Family Reunion

It seemed forever until time to drive over to Clay's for the reunion, but we eventually went.  Everyone was asked to wear a name tag with their parents, grandparents, etc names.  Also to complete a register giving contact details and brief genealogy and an email address.  We were asked if we wanted a copy of the list (YES!).

After completing that and giving Bill his name tag, I set up my computer in a corner and started the slide show.  Everyone seemed to know each other, and of course they did.  People kept arriving for at least an hour and a half, most bringing some kind of food.  All Clay had asked me to bring was my camera.

I first sat about taking notes from the genealogy chart.  Clay said he'd send it to me, but his is an Apple Mac and I don't trust the things to talk to my computer; we never did decipher the invitation he'd sent.  Also, it gave me something to do until I could find a way to start talking with people.

Although I'd brushed up on Grandma's brothers and sisters, many of the people present were descended from her cousins and I knew nothing of them, other than what I was reading on the chart.  Bill found some pages photocopied from a biographical history of Clinton County, Indiana where I read about George Leonard who immigrated from Germany and set up several flour milling businesses in Frankfurt.  He retired on a modest but comfortable income.  His son, Andrew, went on to open a grocery store and reading about Andrew's extraordinary business acumen, his deligent church attendance and the wisdom he shared with his fellow city council members practially had me rolling in the floor laughing at his extremely inflated ego!  Thankfully, George Leonard was only Grandma's great-uncle.  Still, I put the information in my family tree for more direct descendents to enjoy.

Leonard was Grandma's Dad; I wonder if she
inherited her love of hats from him?

After Clay introduced me to a few people he thought I'd be interested in meeting, I began to strike up conversations and to invite people to come over and look at the 20 or so photographs on my computer.  I can't tell you how much it pleased me when they all recognized Clara and Jack - "Oh, that Jack, you'd know him anywhere.  He and Clara used to come back every year to visit.  She was such a sweet lady.  You never met such nice people."  A few had met my Dad at some point or other, but none especially remembered him.  He always seemed to me to avoid family gatherings.  Now I wonder if he wasn't particularly encouraged to mingle with Grandma's family, lest he discover he was adopted?  That's something I'll never know.

Grandma:  the girl in the Stripey Dress...

I came away with two new photos of my Grandma.  The one above I'm guessing was when she was about 12 or 13.  I've always found her clothes to be quite interesting, but that collar just doesn't look right to me.  She looks like she's wearing a table cloth!

Mary, Shelley & Sue

At one point I had a moment of deja vu and Bill recognised it the same time that I did.  Two years ago, I sat with two other women whose grandmothers were sister of my Grandpa Jack.  In this scenario, I was talking with Mary and Sue, whose grandmother and grandfather were siblings of my Grandma Clara.  Sue, thankfully, has email, but I will be writing letters to Mary, just as I have to Mona (Mom's 93 year old cousin) for the last couple of years.

The other new photo of Grandma, Bill found in someone's photo album.  I can't tell anything from the damaged writing on the back except that it was taken at a place called Maple Bluff.  The lady seated, wearing the jaunty hat, is Grandma.  I think she looks absolutely amazing.



Grandma seems to have liked stripes, eh?

I don't know who is the lady standing up, but I have a strong suspicion she is my Dad's first wife, Adeline.  The only reasons I think this are that it would be from about the right date and the fact that she bears a strong resemblance to my Mom, though Mom never weighed that much in her life.  That is likely another mystery I'll never solve, but it's fun all the same.

It was a long day by the time we'd been there five or so hours.  I'd talked to everyone I could, taken notes and photos of everything.  I thanked Clay about 50 times for inviting us and then we headed back to the hotel to pack up and fly home the next day.

Meeting Clay

Our next adventure was our last.  It was also the initial reason we planned this trip, to meet Clay, a cousin (first cousin, once removed:  his father was a younger brother of my Grandma), who invited me to a family reunion at the same time that he confirmed that my Dad was adopted - "We all understood that; you mean you didn't know?"



We found the condo where Clay and Dick live and immediately hopped into Sue, Clay's sister, and her husband Chuck's van to go for dinner to a beer and burger bar.  At Groveland Tap I discovered EPA doesn't stand for 'Environmental Protection Agency', but for 'Extra Pale Ale'.  We all sat on stools and started getting to know one another.  Dick used to work in finance; Clay, Sue and Chuck are retired from real estate.   Clay bought our dinner, which I thought was kind.



Because of their interest in real estate, I discovered they liked to look at houses like I do and after dinner we drove around a bit, looking at houses where Clay and Sue had lived as children and seeing what subsequent owners had done.  This reminded me of the 'ancestors' house tour' Norma took me on a couple of years ago.  Then we drove into a very interesting neighbourhood where they showed us what they called The Mushroom House. 



I was just as amazed by it as they were.  (Though I'm beginning to think it has 'eyes' which is a bit creepy...)



I thought it was great that we could be enthused by such similar things!



Then we went up to the penthouse of the condo, where the family reunion would take place the next afternoon.  The view up there was brilliant. 



About 50 people were expected the next day. 

 

This enormous family tree went back about five generations, with each colour representing the same generation.  It was complicated but I eventually figured it out.  I don't think there is a really simple way to present that amount of information.



A back wall had been decorated with family photos dating back to the late 1800s.  I had the photos of my great-great grandparents already, but there were others I'd never seen.  Also, obituaries and funeral mementos and photos from previous family gatherings.  I was rather envious.

When we went back to our hotel room, I stayed up until nearly 2 am pulling together photographs of my Grandma and of her family that I had scanned from her photo album over the last few years.  I put them into a slide show to run on my computer.  Only after this was done could I settle down and go to sleep, I was so looking forward the next day.

The Result

This is the last of a series of posts about Owatonna State School Museum (starting here), within a series of posts about our three week holiday in the US in June, which starts here.

 
I'm thinking after about two weeks here in the State School you're ready to leave.  I wouldn't want to stay much longer myself, perhaps.

On the plus side the buildings were capacious, even if they were filled with beds.

The grounds began with a few plantings that eventually grew into lush trees. 





I just stopped myself from taking photos of all the views from the bare windows.

There was mention of gardens and rock gardens.   I've no idea if the children would notice whether they lived in pretty surroundings.




Though closets, etc., look primitive now, that is the style of closets in the 1920s and 30s when most people didn't more clothes than they could wear.

Every Wednesday was movie night.

The children had toys and they had each other. 

They were clothed warmly - long underwear was prominent in the displays.  If one got a kind and loving matron, it would make life much easier, but institutions aren't always noted for finding such people. 

Perhaps they just don't make as sensational stories for the press.


Bill kept remarking how during this same time in England middle and upper class families spent huge sums of money to send their sons to boarding schools no more luxurious than this.

 

They won't have done the manual labour, but the rules will have been just as stiff and peer pressure was enormous.  Children bullied each other to a criminal extent.




Beatings were also common, though perhaps not always administered by staff and perhaps using a different implement than the radiator brush used at Owatonna.





The emotional deprivation will have been much the same, particularly for young men boarded from the age of 6 or 8 as was common in Britain in upper class families.  Great way to raise the people who would later run the country...

Bill has also remarked how these rooms compare with the officers' quarters aboard the Royal Yacht Britannia, senior staff on a prestige posting.  Interesting idea, but of course the men on the Britannia were there by choice.


Some of the children weren't adopted, but were actually indentured, which I found shocking.  The range of experiences those children later related are predictably diverse:  some found good homes with kind people, other found the abuse and neglect from which they were supposed to have been saved.


The result of growing up in an orphanage was that one didn't speak much about it to family members.  It was mentioned that joining the military was dead easy!  Hardly any noticable change in lifestyle.  Those who were able to form relationships sometimes found family attachment stifling and others' expression of emotions excessive and uncomfortable.


So, what we knew at the start, not a great place to grow up.  I came away dizzy with impressions about the scale of this place and the life led by the people involved with it.  Also about how much better a life my Dad had with my Grandparents, who spoiled him with so much love - and me as well - and we never even knew he was adopted. 

The Dining Room

This is a series of posts about Owatonna State School Museum (starting here), within a series of posts about our three week holiday in the US in June, which starts here.

As usual, I've chopped and changed the order of what we saw to make my own arrangement. 



The Museum housed not only the archives for the state school, but various offices and an art gallery.



Now, the dining room appears to be a sort of function hall for large gatherings, which given its size is very sensible. 

It was also incredibly beautiful. 



The old pictures I've copied are all the more poignant because of of the stark nature of black and white photos. 



Adding colour changes the mood altogether.

Of course, the stained glass screens weren't present when this was a school. 

They had recently been rescued from a Methodist church that was being demolished. 




I doubt that the window screens were there and of course the room was filled with tables, chairs and children.




The shape of the windows and the grand size would be the same.

I was even fascinated with the neat way in which these stacking chairs fit together. 



Not sure how comfortable they would be but I thought they were lovely.



After soaking up so much sadness, it was a relief to see something that lifted the spirit




Neither Bill nor I could get enough of this room. 

The Basement

This is a series of posts about Owatonna State School Museum (starting here), within a series of posts about our three week holiday in the US in June, which starts here.

One of the prevalent comments made by State Schoolers in their stories was about scrubbing and polishing the floors in the main rooms of their cottages. 

They hated this work not just because it was hard but because it was all to the benefit of the staff. 

The children didn't live on the main floors, the children - when not working or at school - lived in the basement!



Each child had their own chair, which was recognised as a tool for order and accountability.  I suppose a vacant chair would immediately identify if anyone was missing. 

The floor of the basement was concrete, so the boys could 'roughouse' without worrying about hurting anything (other than themselves). 

To be fair, it looks as though the Matron spent a good deal of time in
the basement as well.

They played games, shot baskets and generally hung around.  They entered and exited the building via the basement door, walking two by two.

"At bedtime, Miss Morgan would dismiss us one at a time. Some nights, she required each of us to sing a song, recite a poem or do an act before leaving. Then it was up the stairs to brush our teeth and go to bed."

If I had to live in a basement, I know just what I would have been doing.

The Boys

This is a series of posts about Owatonna State School Museum (starting here), within a series of posts about our three week holiday in the US in June, which starts here.

I got the impression that there were more boys in the orphanage than girls, but perhaps this is because the only cottage remaining, number 11, was for boys or due to Harvey Ronglien being a prominent 'voice' for the State School children.

Typical boys' jobs were  scrubbing and polishing floors, mowing lawns, cleaning streets, helping garbage haulers, shoveling walks, working in the garden, dairy barns, bakery, hospital, laundry and nursery.  There was a policy that all school work was completed in the classroom, so as not to interfere with jobs. 


The railway ran past the orphanage just to the north and in the heydey of 'hobos', some of the boys hopped on the trains to try that lifestyle.  Others just threw apples to the hobos they sighted.  Given the rigid structure of their lives and the amount of work they did, it's no wonder that hobos were idolized by the boys.  (Who knew there was such delineation between the terms hobo, tramp and bum?)  Though the lure of the railway was strong, most of the boys who did run away returned after a couple of days, taking their punishment; for all it sounds a difficult place, they at least had food and a bed.

They will have worked hard.  There were about 270 acres of land given over to farming.   I was fascinated by the lists of produce, the amounts and the prices.  Of course the intention was that the school be entirely self sufficient and one doesn't feed, clothe and house 500 children and however many staff without work.  I love the idea of a quart of milk costing 3 cents.  I've yet to experience salsify; what is an oyster plant or a ground cherry?

I'm pretty sure that much of what was grown in the greenhouse was for sale though, asters and begonias not being not being foodstuffs.

I can't help but wonder about the balance sheet of this place.  If the children didn't pay their own way with their work, I'm sure they came close to it.

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I was 'struck' (ha) by the boxing gear. Around age 8 my Dad was into boxing; I have yellow satin shorts and a collection of photos to prove it. I think boxing was the 'in' sport of the day in the 20s and 30s.

There was, however, obviously time and energy left for fun - and mischief.