A Thaw at Christmastime 1919

Christmas approached, and homes like my grandmother’s welcomed the holiday. Here’s a picture of gifts around a tree at the Dykes farm, probably taken around 1915-1916.

The weather had changed mid-December, an event that made the front page of the King City Chronicle on December 19: Three Weeks of Winter and It Began to Thaw. Ice covered the roads, it was reported, but cars (or “autos”) could pass with chains. And enough snow remained to create a nice surface for sledding. All in all, the Chronicle concluded, “splendid winter weather tho the coal was short.”

A thaw, with a persistent chill. This also describes my grandparents’ relationship in December. They hadn’t spoken much since mid-July, a conclusion I’ve drawn from the absence of letters. But on a Monday night in early December, Grandpa sat down and wrote a letter asking Grandma to give him another chance (or at least, hear him out). The letter started and ended in uncharacteristically formal language, addressed to “Miss Inis Dykes” and signed by “Thos W. Alderson.” Grandpa requested a “hasty answer.”

King City Mo

Mon Night

Miss Inis Dykes,

If you will allow me to I will relieve myself of a few words this eve. I expect you will be a little surprised, but I feel justified in doing so. I never did figure out the difference between us, whether it was your stubbornness or mine. Sometimes I feel a whole lot of blame on myself, I am not getting down on my knees, please don’t mistake me. I am going to tell facts. I know I have acted Dignified with you, but also respected you above reproach also tried every way to show you I was gentleman in ever respect which I think you will agree. You know just how I feel, although I have been holding out, I think just as much of you as I ever did, and as I have told you before this is a whole lot, now again, I am not asking of you to come back again, all I ask of you at the present is an answer and a true one don’t write me a flowery one, one from the Heart whether it suits me or not, it will be a favor for I am living a lie and have been the last five months, now I have overcome my stubbornness, not asking you to, just asking you to give it to me as you feel and I will make the best of it either way, because I have to. I have told you before which you will well remember I can live without you, but it is not with pleasure. I know about your man you write to and don’t let me interfere with that for that is not my intentions, what I want to know is just how you feel, and you will do me a great favor by letting me know, I also ask you if you would accept a Xmas present from me with pleasure

So with love,

I will close

Thos W Alderson

Hasty answer

Not having Grandma’s letters, presenting her side of the story, I’m left to decipher these matters of the heart from Grandpa’s suggestions. “I never did figure out the difference between us, whether it was your stubbornness or mine.” So, a misunderstanding fueled their separation, and a digging in, it seems, on both sides. An honest response, he writes, would “be a favor for I am living a lie and have been the last five months.” They split up around the middle of July, by his account. I’m not sure what kind of lie he means. But I’m fairly certain that “your man” refers to Stanley Brown.

Grandpa did send her a Christmas gift, with or without her permission.

One thing I know about Grandma’s family, Christmas was an especially important holiday. They gathered every year. I remember hearing Grandpa say, “I always promised to take your grandmother home for Christmas.” On this Christmas, in 1919, her older sister Mattie returned by train from Flagler, Colorado, where she was completing her first year teaching school. The Chronicle noted her homecoming, “Miss Mattie Dykes came in Sunday [12.21.19] to spend the Xmas vacation with home folks.” And over at Grandpa’s place, his people gathered, too. His younger brother Marshall arrived for a visit earlier in December, the Chronicle noted. I believe he lived in nearby St. Joseph, Missouri at the time, selling life insurance.

I can imagine how the presence of family at Christmas may have thawed the ice drawn tight around my grandparents’ faltering romance. Their families, like most, had their opinions, along with their shared hopes and dreams. Grandpa’s mother was fond of Grandma, as was made clear during the war correspondence. In a letter Grandpa wrote after Christmas, he admits that through the “conflict,” the Dykes family had always been nice to him. It’s not hard for me to see some nudging and free advice being passed around their holiday tables.

But I come back to a word Grandpa used in his letter–stubborn. This describes the man I knew, or comes close to describing what I saw as a proud man. Grandma, on the other hand, led her life (at least in my eyes) in a steady, deliberate way. She didn’t have to be right, but she needed to know something was right. She took her time. Once, she told me about fishing, how it was important to go far out in the water and wait, sitting still in the boat, trusting the fish would come to you, in due time. That’s how I remember she lived her life, equal parts trust and patience. That Christmas, in 1919, was she waiting for marriage to be the right decision?

She answered Grandpa’s letter, which made him happy. In his response (a long one), you’ll find references to local gossip and how he resented the way townspeople had meddled over the summer in what was none of their business. He also admits he left the Christian Church in King City because of the “black eye” he’d received. And that mistake of July 3? He doesn’t elaborate.

King City Mo

Dec 28, 1919

Dear Inis

Last evening after a long and hard also muddy trip from Maysville I reached home about eight oclock, finding I had a letter of yours waiting me I was very well pleased. So I am going to answer which I hope will be as gladly received as your’s was. I hardly know what to say but in the beginning I will tell you why I sent you the parcel. As Xmas was drawing near I thought I would not feel right if I did not remember you, although Xmas not being the only time my mind wanders that way and knowing how nice and good you have and always was, and especially during my war period, been to me so my conscience would not allow me to buy any one else a remembrance without remembering you. Now I am a “black sheep” which I guess you know already, and if you would do me the way I deserve you would never speak to me, but I know you have too much sound sense and reconsideration for such as that. Now I am speaking the truth and not trying to flatter anyone. I realize and have for several months that the night of July 3rd last I made the mistake of my life, but you are the first one I have told it too. But I hope I am not the only one that makes mistakes and each day brings me nearer to the idea and thinking how Fickle I was. Now I am not blaming you for anything, only taking on myself what my conscience brings forth each day. Now pardon me for speaking so plainly but you know it my nature, but I have a deep love for you and always will have regardless where I am or who I am with. Now there is one thing I must comment the Dykes family on, is during the “conflict,” as people look at it, was just as nice to me as ever. Now the public in general gave me a black eye, for my actions which I feel it not the business of every one. I have quit the Christian Church at King City and entended to stay quit as they took something on themselves that didnt concern them. Now this don’t cover all them, but during the period which I am speaking I am saying and can say I did nothing that was disrespectful and nothing to be ashamed of even though as I have already told you I made the bad mistake July 3^rd, but you will agree with me it was nobody’s business but yours and mine. Now I am not getting down on my knees any oftener than my conscience tells me too, and think I be a man with lots of nerve to ask you to mark off the past and forgive but one thing I ask you is an opportunity to talk with you. So I am leaving it to you and thinking you will allow me the privilege also if satisfactory you may set the date and I will respond at any time.  Guess you have hard I am seeing a woman at town at present and having a nice time as she is very nice and jolly girl but I am only killing time. Now don’t think that the “window” getting married brought this forth. It did not only put it off but it was coming anyhow. Now I am going to close as I know you are growing weary of such a long letter so I do so sending my love and looking for an early answer

I am as ever

Tom.

Apparently, Grandma responded to this letter with yet more concerns. On the back of a small New Year’s card, Grandpa scribbled this note. His reference to “the program at Winslow” is presumably the Christmas program at the church he attended in Winslow, a little town south of King City.

Dear Girl

I have been undecided whether to ans(wer) your most welcome letter or not as you did not say to. As the rush is over I am going to take a few minutes in writing. I have had a very nice Xmas, hope you were served all right. I helped in the program at Winslow. They say I did real good for a new beginner anyhow I guess. I see by your letter you did not understand me in several places, am real sorry, I tried to make it plain, and I have not room to go to details this time, but I can talk as good as ever, Ha Ha, now don’t think I am crazy for I am not. An answer will be highly appreciated, use your pleasure

T.W.A.

Grandma “used her pleasure” to hear him talk “as good as ever.” She must have liked what she heard because three weeks later, on January 15, 1920, they were married. The Chronicle ran the wedding notice, concluding with this description of their wartime romance.

He answered his country’s call and went to the front in defense of his country’s flag and what it represents. He was at the front in reality and will ever, during life, wear the marks of the hero in the cause of right. She, in the realm of noble womanhood, remained at home, but was ever active and doing and cheering by word and deed, that noble influence and help that are so necessary to encourage and support those at the front. We tip our hat in honor of their “well done” efforts and hope for a bright future and much happiness for Mr. And Mrs. Alderson.

King City Chronicle, January 23, 1920, p. l

Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Alderson, wedding photos, 1920.

Rebuilding

I want to begin this post with an explanation of my absence. We’ve been fixing up our old house. My thoughts (and sometimes my laptop) disappeared into the dust and chaos that disturbed our lives for weeks. Grandpa would have understood. I remembered these old photographs and realized what a metaphor it offered for the thoughts I share below.

My grandparents’ home in Effingham, Kansas, 1952.

In 1952, Grandpa and Grandma fixed up this house in Effingham, Kansas. It’s the house I associate with them and all the many wonderful days I spent there. Next to Grandpa is a workman, and on his other side, my mother, Grandma with me as a baby, and, in front, my brother and sister. At the time, my grandparents ran a lumber yard. They knew their way around construction. They knew how to fix things up.

These were the kind of skills they needed in 1919, after Grandpa came back from war. Their wartime romance was falling apart and, I suspect, they didn’t have the tools they needed to repair it, at least not initially. In my last post, I introduced Stanley Brown as one possible cause for the tension. Here, I want to explore another, namely Grandpa’s need to make sense of his war experience. He wasn’t the same man who had left this small town 17 months earlier. My grandparents couldn’t build a life together, I think, until Grandpa rebuilt his own. He did that work, in part, by going public with his stories of war.

Grandpa returned to King City on April 9, 1919, arriving unannounced. “I don’t want the people to make a fool of me at the train,” he wrote Grandma in a letter dated April 5. He succeeded in staying under the radar, but only for a short week.

On Friday, April 18, word spread through King City that Maurice Sealy—one of Grandpa’s war buddies—was arriving on the evening train. A band assembled at the station. Rufus Limpp, a prominent businessman, arrived in his “big truck” (so named by the newspaper) and drove Sealy through cheering crowds to the reception up town. Judge Sullinger was providing welcoming remarks when someone interrupted him, pointing to Grandpa in the crowd.

This young man came forward and was invited to take his place on the truck that he, too, might be given a recognition even if a little late. Then three hearty cheers were given for the returned heroes. . . The talks by the returned soldier boys were listened to with marked attention and interest. We hope to hear from them again. King City Chronicle, April 25, 1919, p l.

That impromptu talk was the first of several Grandpa gave that spring and summer. On May 2, after the morning train delivered “professor” Finley, a high school teacher, the ritual repeated itself, with the band playing patriotic songs and Rufus Limpp providing transportation in his “big truck” to the site of the reception, this time the auditorium of the high school. Returning soldiers Finley, Ferris Keys, Paul Turner, and Grandpa were all invited to speak. After the others declined, Grandpa took the stage and stole the show.

Thos. Alderson made a splendid and much appreciated talk, giving quite an outline of his war experiences, and it was listened to very attentively. He told the story so interestingly that we wish thousands could have heard it. Chronicle, May 9, 1919, p 1.

As the “presiding officer” at the 4th of July festivities, Grandpa spoke on behalf of the soldiers in attendance. “Thomas Alderson always pleases his audience and he did so again on this occasion.” Chronicle, July 4, 1919, p. l.

I sense from these newspaper accounts that Grandpa enjoyed telling his war stories to the people he knew around town. He also–and perhaps unwittingly–participated in government efforts to get these same people to pay war debts. In May, for example, he agreed to give a talk at “Victory Day,” a fund-raising event for the fifth and final Liberty Loan drive. Here’s an ad for that campaign. Grandpa’s name appears, lower left, on the list of “reported wounded.”

Chronicle, April 18, 1919, p. 3.

I try to picture my grandfather as a small-town celebrity. Did he enjoy that attention? It’s hard to say, but maybe he did. I wonder, though, if he really liked being cast as a hero. How did he respond to the patriotic language used in this ad?

Sixty thousand Americans died in this war. The bravest and the best we had. They gave all they had for their country. Our country. They gave it gladly. It is our sacred duty to see that these dead shall not have died in vain. We must carry on the task they left for us. We must pay our share of the cost of Victory. Their share is paid.

More certain to me is Grandpa’s affection for the men he served along in battle. On June 4, he went to Kansas City to attend what the Chronicle called the “great home-coming welcome and reception” for members of the 89^th Division. Grandpa wrote about this trip in the one surviving letter I have from this time.

Kansas City, Mo

Sat morn

My Dear Inis, I know you think I am mean the way I am staying away, and I kinda think so myself, I intended coming home today but they talked me in the notion of staying over until Mon as my co will be here then with the 356th Inf. I am not doing much running around just taking it easy, am going to the ball game this afternoon. I hope it has dried up at home by now, or by the time I get there. I stay in St. Joe Wed night and Thurs. Saw Lieut. Carson on the street was glad to see him, also heard that Harry Carder was in the states. Well I think I will be home Mon or Tues and I will try and get down and fuss with you as I believe you were feeling that way when I talked to you Wed, from town.

so I close with Love

Tom.

This letter suggests to me that Grandma felt over-looked. She wanted “fussing,” Grandpa’s word for paying her some attention. While Grandpa was making sense of his war experience through speeches and reunions, I imagine Grandma was sorting out her own feelings, including her expectation that they would been engaged by now.

One day, or maybe over a couple of days, those feelings came back to her in an unexpected and haunting way. In the mail, she received two letters she had written Grandpa in February, when he was still in France. Those letters, which I posted on March 9, 2019, had gone to France and then come back to Camp Funston, Kansas, in search of Grandpa. He never read these letters, but now she would, again.

Two letters came back to Grandma, one (above) postmarked June 20, from Junction City (Camp Funston) and the second (below), postmarked on reverse, June 19, also from Funston.

Grandma wrote in one about her friends’ happiness when a boyfriend or husband returned. “Believe me it is one happy one I’ll be when you come home too.” She wrote about how busy she was with her mother away. “But any way I like it, the experience I’m getting.” Grandma was ready to welcome Grandpa home, and start housekeeping. That’s how I understand these passages.

In the other letter, written just two days later, she referred to something Grandpa had written.

February 16, 1919 letter Grandma sent to Grandpa, returned mid-June.

In your letter you spoke about taking a sleigh ride or that a Ford wouldn’t be bad. Well so far as that is concerned it wouldn’t make any difference how we were going just so it was you I was with, or whether we were going any place at all.

She folded the letters and slipped them back in the envelopes. She put them in the box with all the others, tied with a string. Did she feel sad at these memories, so sweet, so certain? Or did anger cloud her feelings at a time she felt he was pushing her away? In less than two weeks, on July 3, Grandpa would make what he later described as “the mistake of my life.” The damage would take months to repair, and require tools to understand how the war had changed them, as individuals, and changed the kind of  future they dreamed of building, together.

Photo by Charlene Reichert.