Chapter 14
Vancouver and VHS
Vancouver,
Washington, on the north bank of the Columbia River, was a town of about thirty
thousand people in 1937. It was quite a
metropolis to me after having just come from little Bona, population 21, in the
Ozark hills.
 |
| Vancouver circa 1940 |
Going up Main
Street from the bridge, Mother pointed out some main landmarks that would
quickly become familiar. The Evergreen Hotel
and the Lucky Lager brewery were the two tallest buildings in town. There were stores and banks lining the street
including the CC Store at Eighth where I would one-day work before joining the
Navy.
Dad turned left on
11th and went west past the city park behind the brewery and the
courthouse. Across the street from the
courthouse was Gerhart’s Drug Store that would become a hangout for some of us
west side kids. We went north on
Kauffman past the places we had lived ten years before to 18th, then
two blocks west to Railroad Avenue where our rented house was situated. My Uncle Austin’s house was just a block and
a half further toward the railroad yards.
 |
| Vancouver 1950 |
The little house
was a flat-roofed square grey stuccoed two-bedroom place. The front door was at the street level on
Railroad but the hillside sloping down to the railroad yards was steep and the
house had a full basement. It was to be
the first of our three different houses in which we would live during the next
three years before Richard and I joined the Navy as Dad moved us to
progressively larger homes.
Compared to our
little one-bedroom farmhouse at Bona with its coal oil lamps and two-hold
outside privy, that little house on Railroad Avenue seemed quite palatial. There was a small living room with some
comfortable “early Grand Rapids” furniture, a modern kitchen with a gas cook
stove and electric refrigerator, a bathroom with hot and cold running water,
and two bedrooms. There was a little bed
for Sandra in with Mother and Dad and we three boys shared the other.
When the other
boys came home from school (it was the middle of May and school in Vancouver
would not be out until the first week in June) Rex Donald seemed to have grown
quite a bit and was no longer a little tot that tagged along behind us in the
Ozark woods. He was by then in the fifth
grade and was sprouting into a sturdy young man. Eventually he would be as large as me. Richard had not grown much and I was
delighted to find that I was as tall as he was.
Richard eyed my
new height with a wry grin and said, “Boy, nipple noggin, you sure are skinny!”
I snorted, “Look
who’s talking! Bet you don’t weigh a
pound more than me!” (And it turned out he did not.)
Richard and I had
grown up fighting and quarreling every step of the way until then. We never did stop completely but, from then
on, partly because I had been “on my own” for a while and partly because we
were no longer kids, we got along better and even went out to parties and dances
together sometimes.
Richard had to
leave right away after he got home from Vancouver High, where he was a junior,
to go on his paper route. He had acquired
a black balloon-tired bicycle with wide “steer horn” handlebars and had an
evening route for the Columbian. I was
immediately envious that he was making spending money and resolved even before
I ha scouted our new territory, that I would find a job also.
I recall my first
morning in that little house clearly because it was so different from what I
had been accustomed to. It had a sawdust
burning furnace in the basement so it was not necessary to grab clothes and run
for the warmth of the kitchen stove to dress.
The kitchen was
bright and cheerful. It had a dinette
space that would seat all of us. My mother
had a new electric waffle iron and she made waffles—the first I had ever tasted. I thought then that they beat biscuits and
gravy all hallow; however, in later years one of my favorite breakfasts at times
is good tough biscuits and sausage cream gravy.
(I say “good tough
biscuits” because, although my mother was an excellent cook, her biscuits were a
bit tough and that is the way I still like them. Never did care much for fluffy biscuits and
crumble.)
Anyway, the sun
was bright that morning and I was in a new world. It was good to be part of the family again
even though I relished my time with Grandpa and Grandma. I can still see little roly-poly Sandra that
sunny morning, gurgling in her high chair and banging a spoon until she got
more waffle.
