THE GANG OF ROSE HILL SCHOOL
introduction
I called Omaha. The operator of the Sky Vision Eldercare center said that the
person that I was calling Marge Blair was moved. I said does that mean she
died? No. She was moved and that was all the information that she could give
me. I thanked her. Put Marge’s name in the computer and discovered that she
died in November of 2013. That meant that the last member of the gang was
dead.
She was 103 years old.
The gang was a group of women who were born the early part of the last
century. Many lived in and around the middle of the country called Omaha. They
were middle class. Their Christian religion was moderate as was their
Republicanisms. They all had their personal triumphs, but as a group they fit
nicely as ordinary folk of the greatest generation.
My account is flawed. I can only tell you about what I saw mainly as a child. If
some of my details fall from grace, they are to be expected. I have changed the
names a bit, and modified some aspects just as one would do in telling a story.
I can still recall all their voices together talking about something. Their sounds
came up through the heat register and into my bedroom which was two floors
above them. They were playing penny poker, or pinnacle , smoking cigarettes,
and drinking within moderation for a Saturday night. They were talking of the
days to come and recounting something that happened just yesterday or many
yesterdays so many years ago.
sociological definition/ primary group
A primary group is typically a small social group whose members share close,
personal, enduring relationships. These groups are marked by members’
concern for one another, in shared activities and culture. Examples include
family, childhood friends, and highly influential social groups. The concept of the
primary group was introduced by Charles Cooley, a sociologist from the Chicago
School of sociology, in his book Social Organization: A Study of the Larger
Mind. Although the group initially referred to the first a person’s childhood, the
classification was later extended to include other intimate relations.[1] Primary
groups play an important role in the development of personal identity. A primary
group is a group in which one exchanges implicit items, such as love, caring,
concern, animosity, support, etc. Examples, of these would be family groups,
love relationships, crisis support groups, church groups, etc. Relationships
formed in primary groups are often long-lasting and goals in themselves. They
also are often psychologically comforting to the individuals involved and provide
a source of support. (Wikipedia)
members of the gang
Rose Hill
Sisters Dots and Marge, sisters Marge (the last to die), Maxine, then Betty,
Lorraine, Helen and Doris along with others of the gang went to the school
called Rose hill. It was named after a urban farm that had a bed of roses and a
later a beautiful weeping willow. The actual farm house was located next door to
my parents whose home was the last one built in an a 1940’s neighborhood.
Much of the block was filled with a few houses and a church and the other side
had just three houses and Rose hill School. I went to the same school as my
mother. So did my brother . It had room for 2 grades each from K to 8th grade. I
can still remember all the rooms and a dear and good friend Charlie Bercaw
who died a few years ago from smoking cigarettes took pictures of the inside
and outside of the school. Building inspectors deemed it was too unstable to
survive and had it leveled. My mom was able to see it at an open house before it
was pummeled. Much of the happy part of my life was located on those school
grounds. I still vividly remember the last day. I did not want to go from
elementary school of 400 to a junior and then high school s of 1500-2000. Clark
Kerr said big was beautiful and a fellow named Schumacher said just the
opposite. Small is beautiful. Both Monroe and Benson meant crowded hallways
and fist fights after school. There were 10 to 12 seventh and eighth grades.
Besides of the small size, I still remember the chance to go to school with Jews.
I would get down on my knees and thank God. Nearly a third of the school was
Jewish and most lived in Country Club ( 56th and Corby to Blondo.) During High
holy days, a good part of the school was gone. I ache for the cohesion in that
group. Many had relatives that died in the holocaust. If you look at all the greats,
you can trace Judaism to them. God’s chosen people. I was small to intervene
but some creep jumped Brenda K. and beat her up for killing Jesus. Although I
am a Liberal-Left Christian eclectic, I am one with caution. There was this
church up in Benson that promised me that I would win a gold fish if I attended
so many meetings. I wanted the gold fish. Then after one meeting I was placed
in a dark room and was told of hell and how I could save myself. There was
another lady in the room who was wailing and rocking back and forth. I did not
know what all that meant except that I got out of there. It was terrifying.
The Jews took me in as one of their own. I attended bar and bat mitzvahs and I
did not see how these folks and many other non-Christians deserved eternal
damnation. Well the school educational standards were off the roof among Jews
I am an A minus or B plus. Since then I have become a member of a Jewish off
shoot and another that a Reformed Jew would feel comfortable. One church is
rock like and the other lets my mind wander and whisper. I took the believe-o
matic and I tested as a Reformed Jew.
Many of the gang went to Rose hill. The distinguished graduate was Warren
Buffet. He attended after the gang but a decade before I got there. His dad was
our congressman and both of his parents had a boutique grocery store right
across from Hinky Dinky on Underwood street. Buffets were not pretentious and
Warren stayed in the Country Club/ Dundee neighborhood. He bought a house
for 35 thousand dollars and remains there today.
There was another who became a movie star and I played softball with him. He
lived around the corner from Rose hill and catty corner from a large estate
named Villa Acres. His name was Nick Nolte. His house was located at 56th
Street and perhaps Ohio. That’s it. There is a lot more, but this was the ground
and environs that begat the gang
Maxine
Maxine and Marge (her sister) lived in an apartment just above a flower store
where you bought corsages before the big dance at Peony Park. Their father left
one day never to return and their mother worked all of her life in and around
Benson. It was there that Perry Donovan saw Maxine and instantly fell in love.
Perry went beyond high school which is the exception to the norm of the group.
He was to become a mortician. It is a tough profession and you can or have to
be desensitized to life and death
In his mid-life crisis, he worked on a child that had been torn asunder in an auto
accident. Perry could no longer work. Maxine and Perry moved to Park Rapids,
Minnesota. There in 1953 they bought and opened the Wayside Resort on a
peninsula at Two Inlets lake. I not only vacationed there but worked there in the
summers. Wayside was originally owned by a furniture store dealer in St.
Joseph Missouri. The store was known for having a house in the store. As you
walked into the house, you saw the latest furnishings. Wayside was then sold to
another family and then to the Donovan’s. They had it for about 10 years. Late in
life, after my mother died, I asked Marge if she would be my shirt tail mother and
she accepted. Perry died in the 70’s. Maxine returned to Omaha and moved into
Sky Vision eldercare where she passed away within the last decade. Our last
conversation, she said that my biological mother in a dream told her that it was
time to come home. My mother Doris had already been dead for 4 or 5 years.
After she died, David her oldest son had ashes cremated and placed in Two
Inlets lake just in front of a cabin that Donovan’s owned, even though they sold
the Resort a few blocks from their cabin. Ironically, as he was put in the ashes in
the lake , two mallards swam by.
Marge
Marge (her sister) moved away from Benson to Ralston, Nebraska. It really was
like Benson except it kept its identity. I liked the streets in Ralston. It was
another part of the multiple nuclei of neighborhoods. There her husband Charlie
had a complete gas station. That meant you smelled the gas, oil, sweat. They
pushed the pump, washed your windows, and worked on your car. Gas stations
sometimes had attendants that swept out your car. Benson had a huge Mobil
station with a giant horse sign that stood and overlooked the area.
No one, but no one knew the power of Marge Blair behind that great big smile.
She was middle class and ornery enough to live 103 years to November of
2013. She married Charlie the fellow with the shy smile. He was the heart and
soul of the gas station. Most of places like that are gone. Now you get a small
variety store and perhaps a machine that warms up pizza. After that came the
gas that you pump and pay inside or out. Do you want credit or debit? Can’t
recall smelling gas or sweat? However, do you remember that most gas stations
are grocery variety stores with perhaps a car wash that worked almost all year
around.
Marge and Charlie had 4 children . However, I believe that I knew Jan the very
youngest the best as we attended a communications class together in the early
to mid 60’s. She married a swell guy and often accompanied Marge to a night
out at a restaurant.
One summer when I finished working at the resort we headed back from
Wayside resort in Nevis/ Park Rapids, Minnesota and the Blair’s and I took the
standard drive in those days of the northern portion of the state to head
downward on the map to Sinclair Lewis’s Main Street called Sauk Center. From
there to Montevideo and wandered over toward Brookings where one connected
with I -29 and headed for Omaha. I still remember reading , but was mildly
interrupted by Marge. She loved to talk and talk and talk. It was all interesting
and her conversations took us in chaotic fashion pretty much all over the
universe. Not only did you learn something, but you can see why she died at
103 years.
Helen
During this time, a tragedy hit the Wallin family. Aunt Helen and Bill Wallin ‘s first
child (Carol) was a pretty little girl who became sick and was sent to the
hospital. Whatever she had, the doctor used a surgical instrument and lanced a
boil in her nose. Within a few hours, Carol died. Much of the nasal cavity is
vulnerable and instruments placed in their can infect the area and whatever the
pathology may be, it goes straight to the brain. There it hits the nervous system
to the of the involuntary system that sees that your heart, lungs, and other
necessary portions of your body that go on their own without you thinking start
to die as does the individual.
You can imagine the tiny coffin and the grieving family. Carol’s history was told
to me when I was quite young. No one knows how much one can deal with, but
families do it every day. Her headstone is heartbreaking. She lies in a grave
next to her grandmother who died of cancer in the early 30’s. And that
is all part of the human condition. We cling and cleave to each and then pass
into the ages.
The medical doctor expressed his regrets, but that nothing could be done.
However Bill and Helen heard from other doctors that their doctor was
incompetent. They should have sued him, but medical doctors were gods then
and it became another tragedy to be absorbed by the family. They carried on
with Louise, Jan, and Billy. My mother was Aunt Doris and she truly befriended
Helen and she was always close to her brother Bill. So we were tied to the
Wallins over and above the parties of the gang. Thanksgiving and or Christmas
meant the Wallins came to our house and in alternating years to their house a
real cute bungalow with stately trees. Recently, it was flipped and looks even
nicer now. In my later years, I used to write a letter to them every week. Jan the
middle daughter, a first cousin, has become a sister to me. We can talk for
hours on the phone and she is most like my mom than anyone else in the family.
She and her husband Jim live in a lovely home in Kansas City , Missouri. She
takes care of an adult son who is slow. She also works, has numerous
gatherings, and attends a number of activities. They lost their daughter in law
and Jan sees their granddaughter Ava often. The daughter in law died very early
in life of Cancer.
Uncle Bill lost his life watching a Husker game and Aunt Helen died a slow
painful death of cancer in her own room on North 60th street. Medicine was at a
crossroads. So medical cures and antibiotics were saving more children so the
death of Carol indicated that it was still more an art than a science. Carol was
buried up by the Elk statue in Forest Lawn, Omaha next to Grandma Wallin as
noted before, died in the early 30’s of cancer of the uterus. My mother spent an
entire year with her by dropping out of school and seeing that Grandma Wallin
was clean and kept out of pain. She injected her with either morphine or heroin
or both. After her death, Grandpa Gustaf sold his big home on 58th and Corby
St and my mother moved in with Mama and Papa Ranz with Marge and Dots.
Grandpa moved into the Elks Club in the downtown area. I do remember that he
also had an apartment downtown with a really high ceiling. From there he
moved in with us. So my Mom had another to take care of. Tragically, Louise the
second oldest died within the decade. My brother who is a minister presided
over the funeral. Today, Jan and Billy are the only generation left. Jan and I are
the ones that can talk and talk with each other. She lives with her husband Jim.
Betty
Betty and Bill were married and soon thereafter came Phil and Bill. Bill Moulton
was the success story. He was a milk man and moved into public relations of a
corporation. There Moulton got interested in politics, and ran for state senator of
unicameral of Nebraska. All members were called Senator and within a decade
Mr. Moulton became speaker of the house and a senator. No one indicates their
party affiliation, but my guess, most were conservative Republicans. I do know
that our garage was stuffed with Moulton yard signs periodically.
By 1956, I became a Democrat. I felt more comfortable with their candidates
and I liked or supported their causes All this means that I learned quite fast how
to keep my mouth shut in a red state that was truly Republican with a few
Democrats in the closet somewhere in Omaha. I was one of them.
Moulton was able to convince a number of people of the usual and to like him.
At the gang’s parties, his voice would grow louder after he had a few drinks so I
knew if he was there. One of the last times that I heard those sounds, both my
wife Jennifer and I acted host and bartender. That was in the early 70’s. Up
came his voice on the heat register and I knew that the party was complete.
On one other occasion, Mr. Moulton and I along with a senator from Lincoln and
Joann Donovan (daughter of Max and Perry) and myself were in the back seat.
Even though I am ten or so, I could tell that Moulton and the fellow from Lincoln
were smart and well spoken. The driver another senator from Fremont was a
jerk. He was to drive Joann and I to Wayside and then they were going on to
Canada to fish. It was raining. He was driving at night at around 85 to 90 miles
an hour on a two lane. Last, he had an open can of beer and was drinking. I was
terrified. As usual I kept my mouth shut and this time my eyes were shut.
Everything was out of my hands.
The last time that I saw Mr. Moulton was at a hospice in northwest Omaha. He
did not know who I was, but I could see that he had aged and changed. He had
difficulty talking. After seeing him, my mom, Betty, and I sat at a table not far
from his room Betty gave an ongoing narrative of his decline. It seems to me
that he died in the fall and services were held at the University of Nebraska
Omaha in the very pretty Alumni headquarters.
Tracking down Betty was a bit of a challenge, but I finally found her at an elder
care in Alabama. She statyed at a place liked Sky Vision, then moved to a
senior center in Arizona, followed by a similar home in Alabama. When I talked
to her, it was so easy. She was so bright and alert, and age resurrected her
skills in singing. She loved to sing as she or someone would play the piano and
she would sing. Her goal in life was to live to be 100, She died at 99 and 1/2.
She did not quite make it. However, after talking to her long distance for about
15 minutes, I got a vast panorama of the life of the gang. She was so easy to
talk to and she knew who I was. I am glad to have talked to her a few months
before she passed. However, the special bonus was talking to Phil and Bill their
sons who are also retired. Phil was smooth. He attended a school out of
Nebraska that was known to have graduates that went on to West Point. Phil
became one of the lucky ones. As Phil was in the military, Bill blossomed in
security work and protecting the President of the United States. At Omaha
University, I briefly saw him just a few times on campus. As I arrived on campus,
Peter Fonda and Stormy McDonald, heir to the Zenith fortune just left.
Doris
Joel
My mother felt the early symptoms of a pregnancy and she felt so blue. There
was so much to do with two kids. My only guess is that I was swimming in stress
chemicals. I believe that I came from somewhere and whatever happened the
bliss that I felt was interrupted by unbelievable pain. The delivery was a hard
one. I was one really cute kid. People used to kiss me all the time and rub my
blonde hair. Especially my brother, I was his furry little brother and quiet mascot
to the family. In other words, I was an easy baby and much of my very early
youth was great. I remember riding on the back of my father in the snow as the
car broke down on Happy Hollow Blvd. in Omaha.
I had a panda bear and a special little phone. I still remember my 10th birthday.
It was special. However, something was going to lost be from my life. It was a
sense of community that I felt at Rose Hill. I still remember the last day and
wearing a blue denim pair of pants and jackets. I was looking at the clock. I was
not eager to leave. Of course time marches on and after we took pictures, that
was the end of it all.
Around 1957, I was 12 and a fog began to come over me. I would pass my Rose
hill and go to a huge brick building. It was Monroe Jr. High. It was one of the first
in the country and LOOK magazine came out to take a picture of all of 2000 of
us. There were some teachers I dearly respected, however I hated big schools.
It was a collage of dirty gray, ugly browns and related crap. I still remember
turning the corner to the front of the building, and seeing Sarah Edwards and
John Webster. One is now a retired United Church of Christ minister and the
second was a Super of a school system in California.
In the meantime, the Supreme Court in 57′ said segregation of the races was
unconstitutional. I was looking forward to the change. However, the
Confederacy that exist everywhere rose up and threw delays after delays. If
anything, things got no better and perhaps worse. So most of the country stands
after segregation by law (dejure segregation) and is now imbued with
segregation in fact (defacto segregation.)
My kids went to a tiny elementary named after Herbert Hoover. On their 25
anniversary, they found a storage box, broke the seal and out came the stuff of
my children and others. My kids knew about Reagan. They also came to
appreciate small schools.
The peppy little guy grew up into a short kid with big nose and lips and brown
hair. The fog continued on. The sense of community was lost. I still remember
the thrill of Friday night as I would not see the school for a few days. Benson
High was just as bad for me and so I studied and pretty much stayed by myself.
On the other hand, for many Omaha Benson high school was the best days of
their life.
The once confident cute little boy was an ugly kid around 115 pounds and about
5 foot ten. Then I discovered an answer my junior year of high school and it was
alcohol. I could drink my blues away. The alcohol was in my parent’s basement.
They used the stuff to entertain their customers. I would water down the drinks
and be able to have a few before I went to bed. By my second year in college, I
was in really bad shape. I got an ulcer in 8th grade. By my second year in
college, I was in college and also had 2 rehabs. One was very short and the
second was much longer. In the mean time, I finally got a good psychiatrist. He
was G. A. Bob Young. He was the Omaha guru. His premise that you learned
the art of making a living, but not the art of living. He saw humans in a stimulus-
stimulus situations. Humans are active. One lives on balance from their
projective perceptions of what life was thought to be like. He let me wonder and
wander. By the end of 65′ I was getting better. Snell Putney’s social science
book , Normal Neurosis was a best seller that year and was a reflection of Dr.
Young’s philosophy(they were his patients) that was not Freudian or Skinnerian,
the major academic schools of the time. Young wanted me to write for him, but I
did not have the courage.
I have had the most productive years of my life starting in 1986. In 96′, I taught
18 hours and had 15 publications. That was followed by a cardiac infarction
(heart attack) After that I could teach, write, and join the human race. However,
psychiatry still has miles and miles to go. Hopefully, the medications improve
and the therapies (about 250) consolidate.
Doris and Chuck
I briefly mention my mother. She was born in Kansas City. Grandpa Gustaf as a
child came over on a ship led by or sponsored by Brigham Young. However,
they were to be located in Utah. Somewhere along the way, my grandpa’s father
decided that he did not want to be an LDS so one night or in the early morning
they quietly broke camp and ended up in Kansas City, Kansas, Along the way
he met Myrtle. They married and had 5 or 6 kids. Nearly all of them died of
natural childhood diseases save my Uncle Bill. We talked about the Wallins
earlier. However, after John, Peter, Ira, and Thelma died, time went on and
there were no more children. Then one day, Myrtle had my mother. Doris owned
the room. She had a radiant personality and clothes that matched. Thanks to my
grandma, she wore a new outfit or combinations of outfits every new school day
as her life marched through Rose hill and Benson high. She saw some of the
best days of Benson.
My parents first moved into a North Omaha home when they were first married.
Grandma’s living room and vestibule acted as the marriage setting in the fall of
1933. There was just a tad bit of snow and later I want to spend some time with
Grandma and her home. After the two were married, off to Kansas City, Missouri
to celebrate their honeymoon. My dad has just a few dollars and change when
they came home. Kansas City is about 200 or 250 miles from Omaha. They met
at the Masonic temple in Benson and married a year later. My grandma warned
my dad, that Doris was spoiled. He was in love. They were married and my
father became a clerk then warehouse men for H. Konstamm and company. It
was an industrial chemical company.
Dad’s boss noticed something about him. It must have been his good looks,
demeanor, and facility with the English language. Further, for the customers that
came in the warehouse, he was downright charming. So, Mr. Stewart promoted
him from warehouseman to junior salesman on a trial basis. Chuck or Charlie
loved to talk and could sense if someone was interested in his products.
Additionally, he was well dressed and Mr. Stewart called ahead to encourage
some of his very best customers to buy something. He gave dad a list and my
father was off to his new job. Now we’re talking three piece suit and a fedora. As
he walked in he had all kinds of facts about the product, but more importantly
information about the customer and his family.
They were to buy something. They bought big. How many other salesman knew
the second daughter graduated from high school with honors? That they love to
vacation in Minnesota at some resort? The first minute my father was a stranger
and thereafter long lost friends to the customer. Soon my father’s territory got
bigger and bigger. He worked six and one half days a week. Sunday morning
was for church. Then in the afternoon, he got caught up with his expense
account and took a nap in the front living room on our green chesterfield or
couch.
Once in awhile, he would go fishing with customers and sneak a Black
washman on to the boat. Nothing was said. At Christmas, my dad gave the boss
a bottle of booze and the Black washman got a bottle too. Dad said that he felt
the same way about Blacks as his friends did. This of course was not true. It
was a “white lie.” I graduated with all white kids save one Asian and one shy
skinny fellow who could pass as white. So nothing was said. My mom did the
same kinds of things. There was an extra change that went to Blacks. Given the
climate of the times, that is called tokenism. However, they did what they could
to be able to stay in the neighborhood. Further, at Christmas, mom invited the
cleaning lady named Mildred and her boyfriend (Eddie) for a drink before the
holidays. I was brought into the conversation too. It was the longest 45 minutes
conversation that I could remember. When I talked to Mildred alone on her day
that she came to her house which was every other Friday, we could talk and
talk. She dyed my hair blonde to celebrate the summer and the Beach Boys.
My parents church asked for a special set aside money to help Black folks. A
number of people in the church dropped out and went to an Evangelical Church.
My mother had an open house for Black women, one afternoon. The alcohol
really helped cut the tension. I worked in a poverty program of predominantly
African American people. The guy next to me named Carl was extremely
handsome and muscle bound African-American. I had gained a lot of weight and
could have looked better. Next to him, I was homely and a “bubble belly.” What I
do know is that when a Black applicant threatened to kill me all the Black folks
came to my rescue with money. I tried to be myself. I didn’t try to act Black. As a
professor, I usually fussed over my Black students. At any rate, there were
bombs going off where we worked. At times, the police ushered us out the
community.
nature and nurture
In 1955, Dad won salesman of the year and he was promoted to branch
manager of a territory the size of Western Europe. Now he was gone a lot. I
remember vividly my mother crying and crying when my father would leave on a
cold February day and head north in his car. He would be gone for six weeks.
When he was home, he could get a call in the middle of the night that a
customer needed help. He always had another suitcase prepared for such
emergencies. The customer could be calling from hundreds of miles north.
The car was packed with everything including hand and body heaters in case he
flipped off the road. All of his cars were darker or brighter colors. The cars had
to be darker so that in a snow storm, his car was still visible up in North Dakota
or Minnesota snow storms.
Doris
Doris had it easy when she was growing up. Imagine, you have a little boy. Then
you have 3 other males, and a female and they all die. Then Doris shows up at
the door. Gustaf and Myrtle were so happy and there wasn’t anything that if
Doris wanted, she got it. However, when she got my dad, childhood
immunizations began to blossom. Babies no longer died as if there were on an
assembly line. She had three kids and the kids drove my mom nuts. So did
Grandpa Gustaf. Gramps lived in new constructed backroom and had his own
bed and bath in the back of the house. As he grew old, he started to wander
away from the house. Or he would bleed on the carpet. Finally Grandpa was
sent to an eldercare center, lived there about 10 days and died.
the fight night
Doris ran the house as Dad was on the road. She saw her job as she saw it was
to keep a lid on the house and keep it running. And so, things would go good
until there was a fight. My brother and I fought all the time. My dad bought a mat
and we would wrestle in the basement. My brother always won. However, we
were continually in fights and mother beat both of us with a yard stick. Over and
over again, I got smacks on the back of my legs, my buttocks. A smack on the
nose really hurt. Toward the end of her life she apologized and I sincerely
accepted her apology. With our kids, I told them to go to their room of which
everything under the sun was there and available. Close to ten minutes, when
we heard “can we come out now?” we would shout back, “no” At every house
that we lived in there is a hole in the door, where one or both boys smacked the
door.
mom’s work week
By Monday morning, Doris would arrange three bins and a washing machine in
the basement all near a drain. After whites were washed by machine they were
dragged into a bin where the soap was reduced, following again by bluing, and
then rinsed and put in a large industrial dryer. Before dad could get a good deal
on the dryer she hung clothes on the clothes line with newspapers on the floor
so as to not dirty the sheets.
Tuesday meant that sheets and handkerchiefs were ironed. Alma came out and
helped with the ironing. If mom had gone on a trip with dad, Grandma Dode took
care of me. Wednesday meant special projects and Thursday was her afternoon
at church. Friday, Mildred came out and cleaned the house every other week. .
Mildred was African American and she was a talent. Like a puppy, I would follow
her along and ask her about Black people and slavery. What did she hear about
the civil war? She knew so much and my 8th grade textbook, did not describe
the severity of it.. Her son in law became a city council member and her
daughter was an administrator in a public agency.
No one knew all the many things my mother did, but mother listened to KFAB in
Omaha to hear the Huskers football team. If Dad was home, she would go with
him to see the game and go out to eat at a restaurant in Lincoln. Nebraska lost
nearly every week until a new coach came in continually won and after him
another coach followed by a third coach who was fired after losing 10 games.
Although the stadium is filled every week, the next two coaches did not win
enough games. So Nebraskans have a coach that wins on average 9 games a
season. That is not good. Something is going to happen. I cannot explain
Nebraskans behavior. As I come from Nebraska I cannot explain it myself.
Living in Iowa, our football team, generally has a winning season and a bowl.
That is good enough for me. I like the coach too.
Sundays my mom would go to church alone as my dad was on the road. I went
to Sunday school and then headed for home. That’ it. Sunday through Sunday.
the fifth season
All across the country middle class made their basements into 5 seasons. The
fifth season of the week was the basement. The floor was a checkerboard, the
walls were knotty pine, and many had a picture of a vacation area They were
called recreation rooms and when all was in place, summer had returned
although it was the middle of February. You could also play card games, listen
to the stereo, watch television, and do related things. Before this, all the
basement was a big coal furnace, coal bin, and a gray cement floor. It was
transformed into knotty pine rec room. Everything that was off putting was
hidden behind one knotty pine wall or another. There was also a dry bar at the
back along with a pantry. Mark Pence had the best rec room and one spring
vacation, it rained every day. So we played monopoly in his basement.
Much of the house was mom’s. Although she was busy with lots of other
activities, other mothers had the same thing or much worse. Why I say this is
that in the midst of 3 kids, 1 senile grandparent, a dog, and other persons and
events, Mom started crying and withdrawing. In defense of my mom, her first
shift was being a homemaker. Her second shift was customers. The first floor
was always spotless and customers would drop in and stay for hours. The
demand was that at any time the living room was Grand Central Station. She
had to entertain. It was exhausting and nothing was catered. So she was always
on the alert. Even administrators or large hospitals would stop by. My job was to
be polite and dive bomb into my room. Mom kept at it, all alone as Dad was
gone. So the exhaustion was reduced to Dad taking her one of the pretty states
nearby called Lake Okoboji, Iowa. My mother slept in bed in a resort cabin for
days from exhaustion and depression. Dad did everything else. Soon,
thereafter, Mom started traveling with Dad more often. Dode took care of me.
First, my mother’s depression was genetic and can be traced to others in her
genealogy. Second, she was a homemaker, with help, but the time off was
spent with customers. Working in the community was also expected by the
corporation, in those times. So her week was unpredictable, and worst of all,
customers would stop by for a drink in the middle of the afternoon. as noted
earlier. Further, my brother and I did pretty good, but I was trouble and not in the
ordinary sense. I did fine at school, but was super shy and did not do the things
that I was supposed to do in the social schedule set up by the upper middle
class in Omaha. So I drank and hid. On some happy days, the fog depression
would hit and I did not know what to do. It was supposed to be a good day and
why I am shaking in my shoes ? Add all that up and you see what my mom
faced.
Chuck
Dad carried the biggest load or the most responsibility. He could travel all day
and end up at a customer’s home. They knew him as Uncle Chuck. He had one
lovely dinner after another and he grew to be very heavy. He still looked good in
his clothes. He was Santa. He was an event and a wonderful conversationalist.
For the customer, not only was this a special occasion, but my dad followed up
with a nice note and described what they had to eat. Additionally, these folks got
bottles of alcohol at Christmas. Later, he would take them out to eat depending
on the family.
Dad’s day was to find a hotel that was centered among a lot of customers and
start making calls. At first, he was stopped by the secretary and the secretary
had a name which he got from somebody. After a few visits, he went straight to
the big boss who ran a laundry. He is the one with a daughter that graduated
with honors from high school and then went to a wonderful college. That was
mentioned earlier. He remembered the college from his three buy five cards that
were placed in the car.
The big boss liked something and he was sure to do what he could under the
law. By evening, he called his secretary Tina and went over what the customers
wanted and what was the schedule like that next few days. Then he was off.
I went with him one time and made sure to be nice to the customers kids and
say the right things. The problem was an ongoing censorship I did not have the
3 by 5 cards. So I had to wing it. I was shy by then and trying to make small talk
was not easy for me. Looking back, I should have told them that and let them do
the talking all the time.
The Reagan years were tough. Dad started losing business. His company had
pictures of him in various trade magazines. When you buy H. Kohnstamm
products, you get a free Chuck Snell. There was dad’s picture. However, after
awhile, his customer loss was due not to my dad, but the laws had been de
regulated. Dad stayed within the law. His competitors did not want to be a nice
uncle and where everyone knew your name. They gave kickbacks. You buy and
you also get a combination television and stereo system. So let’s leave the other
b.s. behind and what do you need?. The customer made the deal and they
worked some scam so the customer was free of any problems. All the other
products were cheapened and everybody, save the customer, got a good deal.
Further regulators were hard to find.
So my father worked harder and made less and less.
They sold out, because the children of Paul/ Mr. Kohnstamm were interested in
music and would without wanting to, run the business in the toilet. Another era
was passing and my dad was retiring.
My father died in his sleep in December of 1990. The church was packed and
even one of my dad’s competitors was there. Further, our local congressman for
years showed up. He did it big in the town of Omaha.
Jay
After he died, I feel very close to his widow Barbara. However, when Jay was
alive, we would small talk. That’s it. Jay and Barb moved all over the world and I
could never get an idea of what he was doing or how he was doing However, he
could talk. They lived in our town and we saw each other very few times. It was
for the better. If I wanted to know how he was, I would call mom in Omaha even
though both Jay and I lived in Cedar Rapids. After Dad died, my mom would
come over and stay with Jay. There was a special bond there and they both
shared that vision. I still miss my mom, but I think that she was most proud of
Jay in the ministry. Jay died of just about everything and all the hospital staff
who knew him in his earlier life was in the chapel for the memorial service. Shi
his oldest daughter really ran the service and did an excellent job there and then
there was one more ceremony back in the Nebraska. She did a wonderful obit
too.
So I did try toward the end to close up some gaps in his life so that I would know
him. He was appreciative, but there was still distance. I do know that when folks
found out that I was Jay’s brother. Bells and whistles went off. Jay was one of
the most popular people in high school and he won many popularity contests.
This also applied in college.
THE REST OF THE GANG
Helen
Helen married one of the most popular guys at Benson. However, their marriage
did not last as he was involved in an auto accident and died. Helen and her
children lived on potato soup. Those tough years were followed by a marriage to
Eldridge Scurr, an excellent stock broker. After he died she really spent a lot of
time with Betty Moulton. The two often went to the Field Club and played cards.
Even at that time, much of the gang had passed on. They enjoyed each others
company.
Lorraine
Les and Lorraine were the first of the group to die. Les had gone on to Nebraska
University for awhile. Perhaps, he finished his degree, it did not matter to me.
Lorraine married Les and they had 3 children. They lived in the Dundee area but
the for the life of me they were and did move to the west. They have Jane,
Patty, and Jim. Once in a great while, I would get the Huffs and the Scurrs
mixed, but we did carry on. The last time that I heard about Jane, I saw her and
her husband at a fast food and said hello. Patty married after high school, but
something went wrong with the marriage and she married again. Supposedly,
that one worked. I was puzzled about Jim but I do remember actually going to
school with him. I think that he would have been younger by 2 years or so. He
was very likable and became a member of a prestigious fraternity in Lincoln.
The last that I heard his fraternity got hit with severe drug charges and was
closed down for awhile.
The last time that I saw him, he complimented me on that my group who had
just started and already had some top recruits or pledges. That was it. What I
did hear after that is that he became a dentist and had a practice in the Lincoln
area. However, the major tragedy was that he lived such a short life. This is just
a guess, but it was in his 30’s when he died. No one was killed, no drug
overdose, no nothing. He died of natural causes. And that was the end of that
family in my life.
Lorraine was the first to leave the group. Les often took her for awhile to a poker
of penniclule game she seem to be a aware of the game and who was playing
which card. This went on until she started drifting. She was slow with a card or
she began to stare into the air. For Les, he would excuse Lorraine from the
game and she would sit nearby. She was not in a stupor, but she did seen to
grow farther away from the group than earlier in the evening. At the end of an
early evening, he would take her home and she would say her good bye.
Dots
Dots or Dorothy was the oldest sister. She dated and married Joe Neil the top
athlete at Benson High. He had dated Maxine, the sister of Marge, the gangs
last living gang member. At any rate, he was a catch and Dots had to share his
love for her and the corporation that he worked for. He could talk about all day
long the company to the point that when I see their logo, I think of them. It
seems like in my early teens, Joe, Dots and their kids Barney and Susan were
transferred to the south somewhere. So my knowledge of her is sparse. My last
time I remember sitting in the apartment of Mama Ranz, Dots was talking about
them and how they wanted so much more. They were Black people. I knew my
place and , I got out of the chair, said good bye and left for home. My mother
followed later.
Marge
The other sister was Marge. She lived up on 6oth street and later on 56th down
from Blondo. As a housewife, she depended on Uncle Bob for the family
income. Uncle Bob always appeared to be involved in insurance or other
financial instruments. The best thing to come from their relationship was a son
they adopted who was Jewish. They were in Europe and this little boy (now
probably in his 70’s) would have a better chance living in America. So he did. He
was raised Roman Catholic in the same tradition as his father, Uncle Bob.
Tom by that the time he was of college age attended schools in Colorado. Uncle
Bob got a promotion to Littleton, and off the three went a nice little home in a
town made famous years later by a mass of killings. Tom earned a degree in
Biology and found a job working for one of the large retail firm that populate your
grocery store shelves. His job was to see that his products would push for more
room in a store than his competitor.
After a few years of that, he went graduate school and got a degree in
counseling and later a doctorate in a related area. He has his own office and
practices alternative medicine. So you would not only get counseling, but back
rubs, bone manipulation, astrological advice, and alternative medicines. He also
puts on crowd sourcing like events where folks come to dance, yell, and get
their anger out.
The more involved he became in his field the further the distance that emerged
between Uncle Bob and Dr. Tom. Marge appears at least from a distance not to
have gotten involved. Tom made a good living working for public schools and
his own private practice.
The end of Uncle Bob came with a very painful form of cancer. At the time, you
could feel relief for a short period but the medication would wear off and he
would have to wait an hour or so before that next regime of pain relief was
injected. Today, one has a pain relief injected in the arm and the patient can
manipulate up to an extent the amount of analgesics that was need to kill the
pain.
It would be great if this was the ending, but it was not. After Bob died, Marge
remained in Littleton and Tom did too. He is in the Face book somewhere. The
last time that I saw him and his son were at our winterized cottage on the
Missouri. There were division between Father and son. However, that can be a
common problem. Tom is very much alive today. Our relationship traces back to
childhood.
The next generation is scattered to the winds or have now died. Most would be
over 60 and the trajectory of life-long groups may come together at weddings
and funerals. However, that is not necessary. Without any statistics the families
of the Boomers faced divorce, constant moves with their corporations, new jobs
and one knows that the generation scattered to the winds.
From a child’s perspective the most people to gather that were part of the gang
was the day my dad was buried. I saw so many people who been out of my life
for years. That was 1990. How many years ago is that? What I was wondering
and still have not found is that number of 6 or 7 women having a lifetime
relationship ? I would guess that there could be many but it still stands that
women unite and bond. However, are they friends from college or grade school?
This essay started with the death of Marge Blair who survived to 103 and
passed in November of 2013. I discovered the fact in August of 2014 and so it is
time to look toward another sunset for a whole generation that lived through
roughly 40 wars, the Big Recession, the sex revolution, the civil rights reform
movement, the Reagan surge, and perhaps even the coming of Obama.
At any rate, perhaps the literature will have it sometime. For now let’s look at the
definition of Primary Group again as indicated at the beginning. To shorten it
let’s define it a few sections. Close this means that one is personally close to
another and will to share secrets with a few others..Personal, as used here is
about caring for the other person and being in their hour of need. Enduring is
clearly indicated here. Imagine the group forming in first grade at Rose Hill
school and living out there lives together. Propinquity is a nice word for face to
face interaction. Both sisters, Dots and Marge did move, so perhaps their impact
on the gang was more remote in later years. However, they were with the gang
for close to twenty years.
Why might there be consistency among these families? The number properties
are discussed in just a bit. However, they were hard workers and talents for the
males. Most worked on commission. All had high school diplomas. There were
not any major illness or addictions. There was enough money to be middle
class. They had “white” privilege so that the market was more open to them.
This also applies to being male. They somehow adjusted to children. Only Helen
Scurr lost her husband, but found another that was extremely talented stock
broker. All were in the capitalist sector and thus the Republicanism (though my
father did vote Democrat at times.) Most measures include occupation,
education, and income. A number of families had a second income for the
household. This was especially true where both husband and wife began to
work as a team. Now the numbers.
The Dunbar Number is based on a how high can a human possibly be able to
sustain such personal relations? Using qualitative protocols his number is 150 or
less. In Putnam’s Bowling Alone, he does not cite a number but suggest all the
variables untie our personal connection. This really applies to belonging to large
organizations and the use of the mass media. This was also suggested in the
20’s by the Middletons.
A Gallup poll suggests that when respondents are asked how many can they
talk about “important matters” the mean is 2.06 or two people. Surely the social
media like Facebook and the like can enhance friendships, however the Allen
Curve measuring where Propinquity or physical distance does not improve the
closeness in relationships. Many can become “pretend friends.”
And so it goes. My wife Jennifer and I had a primary group in the 70’s. It was her
large extended family and friends. Then within a year or so in the late 70’s death
and occupational moves placed all throughout the country. The primary group
faded for us.
My late father-in-law sitting with me in a home that did not exist in the 70’s, said
prophetically ” and we thought that those days would last forever. ” Now on my
wife’s side of the family, they too have spread to the winds.
finis
prof. joel snell
emeritus
kirkwood college
cedar rapids, iowa
© copyright 2014
All rights reserved