Growing Up
Elizabeth Pease Felt’s Memoir
I was born on November 3, 1910 in Adams, Massachusetts in the parsonage next to the Baptist Church where my father was the pastor. I was named Elizabeth, and my middle name Fay, which was the maiden name of my grandmother Pease. At the time of my birth, my mother was 40 years old, and my father 49. My sister Dorothy was 14 and a Freshman in High School. I suspect that I was a “surprise package”, and if I was unwelcome I can certainly understand their not wanting to raise another generation child. However, I never ever in my life felt unwelcome. We lived in Adams for four years. I remember nothing from that period. But stories and pictures have filled the gap in my mind.
My first move with my parents was to Conway, a small village in the Berkshire Hills. This was a second pastorate in Conway for my father, and my sister had been born there in the parsonage in 1896. The house had been modernized by adding electricity, but I recall the oil lamps which were used during frequent power failures. There was cold running water in the kitchen sink. Hot water was in a tank that was part of an iron cooking stove. We did not have to trot along a “primrose path” to a privy behind the barn. But we did have to walk from the kitchen along the back porch to the inside of the barn, where there was a private room with a three holer, one of which was presumably junior size. These accommodations had year round air conditioning, but no heat. There were three bedrooms upstairs. Since we had no bathroom, each bedroom was furnished with a piece of furniture called a commode. On top of this chest was a large bowl for washing, a pitcher for water, a soap dish, etc. A towel rack was at the back. In the lower cupboard was a section containing pots known as “vessels”. I don’t remember the arrangements for baths. There was no bathtub.
We had a wonderful neighbor whom we called “Smitty”. She was the widow of a butcher who owned the meat market and it was left to her. She had hired a man named Allen Cook to run the market, and he roomed at her house. I liked both of them and always had fun at their house. I remember a large wooden bowl filled with empty wooden spools which I used for building things. I was never allowed to go to their house on Sundays. I didn’t know the reason until years later I learned that Allen always got drunk on Saturday nights and Sunday’s hangovers required quiet and solitude. Also across the street was a family that battled loudly, used profanity, and also drank on weekends. I once tried out some of the bad words on Mama, and she administered the accepted punishment for swearing and telling lies by washing my mouth out with soap. That was not pleasant!
I entered the first grade in Conway. I remember nothing about the school except that there was a slope in the front where we could use our sleds in winter, and we must have taken them to school to use during recess. There were some young trees planted on the slope and on one occasion I steered straight into one of them and broke it in half. I took the broken piece and stuck it upright in the snow to cover up what I had done. Later on when it was discovered and we were questioned I didn’t admit that I had done it. From then on for weeks I worried because I was afraid that the teacher would find out and tell my parents. The fact that I still remember the episode is an indication of my guilty conscience. In the early grades I had my first encounter with death. A child in my grade died and it was a frightening experience for the whole class. I began taking piano lessons about the same time I started school. I was not a child prodigy.
My mother didn’t entertain very much, except visiting missionaries. She never had parties, not even for birthdays. I decided to do something about that when I was in the second grade. I invited the girls in my class to a birthday party at my house. However, I didn’t tell Mama about my plans. My guests arrived and I presume we played games. I don’t remember how Mama coped with this surprise or what she managed for refreshments. Nor do I recall any punishment.
My sister was away in college at Mt. Holyoke. There was always conflict when she came home for vacations because she tried to take over the discipline problems. I had a dream over and over that I was running around the big porch trying to get away from her and then suddenly I would fly up and away and she couldn’t reach me. She reminded me continually that the toys I was playing with were hers, not mine. Even our kitty was “hers”, not mine.
One other memory I have of those years was the thrill of riding in an open trolley car with my Sunday School friends to a picnic grove out in the country. The trolley went fast and the breezes on a hot summer day were wonderful. I knew nothing about World War I, but I recall the celebration when the Armistice was signed and Papa opened the church and rang the bells.
That winter in 1918, we moved to North Abington, a larger community near Boston. It must have been a good financial move for my father, otherwise I doubt that he would have chosen a town where shoe manufacturing was the main industry and much of the population was Polish.
1918 was the year of the big influenza epidemic when thousands of people died in this country and abroad. Unfortunately my sister contracted the disease. She had graduated from Mt. Holyoke in South Hadley in the spring of 1918 and that fall began teaching math in the high school in that town. When she became ill she was sent to a hospital in the city of Holyoke. My mother went out there to be with her, leaving me with Papa who couldn’t cook anything except pancakes. However, he found a boarding house where we went for one meal a day. I remember eating with a group of old folks, having to gargle continually, and having no one to play with because schools were closed. When Dorothy was able to travel, she came home to recuperate and never returned to her teaching job. Our house was next to the jail and Saturday nights were noisy as the drunks were brought in. For that reason I was given a back bedroom overlooking the back yard and garden. Dorothy wanted my room but she inherited the one next to the jail.
I wonder if my mother looked back on the four years in North Abington as a nightmare. Beginning with the flu there was constant sickness. I had the mumps and Papa caught them from me and was very sick. I remember sitting on the stairs listening to him groan and being afraid that he would die. I also had whooping cough. Then I had scarlett fever. The quarantine for this was six weeks. The Health Department was required to post a sign on any house where there was a contagious disease. So fro six weeks our sign not only kept salesmen and tramps away from our door, but also our friends and neighbors. I was in my bedroom alone for six weeks with the door closed. When Mama came to bring my meals or to sit with me, she wore a long coverall which she kept outside my door. There was a constant smell of disinfectant. I had a cane which I used to pound the floor when I needed something. I was told in later years that I was a good patient. I still played with dolls and I loved books, but it is hard to think how I could have amused myself for that long a period. Some of my school friends came to the back yard and I talked to them from my window. This was how Papa talked to me each day. At the end of the quarantine the whole house had to be fumigated before the sign could come down.
Next I had my first hospital experience. I had had a lot of “stomach aches” which didn’t disappear with home remedies. Our family doctor finally suggested the possibility of appendicitis. One day I had terrific pains followed suddenly by no pain. I thought I was cured. But this was the alarm signal that the appendix had probably burst. I was rushed to the hospital in the nearby city of Brockton, though I don’t remember how I got there. I was told that I sang all the way to the hospital. I was very ill for many days with tubes sticking out of me, but as I began to recover I enjoyed the attention I got during my three week stay. Mama came by trolley to visit me every day. One day she brought me a new little doll dressed in a bathrobe and slippers like mine. In the following days she brought me other doll clothes, on at a time, which she made by hand. My Sunday School class sent mea letter which I kept for many years. It was a long sheet of paper and the message was written in pictures. It was like a puzzle.
I liked my bedroom at home. I could see my school from the window and also the top of our church. We were close to the center of town, and the railway depot was just a few minutes away. We were living in the midst of activity. There was even a movie house in the center of town and I saw my first movie there.
One of the early events after the war was over was a Homecoming Parade for the soldiers. I was chosen to march dressed in a costume of red, white and blue. The boy who marched with me was dressed as Uncle Sam. We led the marchers from our school. Papa marched in the parade also, with the dignitaries. He left home in a hurry and asked Mama to hang our flag from an upper window. She did so but hung it backwards. When the parade passed our house the Grand Marshall spotted the error and halted the marchers while Mama was told to remove the flag. Papa was mortified. Mama cried.
Our proximity to Boston was a real bonus. Mama and my sister went into the city together for some outstanding concerts. Mother decided to invest in a victrola and some records, so I too heard Caruso, Galli-Currici, Louise Homer, Schumann Heinke, the Boston Symphony and many others. Papa went regularly to the city each Monday for Minister’s meetings and often sneaked a western movie afterwards. Also he took me for many historical visits and I am grateful for this part of my education. During this period in 1920 Plymouth was celebrating its 300th anniversary of the landing of the Pilgrims. It was easy to take the train and spend the day there. We made more than one trip to take in the events.
After my sister had recovered from the flu, she got a job with John Hancock Life Insurance Company in Boston. She continued to live at home and took the train each morning. These were the days of “hobble skirts”, which were long and very narrow, making it impossible to take long steps. For Dorothy who had been a hiker and biker it must have been a frustrating fashion, which I think did not last very long.
I had no special friend or playmate in Conway, so when I found Barbara in North Abington living on the same street, going to the same church and school, my wish for a special friend came true. We were inseperable, sharing secrets and childhood problems. We were in the same Sunday School class. Our teacher probably shouldn’t have been teaching a children’s class. She frightened us with her stories. She loved the Book of Revelations and dwelled on those awful stories to the point where both Barbara and I were having nightmares. I was afraid to talk with my parents about it for fear they would agree with the teacher. I don’t know how that was resolved, but in time Barbara and I decided that we would like to join the church. After we had talked it over with each other we went to Papa who was very kind and always ready to listen. Joining the Baptist church means immersion following the example of Jesus. We wore white robes over our underwear. We were guided into the water in the Baptistry one by one. Papa, also robed, laid me gently down into the water until it covered my face, then quickly lifted me up. I was surprised that nothing spectacular happened, no angels appeared, no bells rang, but I was now a member of the church.
After four years in North Abington a large touring car drove up to our home and three men got out and came to our door. I thought maybe Papa was in trouble, and they had come to get him. (I worried a lot about losing my parents. Maybe it is normal for children at this age to have such fears.) But apparently these men were expected and were welcomed. I was sent out of the room and didn’t know what was going on until later when iw as told that this was a committee from the Northboro Baptist Church asking Papa to come back for a second pastorate. I don’t remember all the names, but I do remember that the driver of the car was tall and handsome. And I was certainly impressed by the car (the driver was George Herbert Felt)! So in 1922 we moved to Northboro for my teenage years. My parents seemed so happy about the move that I was eager also for this next adventure. Dorothy did not move with us for she was now sharing an apartment with a friend. She had left John Hancock to do actuarial work for Widener Library at Harvard University. But Dorothy had lived in Northboro when she was in her pre-teen years. For my folks it was history repeating itself, the two of them with a young daughter, in the same house.
Soon after we had moved into the parsonage a young man came to the door carrying a cake for the new minister’s family. I answered the door. I ws wearing a two toned brown and beige pongee dress. The young man was good looking with wavy blonde hair. He was dressed in white and probably had been playing tennis. He introduced himself as William Felt and handed me the cake. I had not been interested in boys and at twelve years old certainly hand no reason to notice this older young man. But something happened that day, a spark that couldn’t be explained.
One of the major shocks which had to be confronted was the the school situation in Northboro. I enrolled in a three room wooden school which held grades 7 through 12. I had come from a progressive school and it was soon apparent that the seventh grade was covering material which I had studied in the sixth grade. So I was promoted to grade 8. I rather enjoyed the intimate school where we could watch the older students. But my father made it his goal to work for a new school. He talked about it constantly, opposing some of his church members who didn’t want the town to spend money on a new building. He attended town meetings and spoke emotionally and eloquently in his plea for the Northboro young people. I know this because I attended the meeting when there was finally a favorable vote. That meant that my High School years were to be in a new building almost across the street from our house.
Meanwhile I walked a mile to school in the morning, a mile home for the hour long lunch period, a mile to return and finally a mile home in the afternoon – four miles a day in all sorts of weather. There was no lunch room in the school. The happiest thing that happened to me was getting acquainted with Jo O’Brien. She lived near my house and we walked to and from school together. She and I became very close friends, literally friends for life. She had to drop out of school after eighth grade because of her mother’s illness. She was next to the oldest in a family of nine children and she became the mother for the family for many months. When she was finally free to return to school she was so far behind her class that she chose to go to work as a telephone operator. But we continued to see each other all the time. I loved going to her house where there was always something going on. On the other hand she liked coming to sleep at my house where it was quiet. Sunday afternoons were always lonely for me but a visit to the O’Briens could cure the blues. For one thing they had stacks of popular music on their piano, something my home didn’t have, and I had fun playing it and playing for Jo’s brother who had a fine voice.
My parents were trying to catch up with changing times, but some old ideas persisted. I was not supposed to mend a stocking or sew on a button on Sunday. No games could be played on the Sabbath. We still had morning devotions on Sunday when we knelt beside our chairs for prayer. This was somewhat embarrassing for me when I had friends for overnight. So we would sleep late to avoid the family breakfast. Eventually my mother’s knees couldn’t take the kneeling any more – or so she said. Maybe she was making it easier for me because she knew my problem. Devotions continued but seated in our chairs.
When we moved I decided that saying “Mama and Papa” was babyish, so I changed to Mother and Dad, copying my sister. It sounded more grown up, and this was what I was trying to be – grown up. I was tall for my age and looked older.
One of the advantages of living in a small town is that one can be “a big frog in a little puddle”. I guess this was my situation. I loved High School and had a wonderful time. I dabbled in every activity that was available to me. I especially enjoyed acting in the school plays. These were performed in the Town Hall before the public. I had continued to take piano lessons. I had an excellent teacher in Northboro but unfortunately I was not an excellent student. I confess that I didn’t like to practice. I loved playing the piano, could sight-read quite well and could play by ear. But when it came to scales and fingering I was bored. My carelessness and lack of self discipline was my downfall. I played the hymns for evening church services and occasionally played the pump organ for mid week prayer meeting. In High School I accompanied the school chorus. I worked hard to learn this music correctly because I enjoyed the honor of being the accompaniest. I also enjoyed singing, and some time in High School I asked my parents if I could take some vocal lessons. My mother had a beautiful contralto voice and we used to sing duets together just for fun. (My father couldn’t carry a tune or in fact even sing a note). I was allowed to take the vocal lessons but had to give up the piano. Strangely, I loved vocal exercises and thought it was fun. Then came organ lessons quite unexpectedly. My chemistry teacher was an organist and played in an Episcopal Church in Marlboro, a few miles from Northboro. I received permisison, but this organ had to be hand pumped. I paid a boy $.25 an hour for my lesson and $.25 for an hour’s practice on Saturdays. When summer came Mr. Connelly asked if I would like to substitute for him in Marlboro while he went on vacation. (This was probably the reason for the free lessons). I had lessons on the Episcopal organ, which was electric, and coaching on the shortened service which was used in the summer. Then I was on my own – my first “professional” job. What nerve I had! I took the trolley car in front of our house on Sunday mornings, played the service, and then returned in time for noon dinner at home. I don’t know how I got along, but I was not fired.
In my parent’s new world came more questions. Could I go to the school dances in the town hall? This was a big decision. The answer after considerable thought was “yes”. I don’t know how much criticism there was of a minister’s daughter who danced, but my father who had a lonely childhood without much fun, didn’t want constriction for me. Later on there was a question about learning bridge. Again it was llowed but not in the parsonage. Mother loved games and puzzles. We played Anigrams, which was like Scrabble, and other board games. But Dad had never played games as a child and felt too awkward to learn.
When I was around 14 I began to have foot problems. I was taken to a specialist and fitted to corrective shoes which were ugly. I accepted them for school, but for my social life I had to have something more attractive. Mrs. O’Brien had a mail-order catalogue. I ordered a pair of gold satin shoes. I haunted the Post Office until they arrived because my parents knew nothing about this. I hid them in my closet and then on the nights when I wanted to wear them I hid them outdoors under the bushes. I left the porch in ugly shoes and exchanged them for the Cinderella slippers. I suspect my mother knew what was going on, but never gave me away.
My social life was centered around school and church. There was little pairing off of couples in this age group. The Johnson brothers were attentive to me from time to time. Allen was older than I and Fred a year younger. Allen was sophisticated by Northboro standards. He even expected a good nigh kiss after delivering me to my door. The first time that happened it shook me up! Fred on the other hand was shy and naïve. After Allen graduated, Fred took over. Fred was my partner when we learned to play bridge. We were in school plays together, and both of us were on the debating team. One day at school we decided we’d like to go to the school basketball game that night. I was sure that I could go, but he said he would have to ask his mother, and if she would let him go, he would call me and we’d meet at the Town Hall. At this time I was probably a Senior and he was a Junior.
The big event of the week for me was the Saturday night choir rehearsal at the church. The choir members were all my friends. The organist and her husband tried to make these evenings fun, and often drove some of us to their home for popcorn or ice cream. Charlie Felt sand with us and he drove his fathers “Premier”. Ocassionally, his brother came along and I seemed to always end up in their car. I think Jo was usually there and a new girl, Ruth Simmons, whom Charlie liked.
All through my high school years Bill Felt was always on the periphery of my life. I thought a lot about him. He came home weekends and my mother would make weekly remarks to me such as “Remember William is a young man in college. His friends are there”. Or “Remember William is much older than you are. Don’t act silly about him”. These warning of course were to keep me from being hurt when he would fade from the scene. But this didn’t happen. Instead we saw more of each other. Of course I was never part of his college life. However, his mother gave my mother an invitation to his senior piano recital and mother and I attended. Bill was so handsome in evening clothes with tails that I looked, rather than listened……
Soon afterwards he graduated from Clark University and my sister took me to his commencement. I think we went without invitation but slipped in and out without seeing his family. That summer he went to summer school in Middlebury, Vt. While he was there he got a job teaching in Acton, not many miles from Northboro, so he continued to come home on weekend and I continued to see him.
About this time, I was beginning to think about college. There was never any question of whether I’d go, but simply where. I knew just one thing, that I didn’t want to go to Mt. Holyoke where Dorothy had gone. Bill began to talk about Middlebury. I never had heard of it and didn’t know where it was until his summer there. But if he liked it and recommended it, that was enough for me, and I applied. Mother and I went up to Vermont for an interview (though I don’t remember how we got there). The campus and the mountains were beautiful. However the Dean of Women was very stern and her eyes looked right through my head. I was scared but had to go through with my decision. And I’ve never regretted it.
(continued)
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Originally Posted by wilomn
RIP-2004 0.1 Samoyed/Collie (Tippy) 15.5 Years Old.