My mother, Evelyn Campbell Ullrich (AKA Mama), was a “city girl” and there was only one city, New York. She was the third generation in her family born in New York; and she took great pride in this fact. My mother took a train from El Paso, Texas, where my Dad was stationed during the war, to New York to make sure I was born in New York City, too.
My mother loved everything about the city, but especially the shopping. New York City, one of the world’s great shopping meccas, had everything–boutiques, outlets, department stores, specialty shops. She loved them all, but her particular area of interest was anything marked “bargain”.
She was equally happy shopping for food and Manhattan was ideal for that, too. There was a grocery store on the first level of our apartment building and bakeries within easy walking distance. My mother especially loved Danish pastry.
Life was good, very, very good. Then, out of the blue, my father announced that his business was taking the family to the Midwest. My mother had the best disposition of anyone I have ever known. She simply did not worry or fret. But leaving New York City was a body blow. No sane person, in my mother’s opinion, would leave New York City. For that matter, no one would willingly choose to live in a place as remote as the Midwest.
True, she had ventured out of the city to Savannah, Georgia and El Paso, Texas to be with my Dad when he was stationed in those places during the war. We had also spent summers on the water. But those were only short term “visits”. To move to a place like the Midwest was truly hard for my mother to accept…and the reality was much harder than she ever imagined.
Someone suggested Long Beach on Lake Michigan to my Dad. He loved the water so Long Beach had great appeal. We were soon on an airplane flying from La Guardia to South Bend, Indiana. My mother wept the entire flight. I had never seen my mother cry and thought surely the world was coming to an end. The world, as my mother had always known it, did come to an end. Her entire lifestyle was altered.
A home was rented for the summer in order to study the area and find a home to buy. There was a lovely beach, swimming pool, golf course, tennis courts, woods, sand dunes, school, playground all within easy walking distance. My sister and I were in heaven. My Dad was very happy, too. It was paradise. My mother was very happy for us, but she had no personal interest in any of those pastimes. Her passion was shopping and for that the area offered nothing much.
The supermarket was five miles away in Michigan City. My mother took driving lessons and a car was bought to get to those markets. Fortunately, there were two supermarkets, A & P and Kroger, so this did provide for some bargain hunting and comparison shopping. But there were no bakeries.
There was also no “fashion scene”. The only department stores were J.C. Penney and Sears, which I seriously doubt my mother knew existed until she was transplanted to what she believed to be an alien land. There was also a department store called Carstens, but one real department store was not enough for my mother. So every season we had to drive over an hour to Chicago in order to buy clothes.
We would shop first at a store called The Little Bramson for clothes for my sister and me. Then we would all go to the most wonderful restaurant for lunch, the Blackhawk Tavern, where we always had French Dip. The last stop was Marshall Fields, a fabulous department store, which had the most beautiful decorations at Christmas. Because these stores were so special, my sister and I would be mortified when an item was purchased and my mother would say to the sales clerk, “Well, it is lovely, but it isn’t New York!” Hard to believe, but she really would say that.
Then there were neighbors…real neighbors, not nameless apartment dwellers, but neighbors who, when passing, called to my mother, “Hi, neighbor.” Imagine, someone calling out “Hi, neighbor.” This took years for my mother to accept!
Still my mother was adaptable, particularly when shopping was involved. Every day she drove to Michigan City to shop for food. Not only did my mother love shopping for food, but she also loved preparing it. She was an excellent cook.
There were some tasks, though, that my mother was totally unwilling to take on. Homeowners had washing machines and dryers. My mother had not had such appliances in an apartment and saw no reason to change. Periodically, she would go to a laundromat, but most items were sent to the laundry. She was, like with daily food shopping, counter cultural!
No home was found to buy that summer. I cannot help but wonder if my mother was simply rejecting all possibilities in the hope that all this Midwest nonsense would be undone. At any rate, another home was found to rent for the coming seasons.
In the fall, we moved to a colonial called the “Touhy House.” It was interesting that houses were often referred to by some owner. The owner did not have to be the current owner. This house was directly across the street from Lake Michigan. When the surf was rough, we would feel our beds shake at night. It is very hard to believe but waves on Lake Michigan can get as high as 20 to 22 feet in the winter. I am certain a shaking bed did not please my mother!
By the time we moved into the Touhy House my mother had accommodated to some of her new reality. Then winter arrived.
When Long Beach was recommended to my father, no one pointed out that winters were serious business on the Lake. “Lake-effect snow” is quite real. It forms in the winter when cold air masses move over warmer lake waters. From November until April, there was snow on the ground. The snow did not melt, not even on the roads. The average annual snowfall in that area is 71 inches as opposed to the national average of 25 inches. Somehow 71 inches does not seem enough, especially since one weekend more than 40 inches fell and there was more than a foot of snow already on the ground. Yes, in February of 1958, we made national news. Below is the coverage from the Providence (Rhode Island) Journal.
My sister and I loved the snow. We remember sledding down a winding path on a steep hill in the woods on our father’s back. He told us the hill was called Snake Hill and that made the adventure even more exciting. We also remember with delight the igloo our Dad constructed in the backyard of the Touhy House. It was the perfect climate for a St. Bernard, but not necessarily perfect for humans. Below is a photo of our igloo and also best friend, Pardner, the St. Bernard.
Being children, we enjoyed the winter thoroughly and also remember the ice skating rink created near the golf course. Many happy hours were spent twirling around on the rink and then running home for hot chocolate.
Unlike large metropolitan areas, though, life goes on with all that snow. Schools are seldom cancelled; and, thankfully, grocery stores remained open. In order to get to the grocery stores, my mother quickly mastered driving on roads covered with hard packed snow; and she became an outstanding driver.
Driving and on snow was not all my mother learned. Not long after we moved into the Touhy House, the power went out. My father was away. In an apartment, my mother would have called a “super”, a building custodian, to put things right. But there was no “super” in a house. It would take awhile for my mother to realize she could turn to a neighbor for help. So my mother called the police! The police were surprisingly quick to respond…with guns drawn. The message they had been given was “wife problem” and not the intended message “light problem.” My mother simply had never needed to know that fuses blew!
When spring came, a beautiful home was found to buy. It was called Melody Terrace and had an acre of landscaped grounds. My mother found a new passion. She and my father loved gardening. Our next door neighbor, Mrs. Vail, became a very good friend and advisor on all gardening matters. Mrs. Vail also came to dinner at least once a week and stayed to watch television shows like Gunsmoke. My mother joined the Garden Club and found others with her passion. Though as much as my mother enjoyed gardening, it did not replace shopping!
We lived in the Midwest for almost ten years. At no time did my mother ever complain. It must have been so hard on her, but she did not complain. Once back on the east coast, however, she had a great deal to say!
Article from The Long Beacher, 1955
I smiled all the way through this! It caught the spirit of Evelyn so wonderfully, I felt I was there
with her on this traumatic journey into the hinterlands! And I loved the newspaper clip! Especially seeing the word “averred”’ used.
Those were the day’s ….
Oh those were the days indeed! I love this blog and yes you brought Mommy to light which makes me so happy! I wish it could have gone on forever!
This was so amusing to read. I am glad that I got to meet your mother and father a few times in FL. Definitely a Brennan women thing to love being a Manhattan apartment dweller where everything you want is just within a couple of blocks. Keep the blogs coming Lynn!
I smiled, I laughed, I remembered, then I cried…… it was over.
Wow! I want more. I find this all so fascinating. What did the policemen say when they arrived guns drawn?!
Love this article. I know I have read it before but this time it has much more meaning and understanding.
Can’t wait for more!
Evelyn was my first cousin and enough older than me that I was in a constant state of admiration. To begin with she was very beautiful. I always spent a lot of time with her mother, my beloved “Aunt Nellie”. She let me look through Evelyn’s lovely evening gowns and pictures. I wanted to be just like her.
What I later admired even more was a wonderful disposition no matter what the circumstance, The whole family was as happy as she when she and her family returned from the Midwest.
Great read love it. I see where you got your spunk from.
Another fascinating well written story! I love learning about your mother and stories of your childhood. Once again it leaves me wanting more! Can’t wait for your next blog.
Hilarious about Mama I would have loved moving into that house