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CHAPTER TWO

More Early Memories

Memories almost always seem to come from contact with relatives and places. I am no different in this respect. I am amazed when I find that I can recall the early times in my life--things hidden in the nooks and crannies of my brain, I suppose, just waiting to be called up. One of my earliest is of William Lee Bybee, whom we called "Uncle Bill."

Pearl's Uncle Bill (William L. Bybee) and Aunt Lindy (Malinda Killion) mentioned in connection with my birthplace (see Appendix 1), are among these early memories. They had settled in Moulton about the same time we did and were the "well-off" ones in the family. Aunt Lindy had a "little money," although we never really knew just how much. Dad paid regular weekly visits to their Moulton home as long as they lived.

The first radio I ever saw or heard belonged to Uncle Bill. We went to his house one evening to see and hear this marvelous new invention. It was battery operated, which requires a little elaboration. The battery consisted on one 6-volt automobile battery, one or two "B" batteries (22 volt) and at least one "C" battery (maybe 9 volts). This required a considerable amount of floor space near the radio, more than the radio itself, which was about three feet wide, and about 8x8 in its other dimensions. The front of the radio had three large knobs which had to be tuned individually in order to get a station "tuned in." There were other knobs on the front, as well.

There was one set of headphones (earphones, in those days) with which we could hear the few broadcast stations on the air at that time. Probably what I first heard was either KMA, owned by the Earl May Seed and Nursery Company in Shenandoah, IA. Or it may have been a rival station in the same town, KFNF, owned by the Henry Field Seed and Nursery. These stations were about the most popular around, due to their programming for the farming communities in Iowa and the adjacent states.

NBC and CBS had not yet taken over the majority of radio programming. Incidentally, NBC had two radio networks in the early years, the Red and the Blue. The NBC Blue Network became ABC when they were required to split by the Federal Communications Commission. It was a "monopoly."

It was quite a thrill to hear these and other "distant" stations, just as much as seeing my first TV picture right after World War II.

One story I heard about Uncle Bill took place early in the prohibition era, while they were still living on a farm. When the sale of hard liquors had been made illegal by the Eighteenth Amendment to the U. S. Constitution, medical doctors were allowed to prescribe whiskey and other spirits "for medicinal purposes." Aunt Lindy did not approve of having whiskey in her house, but she did allow Bill to keep one jug on hand.

She never knew that the prescription allowed him to buy three bottles at a time, one of which was kept in the house, with the other two being readily available, in the barn, for a nip while he was working outside.

Aunt Lindy was the first person I knew who had cancer. She lived for some time after Uncle Bill died on May 9, 1931. The cancer was in one of her breasts, and was called a "rose cancer," at that time. I understood that it derived its name from its appearance on the breast. She died May 12, 1933.

In the early twenties, Moulton received a real boost when the town sewer was installed, throughout the incorporated area. A water system was also made available, although the water itself was not potable, and certain streets were paved at that time. No one was required to hook up to either the sewer or the water, and outdoor privies remained at most homes. Because of the low quality of the water supply, most relied on deep wells for drinking, bathing, and laundry purposes.

Neither the water, sewer nor paved streets could be installed until the town had adequate population. I suppose this was due to the necessary tax base, and perhaps a bond issue had to be floated. As I recall, nothing could be done on these projects unless the population of Moulton was of a certain level--somewhere near 2,000. A census was taken (perhaps it was the regular 1920 census) and--so the story went at the time--every hobo in the Wabash yards and in their "jungle" west of the Wabash tracks was counted, in order to reach the required population level.

The town water supply was from a reservoir just north of Moulton, which was located east of State Highway No. 147 (if I recall the number correctly). It is now Route 202. (What is now Route 2--the Centerville to Bloomfield road was formerly Route 3, and was changed when numbering was standardized with east-west roads having even, and north-south having odd numbers.)

The reservoir was fed by a spring on the west side of the highway, and I believe it was on property owned by Charles Yates. The water from the spring was pumped from the reservoir into the town water tower, behind the Town Hall. By the time it came out of the reservoir it was usually brackish, muddy, and smelly. During long dry periods, the water smelled of wild onions, among other things.

Shortly after World War II, the town dug a deep well which supplied good, clean water for a number of years and was the town's water source until the Rathbun Dam was built.

The paving must have been of unusually good quality, since it has survived some seventy years without major repairs.

The golfing craze that struck the country in the early 20's hit Moulton, too. At least for a brief time there was a golf course west of Moulton. I never knew the exact location, but supposedly there were Indian mounds on the property. When we first moved to Moulton in 1922, my brothers Clint and Bob often found Indian arrow heads on our property.

As to who actually played golf, I believe it was some of the professionals, such as a doctor or two and perhaps a lawyer, as well as some of the better-paid railroad employees.

Our one source of home entertainment, during these years, was a Columbia Gramophone. Dad always called it the "graphophone," for some reason. Needles were a problem and so were broken springs and the governor.

I had many happy hours listening to the few records we had, among which were a series of "Casey" (monologue comedy) recordings, such as "Casey Taking the Census" and "Casey at the Dentist." Musical selections included "I"m Sittin' On Top Of the World", by Al Jolson; "That Certain Party;" and "Kentucky Babe." There were others, but their titles escape me.

Pearl was always very proud of his graphophone, although I don't recall ever seeing him play it. After radio became more common, we had several Atwater Kents, starting with battery models. Our final set was one of the first "screen grid" radios--a great technological advance toward better reception. These, too, were Dad's pride and joy.

Before my arrival in 1920, Pearl had bought a Model-T Ford. He didn't keep it long. He would never discuss why he sold it. Perhaps it was because he never got the knack of driving, or maybe it was my impending arrival.

One early-Moulton-days event that stands out in my mind had to do with the "bobbed-hair" craze, when the average woman gave in to the day's fashion of cutting her long hair. Cecil's hair was long--down to her waist. Hope, my sister, had already had hers cut short. I don't know how she got by with it, but I don't remember any particular explosion in our house about it.

But one day, when Pearl came home from work, he was confronted with a short-haired wife! I don't know exactly how long the battle went on, but at least up until after my bedtime. You would have thought that Mom had committed the unpardonable sin. To Dad, I guess she had.

Dad railed and Mom cried, repeating over and over, "It'll grow back; it'll grow back."

But, of course, it never did.

Another of my early memories, and perhaps one my most painful, concerns the pagan practice of the deification of "Santa Claus" at Christmas time. I, along with most of my schoolmates, looked forward anxiously each year for the jolly old man in the red suit to leave us our gifts. I must have been in the second grade when my friends began to talk about the fact that there was no such person, and certainly he did not supply the gifts.

With complete trust in my parents, I held tenaciously to my belief that there was such a person. I went so far as to explain to my friends that, "Yes, the gifts do come from our parents, but Santa Claus is the one who brings them to the house." I held on to my belief for so long that it became an embarrassment to Cecil.

One day, when I was talking to her about the jolly old reprobate, she finally said, "You know, don't you, that there is no Santa Claus?" In spite of the bomb going off in my mind, I assured her that I really did know and that I was just making believe.

Up to that point in my life, that had to be the biggest disappointment I had ever experienced. My parents had lied to me!

Dad's sole outside activity during our early years in Moulton was playing baseball and I remember seeing him in his uniform, coming home all hot and tired, but very happy. Moulton had an amateur team in those days, and Sunday-afternoon games were a big attraction. His baseball career ended one day when he caught a ball and broke a finger.

In those days, he worked at the railroad mostly during the daytime. When he came home in the late afternoon, he would nearly always have remembered to save half a sandwich in his lunch box for me, and I looked forward to that and the hug and kiss I got. I can still feel his chin whiskers and smell the Prince Albert pipe tobacco that he smoked.

Before the depression of the 30's hit, Pearl was promoted to "Car Inspector," which gave him some additional pay. I believe that was when he hit the five-dollars-a-day rate, and I recall him saying, "When a man makes that much, he doesn't have any money problems."

I look back on those days with great fondness, because after the depression hit and the Wabash began laying off employees, Dad's whole personality changed, and not for the better.

Back to Chapter 1

On to Chapter 3

William L. Bybee



Pearl, Forrest and Cecil after a ball game.