Carleen, Betty, Larry
September 1940 • Watsonville and Vallejo ~ The family moved back and forth between the towns of Vallejo and Watsonville. In 1940, Dad was working for Union Ice, and he occasionally took Larry with him on deliveries. My brother was impressed with the tons of ice in the huge vending machines, especially the ice machine located by the big fifty-foot-high barrel restaurant. He also vividly recalls going along to deliver ice to the large Army base near Watsonville, awestruck by the hundreds of tents and thousands of soldiers in uniform. My brother has other memories of that time. The park was a big deal, and after much pleading, Mom would take him and Carleen there. Mom sat and read, rocking Betty to sleep in the baby buggy while they played on the swings and teeter-tottered, running around until it was time to head home for dinner. He remembers weekend trips to Carmel, driving down Ocean Avenue with Monterey Cypress trees planted in the center of the street. The kids could hardly wait to dip their toes in the Pacific Ocean and picnic on the white sand beach.
Dec. 7, 1941 • Vallejo ~ The family gathered quietly around the radio listening to the news about the Japanese bombing Pearl Harbor, attacking our naval base on Oahu. Our country had serious concerns that our coast would be invaded by Japan. Blackout sheets appeared on all the windows and everyone had flashcards so they could tell the difference between American and Japanese planes.
On Feb. 19, 1942, President Roosevelt called for the immediate roundup and internment of over 120,000 Japanese Americans, as they too were deemed the enemy. Forced to quickly liquidate everything they could not carry, nearly 1,300 Japanese living in Santa Cruz County were forcibly relocated and interned in a temporary camp on the Rodeo Grounds in Salinas. The government then ordered all people of Japanese ancestry to leave the West Coast and imprisoned 120,000 of them in desolate inland camps. In the April 30, 1942 issue, the local paper reported, “By noon Thursday, no person of Japanese ancestry remained in Santa Cruz County for the first time in more than a half century.”
Between 1942 and 1945, sugar and butter were rationed and the government issued scrip to buy meat. You couldn’t buy a new car because they weren’t being made; all manufacturing efforts went into making vehicles for the war. You could buy a used car, but gas was rationed.
There was a food shortage so the family picked raspberries. Larry, who was eight, and Carleen seven, picked all they could eat and could eat all they wanted. As the Japanese were no longer there to work their farms and fields and the remaining pickers were employed in defense jobs, the farmers paid the local populace a nickel a basket. Our parents made two or three dollars a day. Larry and Carleen made a quarter each, their first earned money. Dad bought them piggy banks so they could save their wages.
Mom and the kids were staying with Mom’s sister and her family for a few days. Ina had somehow secured a pound of bacon and the next morning she cooked it for breakfast. The children were at the kids’ table in the other room. When Ina returned to the kitchen to fix their plates, she found that Mom had eaten nearly all the bacon. Ina chewed her younger sister out. “Babe, how could you?” she snapped. “What about the kids?” Mom’s defense was that they were too young to know. “Besides,” she sniffed, “I haven’t had any bacon lately.”
Larry and Carleen
1942 • Vallejo ~ The only dog the family ever had was when they lived in Vallejo, but they didn’t have him for long. It was a little black and white eight-year-old mongrel, and eight-year-old Larry loved him. On a cloudy Sunday, our parents took a drive out of town with Larry and Carleen cradling Betty in the back and Mom and Dad with the dog in the front; when they stopped, my parents quietly let the dog out. As they turned around to head back to town, Larry heard barking and swiveled his head, looking out the rear window.
“Hey, that looks like our dog. HEY!” he yelled, “that IS our dog.”
Dad shifted gears; he and Mom stared straight ahead. In silent unison, they looked at the grey sky and reflected, “that was your dog.”
The most exciting thing that happened to Larry that year was when a huge military blimp broke loose from its wire anchors and landed in the front yard. A fleet of military trucks with soldiers from Mare Island came to get the blimp. Larry’s excitement turned to despair when an army truck ran over his favorite toy. His steel red wagon, a Radio Special, was crushed.
My brother was the experimenter in the family, always attempting to figure out how things worked. When he was seven he was playing with matches, carefully trying to burn the little balls off the white bedroom curtains in Mom and Dad’s room. The sheers instantly went up in flames. Larry didn’t know what to do so he tore down the charred remains and hid them in the closet. The wall was singed but luckily the house didn’t burn down. Dad was enraged and told his son he’d give him a strapping he’d never forget.
Claudia and Betty
In March of 1942, when the family lived in Vallejo, Claudia, the sister closest to me in age, but who liked me the least, was born. Betty felt the same way about Claudia when she was born. Betty didn’t like her from the get-go, nor did she ever forgive her for coming into the world, especially when Claudia—with her blonde ringlets, long eyelashes, and cherubic face—became the favored child of the family.
Carl Clemens, Iceman
Dad worked for Union Ice from 1936 to the summer of 1943—about the time the new electric refrigerators put an end to need for home ice deliveries. Electric refrigerators were built after WWII and the Union Ice Company made a desperate attempt to stay in business, advertising that ice was the perfect refrigeration for fresh products, better than the electrics which produced a dry coolness that wilted produce. Within a very few years, the local delivery of ice to individual households ended and the only delivery left was of ice cubes and crushed ice to bars and restaurants. That didn’t last long either. Ice-making machines came on the market, spelling doom for the Union Ice Company.
to be continued …
© 2017. Catherine Sevenau.
All rights reserved.
Jim Chatfield says
Cathy, you never fail to tell an interesting story, and they bring back memories of that era. Thank you as always.
Linda Troolin says
Although most people don’t talk about favored children in the family, they most definitely exist. Jealousy and rivalries will almost always come between siblings at some time in their life. Interesting to read how it played out in your family.
mark chapman says
Betty felt the same way about Claudia when Claudia was born. Betty didn’t like her from the get-go, nor did she ever forgive her for coming into the world, especially when Claudia—with her blonde ringlets, long eyelashes and cherubic face—became the favored child of the family.
I believe my sister felt the same way about me. My mother once opened the bedroom closet and found my sister’s baby doll with a noose around it’s neck, hanging from the doorknob.
Catherine Sevenau says
OMG… I tried not to laugh. Really, I did. The thing is, those ill feelings follow us into adulthood and then we don’t understand why we can’t get along. It’s simple really. Claudia was told to not come to Betty’s celebration when she died, and I had deliver the news. Claudia’s response was, “It’s okay, she never did like me.” It was a simple as that. She didn’t take it personally.