40's, since I've seen a photo of Elaine in military uniform. In 1951, Dad did locate Elaine and visited her, her husband Bill Schinkel, and daughter Leanne (later Robinson). I recall Dad describing his visit to Elaine and family. He was clearly disappointed at finding Elaine obese and lazy, with a half-dozen yappy small dogs, being waited on by a meek husband Bill. I'm sure that was a terrible contrast with his memory of a slender, fit Elaine in the Army. I can verify the impression because the Schinkel family visited us a couple of times in the 50's. I could not help but think of them as Jack Spratt and wife, because Bill Schinkel was perhaps 6'3", skinny as a rail, and Elaine was quite the opposite. Bill couldn't drive a car because Elaine wouldn't let him get a license, so it was indeed a lopsided marriage. Bill was an exceedingly nice fellow, and Leanne was a pretty little blonde girl. Return to Wellman Evidently having had enough of the big city, Carl returned to Wellman in 1936, and got a job at the Maplecrest Turkey processing plant, the largest employer in the area. While working there as a supervisor on the "killing line", Dad met a young woman working as a "pin feather plucker" (removing the smallest remaining feathers from the turkeys), named Evelyn Beard. Carl was probably 37 then, and Evelyn was 21, and they married in 1938. I imagine that Carl was a rather dashing fellow, having returned to his small home town from 20 years in Chicago, and Evelyn was not long off the farm. They married in 1938 and I was born in 1939. Carl also worked at the Wellman Coop Cremery for some time. Dad still had plenty of family around Wellman. Although his father Sanford died in 1927, his mother Ada lived in town, as did several of his brothers and sisters. I know that Mom never cared much for rowdy Wellman, but I think she liked Dad's family. My impression from her was that she and Ada got along well, and that Carl had always been Ada's favorite child. Perhaps that was because Carl was "her baby" for 6 years until the next child, Irene, was born. Personal note: Grandfather Sanford was gone long before I was born, and I don't remember Grandma Ada, since I was only 1 when she died. I did, however, meet all seven of Dad's siblings, and I liked them all. Their personalities were similar... relaxed, very open, and capable of good, clean but ornery fun. They acted as if they came from a solid, loving family. Unfortunately, none of them made a serious attempt to stay close to the others, so I met several of them only once. They are all gone now... Glenn, the youngest, died in 1995. I've written entensively about my early life... between 1939 and beyond (on my web page), so I won't repeat those years here. I adopted many personal traits from my father, and those who knew both of us see much of him in me. One trait I very deliberately nurtured. Dad had a real knack for doing what I call "busting the bubble". In some situations (it occured numerous times at family get-togethers) there is a subject that everyone is thinking about but nobody dares mention, and it creates a sort of bubble of discomfort. Believe me, kids can sense it easily... they know something is wrong, but probably don't know what it is. On several occasions, Dad would say something that busted that bubble, usually with some humor, and it caused a remarkable change in atmosphere. Others in the group would give a nervous chuckle of relief, and then relax because the unspoken had been breached. My mother's family could be cliquey, which tended to divide it. Dad did his best to bridge those nervous gaps, perhaps because he too always felt like an outsider in the Beard family. That bubble-busting skill, learned from Dad, is one I carry in "my quiver" and have used it successfully many times. I learned to appreciate my father more after I grew up and moved out (I know, that's not unusual). He was never driven by ambition, but seemed to be able to enjoy work, especially around other people. In the 50's he made a serious effort at raising hogs. He studied, built the herd from one runt pig someone gave him, and raised many fine hogs over those years. I have his hand-written records of that effort. For a time, Dad was the announcer for our church's radio program. When I was in high school, Dad worked nights at the Maplecrest plant in Kalona. He was there alone, moving frozen turkeys around, tending the ice-making machines, and generally making sure nothing went wrong overnight. Gobble Inn In 1954 (I think), he and Mom had the crazy idea of opening a restaurant in the front of that plant, using what had been an employee break area. Dad enjoyed dealing with the public, and Mom was a good cook and former waitress. They named it Gobble Inn. There were perhaps 6 tables and a long counter that could seat about another dozen people. During the week, they had a menu similar to what a modern steak house would have, but on Sundays, they served full turkey and ham meals. The turkey was naturally the best Maplecrest, and the ham was Amana's finest. It wasn't long before their reputation spread for Sunday meals, and on holidays like Mother's Day, a line would form outside, and people would be seated inside the turkey plant. A local Russian woman was hired to help cook on Sundays, and several local kids became wait-persons. Despite great business on Sundays, business was very meager during the week, especially during the daytime. Mom and Dad spend an enormous amount of time in the restaurant. Eventually, both Mom and Dad started jobs in Iowa City, while still living on the small farm near Sharon Center. Dad worked a couple of jobs at the University... as a custodian in the large girl's dormitory, then running the dishwashing facility at the Student Union. Mom originally worked in the admissions office of the U, then worked in the salad preparation area at the Student Union. During my sophomore year at the U, we all 3 worked in the Union. Dad later took a job at Owen Brush company, where he stayed until retirement. Mom also worked at the Pepperidge Farm pastries plant down south of the airport. By the time I was back from the Navy, spent another year in school, and had become well-employed, my parents left the farm and bought an almost-new split-level home in Coralville... the first (and only) home they ever owned. I believe Dad was 64 and Mom 48 when they did that, and that place became their pride and joy. Dad worked at Owen Brush until he was forcibly retired at age 70. Mom began working at University Hospitals, and stayed there until she retired at age 70. Retirement Leaving Owens Brush was a real downer for Dad. He was working in supplies, and was up and down ladders all day, so he was still quite capable of hard work. It was unlikely that he could find new full-time work at that age, but he did work part-time at the recreation center in Coralville. It seemed that once he wasn't working, his health declined steadily, as if a lifetime of purpose had been removed, and he died in 1974, at home. After his retirment from Owens, and again after his death, I became aware of how many young friends he, and Mom, had made at Owens. I was frankly surprised at the number of young families who considered them almost relatives. That 10 years in Coralville were without a doubt the best years of their life together. They worked hard on that house and yard, culminating in a huge flower garden shaped like the state of Iowa that was featured in color photos in the Cedar Rapids Gazette. I lived with them there briefly after taking a job in Iowa City, and before I got married in 1965. I moved to Minneapolis in 1965. Dad and Mom drove to the Twin Cities many times, during my first marriage, and then during my second. They flew here for the Christmas of 1973... Dad's first flight. All my life, when asked why he didn't fly, he would say "I didn't leave anything up there", but he enjoyed the one flight he did take. He died less than a year later, unfortunately before the birth of my daughters. I discovered over the years that I loved my father, and admired him in many ways. Even though he's been gone for 34 years, I still occasionally ask myself "what would Dad do?" |