MY LIFE

by

Pleasant Hill California

by

Bonita and Roger Waite

Regarding my ancestry, I know very little. Dad's parents were from Germany, and I don't know if they ever saw me. They were very devout Catholics and one of Dad's sisters was Mother Superior in a convent. Dad left home, and the Catholic religion, when he was twelve years old. I know nothing of his life from that time on except that he was a woodsman in one capacity and another. I do not believe he had any contact with his family for many years. About the time I was sixteen, Dad happened to be in Boise, Idaho, walking along a street he passed a man, turned back to look at him, found the stranger had turned too, and immediately realized they were brothers, who had not seen each other since Dad left home. This was Uncle Albert, who lived there with his wife, Lillian, and where he worked as a printer. This began a very pleasant relationship for all of us, as they were often at our home in Caldwell. They finally moved to San Francisco, where Uncle Albert died and Lillian may still be living. We lost contact after he died. For some years, Doris corresponded with Rose Fenrich, a Wisconsin cousin, and that is all the connection we have had with that side of the family.

Mother always said we were "hash" on her side of the family, and I don’t know what nationality predominated. We do know that there was an Indian in the woodpile somewhere back there, but never got any details about that. Grandmother Baker married one Baker, had a raft of kids, and then married his brother, Eli, who was my grandfather. I don’t know if the first Baker died or they divorced. I think he died. Eli's children were supposedly my Aunt Franc and mother, but Aunt Emma Luxan, who was born before Aunt Franc, is quite sure she was daughter to Eli, even though she shouldn't have been, and this was generally accepted by the three sisters, as they were very much alike and quite different from the first Baker tribe. So much for the family skeletons.

When I was born my two oldest sisters, Florence and Thelma, were the only surviving children of the five born before me. Floyd, Claire and Hazel died in early infancy--one lived a year and the others only weeks. My folks were sad not to have pictures of any of these babies, so they went overboard in having pictures taken of me. They had a picture taken of Baby Hazel in her buggy, after she was dead. This picture fascinated me as a child, and I often sneaked it out and looked at it with awe, or something! Doris has this picture along with the other old family photos.

Having lost three babies before me, you now realize why I turned out to be a spoiled brat. One can imagine how they watched my every breath, wondering if I would go the way of the others. And, of course, I was a beautiful child, and that made it a cinch for me to be a spoiled darling! My folks had a good friend, Paul Zilke, who owned a general/grocery store. He was one of my greatest admirers, and the story is that he would carry me around all over the place, always ending up at a big barrel of oatmeal, where I was allowed to dig in and eat my fill. Does this sound like something in my later years???

I have no conscious memory of any of my life up until the train trip to Idaho, when I was about three. I can vaguely remember riding on the train, but the one clear memory I have is being held up to some sort of a machine where I put in a coin and a package of gum came out. I can see this in my mind's eye as though it were yesterday.

I was named Loretta for Grandma Baker and Matilda for Grandma Fenrich. From the start I, was called Lora, as my folks didn't want me to be nicknamed "Rette". I was Lora until I became Loretta when I entered high school. I am still Lora to all who knew me before that, and also to Reuben Morris, and I never did know why he used that name.

It must have taken a lot of guts for my folks to give up their established life in Wisconsin and go to the unknown life of homesteaders in the wilds of Idaho. My Uncle George Camp and Aunt Franc had moved there a short time before, and must have made it sound very interesting and enticing to my folks. Uncle George had a little two-room house on the banks of Snake River, and this is where six of us moved in to stay until Dad got our house built about a mile away. (The sixth person with us was Grandmother Baker). It wasn't until recent years that I realized what a wrench it must have been for my mother to make this move. She had two especially good friends and the three of them called themselves Faith, Hope and Charity. They evidently had their own little musical group, as Mother brought a guitar and some sort of horn to Idaho with her. I never heard her play the horn, but she was quite good with the guitar. She never had time to play very often.

I do not remember any of my life while we were at Uncle George’s, but a few stories have been told many times by Mother and Aunt Franc. They made daily trips up to see how our house was progressing, and they used to carry me between them in a dishpan, with handles. They tried leaving me with Grandmother, and she was to keep me occupied until they got out of sight. On one occasion I got away from her and ran outside. Mother and Aunt Franc quickly stooped down behind some sage brush, and Aunt Franc sat down in a cactus. They spent the rest of the day picking thorns out of her behind. I can still hear Aunt Franc laughing heartily when she would tell that story.

The first years on this Idaho homestead must have been very difficult and often disheartening ones. There was nothing to be seen but sage brush in every direction. Besides my aunt and uncle, there were only two other settler bachelor brothers, Fred and Issac Smith. After we were situated in our new house, whenever Mother baked bread, she always made extra loaves for these two men, which we girls delivered to them, and which they surely appreciated. They always gave each of us a pretty card, which we treasured for years.

Of course there was no water supply on our place, so until we had a well dug we had to bring our drinking water from Uncle George’s, and every night our horses dragged a "stoneboat" to the river where a couple of barrels were filled to keep the little sprigs of trees alive. (I wonder where they got those little trees!) Anyway, they lived, and after we had the well, it was pumped dry every night to keep things growing. I can remember taking my turn on the pump handle. Dad was spending all his waking hours clearing out sage brush to make room for crops. As he piled this brush up, it later had to be burned, and we used to go to these burnings, taking along a potato for each, and a salt shaker. We buried the potatoes in the hot ashes, and when they were done--what a feast!!! No condiment to this day can equal that taste.

Now I am four years old, and some unusual excitement at our house. I can remember sidling along the wall, trying to see what is going on in an adjacent bedroom. Then Aunt Franc came and took me in there and said "Come look at your new little sister." Instead, I went to the window and said "I saw a liz out this way." Come on now and see the new baby", "I put the shubble at it and it runned away." I suppose I finally did go look at Fern, but all I can remember is standing stubbornly at that window.

By now many new families are beginning to move into the area, which somewhere along the line acquired the name of "Fargo." One of these families was Mother's brother, Will Baker, and another was Uncle George's brother, John, so now we had more relatives. Most of the new families had children, so soon the men got together and erected a one-room school. It was several years later before they managed to add a second room so all eight grades didn't have to be together. I really believe children got more basic education amidst that hubbub than they do in this supposedly enlightened age. I can remember what a treat it was for me to be allowed to visit school once in a while with one of my sisters. The many pictures I drew on their squeaky slates!!

I can remember one very unhappy incident during my first year at school. It happened at noon, when the teacher's wife came by in her buggy to bring him his lunch, which be had forgotten. Of course all the kids gathered around, and much to my horror and dismay, she had my very new baby brother in her arms. I could just see the top of his little head, and with the white hair, and there was no doubt at all about his pretty blue blanket!! I cried all the rest of the day until school was out, and wouldn't tell anyone what I was crying about. I ran home as fast as I could to find out why they had given our baby away, and was I ever happy to find he was still there. I don't remember that I ever told them about my fears.

Another time I can remember feeling a great sense of relief was after I had swallowed some apple seed, and my grandmother told me that very soon an apple tree would start growing out of my mouth. I started bawling then and kept it up for an hour or two, going every few minutes to look in a mirror to see if the tree was growing. When I finally told my mother what was bothering me, she said, "You don't have to worry about that. All you have to do is chew up some slippery elm (one of the household remedies) and it will never even start to grow." So, I chewed up a big wad of the stuff and felt a relief beyond belief.

My eight years in grade school were mostly very pleasant. We had to walk a mile to school, and I can remember that in the winter it was difficult for me to walk in the snow, trying to step where the bigger girls had made tracks. I especially enjoyed reading, and on the day we got a new Reader, I would read it clear through the first day. I read the few library books over and over again. I hated arithmetic, and was very poor at it. Loved spelling and was better at it then than I am now. Every Friday afternoon we had a spelling bee, for which I was always chosen first, and always won. We also had a ciphering match, for which I was always chosen last, and don't think I ever got a problem finished. We had such good times at recess and noon hour, playing all sorts of action games--especially baseball. We used a regulation hard ball and I have a split lip and chipped tooth to show how good I was at catching.

Life on a farm is a pleasure I am sorry my children missed it. We were terribly poor, as far as money went, but always had enough to eat. My folks must have had a terrible struggle the first year or so, before they had crops. I can remember many a meal when we had only cornmeal mush and milk, or boiled potatoes and brown gravy. (You probably don't know, this is made by browning flour in fat -and adding water) We were always hungry enough to appreciate it. My sisters all learned to cook and sew, but I was more bother than help, so spent most of my time out doors, maybe pulling a few weeds, or watering the garden, but mostly having fun climbing around in the barn rafters, running around the hay derrick, sliding down the hay stack, or riding around the yard on one of the horses.

We didn't have much in the way of livestock, just a few cows and pigs, and two fat horses, Shorty and Charlie. We mostly rode Shorty, and he would put up with us for just so long and then walk under the clothesline and scrape us off. All my life I wanted a riding horse, but never got one. Finally got Tom, who wasn't quite as fat as the other two, and limped a bit, but after we got him he was mine. It embarrassed me to ride a horse off the farm with a bridle that had blinders on it, so one day I cut them off and was very pleased with the result until Dad found out about it! We had most of our living off the farm, but I suppose some cash was needed, so Dad helped build all of the houses that were being built quite often now. We younger children never did realize how poor we were until we were grown and looked back. Mother was a good seamstress and made clothes over as long as there was a scrap left, and all of us wore underwear made from grain sacks.

Although life was hard for everyone in these days, they did have their good times too. I can well remember the many parties, picnics, the Literary Society, etc. Everyone went to these parties, and everyone participated—even very young children. What could be more fun than "Run, Sheep, Run"??? Taffy pulls, with once the taffy not being cooked quite enough, and people going about wiping sticky fingers on tree’s, wagons, or whatever one came to first. The Literary Society could scarcely be called "literary", but it was greatly enjoyed. Whoever could, or would, sang a song, spoke a piece or told a story. From the time I was five years old I'm sure I sang a song at every one of these meetings, such lovely songs for a child, "My Papa Was a Woodsman", "Will I Find My Mama There", "After The Ball", etc. My Mother and Aunt Franc knew quantities of old songs, which I learned, and which will go out of existence with me, as my children had more interesting things to do when they were growing up than group singing around the old organ (or piano).

Every summer there were two huge picnics at Larson's Grove--not just for our community, but for all the surrounding area. I wonder why I always think of cigar smoke when I think of these picnics? Such food, meeting old friends, games, swimming, a dance in the evening. Another annual event was the Fourth of July celebration held at our schoolhouse. We children spent many hours practicing our flag drills, songs and speeches. This was the one time a year we had "boughten" ice cream, and I invariably got sick in the night after eating this. We didn't have spectacular fireworks, but each of us had one package of firecrackers and we shared a box of sparklers. We made the firecrackers last all day, and often burned our fingers on the sizzlers.

Two other annual events were the oyster supper and the chicken pie supper. These were still being held for years after we left the valley, and we always went back for them. And of course Christmas was the highlight of the year. There was always a fine program at the school house, with Santa Claus, a big Christmas tree and at least one little present for every child. I wonder where they got those trees, as we were at least sixty miles from trees. One year they had a very fine Cantata in which I participated. I was about eight then. There was always a sack of candy for everyone (chocolate drops and ribbon candy). My folks (one or the other of whom was always in charge of the Sunday School) always ordered two big kegs of this candy from Sears, and there it stood in our kitchen for a couple of weeks before Christmas, and we kids were not allowed to go near it.

I have a special memory of the trip to these Christmas programs. It had always snowed and was freezing cold. We had only the team and wagon for transportation, and we kids would be seated on straw in the back, covered with quilts and too excited to sit still. I can remember the squeaking of the wagon wheels on the snow, and how big and bright the stars always were. Of course we had all hung up our stockings before we left, and with great joy descended upon them in the morning, to find in them the one orange we got in a year, a few walnuts, and one toy each. You have all heard about my most cherished box of crayons, but not of my set of dishes I got one year. They were just little pieces of crimped tin, but many a meal of chopped apple I ate off them.

When Flossie (Florence) and Thelma finished eighth grade they each took a turn at attending High School in Caldwell. In order to do this they had to find a family there that would let them work for their board and room. I don't remember if either of them ever finished the first year, but no more. When it came time for me to go, Dad decided to sell the farm and start a planing mill in Caldwell. They didn't move to town until a couple of months after school started, so for that time I lived with Thelma and Wallace in the nearby village of Wilder, which was connected to Caldwell by inter-urban cars. One of my companions on the car rides was Ezra Hinshaw, who is now the owner of Hinshaw's big store in Whittier.

My high school days can be summed up very briefly. I was a very mediocre student, taking what courses were required, and managing to get through with a passing grade. Except Algebra--the only thing I ever flunked. I had to take one semester of that over, and as that was all I needed, went no further with Math. I enjoyed English and Latin, and because I enjoyed them, I got my best grades in these subjects. Of course I liked Glee Club, and took part in an Operetta every year. I can still remember some of the songs from them. My social life was practically nil, just a few group parties, Latin Club, etc. Did no dating, but had five very special girl friends, and we had wonderful times together. We became scattered in later years, but always kept in touch, until now there are only two of us left.

During my last two years in High School I studied Shorthand and Typing, and did quite well with these. (Not so you can notice it now! Lay mistakes to arthritic fingers.) I finished High School with every intention of going to the College of Idaho in the fall, but my plans got changed. An attorney in our town called the school and asked them to send him one of their graduating students who looked like she might become a capable stenographer, and they sent me. The prospect of being a legal steno, at the munificient salary of $50.00 a month drove all thoughts of college out of my mind, and I worked for M.H. Eustace for four years.

Can you imagine what it was like to be dumped into the intricacies of legal terminology? It was difficult, but Mr. Eustace was patient and I thought I was doing O.K. Only after I had been there many months did I find out he had gone back to his office evenings and retyped all my work. He had only one arm, but could type as fast as I could. I was terribly embarrassed and asked him why on earth he put up with my ineptitude, and he said he knew I would be O.K. after I had a bit more experience. I did get so I could turn out beautiful legal documents. At the end of four years I was making $70.00 a month, and saving money!!

I have not mentioned any religious training so far in this journal, except for the mention of Sunday School, so will back up a bit. We had no family worship in our home, but we were told Bible stories, learned verses and religious songs as far back as I can remember. As soon as there were several children in the community and the school house had been built, my folks started the Sunday School. They sent for Cook materials--something they must have been familiar with in Wisconsin. Children were given a postage stamp size picture and Bible verse every Sunday they attended. After collecting a certain number of these, they began to get larger ones, and so on, until the final beautiful certificate was attained. Of course the Fenrich kids got them all!! During this time we got a good grounding in the Bible. Adults had a class too, but we seldom saw a minister--just one elderly man who came and preached every few months. I was baptized in the Snake River when I was twelve years old.

There was always lots of singing in Sunday School, and of course very special programs for Easter, Children’s' Day, Christmas, etc. I wonder how many times I have stood in a row of children, holding up my card with a letter on it, and saying the appropriate verse, such as "C" is for candles, shining bright! I can remember Mrs. Ramsey teaching me to sing alto—an Easter song to the tune of Old Black Joel. When we moved to Caldwell we started going to the Baptist Church, but I can't seem to remember much about it. In my third year of High School the Presbyterian minister in our town came to the school to teach History. He was a very fine man, liked by everyone, and a great many of the students began attending the Presbyterian Church. I was one of them, and was soon singing in the choir and teaching a class of girls. I haven't done a great deal of teaching since, but am now in my 68th year of almost continuous choir singing.

Just to fill out this page; a little item of interest occurring during my teaching. One of my girls was a lovely Japanese girl, daughter of one of the gardeners in the area. It was an established custom for her parents to give an elaborate dinner each Christmas season for all their children’s school and Sunday School teachers. It was wonderful, and among my pictures you will find a picture of Harry holding a Japanese baby--Warren Harding Tamura. I had Harry take me back there the next day so we could get his picture.

Now that I have mentioned Harry, I guess it is time to tell how we met and all that stuff. We had a roomer at our house, Clyde David, who worked for Idaho Power Company. Harry came to work there too, and as we had no more room at our house, he took him to Aunt Franc’s. However, he seemed to spend a great deal of time at our house, I’m sure only because of the fact that he and my mother became firm friends as soon as they met. From' Harry's happy-go-lucky, jolly, kidding attitude, you'd scarcely believe he had only recently left the hospital, where he had a silver kneecap inserted to replace his own which was shattered during service in World War I. This caused him discomfort all the rest of his life, but he never complained. He was just happy to have his leg, as he had had to fight to keep it from being amputated. The government provided him with vocational training, and this job with Idaho Power was his first.

For more than a year there was no romantic attachment between us--just a lot of kidding. We often said we were going to get married some day and go to Hawaii on our honeymoon. We finally did get serious and married, but the trip to Hawaii wasn't until thirty-five years later. We went to Twin Falls for a few days honeymoon, where Harry's two brothers and father lived. Our wedding plans had changed, as Mother had made big plans for them, and she died in May before we were married in October. We were to have been married on our joint birthday, Sept. 29th, under the clematis arbor in our garden. Instead we were married at Aunt Franc’s, with only a few relatives present.

During the summer we were married we took a trip to Los Angeles. Doesn't that sound modern? However, we were well chaperoned, as we took with us Esther Daugherty (Paine) and an elderly woman we all liked very much (until we took this trip.) We were leaving Esther in California, where her mother was living. We got so fed up with our chaperone we almost decided to get married in California and leave her there, but didn't. We had a horrible trip home, over the old Ridge Route, one flat tire after another, and in those days one stopped and mended them with a cold patch. Such fun!!

Anyway, just before we got married Harry was transferred to Boise by the power company, and that is where we lived for the next two years. We took my brother George to live with us right from the start. He was six then, lived with us for eight years. I don’t know how on earth I expected to get by when I didn't know the first thing about cooking, nor did Harry. We lived on bacon, fried potatoes and hot dogs for several months, then bought a waffle iron and added waffles to our diet. We were also steady customers at a place that sold wonderful hamburgers for five cent’s. Harry had some good friends there, the Gaylords, and I'm sure we went there at least twice a week and had a good meal. Big, fat Bessie was a wonderful cook, and she taught me a lot about cooking.

Gradually we accumulated a group of friends, and enjoyed quite a full life. We went to the Presbyterian Church, but made no particular friends there, as they weren't particularly friendly. I looked for work and found a job with Hawley & Hawley, a firm of attorneys, the senior member being ex-governor of Idaho. This was a temporary job, and I went from there to the State House, where I worked in the Attorney General’s office until I quit to have a baby. Margery Rae was born Nov. 27, 1926, a fine, healthy baby, who lived just two months and died four days after an operation for a twisted intestine. I’m sure she could have been saved had she been born in this year.

The next few months were very sad ones for us, and we began to think seriously of making a drastic change--leaving Idaho. So we sold our few little possessions (not the waffle iron), left George with Dad, and set out for Washington State, looking for a job as we went. Had good luck, as a job in a power station at Snoqualamie Falls would be available in another month. To fill in that time we went on down to Salem, Oregon, where Thelma and Wallace were living. We were running out of funds, we went to work picking hops for two weeks. When that ended we went prune picking. Thelma and I lasted only one day, but Harry stuck with it. The plums were shaken or raked off unto canvas and had to picked up and sorted. Such aching backs!!

Just about the time we were getting ready to go back to Snoqualamie we got word the plant there had blown up, and there was no job available. Such a blow! We decided to move on toward California, looking for a job as we went. Thelma and I drove back to Idaho to get George, as Dad wasn't able to look after him. Harry picked apples while we were gone, and as soon as we got back the trip south began. It began to look mighty scary, as we got clear to Los Angeles and no job, and running out of money again. Esther had married Vernon Paine by now, they were living in Inglewood, and we lived with them until Harry finally got work with Edison Company. We immediately moved to Huntington Park. Very soon my teen-age sister, Raechal, came to live with us for a few years. We needed more room, so moved to Bell, where Roger was born.

We started going to the Presbyterian Church in Bell, but it closed its doors soon, and we were unchurched for a while. Emett Hayden was our barber at this time, and he never gave up inviting us to go with them to the Methodist Benedicti Class in Huntington Park, as he said it was so wonderful we couldn't help but want to be a part of it. He was right. We visited, and found a class with over 150 young married folks there every Sunday, and a teacher, Helen Camp, who had to be known to be appreciated. She never ran out of new ideas to keep that class on its toes, learning and doing. Our whole social life was linked up with the many good friends we made there, and six couples of us became a special group, who stuck together through the years until five of them have died, and 'the rest moved in different directions. During the years many of the original class have died or moved and the class dwindled until the few left merged with another class. About twenty six of the original class now live in Quaker Gardens retirement home.

Now we have moved to South Gate, Raechal has gone back to Idaho, Harry has left Edison and gone with Dept. of Water and Power. Warren was born while we lived in South Gate, and soon after this George decided he wanted to go and live with Dad, so we let him go. I wish now we had insisted on keeping him, as I think he would have been better off with some discipline, but too late now. We were now thinking it was time to think of buying a home, so when Warren was two we moved to Cudahy, where we had bought a lot and erected a pre-fab house, three small rooms and bath, so we soon borrowed some more money and built on a bedroom and dining room, and a rumpus room behind the garage. Such a lot of wonderful Benedicti parties were held in that rumpus room!!

Except for the fact that I started having severe asthma about the time Warren was born, these were wonderfully happy years. So many good friends with whom we shared many parties, breakfasts, camping trips, etc. We never had much money, and many a time we borrowed $5.00 from Fred Boerner, which he added to our gasoline bill, and always got paid back. We lived very frugally, and once, with great disgust, Roger said, "Believe me, when I get married I am going to have all the meat I want to eat!!!" This because, as usual, I had insisted that enough of a roast be saved for another meal.

When Roger and Warren were about eleven and eight, six couples from our Benedicti Class decided we should be going to church in the Bell-Maywood area, so that our children could be in church school with the same children they were with in day school. Three couples went to the Friends Church and three to the Maywood Methodist. This was a very active church at this time and we immediately became a part of it. We made many new and wonderful friends, but kept up an association with our Benedicti friends. When the time finally came when our special group moved away from Bell, we gradually formed another group who played pinochle together for many years. Now death has taken three of this group and some have moved away, but wonderful memories linger on.