The following is some of our ancestry. My mother, Okla Elizabeth White-Denny-Finney was born to Robert and Ellen (Hayes) White, in Barling, Arkansas. Mother had two sisters, Lauraine White and Agatha White. My grandmother Ellen Hayes-White-Williams married again to Lumuel Williams who owned a general store in Huntington, Arkansas (this is where I worked my junior and senior years in high school) Ellen and Lum had two more children, Louise and Harry. Lum had a son by a previous marriage, Maurice (Jack) Williams. My father, Thomas Asa Denny was born in Huntington, Arkansas to Robert and Ellen Denny. Dad had one brother Robert and one half-brother, Roy. Both migrated to West Virginia after my dad had established himself here.
The Denny's originally lived in Abington, Virginia, but left there to work in the mines in Arkansas. We think they originally came from New Town, Virginia (which no longer exists), where they built the equivalent of the Conestoga Wagon. Later, using one of them to migrate to western Virginia (not West Virginia). There are still branches of the family living in that area, but none with the Denny name. I can remember visiting there when I was five. My dad's first cousins worked on the railroad and hooked a ride, with me, on the caboose. Mom & Dad met us at the next station. The train only slowed down enough for us to get on and off. Needless to say he was holding me in his arms at the time.
I was born June 10, 1926 at Stop 3 Dunbar Line, which later in the late 30's became known as North Charleston and was incorporated into Charleston. This area was known for years as "Dogtown". We even had a small newspaper called the Dogtown Blab, a one paper sized sheet with strictly local news and Gossip. In fact it was published weekly in the local beer joint. I believe it was called Eddie's. I still have one issue of that paper.
I lived there until I was 9, when my father died from a ruptured appendix, peritonitis, and cancer. Some of my earliest memories of this time were 3 friends, Frank Milam, Tom Corrie and Bob Carver (killed on Okinawa). I was just thinking, as I write about this time in my life about the games we played, the toys we had, and our other forms of recreation. In a day where kids and young people have Super Nintendo, computers with hundreds of games that they can play with people all over the world, organized sports for little kids etc. I wonder what they would think of our toys. We had board games, cards, football and a baseball mitt, if we were lucky. We laid in front of the radio listening to The Lone Ranger, Inner Sanctum, Amos and Andy, which would be politically incorrect now, and a dozen other programs, Jack Benny, Fibber Magee and Molly etc. Made telephones out of tin cans and string, and we could really hear one another (if we yelled loud enough). Saw a movie, cowboy, once a week, a serial such as Flash Gordan, Buck Rogers etc. Our cowboy stars were Tom Mix, Hoot Gibson, Hop-a-long Cassidy, Bob Steel, Ken Maynard, my favorite, and later Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, and Tex Ritter came along. They were the singing cowboys. We each had our favorite toy pistol to play cowboy and indian, and a sack of marbles, which I was always losing to the better shots. We dug roads in a dirt bank to play with toy cars.
Often we would sleep overnight in a cabin behind Tom Corrie's house, telling ghost stories, sneaking a cigarette sometimes, and drinking apple cider that we thought was alcoholic. Sometimes we would smoke corn silks, Catawba cigars from a Catawba tree, ground coffee and field blossoms. Our parents allowed us to smoke corn silks, so we would put tobacco in the bottom of a pipe and corn silk on top. Another memory of my childhood came a little earlier. I was just beginning to question Santa even though I was past 9.
Dad had just passed away and it was my first Christmas without him. Mom and I still went to candlelight service at Trinity Lutheran Church. When we came home after midnight all the tree lights were on and a new Lionel Electric Train was running around the tree. I yelled "there really is a Santa Claus". I found out in later years that my Uncle Bob had set everything up while we were at church. Uncle Bob had a nickname for everyone. Mine was "Doc". When I was born Mom and Dad took me to see Uncle Bob when he was in bed with some ailment. They put me in beside him and a couple of days later he was up and around. I've been "Doc" from then on. (A family story) His name for his wife was "Rat", a story about him coming in from work and she was standing in a kitchen chair and a rat was in the kitchen.
Our clothes were Knickers with high top boots, with a pocket on the side for a pocket knife which we wore to school (Also incorrect now). Also wore leather aviator helmets, with goggles, which we wore to school, and took off the goggles when we had to dress up.
One of my outstanding memories was a camp at Upper Falls, on the Coal River, an old three room farmhouse, which was full of our neighbors every weekend. Dad rented a pony for me each weekend. The camp after Dad died. The old farm house that we had for a camp has since been replaced by a new house. It was at camp when they discovered I needed glasses, I guess because when looking for my white pony, I thought it was a white rag, tied to a stake. That was a pretty good clue. During this time my Dad and Uncle Bob threw me in the river, and I learned to swim quickly.
Memories of my dad are sketchy. I remember that he worked as a bookkeeper for the Nuway Dry Cleaning Co. He didn't drive, so mother and I would pick him up at work. He bought me my first gun when I was seven, hung it on the wall in the dining room and told me I wasn't to touch it unless he was with me, or he would give it away, and I didn't! But I also remember that he kept an old S&W 22, Model 1 in the buffet drawer. He would take the cylinder out for me to play with. One evening he and mother were working a jigsaw puzzle, I got in the drawer, got the pistol, it was loaded, and shot into the floor, through the sole of dad's shoe. The gun was never loaded again, and also I never touched it again unless dad handed it to me.
In 1934, just before Dad died, Mom and I took an excursion to the Chicago World's Fair. It was a train excursion with hotels and other transportation included. Details are sketchy in my memory, but one thing I do remember is Mother buying me a beautiful pair of cap buster pistols with belt and two holsters. I was the envy of every kid in the neighborhood. This was on a side trip to Neiman-Marcus. One thing I have failed to mention, Dad and my Uncle Bob were fortunate, they held a steady job through the depression and were able to support my Uncle Roy, his wife and three children.
One of my favorite puzzles was Tom Mix, on his horse. I worked that puzzle dozens of times. Jigsaws were one of the favorite past times of that era. Often we would mount them on cardboard and frame them. Dad would bring me home "skookum" apples, set in the old wooden chair in the living room, and scrape the apple out of its peeling to feed to me. He also gave me the only spanking I ever got from him in that chair, for refusing to share candy with my grandmother Denny, who lived with us. We still have that chair in our living room. Grandma Denny would take turns staying at my Uncle Bob's, my Uncle Roy's and our house. Dad also played cornet and saxophone in the old Colonels orchestra with my Uncle Bob, and also played baseball with the Twilight League in Charleston. He was from Arkansas, was in WW1. He played in the band in New York when the ships pulled out heading for the war in Europe. In fact he was pulled out of the infantry, to play in the band, just as he was ready to ship out to Europe. Uncle Bob served in the Navy. Dad and his two brothers were even in the KKK for a short time. Dad said the only time they threatened anyone, by burning a cross in a front yard, was for a white man, a drunk, who would abuse his family. They collected tons of food and distributed baskets to needy families at Christmas. I still have an old picture of this.
When dad died I was nine. We moved to one room at 510 Roane Street, with use of the kitchen. The old couple we lived with, were the Hess's. I was in the sixth grade at this time and transferred to Lincoln grade school, from Grandview in North Charleston. I became friends with Homer Hanna Jr., my Aunt Oreta's nephew. I spent a lot of time at Homer Jr.'s home.
We lived there about a year, from 1935 to '36 then moved to 1421 4th Ave with my mom's sister, Lauraine and her husband, Carl and their three children, Louise, Dorraine, and Frank. We only had two bedrooms. Mother and I and my cousin Frank shared one, and my Aunt and Uncle Carl and their two daughters in the other. Once in a while when Uncle Carl was cut to two days a week at his work (Hubbard Grocery Co.), we would set down at our evening meal to a gallon tin of peanut butter, crackers and jelly.
I failed to mention that during this time, after dad passed away, that mom supported us, first by tending bar at Cat's Place in North Charleston, run by "Cateye Walker", and his wife, Grace, and old family friend who treated us like family, even taking us on their vacations. It was then that we went to the New York world's fair. Then later she became a Fuller Brush salesman and stayed in the top three in the state, and this was during the depression. She did so well at this that we were able to move back into our home, but still had to rent out the lower floor while we lived on the second floor. At this time mom also took in two boarders who were building Littlepage Terrace, the first housing development in Charleston. She took in the fabulous sum of $8.00 each per week for room and board The boarders made 50 cents an hour. Mom was a strong woman, and was determined that we would make it without welfare, which was a dirty word at that time.
Now, back to the time I was in the sixth grade at Lincoln. We had moved in with my Aunt and Uncle during the school year, which put me in a different school zone, but since I didn't want to change schools I continued to walk to Lincoln every morning, a mile plus away. While there in the sixth grade, Coach Jamison had all the boys come to the Jr. High gym to try out for basketball for the coming year. We were supposed to wear our underclothes to try out. When the guys started to undress all of them had on the new fashion boxer shorts and sleeveless undershirt, while I was still wearing one piece BVD's with the drop back, used for obvious purposes. I was too embarrassed to go out on the gym, so I "helloed" for home and wouldn't go back to school until I had the new underwear (life's little embarrassing moments). Never did try out for the basketball team, or any other sport in Jr. High. I joined the history club, glee club and an Art Club. Did I qualify as a NERD? The BVDs remind me of another story. In kindergarten the teacher would always send someone with us when we went to the restroom. This particular day Frank Milam went with me, and my BVDs had lost their buttons and Mom had put safety pins in them. Neither Frank nor I could get them undone in time causing a very embarrassing mishap. I ran home and Mom wasn't there. I went next door to Frank's house and my Aunt Lucy (a title of respect) cleaned me and put on a pair of Franks underwear. I was only five, but THAT I remember. Maybe I was a NERD.
This was in 1937, the year of the big flood that covered practically all of Huntington, W.V. and Louisville, KY. They closed Lincoln school so the refugees would have a place to stay. Also in those times, people would open their homes to complete strangers in their time of need. Can you imagine that happening now? In fact one of my wartime buddies, Rusty, even remembers the name of the family in Louisville that took his family into their home. The big thing I remember is that it got us out of school for a week or so.
About this time, (1939) mom dated and then married L. H. (Bud) Finney when I was thirteen, who, just happened to be one of the greatest step-dads ever. A few months later the Elk Bakery came up for sale for the then great sum of $1000. Mom and Bud had $500 and asked my Aunt Lauraine to invest the other half and come live with us, since my Uncle Carl had been killed in his first solo airplane flight. The bakery prospered during the war years, and Mom and dad bought my Uncle Bob's house in North Charleston. My Aunt and her three children continued living with us for a year or so until she remarried, but continued working at the bakery. I also worked at the bakery on Friday nights. I would run around with my friends, or just loaf at Gus's Place until midnight, when I would meet Bud and work until 10 o'clock or so, then go home with Bud while mother and Aunt Lauraine would stay at the bakery to clerk. Bud and I worked by ourselves all night and had a lot of interesting conversations. His guidance helped in later life. He would never tell me not to do something, it was always "why don't you do this, or try that". My jobs at the bakery were frying doughnuts, making pies, even the crust, cooking filling for and filling the cream puffs and eclairs, slicing and wrapping bread, then cleaning all the pots, pans, bowls, etc. I remember one day he asked if I would rather get one cent for the first pan I cleaned, doubling after each pan (1 cent, two cents four cents, etc, or get my regular wage. I took my regular wage, but did the math later, and couldn't believe it. Bud had only completed the sixth grade, but was a very wise person.
Lots of Sundays we would go to Finney Hollow to visit Bud's mother and his two brothers, or to St. Albans to see his sister. Mother and Bud would load up the leftovers from the bakery and take with us. When we went to Finney Hollow I would pal around with Don Finney, hunting or just shooting targets. When in St. Albans I ran with Joe College, Bud's sister's boy, swimming in Coal River in the summer and hanging out in the local poolroom in the winter. We sometimes would sneak Joe's dad's car out, pushing it down the alley before we started it. I can remember the car, it was a 1940 black Dodge. This is out of context but I remember our cars when Dad was living. We had an Essex, next a light blue touring car, a Chandler, then a 1928 Chevrolet and just before Dad died a 1935 Chevrolet.
When we bought the bakery I transferred back to Lincoln Jr. High School for the beginning of the eighth grade where I met Tom Smith and Don Justice, who became my closest friends. Tom and I are still good friends, but Don died in the 70's. We started drinking and doing things that I'm not to proud of during this time. But things turn out. There came a time, later in life, when I was an Elder in the Sattes Presbyterian Church and Tom was teaching the men's Bible class at St. Marks Methodist Church. And believe it or not, since I was in charge of pulpit supply one Sunday, I wound up conducting the service and Tom preached.
I stayed in Stonewall High School for the tenth and one semester of the eleventh grade dropping from a B student to failing grades. A conversation with an English teacher, Lucille Javins who had been my teacher at Lincoln and Stonewall helped change my life. She made me realize, I couldn't continue in the direction I was headed. I talked to mom and dad about going to Huntington, Arkansas, finishing high school, and working in my Uncle Harry's general store that had belonged to my maternal grandfather Williams. Mom was no dummy and immediately called my grandmother to clear it. So I went to live with my grandmother Ellen Williams, whom I called "Monie". They had a course in school called Distributive Education, so you could work half a day and go to school the other half. This turned out to be a good decision, my grades went back to B's. I graduated from Mansfield High and that's another story.
HUNTINGTON, ARKANSAS MEMORIES
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Some of my memories of this time in Arkansas are mentioned here. My first day in high school I dressed as I did at Stonewall Jackson, in West Virginia for the first day of school, a blue pin striped suit. When I looked around at the other boys all I saw were bib overalls or blue jeans. Believe me! This was NOT the way to start out in this school. When the teacher stepped out of the room for a few minutes, four or five boys backed me into a corner, and informed me they were going to "mess up" my pretty clothes.
I pulled out a 3" spring blade knife and told them to start in, but somebody would get hurt. They backed off and about that time the teacher came back into the room.
Things continued in this vein for a few days. One day, in gym, I suggested to the coach that we should have boxing instructions (which I had at Stonewall). The following day he brought gloves to the gym class, handed me a pair and asked who wanted to box first. The school bully, grabbed a pair, but the coach was referee, so it was the first fair fight he had ever had. He didn't lay a glove on me and I landed several good punches. He never liked me, but I had won his respect and the rest of the fellows in my class. But I did start wearing jeans to school.
Jimmy (James Alvin) Hunter was my best buddy in school. He worked in his father's grocery store. Kind of strange since his dad and my kinfolk were competitors. (At one time his Dad, Roy, had asked my mother to marry him) We bought a 1933 Chevrolet, together, and were the only kids in school with a car, another thing that didn't endear us to the general male student body. It was great though. We got to take the cheerleaders to all the away games.
It was about this time I bought my first handgun. We were loafing at a favorite gas station/restaurant hangout when a fellow came in to buy gas and wanted to sell his gun to pay for it. He wanted $10 but I only had 7, which he took. It was an old Colt 38-40 Peacemaker. In today's market is worth $700 to $800.
A bit of background, my father Thomas Denny was raised in Huntington as was my mother Okla White. After WW1 they married and moved to Charleston, W.V. where I was born and lived till the 10th Grade. At that time I went to live with my maternal grandmother Ellen Williams, and worked in Williams Meat Market (Lum Williams) and finished school at Mansfield before going to the Army in 1944.
On the Huntington Website, I found a picture of the hotel owned by the Henry Keisman family. On reading the names of the band on the 2nd floor porch I found my Uncle's name, Roy Denny and my father's name Tommy Denny. I believe that one of the unknown names was another uncle, Robert (Bobby Denny) All 3 brothers had migrated to Huntington with family around 1898, during the coal mine disputes from western Virginia (Not West Virginia). All three brothers wound up in West Virginia in the 20's. I spent 28 years in the Army and came home to West Virginia.
A little more information, I worked in Williams Meat Market (my step grandfather) after he died and the store was being run by my aunt until after WW2 when my uncle Harry Williams took over again. This was on my mother's side. My Grandmother Ellen Williams lived on Oak St and died in 1961. This is where I lived while finishing HS in Mansfield. Jimmy Hunter and I bought a 1933 Chevy and were the only kids in school with a car, which didn't set well with the guys, but we got to drive some of the cheerleaders to games. Coach and principal Metcalf wouldn't let them go on the bus with the boys. Two of the girls I remember were Nyna Jean Dunn, who Jimmy dated, and Althea Jo Martin, who I dated some. Her father owned the mortuary in Mansfield.
Another bit of info. When Blacks came to the store they would wait for me to wait on them. There was one, Prince Albert Smith. When I was delivering groceries to the west side they were sitting down to dinner. I remarked that everything smelled good and they invited me to eat. When I got back to the store my aunt asked why I was late. When I told her she informed me that this just wasn't done. Remember this was 1943. In 1943 there was a covered sidewalk from Williams Market about 3 doors up which covered another grocery store, a barber shop and cafe with benches out front and across the street broken down empty stores with wooden covered sidewalks. This is where Jim's grandfather had his jewelry store at another time. There was a company store, called the Peoples store (Seaman's) past the old bank building on the left. The old bank building for a short time was a ice cream parlor, but didn't last. On looking back it seems we had an ample supply of groceries for a town with 714 souls.
Another thing I remember, Jim and I, when I was visiting at about age 9, got the keys to Jim's grandfather's old jewelry store, which had been closed for years, had the combo to the safe from his dad. Opened it, it was filled with old pocket watches left for repair and never claimed. We were wearing bib overalls, filled all the upper pockets with watches and paraded around town all day.
Don't remember whether I told you this or not. The Denny's came from the western part of Va., (not West Virginia) around 1898 during the mine strikes to work. I'll leave it up to you to figure that out.
My father, Tommy, who was in the band picture, served during WW1 in an army band in New York, playing as the soldiers boarded ships to go overseas. He attended Chilacothe (sec) Business Inst. in Tenn. after the war and came to WV when he graduated to work for Western Union, Bob Denny and Roy Denny followed him to WV.
If you turned down the street beside Seaman's Store, you come to Oak. Turn right on Oak and there was an empty Lot with a well. This was the site of the Denny house where my grandmother and Roy Denny lived after my Dad and his brother had come to WV. After the house burned down they also came to WV. The house next door on the right, was where my maternal Grandmother Williams lived and where I lived while finishing HS and working in Williams Market. Tommy Cottrell's gas station was on the highway. The store next to it was Williams Market, Next to it was a barbershop and cafe, Next to it was a store I forgot Epperson's, run by an old man and had very little merchandise and very few customers. Next was a store that had various enterprises, then the post office, a movie house, where the Blacks sat on a kind of raised balcony in the back, an empty lot came next, then Hunter's store. The progression might not be quite right, but close. The Hunters and the Williams were bitter rivals, but despite this Jim and I became fast friends thru the years from five on up when my mother and I would visit Arkansas during the summer. Another unusual circumstance, my mother and Jim's dad, Roy Hunter were once engaged but broke up. On the inside of the stores you would see wooden shelves on both sides of the Williams stores maybe six tiers high, meat displayed across the back, cutting blocks behind that and feed and grain in a room behind that. Up front, in the middle were eight lid covered storage bins (where anyone sat) filled with coffee beans and every other dry bean you can name. My grandfather, when I was small, sat behind a big roll top desk on the left as you walked in dispensing candy, tobacco and other sundries. One of my early memories, about 9, I would grind coffee beans, put them in a penny corncob pipe and attempt to smoke. My grandfather handed me a poke of Five Brothers and said I might as well try this. I did and needless to say didn't smoke for a long time after.
The company store ruins stood right across the highway from Cottrell's gas station, I believe I remember the walls constructed with stone. The old schoolhouse was further down Broadway. By the way, these Street names meant nothing to us. I found them on your info on the Web site. I have no idea what happened to the old hotel, don't even know where it stood. I do remember a newspaper on the left before you got to Seaman's.
The Huntington Postcard photo was taken west of the company store down Broadway. Shows a 2 story round bandstand right where Williams Store was another storefront across from the company store. You can see the other stores on the left. I believe there are only 2 cars. Wonder what the year is? I have another of the inside of the Williams store at an early date. I figure roughly that granddad opened around 1902 and my Uncle Harry closed up around 1948. My step grandfather is on the left and my uncle is on the right in the vest. His name was Maurice Williams. During WW2 he was a civilian instructor to the Army Air Force Pilots.
Also here is the picture of my grandmothers house. There was an old meat locker out back beside the privy which held a lot of interesting stuff, including an old zyther I used to strum as a kid. She also kept 2 goats for the milk and several hens and a rooster. Which reminds me. There were very few houses with indoor plumbing fed from a reservoir (sic) on the roof.* (The Hunter's house was one of these). There was a French Family (DeSchamps) with a cart that would come around ever so often, clean out your privy for a quarter. Very well paid, but not so popular.
On the satellite picture in the upper right hand corner I see a line of trees that look as though they are following a creek. Looks like the creek we would dam up and would last about a month for a place to swim. We would also go out to a mine hole, might have been Number six. I know you couldn't reach bottom.
We had no semblance of a city government when I was there in '43 and '44. I noticed that population was 688. There were 714 in 1943. Several empty houses.
Some names are coming back. The service station was owned by Tommy Cotner. There was an old filling station and cafe when you drove into Mansfield owned by Myrtle Bohner where we hung out. She still had the old pumps that you would fill by hand. I'm ashamed to say that I might have given them an extra pump or 2 while Jimmy was dispensing the gasoline. A guy came in there wanting to sell an old 38/40 Colt single action pistol for $10. Jimmy Hunter and I pooled our money and bought it for $7.50. I just recently sold it for $800.00. Sold out my entire collection, 140 guns.
Some of our activities centered around the Methodist church. In fact they put on an all male wedding, using teenagers. I had a mustache so they thought I would make a cute bride, Jimmy was the groom. Everyone enjoyed. There were six bridesmaids. As you have probably noted, Mom and I would visit Huntington each summer for weeks at a time. Drove all the way in a Chandler one time and Chevrolet another, sometimes by train. When I was nine they sent me, by myself, by train. I had to change in Cincinnati Ohio, Indianapolis, Indiana, St Louis, and Monet, MO. Someone was at each station to board me on the next train, unbelievable in this day and time.
The interior picture of the Williams Meat Market Store, The guy on the left in the store picture is my step grandfather, one in the middle I don't know, the one on the right, in the vest was Lum Williams son, who later, during WW2 was a civilian trainer for WW2 army air force pilots. (Maurice Williams) Don't know the year that was taken, but before I remember Lum. He always sat behind a big roll top desk on the left as you walked in the store, never wearing an apron as you saw in the picture. What I remember is his son Harry and Louise Williams (my blood Uncle and Aunt) running the store while Lum sat behind the desk dispensing candy, tobacco and sundries. I told you about my smoking coffee I ground in a penny corncob, and he handed me a package of 5 brothers (strong) and told me (age 9 or so) that I might as well smoke for real. Taught me a good lesson.
Aunt Louise was running the store when I worked there. Harry was in the Army at the time. Harry returned after the war and ran the store for some time after that, finally closing it and moving to California.
The William's store was located about where the gazebo was located on the postcard, a cafe and barbershop were next door, Epperson's was next to that, the next places might not be in the correct order, but there was a piece goods store, an empty lot, a post office, a movie (four seats on either side with a raised platform in the back for the Blacks) and Hunters store at the end across from the empty bank bldg. For a short time there was an ice cream parlor in the bank building but it didn't last. This was in 1943, 1944. I think Jimmy's dad had someone running this.
Don't know Grandmother Whites first name or her son's. Great Uncle Pettus. Grand- mother Williams mailed that picture after Mom and Dad moved to W.V. So a close guess would be 1922-26, when it was taken. The two-story house next door was the Denny house that burned down I told you about, when my grandmother Denny and Roy Denny followed
my Dad and his brother Bob to West Virginia, so this picture was taken prior to that.
The main street picture is actually an old daguerreotype (sic) postcard, like the photographer's picture I sent. The only store I can name is Jimmy's grandfather's jewelry store that had closed. I told you the story of James Alvin and I opening the safe and carrying old watches in our bib overalls. Can't remember how old, but had to be in the mid 30's. It was in the middle of the block and the closed stores were really decrepit. The newspaper and Seaman's were beyond that. Have no idea when this postcard was taken, but had to be before 1920. I believe there are 2 cars on the street, could be wrong. Don't know the store across from the old company store.
My grandmother's names may be confusing, my grandmother Williams was married to a Bob White whom she divorced and later married Lum Williams, who was my mother's dad (Okla along with 3 other sisters Lauraine, Agatha, Louise and a brother Harry. Maurice Williams was Lum's son by another marriage. On checking records I miss-spoke when I named grandmother White, Should have been grandmother Pettus. Grandmother Williams mother, who I think came from Barling. Correcting part of what I wrote, My grandmother had 3 daughters when married to Bob White, Okla (my mother), Lauraine and Agatha, and then had a son Harry, and a daughter, Louise when married to Lum Williams.
I remember the Holbrooks, the Beauchamps who lived just beyond the Seaman's Store in a big fine home. In fact I had an adolescent crush on one of the daughters, Amelia.
My Grandmother Williams (Monie) was a great lady, listening to all my stories helping me with advice on my little problems, and even allowing Jimmy Hunter and I to set home brew under the house. I think because she liked it herself. This reminds me of a story about her. She belonged to the Baptist church and was having a lady's aid meeting at her house. Jimmy and I had bottled our brew a little early, so the bottles started exploding, during the meeting!! Monie made up some excuse about old jam jars fermenting and exploding. Don't know whether or not the ladies believed her.
During my Senior year, like a lot of other young fellows, I couldn't wait to go to war. I was two credits shy of graduating, so I came back to W.Va. for summer school, picked up one credit, and my principal in Arkansas, (Metcalf) who was very patriotic gave me an in an unearned credit in French so I could graduate with my class. I was in the Army for graduation. They had draped flags over three chairs of the grads who weren't there. My grandmother (Monie) marched up the aisle when they called my name, to receive my diploma. She said it was one of the proudest moments in her life. I also had a hard time explaining to the army placement NCO why I couldn't speak any French. One of the chairs with the flag, also had black bunting. Charles Huffman, a friend, had already been killed in the Pacific. Another fellow classmate Bobbie Lee Booth was killed in auto accident while a senior at MHS. Jimmy Hunter went into the Marines shortly after I went into the Army. But his Dad died suddenly, leaving no one to run the store. Jim received a hardship discharge and returned home to manage the store.
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THE MILITARY YEARS
I went into the Army in 1944, took Infantry Basic Training at Camp Robinson, Arkansas, so I was able to visit in Huntington, Ark. with my grandmother and school friends. An odd thing happened during Basic Training. Since my name is Thomas Denny the company clerk inverted my name to Denny Thomas. Consequently when duty rosters were posted it was always Private Thomas whose name appeared. But when they searched for him he wasn't to be found. I knew I wasn't pulling any KP or other details, but I sure wasn't asking any questions. This reminds be of another story. After the war we were in Camp Old Gold ( a staging camp for shipment back to the states) and I, as a Buck Sgt. was playing blackjack with the platoon Sgt. First Sgt. and the Company Commander and told them I had never served a day KP (Kitchen Police) in this man's army. Mistake! Mistake! Mistake! The CO said "UNTIL TOMORROW MORNING, YOU WILL BE AT THE KITCHEN AT 0500 HOURS". I did, and luckily rations didn't arrive and I just had to stand in the food line serving boxes of K Rations. Thus ended my claim to fame as one GI who had never pulled KP. But I did get a 3 day pass to Paris while in Old Gold, where I promptly spent all my Black Jack winnings, plus money I received on the black market for a pair of boots and two cartons of cigarettes, which were like gold at that time. But I digress. I left Camp Robinson, stopped by home in W.V. on a seven day delay in route on my way to Fort Meade MD. an embarkation camp for Europe . From there to Camp Miles Standish, then to New York City where surprise!, surprise! We shipped out on the Queen Elizabeth. Not in a luxurious stateroom though. They put twelve of us in a two-person stateroom, and this was only ours for 12 hours. The other 12 hours we spent on the enclosed Promenade deck, reading, gambling, searching for a place to lay down and waiting on our next meal (two a day) Always the same thing, bologna and boiled potatoes. For this we were paying the British $60 per enlisted man and $90 an officer. I think they ate a lot better. I did discover that if I was in the front of the chow line, I could hurry and get back at the rear for another meal, before my colored chow card ran out of time. We didn't have fresh water showers, only salt water. Didn't take but one. And there were 15,000 of us on board .We were on this ship for six days, landing in Grenoch, Scotland . The Queen Elizabeth traveled without convoy since it was so fast and Grenoch was the safest port.
From there we boarded an English train for a 24 hr trip to Southampton, on the lower coast of England. We crossed the channel, landing at Le Harve, France., where we entrained again for a 3 day trip across France in the notorious 40 & 8's (forty men or eight horses). Box cars, just floors, no seats, no beds, no latrines. You just let it hang out the door and cut loose. There wasn't enough room for all of us to lie down to sleep. The train moved in fits and starts, stopping to serve meals, which took hours, stopping for us to bail out during German strafing attacks and one night stopping for us to sleep in an old French Barn. I had an eerie experience there. I was about to go to sleep with my head under the eaves, when I looked up, about 20 inches over my head and saw a name of a US private carved in the roof, date Nov 1918! I was laying in the same spot where another soldier, 26 years before had been laying. I then carved my name and date right under his. How ironic.
One story I have to tell about traveling in the forty and eights. As I said, they were very crowded and I awoke one night, back in the corner, and had to go in the worst way. It was pitch black and I couldn't see to step over all the soldiers laying asleep to get to the door, so I felt around for my helmet, took the liner out and urinated into the steel shell. Then I placed it carefully in the corner, to dump the next day. Problem !!, it wasn't my helmet and another GI grabbed it, dumping it all over himself. Needless to say, I sat there like an angel, saying nothing at all. That was one "pissed off" soldier, or should I say "pissed on".
I arrived in Nancy, France at a Repple Depot (Replacement Depot), where we stayed for three days, wondering what division we would be assigned to, writing letters home, hoping to stay with a good friend from basic training (I didn't) and the ever present gambling, poker and craps. Money didn't mean anything, there was nothing to spend it on except gambling. I was lucky and won enough to send home for Mom and Dad to buy a lot I wanted in North Charleston.(This was not all won at the Repple Depot, but during my entire stay overseas).
Finally, I was assigned to the 95th Infantry Division. Co. A 379th Infantry Regiment. Trucks this time, another stop and go, slow trip to Saarlautern, Germany. I was dropped off at the company kitchen, a half-mile or so from the front lines. At this time was when I met my company commander. When I told him my age and how long I had been in the Army he said "my God, babies they're sending me!". He then took me up to the front and I was assigned, initially as a first scout. This was the lousiest and most dangerous spot that they could give a replacement, whom they didn't know or care about. In fact you were sort of an outcast until you had proven yourself. I later became a platoon runner in the weapons platoon.
The company had been in Saarlautern for about 60 days, stagnated, attacking and being counter attacked by the Germans. We would hole up for the night, knowing the Germans were just across the street. Buildings were in ruins and we existed in basements, no hot food, no baths for the next 15 days. During one counter attack my squad was cut off in a basement, after the Germans had counter attacked. They didn't know we were there and 3 days later our side attacked and relieved us, a quiet and scary time for us. Saarlautern was where I received a slight wound from a grenade, which kept me at the aid station for all of 2 hours, then back to the front.
About this time was when Patton had turned north to help in the clearing of the Belgian Bulge, a horrific last attempt by the Germans to win the war. This was during the worst winter in Europe in 50 years. They put us in open trucks so it would be easy to bail out in case of strafing runs by German aircraft. Several of our boys got trench foot and/or frozen feet as a result of this, which actually turned out to be a blessing since we were put into division reserve because we were not "battle ready" because of the prevalence of trench foot.
It was at this time that I came down with the flu. There were so many wounded from the Belgian Bulge that they couldn't take me into the hospital, so gave me medicine and sent me back to my company, who was still in reserve at Eban Emael, Belgium.
My squad was billeted in a small house with a Belgian family. The mother in this family took care of me since I was running a high temperature. They had no food so the fellows in my squad were bringing them food from our kitchen. Even though there was a language barrier we noticed that every night they were playing a card game, which looked like our "Set Back". After that we all took turns playing with them, even though we couldn't understand most of the words. Hated to leave there, but again we moved. The Division was sent to Orange, a province in the Netherlands. We were even attached to a British Army, the 2nd, under General Dempsey. They were having trouble crossing a large canal there and since we had been trained in river crossings in the states (not me) we took over the job, and made it. It was at this time that I was made Sgt., in charge of a light machine gun squad. Through attrition in the squad, wounds, sickness and replacements I was the oldest in the squad, so became a Buck Sgt.
One funny episode that happened at this time, we were just across a canal, the Germans were on the other side, and we had a machine gun outpost to warn in case of an attack. I was pulling four hours just before dawn, listening to the Germans and their movements on the other side. All of a sudden I saw these silhouettes out in the field between me and the canal. After awhile I was sure I saw them moving and since there were no "friendlies" in front of us I started firing my machine gun. This turned the whole platoon out of their sleeping bags (fart sacks) and it was just about then that dawn was breaking and I had been firing at four bundles of corn stalks. Life's embarrassing moments.
The more I write, the more I reminisce. Another thing happened during this time. We had stopped at a house to fry some eggs to put with our C rations. Anytime we stopped, we were supposed to set up our machine guns and mortars in case of a counter attack. Since things had been quiet we hadn't done this and when Captain Lydon, our company commander discovered this he burst into the kitchen, ripped off his helmet, and slammed it to the floor (a habit of his when angry), except it didn't hit the floor. I was sitting by the door and his helmet slammed into my head, knocking me out. He was so mad he didn't even realize it at the time, and didn't know it until later. He apologized, and I asked if that called for a purple heart, kiddingly, but never got one.
About this time the bulge was over, we were advancing fast on all fronts. There were thousands of Germans trapped in the Ruhr Pocket, a triangle of land in the industrial section of Germany, bounded on the west side by the Rhine River. There were three divisions, one on each side of the triangle, advancing towards the center capturing or killing all German soldiers left in the pocket. Our division crossed the Rhine River above the pocket, circled around to the west and attacked due east. Thousands surrendered, companies at a time, but there were some die-hards that still wanted to fight, mostly SS Troops and the young Hitler Youth, who were brain-washed and wanted to die for the Vaterland (Fatherland).
During this attack, where we suffered very few casualties, a German sniper, located in a church steeple shot and killed one of our company medics. This medic had a white armband with a red cross on each arm. In addition he had a white circle with a red cross in the center painted on his steel helmet. At that time there was a German woman, in labor, asking for our doctor. Three of our men took her husband to the medic, who was still lying in the street and said to the husband, "There is your doctor !!!". A Stars &
Stripes photographer was on the scene, snapped a picture, and it was in the next issue, with the caption I mentioned.
One morning we were supposed to attack at daybreak. We were short of ammo for our M1 Garands so a supply was brought up in a jeep trailer, then we filed by picking up any number of bandoliers (8 clips of 8 rounds each). I usually carried two bandoliers. We mounted the attack, against light opposition, firing our remaining clips in our ammo belts. When we reached in our bandoliers, guess what?, wrong clips. Right ammo but clips for the older Springfield rifles. A Garand ejected the empty clip when the last round was fired and since clips were expendable we never bothered to pick them up. There was a mad scramble to find our last clip ejected, and then we had to insert the ammo into that clip (time consuming and dangerous). Each time we ejected that clip, we started all over again. There was a word in the army to describe situations like this, "SNAFU", I'll leave it to your imagination to figure out what that means. But luck was with us, the Germans didn't counter attack and we suffered no casualties. During this attack I saw something happen that I will never forget. The soldier I was with and I broke into this house and found two wounded German soldiers, both in bandages and leg casts. The fellow I was with, "Hot Dog" Yranian pulled his rifle up and shot both of them. To make it even worse his rifle misfired, so they knew what was going to happen. I refused to "buddy up" with this character ever again. I did remind him of this episode at one of our reunions in later years.
Another story that might not seem funny to some people, but at the time was hilarious to us. Toward the end of the cleanup in the Ruhr pocket Germans were surrendering in droves, whole companies at a time (150 or more). There were woods a couple of hundred yards to our front and an entire company of Germans were emerging from them. They had removed their steel helmets, put on soft caps and had their hands on top of their heads. Meanwhile an artillery observer had come forward in his jeep that had a 50 cal. machine gun mounted (one mean gun). One of our guys got in the jeep and stitched a hundred or so rounds over their heads, just for the hell of it. The Germans retreated back into the woods, waved a white piece of cloth and ventured forth again. This happened two or three times with different guys firing the machine gun, I'm afraid I was one of them. Finally they went back into the woods and came out at a different platoon sector. As the saying goes they really made our day! I'll bet the story was told a hundred times in the ensuing weeks.
Our fighting had come to an end. The Ruhr Pocket was declared cleared on April 14, 1945. The war in Europe was over less than a month later and we were never committed again. The 95th was given an area in Germany and served as the military government for that area. A tedious and boring experience, but we had plenty of time for recreation, sports, movies, and the ever present gambling. Which reminds me of another story. I was never much inclined to participate in sports, but they started having squad baseball games. I had to play since there were only nine men in our squad. They put me in right field where they said a ball is seldom hit. The first man up hit a pop fly, you guessed it, to right field. The sun was in my eyes, the ball went right by my glove, hit me square between the eyes, and my glasses flew in two directions. The only thing this got me was a trip to Hamm, for a new pair of glasses. This was about 100 kilometers away. On the way back we found a displaced Polish girl who had been hit by a hit and run driver, probably American, since we were the only vehicles on the autobahn. Took her back to a hospital in Hamm, where a German Dr. refused to set her leg. Another infantryman and I raised our weapons, toward him, and he decided to cooperate.
Military government for us only lasted a short time. We were a young division and the war with Japan was still raging. So they shipped us to Camp Old Gold, in France for staging to come home for 30 days R & R (rest & recuperation). While at Camp Old Gold I heard that another division was at Camp Lucky Strike. I had a buddy from Arkansas in that division, Norris Stewart so I decided to hitch a ride to try and find him. Mistake!! I had two German pistols on my belt and a jeep with two MP's stopped and were going to confiscate the pistols. Wrong!! I told them the only way was to arrest me, take me before the Provost Marshall. They knew I was right and just drove on, minus what they thought was an easy mark. After that, on to Japan. When I left for Europe I could hardly wait to get on that train to the embarkation center and get overseas. When I got on the train leaving for Japan it was the last thing I wanted. A little older and much wiser.
But, praise be!!!, while our ships were loading in New Orleans, we were at Camp Shelby, the bomb was dropped at Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and the war was over. The division was deactivated, the older men discharged and the rest of us reassigned.
While the division was being deactivated, since I could type, I was assigned to help the company clerk with the reassignment of personnel to discharge centers, other divisions, and once in a while to other branches. While working with the company clerk a memo came down that they needed four men with a certain IQ to transfer to Ft. Meade Md. in a Staff & Administration job. So I shipped myself out, along with three replacements who had been assigned to my machine gun squad. I had become acquainted with three, one was Ralph (Rusty) Goodrum. Rusty became a lifelong best friend. He lives in San Diego, but we see each other each year. More about Rusty later. (Died in 2007)
I stayed at Ft. Meade for the balance of my regular army career, working in the Staff & Administration branch, which was a heluva lot better than the Infantry. Rusty and I became the best of friends, a friendship that has lasted down through the years to the present time. Suffice it to say that he has been my best friend.
The rest of my military career was spent in the army and air force reserve. I advanced to First Sgt. in the 497th Combat Engineer Bn. A hard and thankless job, so when my enlistment ran out I enlisted in the Air Force Reserve for six years. That unit folded, so back I went to the Army, retiring after 22 years. Was out for six years, then decided to go back in the 261st Ordnance Co as a platoon Sgt., and stayed for another six years. Twenty- eight years altogether. During this reserve time I did my summer training at several different Posts, Fort Knox, Camp Pickett, Fort Drum, Camp Breckenridge and several others. Also spent one tour in 1974, in Germany, helping to re-warehouse a NATO ammunition dump. Four of us took a really great Rhine River Cruise, caught a boat train back to our car, then drove the same trip back to Koblentz during their celebration of "Rhine in Flammen", something akin to our 4th of July. Also, returned to the Ramagen Bridgehead, scene of a battle to keep the bridge from being blown by the Germans. This was a moving experience for me. More later on this.
BACK TO CIVILIAN LIFE
When I came back to West Virginia in 1945 I started college at Morris Harvey, in Charleston ( later the University of Charleston ). I only lasted a semester. It was just too soon after the Army and my combat experiences. So back I went to Ft. Meade, to re-enlist. But when I got there my old boss, Major Graham offered me a job at my old desk with the War Dept., as an occupational counselor, interviewing and discharging vets from the army. Since Rusty had been discharged in the interim and was now working the same job with the War Dept., I decided to do the same. Rusty was boarding with a family in Baltimore, Harry & Minnie Bowersox and they asked me to move in with them, which I did. This turned out to be a major turning point in my life, a whole new story.
While in college I had bought an old classic car, a 1934 Packard limousine, 19" wooden spoked wheels, a covered spare wheel in each fender well. Rusty was dating Yvonne, daughter of our landlady, I was dating another girl. Since the old Packard had jump seats there was room for another couple, so we took Ellen Bowersox and her date along with us. I had never met Ellen, who was Minnie Bowersox' daughter in law. Ellen's husband, Harry had been killed in Europe while with the Old Hickory (34th) Division. She had a three-year old daughter, Joanne. At the end of that date I had already decided that Ellen was for me. So, since I was driving I contrived to take my date, and Ellen's date home first. I made a date the following day to visit at her house. A really odd thing happened that day. Joanne, her daughter saw me coming across an empty lot leading to their house. She immediately grabbed a notebook and said her daddy was going to draw for her. She had never seen me before and neither she nor Ellen knew that I liked to draw.
Ellen was born and raised in Baltimore , Md. Her maiden name was Cain. She was raised by her mother Grace, and three Uncles. Grace later married Charles Michaels. Her Uncle's names were Joe, George, and Ben Shamleffer. John Shamleffer, a brother to the three Uncles was Grace Michaels (Ellen's Mother's) father. Ellen's stepfather (and I hate that term), a great guy, had his parents Edward and Lena living with him and Grace. Aunt Lena was blind when I first met her. Ellen's adopted sister was also lived there, which made quite a houseful. At a later date two of the surviving Uncles also came to live with them. But I have digressed again. We started dating steadily after this, and Rusty & I continued working as civilians at Ft. Meade. But this had been a temporary assignment all along, and when the last WW2 soldier had been discharged we were both terminated. Since neither of us wanted to leave Baltimore we went on a fruitless search for a job, but with all the returning veterans they were hard to find.
Ellen and I had progressed from steady dating to being engaged, so we decided to come to Charleston to find a job and also to see if Ellen and Joanne truly wanted to move to W. Va., so we packed and set out in my old Packard, leaving a sad family behind.
We only got about forty miles, when the car started overheating, so back to Baltimore we went, sold the car, bade another tearful goodbye and boarded a train for home, which brings to mind another story. Mom and Dad had never met Ellen or Joanne. We had traveled to Charleston in a Pullman (sleeper) car, me in the top bunk and Jo and Ellen in the larger lower bunk. Joanne was uncomfortable in a strange place and couldn't go to sleep, so I crawled into the lower bunk with them. When we arrived in Charleston Mom and Dad were there to meet us. Joanne bounced out of the Pullman car, met Mom and Dad for the first time and announced to one and all that "My Mommy and Daddy slept together last night", a GREAT introduction, and she hasn't shut up since. Oh yes nearly forgot, while waiting for the train in Washington, she grabbed my hat, ran out in the center of the concourse, whirled my hat round and round on her finger and shouted "Whose God Damned Hat is this". Ellen and I just sat there hoping no one would know she was ours. When we came back to West Virginia Ellen had decided to stay here for a few months to see if she liked W.V. and to see how I reacted to her and Joanne in my home environment.
We set September 6th as our wedding date to be performed in my mother and fathers home, inviting Ellen's family and close friends. My mother sang "Because" at our wedding, Tom Smith was my best man, and Patricia Rhodes was Ellen's maid of honor. We honeymooned at the Daniel Boone Hotel, in Charleston. Couldn't afford much else since I wasn't even working, except at the bakery that was owned by my dad and mother. This was in 1947.
My first job attempt was selling (Ha) insurance and collecting a debit for Peoples Life. This lasted only a few months. It didn't take long to discover I was not a salesman. I quit and took a stop-gap job with a neighbor who was building apartments, but only until I could find a job. It wasn't long before I found a job at Libby-Owens-Ford Glass Co. in the Batch hall, which was a miserable job, dirty, and with eight layoffs over a period of four years, always just before Christmas. Ellen and I decided it was time to search for another form of endeavor. My search didn't meet with much success, and in the meantime I was working at my parents bakery, and my father-in-law, Charles Michaels was looking around in Baltimore and he was successful, finding a bank tellers position or an office job with Kirkwoods, a firm that imported fruits and vegetables from overseas.
We were just about to pack up and leave for Baltimore when we decided to give it one more try in Charleston. I called a friend of the family, Leland West who had some influence at Union Carbide, a local chemical plant with plants world wide. He told me to report Monday for my physical, ready to go to work the next day. I already had submitted my application, but at first they couldn't find it. While I was completing a new one they found it, in the "To be hired File", so I got the job without using my pull with the company. It was in the labor gang, but it was a start. I received the munificent sum of $1.40 an hour. I worked in the labor gang for about six weeks, applied for and was accepted for the Guard Force, getting a raise to $2.00 an hour, a 60 cent raise, quite a bit in those times. Stayed on the guards for nearly ten years becoming a relief guard supervisor.
While working shift work on the guard force, every four weeks I would receive a long change of four days, and we usually made the 12 hour trek back to Baltimore. If we didn't, Charlie, Ellen's dad would call, offering me money to make the trip, which I never had to take. I enjoyed the trips as much as Ellen and my parents even went a couple of times. Young and foolish, we would make the trip anytime, even in a snow storm a couple of times and always at night, after working the evening shift. And this was before interstates.
In 1962 the guard force was cut way back, from over 100 men to 20. Since there were a lot of men with more seniority I was relegated to a Special Assignment Group, allowed preference to bid first on any hourly job that opened. I was waiting for an opening in the plant fire department, but fate took a hand, from an unknown benefactor.
Since I knew how to type I was called for an interview for Central Engineering at the Tech Center up on "Snob Hill" as it was referred to down in the plant. This was the first transfer ever to the engineering dept, and I wasn't sure I wanted the job, until my interviewer told me that someone had stuck their neck way out to get me this job. So I reconsidered and became a "wing clerk" in the Civil Engineering Section of Central Engineering. This was in 1963. I had been hired at Carbide in Jan. 1952.
I worked as a Wing Clerk for three years, working my way up from Clerk, Typist to Master Clerk, the highest ranking in the clerical field. I did this by taking on some of the responsibilities of my supervisor and coming up with several innovations to my job. There was a lot of trouble in those days, tracking data and other drawings as they traveled through the engineering disciplines. A new job was created, Central Data File and document handler. I was given the job and had free rein setting up the parameters of that job, with a promotion to Associate Engineer. Depending on the workload I had one to three clerks in my department.
But I have jumped way ahead again. As I said, Ellen and I were married Sept. 6, 1947 and we moved into the house I had been born in, literally. We moved into the apartment we had downstairs and rented out the upstairs, to one of my childhood buddies, Frank Milam. We had bought the house from Mom and Dad, taking over the loan they had on the house. We lived there from 1947 until 1961. Standard Oil (ESSO) wanted the house and the corner lots next to it for a service station. In the meantime we had taken over the entire house around 1950. Tommie was born while we lived there, in 1949. There was six years difference between her and Joanne.
I especially remember one Christmas while living there. We had bought a lot of nice gifts for the two girls, and at the last minute we picked up two slinky toys for a dollar and they played with them on the stairs most of Christmas day, ignoring the rest of the toys. I worked shift work most of the time while in North Charleston and when I would get off the 3-11 shift Joanne would sneak downstairs with me to watch TV. Joanne was the extrovert and Tommie was the quiet one. The kids never bothered me when I had to sleep days. The only time I would wake up was Sunday, when they were in church and the house got to quiet. In fact I slept through the construction of a four-lane highway, right in front of our house. When Standard Oil bought out house it was moved directly behind the North Charleston Fire Station. I was born in the middle bedroom of that house, it later was the girls' bedroom.
We had several pets while there. The two we remember most were Mike and Mitzie. Mitzie followed us home one winter night while we were pulling Tommie on her sled. Stayed two or three nights, then left. Then one night it was pouring the rain and we were sitting, telling some friends about her, and there came a scratching at the door. It was Mitzie, and she was there to stay. Joanne also had a cat named Pisswilly, and Tommie had three goldfish, Erp, Burp & Slurp.
Joanne and Tommie attended Grandview Grade School, the same school I attended through the fifth grade. Jo went to Stonewall HS, like me, and even had one of the same teachers. We had moved to Nitro when Tommie started Jr. High and attended the old Nitro High, now a Senior Center where I go. In fact my locker is across the hall from the one she had. During this period Ellen decided to test for her Equivalent High School diploma and passed. She received a diploma from her old high school, Southern, in Maryland, where she had completed the 10th grade. We were both very proud.
I realize that this narrative is a far cry from being chronological, but I write as I remember, before I have a "senior moment". While Tommie was in high school, she belonged to a horse club (not school sponsored) directed by Helen Colcord. The kids worked very hard, all year, for annual trips, to New York, etc. One of the trips was a week at Myrtle Beach. Ellen and I volunteered to be chaperones, along with three other people. Can you imagine, twenty boys and girls, age 16, with raging hormones, it was an experience!! But we did enjoy it. Actually, we didn't volunteer. Tommie had a way of volunteering for us.
As I have said, we moved to Nitro in 1961. Joanne only lived there a short time after graduating, then she met one of the men of her dreams and married. She had two children by that marriage, Rick and Lisa Wood, who lived with us, off and on. Lisa has had two daughters, our great granddaughters, Taylor and Erin. Jo is now married to Roger Hall and I think this one "took", and we gained another grandson, Roger Lee. Roger builds "upscale" houses and Jo works for a subsidiary of Honda, and has advanced well with the company.
Tommie graduated High School in Nitro, graduated from Marshall University and worked for the Charleston Gazette, was a reporter on the Huntington Herald and a year at the Ft. Lauderdale Sentinel. She had been elected "Miss Chief Justice" in college, and was an editor of the school paper when the chartered plane crashed on the way back from a football game, killing all aboard. But she didn't make cheerleader. Married Gary Ramsey of Huntington after coming back from Florida. Gary works for Falgren Advertising and has the MacDonald account for several states. She married Gary Ramsey, a school boyfriend, who was also an editor of the school paper. In later years they presented us with another grandson, Benjamin, who is in High School as I write this. Quite a musician, and a whiz bang on the computer. An update here, Ben, is now going to Ohio State, studying Computer Science, and has an internship with a local design firm. Another update, Ben has graduated and stepped right into a job where he had interned while in school (2009).
Both daughters are now residents of Ohio, Ohio Buckeyes. Tommie lives in Columbus, and Joanne in Centerburg, the exact geographical center of Ohio. Gary works for an advertising firm that has a MacDonald's account, and Tommie for local newspapers. Joanne works for a firm connected to Honda in product control.
Lisa, our grand daughter just recently moved to Pt. Pleasant, WV with her husband, Chris Moreland, who is managing a new plant in Mason, WV. Our grandson, Rick, went into business for himself, trimming new houses, and lives in Columbus with his wife, another Lisa. (Now divorced)
I need to put this in somewhere, so I will now. I retired from Carbide in 1986,age 59, but continued on part time as a consultant for five years, with time off each winter for three months to winter in Ft. Myers Beech and Panama City Beach in Florida, from 1986 until now, with three side trips to Hawaii, several to Las Vegas. Tommie, Joanne and their spouses had a 50th anniversary celebration and Tommie and Gary flew us to Hawaii . We stayed at the Hale Koa on Wakiki Beach , a four star Armed Forces Recreation Center. Now I spend my mornings at the local Senior Citizen Center with 8 to 10 other old farts, solving all the world's problems, playing cards, lying, and discussing everything under the sun and shooting an occasional game of pool. In fact Ellen makes sure I leave the house every morning so I won't bug her.
The following are some of my actions that have changed the whole direction of my life:
The earliest one was my decision to finish High School while working in my grandfather's General Store. I would never have finished school had I stayed at home. I covered this earlier in my writings. Following this I had tried to enlist, both navy and army, but failed because of my eyes. Draft physical requirements were less, so I registered for the draft and signed immediate induction Papers. If I hadn't done this I would have been drafted several months later and missed combat and maybe even being drafted. What if !!!!! Next was an opportunity for a job offer in Columbia, South America, while working for the War Dept. at Fort Meade, Maryland . I was helping to discharge soldiers. One of them had a father who ran a coffee plantation in Columbia and needed someone with clerical experience. He was leaving in 3 days to go back to Columbia so I had to make a decision. I actually thought long and hard about this, but decided not to go, Who Knows !!!!!!!.
I had actually gone back to Ft. Meade to reenlist, but it was then I decided to go to work with the War Dept. Then, as I said before, my buddy (Rusty) talked me into boarding with a family in Baltimore. This led to my meeting the love of my life, and you all know the rest of that story. What if I had reenlisted and never met Ellen.
Who knows !!!!!!
By 1950 I had become a First Sgt. In the reserve, then they deactivated the unit I was in, sent me to another where I was made a construction foreman. Talk about a fish out of water. So I decided to transfer to the Marines. They agreed to accept me in a lesser rank, sent me to fill out enlistment papers with an old gunny Sgt. He looked at my file, called me a god damn dogface. I called him a damn sea going bell hop, picked up my file and walked out. Four weeks later they were activated and sent to Korea. I could have kissed that old gunny. What if !!!!!! I joined the Air Force instead.
Tom Denny today
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