15. The New House ... THE FARM EAST OF PINE VILLAGE

Robert had thought that, when it came time to move, the family would simply transfer everything to the old Williams farm and that would be that! He soon learned that his parents had other plans.

Throughout Robert’s year in the eighth grade, Joe and Ida undertook seemingly countless projects at the farm east of Pine Village. One rickety barn was demolished and hauled away. Then Robert and Charles accompanied Joe on a mission to eliminate another barn so deteriorated as to be hazardous to anyone who entered it. Joe had received permission from the volunteer fire department to be rid of the barn on that day.

Joe and the boys made a pile of straw and small pieces of wood by an interior wall of the barn. “Go outside and wait to the north of the barn,” Joe said to Charles and Robert.

While Robert and Charles obeyed their father, Joe poured kerosene on the heap of tinder and lit a match. As soon as Joe saw the flames leap up, he scurried from the barn.

“Go on back!” he ordered, shooing the boys farther out into the field. “You’re too close!”

The three of them stood far away from the barn and watched.

… and watched, and watched, and waited. Nothing happened.

After about ten minutes, Robert sat down on the ground, which had been fall plowed, having large lumps of earth and vegetation turned up at ragged angles. Charles agreed that sitting was preferable to standing, and he, too, chose a slab of soil for a seat. Eventually, Joe followed suit.

The three sat.

The barn gave no sign that anything was occurring inside.

A half hour elapsed.

“I guess the fire went out,” Joe said, rising to his feet. He took a step toward the barn.

At that very moment, there was an explosion with tongues of fire flashing heavenward from the shingled roof, and a hot wind from the blast rushed past Joe and the boys.

Joe’s mouth hung open, while Charles and Robert laughed nervously.

In only a little time, the structure had collapsed into itself and was a smoking mound of ashes.

A few weeks later, a new Morton building of nearly the same size was under construction. It would serve as a barn to house Joe’s Herefords. Simultaneously, another new Morton structure was being completed near the house. It had three bays for vehicles and a shop along the east end. Many loads of white crushed stone were dumped and spread to make a circular driveway around a maple tree in front of the shop and garage.

Workers were busy putting new shingles on the roof of the house.

More workers excavated a deep hole by the new garage and shop. A large cistern was lowered into the ground, and a new well, pump, and water system appeared where none had been before.

As the pages of the calendar were turned, crews connected a hot water baseboard heating system throughout the house. As the cellar was too damp for a new furnace, it was installed in the large space that would serve as both a kitchen and a family room.

Meanwhile, as a member of the Tab Club, Robert ordered two books for a total of seventy cents: Lost Horizon and Flying Saucers—Serious Business. When they arrived, he read both avidly during spare minutes between houses and school.

The Emerson brothers put in a wall to divide the old kitchen into a bathroom and an office hallway leading to a bedroom, and workers came to run new plumbing through the bathroom and the new kitchen. As sinks, tub, and other fixtures went in, the Emersons removed the front wrap-around porch and built a smaller porch in its place. They installed shelving in one of the closets, a long row of kitchen cabinets, and an equally long countertop. They shored up the enclosed porch across the west side of the house; it had been sagging. Then they put in new combination storm windows and screens in all the windows.

During these improvements to the home, Joe was busy giving the house two coats of white paint. When they were home from school and not doing chores at the old farm, Charles and Robert were helping Joe with their paint brushes.

Eventually, the time arrived when Milt Dowden could begin working. The house had been ordered from the Sears catalog in 1903, and it had pretty woodwork typical of the time period. Ever so patiently, Milt stripped the old shellac from the interior trim and doors and gave every inch of the woodwork new coats of glossy varnish. Ida had chosen various wallpapers for the rooms, and Milt, who was an expert at hanging paper, went to work as soon as crews had finished replacing all the electrical wiring, switches, and outlets.

The house began to smell new.

Joe tied numerous chains around a small unpainted building that was leaning directly behind the house. He connected the chains to the drawbar of his biggest tractor and slowly pulled forward. The building straightened. Joe parked the tractor, and he and Robert demolished the north end of the building and covered the back of the two-story structure with sheets of exterior plywood that they cut to fit and nailed so there were no gaps. Then the building received several coats of white paint.

More months were devoted to hauling belongings to the new home. For the purpose, the good and faithful GMC pickup was sold and a new 1967 Chevrolet pickup purchased. Robert hated to see the GMC go, but the bright red and white Chevrolet would prove to be a dependable vehicle with many sensible features. Joe carefully planned the order in which to transfer things to “the Williams place,” as he still referred to his new farm.

One day, a shiny white telephone appeared in the office hallway. It was the family’s first phone. The party line was shared with the Turner family that lived on the opposite side of the gravel road a mile to the west of the Williams place.

Finally, an evening arrived when Joe, Ida, Charles, Robert, and Spot went to bed in the new house. Ida established a new rule: Spot was to sleep on a dog bed in the parents’ bedroom and never to occupy the bed in Robert’s room. Robert was too tired to raise any objections. That night, Robert was awakened when Spot jumped up on Robert’s bed and lay down at Robert’s feet as Spot had always done. Ever after that night, the terrier would start out on the dog bed that he pretended to accept. As soon as he heard snoring, he would quietly leave, go to Robert’s room, and jump up where he belonged. When Joe would awaken before dawn and would make a cup of instant coffee, Spot would jump down again and join Joe in the kitchen. Joe never told Ida that Spot was spending most of each night at the foot of Robert’s bed!

On the first morning in their new home, Robert awakened to find the sun just peeping above the horizon, its beams lighting the new wallpaper in Robert’s room. He swung out of bed, put on his slippers, and went to the kitchen and family room. He sat cross-legged on the sofa with Spot next to him and chatted with his father. Charles was still in bed.

The rays of sunlight pouring through the windows gave Robert a hope similar to that which he would feel again on Easter morning that year, as the family drove to town to attend services at the Methodist Church. His hope felt precarious, though, as if it were built upon a shaky foundation. The televised news covered assassination after assassination. The times were becoming an age of assassination. It felt to Robert as if murder were undermining law and order.

On this first day in the new home, Robert remembered his Great Aunt Margaret, who had passed away in March of the preceding year; he regretted that she had not lived to see the new home. She had lingered only a few days in the hospital. As she loved Boston terriers, Robert had made a sketch of one on a card that his mother had taken to Aunt Margaret, who was allowed few visitors. Ida later reported that Aunt Margaret smiled when she saw it. Several years earlier, Aunt Margaret had leaned over Robert while he was working on a pastel picture, and she had laughed, “I don’t know how you do that! I can’t even draw a straight line.” Now, in intensive care at the hospital, Aunt Margaret was unable to speak, but she could still smile. Ida had brought home the card in her pocketbook. She returned the drawing to Robert, and he kept it in his nightstand.

When Ida arose and began frying eggs on her new range, Robert felt surrounded by love and sunshine. His father and mother had provided such a pleasant new home for the family! When Charles came to the breakfast table and Joe said grace, the morning was complete.        

8. The News and the Visit ... THE FARM EAST OF PINE VILLAGE

While Robert was in Mrs. Russell’s class, the televised evening news on ABC, CBS, and NBC was spoken by a small fraternity of newscasters whose careers (for the most part) had started in radio. Headed by the most-watched Chet Huntley and David Brinkley (David not having worked in radio first) at NBC, the up-and-coming Walter Cronkite at CBS, and the least-watched Peter Jennings (who took over from Ron Cochran in mid-year) at ABC, the networks gave brief but effective summaries of world and national news. NBC and CBS devoted a half hour (6:30 until 7:00 on weekdays) to news, and ABC tried to compete with fifteen minutes. Chet Huntley and Walter Cronkite were recognized for their perfect command of language. In tones honed through experience in radio after World War II and sharpened by tough competition, they told of upheaval in Cuba, Pakistan, and Rhodesia. They described the suffering of refugees. They reported on President Lyndon Johnson’s repeated warnings about keeping troops in Vietnam until Communist threats were eliminated there. They covered the election of a woman named Indira Gandhi in troubled India (She would visit the United States in March.) and Leonid Brezhnev’s rise to the powerful position of General Secretary of the Soviet Union and Leader of the Communist Party in the U.S.S.R.

Robert’s perceptions of the news probably were shaped by the fact that, at age 11, he was beginning to understand much of what Huntley, Cronkite, and others said. He felt increasingly weighed down by news. People older than he likely took the news in stride, for many of them had lived through such traumatic events as the Great Depression, world wars, and, more recently, the Bay of Pigs and the Cuban missile crisis. Yet, from Robert’s perspective, the news was becoming more and more unsettling. In the fall and spring of 1965 and 1966, there were massive protests against the Vietnam War. There was racial unrest. The more the rock stars sang about love, the less attainable love became.

On December 9th, A Charlie Brown Christmas aired. Robert and his father were great fans of the Peanuts cartoon strip, and they and the whole family stayed glued to the TV set for the half hour of animated entertainment. Characters such as Lucy, Linus, and Snoopy moved and turned in ways that brought Charles Schulz’s two-dimensional newsprint cartoon drawings to life, and the voices sounded just right! The music was instantly memorable. When Linus stood on the stage and recited the Christmas story, it was a magical moment in television. Linus seemed to be trying to reassure a frightened, distressed, agitated nation that “tidings of great joy” were not fictional but real.

Ida announced that her friend Emmajeanette and Emmajeanette’s husband, Andy, were going to visit from their home in Westville. Such good news eclipsed the evening news, and Robert eagerly looked forward to seeing Andy and Emmajeanette.

When they parked their blue 1964 Chevrolet Bel Air under the sheltering arms of the giant catalpa tree, Andy hopped from the driver’s seat, strode around the front of the car, and opened the passenger door for Emmajeanette. She was wearing a long coat while Andy wore a jacket. With her half-clear glasses frames with darker tops that imitated the arch of her eyebrows and with her dark hair pulled in fashionable waves at least three inches up and around her face, Emmajeanette looked as if she had just stepped from a glossy advertisement in McCall’s.

Andy wore a pure white shirt beneath his jacket. A gold Speidel Twist-O-Flex watchband gleamed on Andy’s wrist. The tall and elegant Emmajeanette, who had worked as an office secretary, always smiled; the short and wiry Andy, who had worked in the post office, was always about to smile—as soon as he knew whether anyone had caught his joke! He had a squinting yet penetrating gaze from behind his glasses, as if he were sizing up his audience. Andy meant great fun!

With his hand lightly on Emmajeanette’s arm, Andy guided the love of his life through the front gate and up to the door of the house.

While Emmajeanette and Ida clasped hands and exchanged fond hellos, Joe greeted Andy with “That’s a good-looking car!”

“Luckily, it runs well, too!” Andy responded. “How are you, Joe?”

“I’m well,” Joe answered. “I’ve been thinking of buying a Bel Air. The Dowden family here in town wants to sell a 1963.”

“What color is it?” Andy inquired, turning to his wife. “I’m sorry,” he said to Emmajeanette. “I asked before you could.”

Emmajeanette smiled and said nothing.

“It’s white,” Joe replied.

Milton L. “Milt” Dowden could hang wallpaper better than anyone! Milt’s wife, Elsie, had given Ida a recipe for sour milk drop cookies that Robert’s mother included among her favorite desserts. Joe and Ida respected—and liked—the Dowdens very much. Robert sensed that his father had already decided to buy the car.

“A Chevrolet is a dependable car,” Emmajeanette offered.

“Joe, what do you call a Ford at the top of a hill?” Andy wanted to know.

Joe grinned and shook his head.

“A miracle,” Andy said, eyes twinkling.

Joe laughed.

“Ninety-nine out of a hundred Fords are still on the road,” Andy stated, eyes sparkling narrowly. “Only one could still be driven to the service station.”

Joe laughed even more loudly.

“And I haven’t even said hello to Charles and Robert,” Andy commented, turning to the boys. “Hello, Charles and Robert!” Taking everyone in a glance, Andy said, “Remember when we were at Brookfield Zoo? Robert, you were too little to remember. Charles was pulling Robert in a little wagon, and Charles started up too fast. Robert took a tumble out the back onto the sidewalk, and Charles turned around, saw what he had done, and said, ‘Oh! Pardon me, Robert!’ Charles was ever so polite after dumping Robert on the ground. ‘Oh! Pardon me, Robert!’” Andy chuckled.

Joe, Ida, and the boys followed Andy and Emmajeanette into the house.

The conversation flowed effortlessly for hours. In those days, most people did not lack for topics to talk about, and they had well-developed personalities shining through their sentences.

Ida stood to prepare the dinner.

“May I help you?” Emmajeanette asked, as she stood and followed Ida into the kitchen. Ida handed Emmajeanette a freshly ironed apron.

“Why don’t you make the rolls?” Ida suggested. “I was going to have your toffee dessert, but I ran out of chocolate and forgot to buy more. So we’re having sugar cream pie instead.”

Emmajeanette’s toffee recipe, which Ida’s family called “Emmajeanette’s dessert,” was a sweet concoction featuring crushed vanilla wafers, a rich mousse-like layer of chocolate that began as uncooked separated eggs, and whipping cream on top.

“I can make the toffee dessert at home,” Emmajeanette said, “and you make the best sugar cream pie I’ve ever tasted! I, for one, am delighted we’re having the pie!”

After a big dinner with everything except the iced tea having been grown on the farm, Andy and Emmajeanette had to leave to make what was then considered a fairly long drive back to Westville, the town where Ida held her first teaching position after graduating from Indiana State Teachers College and where her surrogate father, the Reverend Lowell Everett Morris, had served the Methodist Church. In those years before Ida had met Joe, she and Emmajeanette had struck up a lasting friendship. Later, when Emmajeanette had married Andy, she had simply iced the friendship cake with a husband having a wonderful sense of humor.

The house seemed unusually quiet without Andy and Emmajeanette, but it was a clean house! For several days before the visit, Ida had enlisted the help of Charles and Robert in scrubbing the house thoroughly. Joe needed to drive into town to place an order at the feed store, and Robert rode along. Whenever Joe’s pickup was about to pass an approaching vehicle, Joe raised his right hand and waved at the occupants of the car or truck. They waved in turn. When Joe pulled into the alley beside the feed store with its checkerboard paint scheme, Robert thought the news couldn’t be too menacing with such courteous motorists and amusing friends.