by

Gladys (Traul) Wedding

1966

Transcribed from a copy of the original document, Dec 18, 2004,

by

Richard M. Thompson, Jr.

The short history that follows is the memoirs of my Paternal Grandmother’s sister, Gladys Traul-Wedding. They are the memories from the eyes of a 10 year old girl growing up at the turn of the century in Spokane Washington.

Mama is Nancy Louvicie Logsdon-Traul.

Papa is Richard Temple Traul.

I took some small liberties editing the text to modernize the punctuation and spelling. I have not changed the sentences in any other manner.

Richard M. Thompson, Jr.

Colorado Springs, CO

December 18, 2004

***************************************************************

    It must have been about 1906, when I was ten years old that we moved into Hogan’s Alley from our former house in Peaceful Valley. Most of the houses here opened onto the alley. It was our only way of entrance and exit. The Hogan part came from a hot-tempered Irish woman, who tried to dominate everyone who lived there. She was especially ruthless with the children. I was quite afraid of her. She caught me one time in the alley alone and shook me until my teeth rattled and pulled my hair, of which there was plenty to get hold of, as I had long curls. A girl about my own age boarded with Mrs. Hogan. I was quite fond of Ethel. Her name was Ethel Metcalf, a very pretty girl, blond hair and blue eyes. There was always a mystery about her parenthood, but as I remember, her mother came to see her infrequently.

    Our house was a rather neat cottage with a fence around it on the rear of a lot facing the Alley. An identical house on the front of the lot faced the street, but there was a fence separating both yards. We never dared cross over that fence. Many of my happiest childhood memories have to do with while we lived in Hogan’s Alley.

    Although Mama was always very busy, what with making all the candy for Papa to sell at his Popcorn and Candy Wagon, and taking care of her family. Also, she usually had one or two borders to help make ends meet, to care for her family and hardly ever a day she did not go downtown and help Papa in the Candy Wagon too. How she found the strength for all she accomplished I will never know. Somehow she still found time for her children. She would read to us at night before bed-time. "East Lynne", "Tempest and Sunshine", etc. Laura Jean Libby was our favorite authoress, as there was quite a vogue for her books at that time. She would read one chapter at a time to us each night. Then Mama would sing us a song before we all were sent off to bed. We would have turns deciding on which song she would sing. Each had a favorite song. Mine was "The Drunkard’s Dream", sister Enid was partial to "Fair Charlotte", Agnes, our baby sister always preferred "Little Lost Girl", while brother Dick liked "MacAfee’s Confession". All were real tear-jerkers, but we loved them. Then we would wipe the tears away and go to bed.

    Directly across the Alley from us stood a working man’s rooming house. There were two upper floors, used for men only. The front faced the N. P. Railway tracks. The basement floor opened on the alley was housekeeping rooms occupied mostly by widows. On dear little old lady lived there alone. There was very little to do for entertainment in those days for lonely widows. No radio of TV, not even movies, but they were soon to come. So she would read all the obituaries in the newspaper, for the funerals, dress up in her best black silk dress and little black bonnet, and go to the services. She seldom knew the deceased, but that did not bother her. Then in the evening she would tell us children all about it, enjoying every detail all over again. She would cry and tell us how pretty the flowers were and how sad the music and how much she enjoyed it all. Just across the hall from her lived and attractive young woman and her little son. The boy was about 5 or 6 years old. He was such a sad, forlorn little fellow. We all felt sorry for him. He was definitely of Chinese blood. No one ever knew for sure about his father, but his mother was Caucasian. She was very quiet and withdrawn, did not associate with any of the others in the Alley, but always seemed to be provided for. It was about this time I remember seeing my first automobile. Someone left it in the Alley while visiting somewhere. We knew it did not belong to anyone in OUR alley, but it was quite fascinating to all of us kids. I remember it was a very bright red and had just the front seat and no top on it. Guess it was called a "runabout".

    The next house down, across the alley, was where the Moyers lived. They were our very best friends. Mrs. Moyer was a nice woman, hard working and a good mother. She tried so hard to keep her children together and care for them. Her no-good husband had deserted her – just moved out and went to live with some hussy. She was never able to get a cent out of him to help with the children. It was truly a man’s world then and there was little a woman could do about it. Even the courts were slanted in favor of the man. So she went to work in a laundry, putting in long hours at hard work. There was no such thing as an 8 hour day then. It was a 10 or 12 hour day, 6 days a week. About $4.00 a week was the going wage. There were six children in the family. Fred, the oldest, was 16 and jointed the Navy. He was his father right over again, anyway, and would never have been any help to his mother. We never saw much of him. Bert, the next one, was about 13 when we first moved into the Alley. He was a fine sensitive boy. He tried so hard to help his mother care for the younger children. So many times we would find him trying to cook, feed the little ones and clean the house. Next younger was Melvin – about my age – but some way we never really liked him too well. He always struck me as being a little on the sneaky side. He tried so hard to be my "fellow" too, but I just couldn’t see him. Then came Myrtle. She was about the same age as my sister Agnes. Then another boy, Edgar. I just do not remember him too well, but he was about five when we moved there. Then the baby – Blanche. She was a little doll. About a year old at that time. She loved Mama and when she was big enough to walk, she would come dragging her clothes across the alley, for Mama dress her and feed her. We were all crazy about her. She had big brown eyes and lot of curly brown hair – usually quite tousled. Bert was so good to her too. I can just see him carrying her around.

    The house next to the Moyers was occupied by a very vivacious little woman. Her name was Hazel Dudley. She was the mother of a sweet little girl named Ethel who was also the same age as sister Agnes. From the whisperings we kids picked up, it seems Hazel Dudley was a "kept woman". I didn’t know until years later just what that meant, but it sounded very mysterious. Seems she was separated from her husband and could not remarry because of her religion. She was always smiling and pleasant, and I do not ever remember seeing any man around her home. Little Ethel was the envy of all the other kids in the alley, because of all her many pretty clothes and I never saw so many dolls and toys outside of a toy shop. They filled a closet and tumbled out over the rest of the house. If we girls had just one doll, we were lucky.

    I cannot remember what was to the east of our house on our side of the Alley, but it seems to me there were mostly old sheds, etc. on the rear of homes that faced correctly on Main Street, but I do vividly recall a group of young Italian laborers. They rented the last house down on our side of the Alley. We kids had a saying we thought was smart, "That we lived in Hogan’s Alley, and the farther down the Alley, the tougher it got and we lived in the last house". Of course it was not true, but we thought it sounded funny. Well, these young Italians were not long over here from Italy and spoke very little of our language, but they were the most pleasant, friendly young men – always smiling. On pay days, as they passed us kids in the Alley, it was rarely they went by without pressing a nickel or dime into our eager hands. Many times on Saturday nights they would have a dance at their house and have all their Italian friends there. There would be pretty girls in native Italian costumes and the musicians would play accordions etc. They would all dance their native dances. We were always so thrilled because they would let us sit in the doorway and watch the fun.

    Kids had a hard time getting any money those days. Our main entertainment was the Saturday Matinee of the Jessie Shirley Stock Co. Kids were admitted for only 10¢. We would all hunt junk all week to scrape up the 10¢ each for the Saturday show. Sometimes one of us would be a few pennies short by Saturday morning. Then we would all pitch in and spread out in all directions to find empty bottles, or anything we could sell for junk. Pieces of scrap iron or an old piece of zinc or copper were especially valuable. The junk yard was right at the entrance to the Alley off Division Street. Mrs. Hogan’s house was just back of it. One thing I will say for the junk man – he was a pretty decent sort. Sometimes when we were a little short, he would trust us until the next week or even on occasion he was known to donate a penny or two.

    Oh, the wonderful land of make believe every Saturday! Although we heard that Jessie Shirley, the leading lady, was near fifty, when we saw her on stage in her make-up and heard her wonderful voice, we never thought of her as anything but young and lovely. "The Girl of the Golden West," "Beverly of Graustark," "Across the Great Divide," "The Two Orphans" – oh, I could go on and on… all the wonderful memories. It was a race each Saturday to be first in line at the box office. Usually we would be there one to two hours before the box office opened. But there was a real method in our madness. Many times adults would come in late and buy the seats from the kids. The better seats, the better chance to sell. So we would rush for the balcony, front row, center aisle. Once we got paid 50¢ for a seat! Then Agnes and I just shared one seat between us and still had good vantage point to see the show. We also managed to see quite a few good vaudeville shows. Although I still do not know how we managed it. Sometimes the boarders would finance us… probably to get us noisy kids out of the house for a while. I remember seeing Eva Tangway and heard her sing the song she made famous, "I Don’t Care." She was a big blonde gal in tights. I thought she was very daring. Also, I remember seeing Charlie Chaplin in "A Night in a London Opera." It was the same slapstick he used afterward when he started making movies in Hollywood.

    Papa’s candy wagon sat on the street corner just outside the Auditorium Theater where the Jessie Shirley Company performed. On Saturday afternoon and evenings, he made pretty good. There was always a 10 minute break between acts to change the scenes and many would take a pass and go out to the corner for refreshments. Papa also sold peanuts, popcorn and gum, as well as Mama’s delicious home-made candies. He tried selling ice cream cones one summer, but he was such a softy with kids, he went in the hole on that. He would put a scoop on top the cone and the kids would tell him that was not enough – to put more on. They would have him putting two or three scoops to a cone so he decided to quit the ice cream. My favorite treat was popcorn or peanuts along with a piece of my maple-nut taffy, but Mama made all flavors of taffy. She could only make a 10 lb. batch at a time. That was all she could handle. She pulled it on a big iron hook fastened to the wall. She would throw it over the hook, pull it out across the room, fold and pull it out again until it reached right consistency. Little pieces or strips would break loose and hang down as it reached the proper stage. We kids liked to grab these little strips of the fresh warm taffy. It was the most delicious, wonderful candy I ever ate. One of her extra specials was a pecan cake. These days it is called a "Praline." We did not get that to eat too often – it was too expensive to make.

    I remember Papa often sending me to the Coffee and Spice store to pick up a supply of salted and fresh roasted peanuts for the wagon. I loved to go. The luscious aroma of coffee and spices in the store would linger in my nostrils for hours. Also, I loved to help Papa bag the peanuts. He would weigh out each bag full on a small scale, put them in a pretty, little, candy-striped bag, then hand them to me to twist the corners together to close them and stack them.

    The candy wagon always had to be hauled off the street at night – city ordinance – so it often fell to me to stay downtown and help Papa push the wagon around into the alley behind a store. Papa was a small man and not very strong so he needed help with it. Papa nicknamed me his "mule." He always said I was strong as a mule and stubborn as a mule too. I guess he was right, at least about the last part of it – being stubborn. In trying to pull the wagon by himself one time, when the street was icy, he slipped and cracked his head on the cement and made a nasty wound on the back of his head. So one of us always tried to stay with him to assist him. We would get so tired and sleepy. Papa would let us lied down on the floor of the wagon, with coats under us, until time to close up. He tried to stay open until the show let out to catch the last trade which was usually about midnight.

    One night when Papa was alone and had started home, he took a short cut through and alley from where he had the wagon parked. He had planned to stop at Jimmy Durkin’s Saloon. He would buy a small bottle of whiskey to make his morning ‘hot toddy.’ Papa was not a drinking man – I never saw him take more than one or two drinks, but he liked a ‘hot toddy’ to get him started in the morning. On this particular night, someone was lurking in the alley and struck him over the head with a heavy object. He lay unconscious for some time. When he came to, he had been robbed of all his money – about $35.00 – and that was a large amount in our family, so we all tried to protect him.

    Mama was such a happy, pleasant woman – loved by all who knew her. She loved to sing and to dance. Although she had very few opportunities to indulge in these activities, she taught all us kids to dance – the waltz, the two-step, and she tried to teach us the polka and schottische too. These last two were not so popular right at this time, so we were not too interested in learning them. Mama loved to sing to us – she had a lovely voice, soft and sweet, but with a sad plaintive note. Or perhaps it seemed so to us, as her songs were mostly so sad. Most of the songs of her era were very sad or very gay – usually told a story.

    One thing that was a constant concern and worry with us children was Mama’s terrible choking spells. Oh, the agony we went through when she would have one of those spells! There seemed to be a weakness in her throat if she were very tired or worried. Her windpipe would close up on her and sometimes she would lose consciousness completely before the throat would relax and she could start breathing again properly. The most heart-rending sound I can remember was Mama gasping for breath. One evening about twilight she had a severe spell and nothing we children could do was of any help. Finally she fell unconscious on the kitchen floor. The only thing we could think of to do then was to go after brother Dick. He worked evenings, doing errands, etc. for a Jeweler. The shop was only a few blocks from home. Agnes and I both took off as fast as we could go – down the alley. I never did figure out why we both went – just so frightened I guess. But my older sister, Enid, had enough presence of mind to stay with Mama. We were soon back with Dickie, but by that time, Enid had managed some way to get her up on the couch and she was breathing again – but she was so pale and white. She looked like a ghost – and at first we were sure she was dead.

    It was about this time that brother Dick gave us girls the nicknames he called us the rest of his life. Enid was "Shorty." (She was only 4’ 11" tall.) he called me, "Shanks," and he named Agnes "Jo Bush." Never did know why he chose that name for her, except that the man he was working for, the jeweler’s name was Jo Bush.

    Ours was a very close and loving family. We just adored one another. I recall one Easter while we lived in Hogan’s Alley. Mama had made all of us girls new outfits for Easter. Enid and I each had a two-piece outfit and we were so proud of them. Mama was an excellent seamstress. When she could afford the material and could find the time to sew, she would make our clothes. I have always kept a special picture in my memory of Agnes at this time. Mama had made her a lovely pink dress with a pink bonnet to match. The dress wall ruffles and lace… and her RED slippers! Mama tried to talk her out of RED, but she had her heart set on them and nothing else would do – so RED slippers it was. I remember holding her little hand in mine and looking at her tiny fingers as went off to Sunday School… and thinking how cute and little her hand was. She was our baby and we all doted on her… even though she was about 9 years old then and we kept her sitting in a high-chair until she was past 10 years old. Papa just kept cutting down the legs as she grew bigger. Many times she would fall asleep in her high-chair after dinner in the evening and it was my job to get her down, undress her and get her to bed. She wouldn’t even wake up – and the next morning she would ask, "How did I get to bed last night?" – and of course I would complain that I had to take her to bed.

    I well remember one night we were all getting ready for bed and the bottom drawer of the dresser was pulled part way out. Without thinking, we sat down on it to remove our shoes and stockings. Sure enough the dresser tipped just enough to throw the kerosene lamp to the floor. Oh yes, not may people had electric lights at that time – only a few had gas lights – and the poor families had to be content with kerosene lamps. Well, the kerosene ran out of the lamp and caught fire. Everyone screamed, but I grabbed up the lamp and ran out on the porch and threw it out into the alley. Well – all the family thought I was a real heroine. Actually, it was a spontaneous act. I did not realize what I had done until afterward.

    At this time we children went to the Salvation Army Sunday School and we loved it. We enjoyed marching with them on the street where they would form a circle and the band would play while we sang all the old church hymns. I will always love the Salvation Army and have a special place in my heart for them. At Christmas time, our Sunday School always had a big tree all decorated and a Santa Claus who handed out presents to all the children. One of the special Christmases I remember so well was when we three girls each received a book of poems. Agnes was given a book of Tennyson, Enid received a book by Whittier, and mine was by Longfellow! Nothing could have pleased me more. He was my most favorite poet and I memorized many of his poems. Some I can still recite to this day. I had always loved poetry and I still think it is the most beautiful way to express one’s thoughts and feelings. About this time I even fancied myself as a bit of a poet. Papa even sent one of my poems, along with my picture, to the Spokane daily paper and they printed it!

    Another kindness that endears the Salvation Army to me was something they did for our family. During an especially hard time – when I was about 8 years old, Mama was having a most difficult time trying to get warm winter clothes for us children to start to school. Papa had been down sick all summer and Mama was trying to keep a roof over our heads and feed us by working almost day and night in a cleaning and dyeing establishment. But she just could not eke out enough to get warm clothes for her children. Some way -- we never did know how – the Salvation Army learned of our dire need and sent us a huge box of warm winter clothing and an order for groceries on a big city store. It was like a gift from Heaven – and I know now it was really Heaven sent. What marks it so indelibly in my mind is the darling bright red coat – with an attached cape! It was just my size and I was the happiest little girl in town.

    To get back to Hogan’s Alley again. One incident I remember well was when all the Alley kids gathered in our yard to tell each other ghost stories in the evenings. There were no lights in the Alley – the only illumination was what pale glow filtered through here and there from the oil lamps in the homes, which was very little, but of course this made it all the more scary. Well, during all the excitement of the weird stories, Bert Moyer slipped away, unnoticed by the rest and cam wailing out of the tall sunflower’s in Mrs. Hogan’s back yard with a sheet over him. You may be sure there was plenty of screaming and scrambling. Some of the younger ones had hysterics and Myrtle Moyer fainted. Bert tried to tell them it was only him – but by that time, the panic was on and it was some job to bring any semblance of calm to the group.

    One spring day, after the winter snow and rain had left the ground wet and soggy, all we Alley kids were playing hide and seek. As I went to hide behind a clump of bushes along side of the workingmen’s hotel, I stepped on something soft and slippery. It turned out to be an old wallet – rotted away at the seams. But it contained $28.00 in salvageable money, mostly in gold and silver coins. There was very little paper money at that time, particularly in the West. I was so proud of my sudden wealth that in my elation I gave some to all my friends. The ones I liked best, I gave a dollar, but those in disfavor only received 50¢. Of course my sisters and I had the largest share. Mama was at the wagon as usual, helping Papa and by the time she arrived home we had managed to spend some of it. We bought fruit and cookies (never candy – we had plenty of that at home), but we still had a few dollars left by evening, so we gave that to Mama. In fact I believe that was part of the money for our Easter clothes that year. I remember feeling very ashamed afterward that I had wasted so much of the money when Mama needed it so badly, but I just did not think of it until later. Guess kids are like that sometimes.

    Somehow Papa got hold of a piece of land, just a few acres, with a one-room shack on it. It was located at Spokane Bridge, a small logging and farming hamlet about 20 miles east of Spokane. It was right on the line between Idaho and Washington states. It was a beautiful place and we children were allowed to spend a week or two up there during summer vacation times, being chaperoned by brother Dick who was about 16 years old by this time. He was a marvelous cook – in fact he always had a gift for cooking. Even at 9 years old he made his own mincemeat and made the pies for our Thanksgiving dinner. Mama was ill at the time, so he took over. Besides he was always such a reliable and trustworthy boy.

    When we first moved to Spokane from the coast, Papa was very ill, so Mama could not leave him. Mama made her candies and brother Dick sold them on the streets from a tray fastened around his neck by straps. He was only 11 years old at the time, but he would stay over town until all his candy was sold. Then he would run errands and wash dishes at a little restaurant in exchange for the left-over soup or stew from the day. He would carry it home in an empty lard bucket and many times – that was our dinner. So of course he was well qualified to shepherd his sisters on our vacations. We slept on the floor on quilts, but it did not bother us – and the cooking was done mostly on a camp fire. We carried our water from a little creek a short distance down the hill. We had a little single-shot rifle which we were all taught to use to respect, so sometimes we had stewed rabbit and sometimes fish from the creek. We could buy milk and eggs from the nearby farmers and by walking down the road about a mile and a half, there was a little general store where supplies could be purchased. Sometimes we would gather wild strawberries from the nearby hills. They were small, but so sweet and tasty. The we would have a real treat! Agnes seldom went with us on these vacations. She was always such a "Mama’s girl," and if we took her along, she usually cried all night, and then we had to take her home again in the morning. After she spoiled a couple of trips, we just left her home.

    Mama tried to keep a woman to stay in the house with us children. Sometimes she could find someone who needed a home and would stay for just room and board. Then at other times she could pay a little too. One nice old lady was with us a while just for her "board." Mama did not expect her to do any work, but she would help prepare the vegetables for dinner. The dish-washing job always fell to us girls. We called the old lady, "Grandma Moffitt." She was quite old and we thought her too cross, so we kids didn’t like her too well. There was jolly Swedish lady stayed with us a while. She was loads of fun, laughed a great deal and would play games with us in the evenings. I can see her rocking and knitting and always smiling. One game I will always remember was "Goin’ Out West" and she always took a "schicken." Then she would laugh so hard at the funny answers.

    It was about this time that I started down the Alley one night coming home from somewhere; it was very dark, and suddenly a man stepped out of the shadows and made a grab for me. I broke away and ran screaming down the Alley for home. Some of the family went to look for him, but found no trace of who it was. We all thought it might have been a prankster, but there was no way we could be sure. But – I still do not nor think I was ever really afraid of the Alley.

    Then there was dear Merle Webb who came to stay with us. She was past the considered marriageable age for women – she was about 30. Her home was a little town in Missouri and she came West looking for a husband. Everyone in her town was related to one another, so she decided to look elsewhere for a mate. She had inherited some money – a goodly sum it was too, $1,500. She would walk down the street looking for a likely candidate for a husband. When she saw Lucious Webb, she felt she had found the right man, so she stopped to look in a window and dropped her handkerchief. Of course he rose to the bait, and it did not take him long to see he had an inexperienced country girl looking for a man. He soon found out about the $1,500, but he also found the only way he could get his hands on it was to marry her, which he did. Then he disappeared with her money. That is when she came to work for Mama. We all loved her at once, and she took us all to her heart as her own family. By this time we had acquired a second-hand organ and Merle was trained to play, so she played so many old lovely songs for us and sang them too. But there had to be one "fly in the ointment." She was cursed with a most undesirable body odor! Poor Merle – and she tried so hard too; she was always bathing and washing – to no avail. How well I remember at bed time. Our quarters were crowded and someone always to share a bed with Merle. She would go to bed at night in her room – then call for one of us girls to come sleep with her. But we all hung back – no one really wanted to go. So she would start with Agnes, "Come on Aggie, come sleep with Merle," but she would not go. So then it would be "Well, come on Gladdy, Gladdy will sleep with me," but I would hold back and push on Enid. So then it would be "Well, Enid will sleep with Merle," and poor little Enid usually ended up with Merle. But we did not love her any less. During all the years I was growing up, even after I married, that no-good man she married would stay away until she had saved up a little money, then he would show up and she would go back with him. But soon he would be gone and she would be back – without her money, or her man. She made our home her home. She would go away to work, but always came back to us between jobs. We all felt that she was a member of the family. Finally, years later, Merle gave up and divorced him. Between Mama and one our borders, they introduced her to a farmer from down around Milton-Freewater way. He was a widower and a very nice man. They hit it off well together and were soon married and went to live on his farm. The last we heard, they were very happy together, but as the years passed and we all scattered, we gradually lost track of our Merle.

    Somewhere brother Dick got hold of an old violin. He was such a friendly boy and especially made friends among older people. He was always trying to befriend anyone who was lonely or needed a helping hand. So I imagine his violin was a gift from someone he had befriended. He set out to teach himself to play. It was really a hard struggle and he deserved a lot of credit for his perseverance. If there is anything worse than sour notes from an amateur violinist, then I have yet to hear it. The dog would yowl, we girls would holler and hold our ears, but at least Mama sympathized with him and encouraged his efforts. She could chord well on the organ, so she would accompany him and help him that way. Finally, he conquered the instrument, and actually became a good violinist.

    Some fast-talking salesman sold Mama on the idea of buying a couple of mandolins for Enid and me. Some lessons were to go with the deal. Well, we did finally learn to play "Old Kentucky Home" after a fashion, but that was about it. Soon as the newness wore off, our enthusiasm also wanted. Poor Mama and Papa – they tried to give their children some of the advantages of life, but I am afraid we didn’t take advantage of the few opportunities offered us.

    After we acquired the organ, we spent many happy times when Mama would chord on the organ and we would all sing together – especially around the Christmas holidays. I remember dear Merle taught me to play several little waltzes on the organ. Note by note she just taught me where to put my fingers, but it was really fun. One was "Mosquito Waltz" and another was "Blue Danube Waltz," etc.

    Papa was a veteran of the Civil War. He joined the Army at Monmouth, Ill. when he was just a lad. In fact he was too young for the regulars, so he joined as a drummer boy, but served as a regular soldier. Well, when the big parades were held on Memorial Day and the 4^th of July, Papa always marched in the parades. We kids were so proud of him! We would holler and wave as he passed by. He belonged to the G.A.R. and had many old army friends in the organization. I remember one old fellow who had lost an arm in the war. His name was Mike Harris. He was real good to us kids – used to slip us a little money now and then. He was a bachelor and Papa would invite him to Sunday dinner quite often.

    What a glorious day it was when the Circus came to town! We did not get to go to the real show very often, BUT the parades were nearly as good. We always got to town early to get a good vantage point at the curb. Then all the excitement when the elephants came down the street – holding onto to each other’s tails, with all the fancy trappings sparkling in the sunshine. Then the beautiful horses ridden by the plumed and painted ladies. Some equestrians and some acrobats, but all very exciting. Then the clowns – more fun than all, and finally the calliope! No circus would be complete without the calliope playing at the end of the parade. When we would hear it coming we would run down to the next street and try to see as much as possible all over again. But I do remember one particular time we all got to go – Mama and Papa went with us. After the big tent show - the finale was called "the last days of Pompeii" – and it was really spectacular – chariot races, gay cavorting about, then finally the eruption of "Pompeii" – and all the beautiful fireworks. It was all very impressive and thrilling.

    Mama was quite an outdoors woman. She loved to hunt and fish. Many times we would all drive out to the little Spokane River, about nine miles, but that was a long way then. One of our boarders loved fishing too, and he would furnish the horse and buggy or wagon. He would take along blankets, etc., and all would sleep on the ground. Then the fishers would start at daylight fishing on the river. There was still plenty of fish to be had in those days, and they would soon be back with fish for breakfast. Mama would fry them over a campfire and they were really delicious. We kids didn’t try to fish, but we loved to play in the woods and wade in the river. We all loved these outings. I think Papa even enjoyed it and he was not the outdoors type.

    Our Christmases were always so much fun. We always hung our stockings – seldom had a tree at home, unless just a little one to set in the center of the dinner table. We usually found fruit and nuts in our stockings. Anything larger would be on the floor underneath. Sometimes the presents were pretty slim, but the big dinners were always wonderful. Mama was such a good cook, and it seemed to be so easy for her too. She was a marvelous bargain hunter. Let there be a fire sale (that was the only kind they ever had) and Mama was right there to take advantage and stock up on groceries. She really understood foods – especially meats. Being raised on a farm, the butcher better not try to put anything over on her!

    We children had a marvelous menagerie when we lived in the Alley. Part of it was a little squirrel, or chipmunk, we captured on our trips to Spokane Bridge. We also captured the baby rabbit while there. Someone gave us a little yellow canary, but we found a little brown bird in a gutter with a broken leg, so we carefully carried him home for Mama to repair. She was very good as an amateur doctor. She made a little splint of match sticks, tied it up, and soon it had healed as good as new. We also had three tiny white mice with pink eyes. They were so cute and so tame. Sometimes we would put them in Papa’s bed – to tease him. We would put them in down at the foot and they would crawl up and come out by his chin. He would lay real still and pretend he did not know they were there. Brother Dick brought home a little chameleon we were very fond of. It had the ability to change its color – depending on the color of its background which amused us very much. Then there was the dog named "Puddles" – named for obvious reasons. And last but not least was the cat! We named her Blanche, after little Blanche Moyer. And would you believe it? The cat finally ate all the menagerie! One by one she devoured them all or at least killed them, except "Puddles." We were all so mad at her; we never liked her after that. Naturally, after each demise (if we could find enough parts) we had a funeral and burial in the back yard, complete with eulogy, songs and flowers (mostly dandelions).

    We were great for playing Salvation Army too. We must have driven Mama and the hired woman half out of their minds with our marching, singing and the pounding on pie pans for tambourines. And any other instruments we could improvise. But we were seldom admonished for the noise. Only one rule Mama strictly enforced – we were never to play crippled, blind or dead. Of that she was very firm. About this time I earned quite a reputation for being a scrapper. I was always getting into fights, mostly over Agnes. I would fight at the slightest hint that anyone was picking on my little sister.

    There was one girl I went around with at this time. She was a lot fun, but a rather strange girl in some ways. For instance, she liked to go downtown after school, go into the funeral parlors to see if there were any "dead ones" (her words, not mine). She managed to talk me into going with her a time or two. But one time we ran into someone we knew, and that was enough for me. Never again! It happened to be an Italian lady. She and her husband ran a small fruit and vegetable stand. We did not even know she had been ill. Well, that stopped me right there, but I do not think it stopped Delight Robinson. Her father worked as a delivery driver for a furniture store. It was all horse teams at this time. Mr. Robinson was part colored, but his wife was all white. Delight did not live in my alley, but they were not too far away, and we both attended old Franklin School. I love to remember that old school. It was right down near the river, just a block or so from Schode’s Brewery. When the bell rang the children all lined up outside according to our classes. Then we marched in to the accompaniment of the piano, located in the main downstairs hallway. Usually Fred Hart, a 7^th or 8^th grade boy, played the piano. He could play anything by ear. (Years later my sister, Agnes, married him).

    There is an incident which stands out in my memory at this time. A family named Scott – they didn’t live in our Alley, but not too far away. The older of the Scott children were our friends at school. They had a little sister, Harriet, only 5 years old at the time. She was a chubby little girl with a mop of red hair. In fact, the entire family were red-heads, and on the chubby side, with lots of freckles. Some degenerate man lured little Harriet into a shack down by the river and cruelly attacked her sexually. Later, she staggered home in serious condition and was immediately hospitalized. She finally recovered physically, but I wonder if she ever fully recovered from the shock. The whole town was appalled, especially our group, as we knew the family. We never knew if the attacker was ever apprehended.

    Oh yes, there was old Cecil Thompson, a city detective. He did not live too near us, but he rented the lot next to us on the west side. There was a barn and he kept his cow there. We liked his son, Harvey. He came over every day to feed and milk the cow, so of course, we became friends. The smell of the barn and the flies must not have been too pleasant, but everyone was conditioned to those things then. There were few automobiles and most all hauling was done by horses. Many families had their own cows and often chickens too, right in the city, so we did not know anything else but smells and flies… to say nothing of "bed-bugs"! No matter how hard we tried to keep the flies out, some always managed to get in. We kids were often pressed into service to fan the flies away from the table while the boarders ate their meals.

    About this time another catastrophe hit our family. At least it was for Mama and Papa. First... Agnes came down with chills and fever, and then broke out with spots all over. Well the city health officer came out and it was diagnosed as "small pox!" So she had to be sent to the "Pest House" as they called it then. Now it would be called the Isolation Hospital. Well, she was so little; Mama could not leave her out there all alone among all those strangers, so she stayed out there with her. They had only been gone a day or so when the fumigators came to fumigate the house. We kids were all herded outside or into one room. I was sick with a terrible headache and when the men noticed how flushed and ill I was, they said they had better wait. Looked like I was coming down with it too. But I assured them I was subject to these spells and I was sure that’s all it was, so they went ahead with their job. How wrong I was! Next day I was all broke out with spots too. So – off to the Pest-house I went too. As soon as I arrived, Mama decided she could go home where she was so badly needed… that Agnes would be satisfied with me there with her. Another mistake! She was only home a few days when she (Mama) broke out with spots. So back she came. Although she only had nine spots on her, she had to stay until they cleared up. Agnes was there over 4 weeks and I was there 3 ½ weeks, but Mama came home in about 10 days. They let Agnes and I come home together. She was all healed, but I had one spot on my foot that was stubborn about healing. So they cauterized it and let me go on home. I remember dear Papa coming way out there to see us almost every evening. He had to stay behind a fence about twenty feet from us and that was the hardest for him. He loved his children so very much. We would tell him each time he came just what we wanted him to bring us next time, usually bananas and cream puffs. Of course he would come and bring everything we wanted, no matter how hard it was on him to do it. The Pest House was way out on the edge of town. The only way he could come was by streetcar, and then walk the rest of the way. The people who ran the place were so good to us. They would let Mama come down to the kitchen and do our own cooking for us and would let us eat it in our own room by ourselves. It was so cozy and homey; Agnes and I loved it. Besides, we had Mama all to ourselves. Enid and Dickie never did get the disease, but they had both been vaccinated when they were small. Agnes and I had not. One small tragedy occurred while we were at the Pest House. Poor Mama had a very sick vomiting and retching spell, and in the process, she lost her teeth down the toilet! It was a partial plate, but was a real loss to her. We felt so sorry at the time, but afterward we could see the humor in the situation. Finally we were all able to return home again and what a happy reunion it was, with all the family together again! Agnes and I felt like a couple of conquering heroes.

    By the time I was 12 years old I was always larger than Enid who was two years older than I. about this time she delighted in teasing me until I was frantic. One time she informed me that Mama was going to get her "Blue Slippers and Red Wings." Of course, I could not figure that one out and she really kept me wondering. Finally I found out that the "Blue Slippers" were authentic, but that "Red Wings" was a new song that had just been introduced and Mama had promised her the sheet music.

    At this age I was starting to think about the boys. There was one boy about my own age, but he had more money than most of us kinds. His father owned a store of some kind. He helped out in the store and was paid something extra for his work. Several times he invited me to a show "in the evening." That was quite fancy for us as it cost more then. For instance, at the Jessie Shirley Stock Co., it was only 10¢ in the afternoon for youngsters, but the night seats were 50¢ reserved. So I was quite proud of being asked to go at night, but I made a big mistake. One night on the way to the show I told him I didn’t really like boys, but I liked to go to shows. Well, that did it! Charley never asked me again. So I learned a lesson then that I never forgot. I must have been trying to find something to say – and said the wrong thing. His name was Charley Reed.

    Then there were the Sawdy twins, Charles and Fred. I have never seen twins so different. Charles was very bright and at the top of his class, very neat and clean, most mannerly and pleasant. We all liked him very much, but Fred was just the opposite – dirty and slovenly, slow-witted and he slobbered. He was always getting into trouble at school and everywhere else. In looking back now, I realize that he must have had brain damage – probably at birth. Well, both boys used to hang around and wanted to play with us kids. We liked Charles, but couldn’t stand Fred. He was kind of mean, too.

    Then there was Billy Hodgens. He lived a couple blocks away and all the girls had a crush on him. He certainly was not a handsome lad, but he had nice eyes, curly hair and plenty of Irish charm. He had eliminated the girl friends down to Ethel Metcalf and me. Then he engineered a hair-pulling match to see which would win him for their beau. The match was set for after school in our alley. Ethel and I started in good faith, but when we saw Billy laughing so hard his bicycle, we quit in disgust. But I guess I had already won anyway, as Billy was my beau off and on through the years, right up until I married, after a whirlwind courtship of only 6 weeks. I had always planned to marry Billy, but it did not work out that way. I remember one time when we were kids and Billy was taking me for a ride on the handle bars of his bicycle. He whispered in my ear that he loved me more than he did his mother. Of course I did not really believe that, but I thought it was a pretty good line, and I loved hearing it said. One time when we first knew Billy, he sent Melvin Moyer to invite Ethel Metcalf and me to come play at his house. When we got there he had a playhouse built in his back yard covered with old rugs, etc. The only way in or out was through a narrow opening and we would have to crawl in and out on our hands and knees. Well! He was not about to get me in that place! I have always been terrified of close, tight places, so I flatly refused to cooperate. They tried to coax me in, but I was firm. So he finally got disgusted with me and threw rocks at me all the way home. Ha! But I guess he forgave me later on.

    Of all our friends from the Alley days, Bert Moyer was the only constant friend through the years. His dear mother passed away while we still lived in the alley. She knew she did not have long to live, so she put her younger children out for adoption. Homes were found for Edgar, Myrtle and the baby, Blanche. She wanted so much for Mama to take the baby, but poor Mama had more than her hands full as it was. Melvin went to stay with his father, but Bert stayed with his mother until her death. Then he worked here and there, but would always come to us between jobs. For a while he went to a farm in Missouri, and stayed with an uncle, but he was not happy and soon came back to Spokane. He finally joined the Marines and made a career of the service until he was medically discharged. He had developed TB of the bone. Although he married and they had three little girls, including a set of twins, he passed away when the girls were quite small.

    Well, we finally moved out of the Alley when I was 13 years old. We moved to a much nicer place, a big brick house, up on Second Avenue. There Mama could keep more boarders. Living was much easier for us now. I was big enough to work and Dickie was working all the time. We never let Enid work out, always thought she was too little and delicate. Even though the living was easier, the brick house turned out be a house of tragedy.

    Many years have passed, and so few are left of the old friends of Hogan’s Alley. Billy has been gone for many years, as well as Bert Moyer. Ethel Dudley still lives in Spokane. She and Sister Agnes have always kept in touch through the years and still correspond regularly. The old Franklin School was torn down long ago and Schode’s Brewery has long been gone. The old Alley is gone these many years too. But the many happy days I spent there with my family and friends will live in my memory forever.

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