Happiness in San Francisco, Disaster in San Diego, and Other Sherwood Family Stories: The Times and Events in the Life of One Family over a 50-Year Period (1948-1998)

By Frank P. Sherwood

This book is divided in two parts. The first, by far the larger, is a recording of events in the history of the Sherwood family, whose origins lie in the marriage of Frank P. Sherwood and Frances Howell on February 14, 1948. As might be anticipated, the first story is about a very happy honeymoon in San Francisco. The last story in Part One relates an experience of the family that grew out of the 1948 marriage, now numbering 11 people. They helped Frank and Frances celebrate their 50th anniversary with a weeks outing in Devon, England. In between these two quite delightful events, there were less welcome occasions when things did not go so well. The pets in the family, the experience with smoking, and the family finances also are subjects found in these chronicles. Part Two reverts to an earlier period before Frank was married, and it is essentially concerned with famous people he encountered as a young man. There are brief reports on President Franklin D. Roosevelt, the baseball star Ted Williams, and famed screen actress Ingrid Bergman, all of whom Frank met before his marriage in1948.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jul 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781475935646

Frank P. Sherwood

Frank P. Sherwood, PhD is a retired professor and served primarily at two universities, the University of Southern California and Florida State University. He has edited and largely written six books published by iUniverse.

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Copyright © 2012

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ISBN: 978-1-4759-3563-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-3564-6 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 7/20/2012

Contents

Introduction

Frank and Susie Sherwood’s Family Stories

Happiness in San Francisco: Susie and Frank’s Love and Marriage

Misery in San Diego: A Major Fire

The Second Honeymoon: Europe in 1958

One Thing after Another: Difficulty in São Jeronimo da Serra, Brasil

The 1963-64 Trip: Touching Five Continents

Our Experience with a Dream House in Rural Virginia: The Banco Story

The Grand Union: Acquiring a House in Vermont

Over Eight Years of Life at Dog Island

The Golden Wedding Anniversary and Allied Events

A Recall of Martha’s Vineyard, Where Frank’s 90th Birthday and Susie’s 84th Were Celebrated

A Report on the 90th Birthday Party for Frank Sherwood

Words from the Grandchildren

Sherwood Family Pets

The Family Smoking Experience and Its Relationship to Large Cultural Change

The 1040 Tax Form and What It Says about Family Finances

A Few Stories Before Marriage and the Appearance of the Family

A Sort-Of Interlude with Ted Williams

A Very Brief Encounter with George M. Cohan

A White House Press Conference with President Franklin Delano Roosevelt

Three Famous and Beautiful Women in Germany

Introduction

Almost all families have their own stock of stories. In that sense those reported in this book are not particularly unique.

It is unfortunate, though, that most family stories do not have a very long shelf life. They are typically communicated verbally; and, when the participants pass away, so do the stories. At best such lore probably survives for three generations. By the time the grandparents are the chief sources of information, memories are fading and interest waning

Letters were once a principal means of passing on family anecdotes and events. But that is no longer the case. Stories are no longer reported in correspondence. To the extent that there are still drives to share family happenings, the telephone is today the chosen medium. It is cheap, quick, and easy. No need to go through the laborious process of transmitting ink to paper. We all know, however, that the telephone is an extremely transitory form of communication. As soon as we hang up, virtually everything is forgotten.

There are other electronic and mechanical media that do a bit better job of preserving things. Brownies and their successors allowed us to capture special graphic moments, many of which brought recalls of exciting and sometimes dramatic events. There was a time when we collected such photos in large and elaborate books, which we carefully stored and dragged out from time to time. But the whole business was cumbersome. Getting the photographs filed was no easy task; and somehow the books never seemed very accessible.

More recently digital cameras, camcorders, and the more modern telephones have made new types of electronic memory available to us. We probably do take a lot more pictures these days, but it is unclear whether there is real human reporting of what are often important family events. We are left to ponder just how things do come together. And access to such forms of electronic memory seems complicated and difficult. To be sure, DVDs provide a truly marvelous means of capturing a human experience. But they typically show the event only in the process of unfolding; they offer little in the way of synthesis and perspective. Further, my own experience is that DVDs tend not to be organized into understandable collections of experiences; rather, they are random assemblages of disparate events that seldom can be conceived in a coherent way.

All this brings me back to print as still the best way to capture family experience and make it available to future generations. To be sure, hardly anyone reads as much as they once did. Even though books sit on shelves for lengthy periods of time, they continue to be a resource that is easily accessed. Ideally, they will be available to a number of generations.

It is within this context that I have prepared this book. It is not that the events and experiences reported here are so unique in the average family history but rather that they are so little recorded. We are a mass consumption, temporary society in which there is little tolerance for small events (such as family stories) and yesterday’s news.

I have no expectation that this book will be a big seller and rise high on the Amazon lists. To the degree that it attracts interest beyond the immediate family, its appeal will come from stories that are rather typically experienced by many families. They may command some attention simply because they are written and therefore allow some comparison with the life histories of others. Everything in this book traces back to the 20th century and therefore constitutes an important part of the nation’s past. Indeed, some of the events reflect parts of a culture that no longer exists. Could we find a dog today that loves to pick up lit firecrackers in his mouth and waits for them to explode? I had such a dog, but he could find no firecrackers to filch today.

Of the historical events reported in this book, there is no doubt that the most important from my point of view occurred in the Spring, 1937. It was a time when I visited the White House, stood immediately in front of President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s desk, and heard him carry on an animated conversation with about 80 assembled reporters in his office. Nobody could do that today with any President. And of course it would be impossible to engage with such an historic figure as Franklin D. Roosevelt.

This book is composed of two parts, with most of its content found in the first. The period covered is the last half of the 20th century, beginning with the marriage of Frances Howell and Frank Sherwood in 1948,and ending with our 50th anniversary in 1998. During that period the family expanded to eleven people, including five grandchildren.

The events described vary widely from a truly happy honeymoon, to a disastrous fire in our printing operation in San Diego, to the acquisition of some fairly unique homes, and to thoroughly satisfying travel. The family pets, our history with smoking, and our finances constitute other chapters. Finally, there are three chapters that deviate in the sense that they tended to be oriented around the 50th anniversary of the Sherwoods and the 90th birthday of Frank Sherwood. Within this framework is a fairly long, rather detailed reporting of the emerging adulthood experiences of the primary members of the family, particularly the women. They are regarded as having experienced extreme discrimination until the time of the Baby Boomers, born in the latter part of the 1950s.

The second part of the book covers experiences the author had as a young man before his marriage to Frances Howell in 1948. Each of these events involved an association with a famous person and therefore has some historical interest. Clearly the encounter with President Franklin D. Roosevelt held the greatest personal significance; but it is also true that the short time spent with Ingrid Bergman left the impression of extreme beauty and of a person with whom it would be easy to fall in love.

—Frank P. Sherwood

Part One

Frank and

Susie Sherwood’s Family Stories

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Chapter One

Happiness in San Francisco:

Susie and Frank’s Love and Marriage

As this is being written,

Susie and Frank have passed their 64th wedding anniversary. It occurred on Valentine’s Day, February 14, 2012. That puts the marriage date a long way back, 1948, to be exact. As to its occurrence on Valentine’s Day, that was more chance than grand design. It has, however, been advantageous in one way. Frank has never forgotten his anniversary. But there has been a downside. We rather quickly discovered that Valentine’s was when young lovers (and old ones, too) pack the restaurants and make the cozy, intimate dinner virtually impossible. Even so, we have always celebrated our anniversary with enthusiasm and appreciation that the fates have blessed us with so much time together.

If there were an oral history of the Sherwood family, the story of our romance and marriage would undoubtedly occupy a prominent place. The tale has been told many, many times. Yet it must appear again in this compilation of family stories. A reporting of the way in which Susie and Frank encountered each other and moved to marriage is also found in Volume 2 of the Sherwood family history, A Changing America by Frank P. and Frances H. Sherwood, pages 76-78. It is noted, however, that the original was in Frank Sherwood’s unpublished autobiography. The text that follows is the same as appeared in those two documents.

Various Encounters

A wonderful thing happened when Susie [Her formal name is Frances but I never called her that.] came into my life. But things did not start out smoothly A significant conversation occurred on a Monday evening when Ed [EdSelf-my partner] and I got back from’ our advertising rounds. This was always a depressing time, partly because of the bigotry we had to experience throughout the day and also because we never seemed to sell as much advertising as we wanted and needed for true prosperity. On that night, however, Ed was full of pep. He said, Frank, I have found just the girl for you. She is very attractive, very nice, and she dresses like an Eastern girl.[The Eastern girl was Susie, Frances Howell.]

I think I more or less snorted, Who has time for girls? I dismissed Ed’s match-making effort without further comment. But I did remember he said she dressed like an Eastern girl. Unlike the average female in Pacific Beach who thought casual was the only way to go, Ed’s nominee dressed in a nice sweater, or perhaps blouse and cardigan, a nicely tailored, conservative skirt, and saddle shoes. That was the common uniform in the eastern colleges but it was all too rare in places like Pacific Beach. So I did understand that Ed was telling me about a special female, even though I did not feel I had the time for dating. While Ed suggested a particular physical image to me, what was important was the person in the attire. I thought of a compellingly attractive person with a becoming modesty, a conservative style, and a person who radiates quality.

Ed did not push me on the matter; but, a couple of weeks later, he announced to me that he had hired the young woman with the eastern look to work for us on Saturdays, primarily in an editorial capacity. I have to confess I was taken aback by the announcement. Any hiring in our small organization was a fairly major event; and we had always done everything collaboratively. Though put off by his unilateral action, I did agree that we could use the help. And I knew he had good judgment. So I simply said okay. What Susie and I have both concluded is that Ed was determined to be a matchmaker. It wasn’t that he was unilateral but rather that he wanted to get us together. We have often agreed that we owe Ed a great debt.

The First Meeting

I do not remember our first meeting—but Susie does. It was a brief encounter outside the North Shores Sentinel office and Susie has a strong recollection of her feeling at the time: Frank is not nearly as nice as Ed.

Another Meeting and a Rebuff

When I saw Susie in our office and had more of a chance to think about things, I agreed with Ed’s appraisal. She was attractive, softly confident, and visibly intelligent. We did not have much to say to each other. All I knew was what I saw. Even though I continued to feel I had no time for women, attractive or not, I did find myself asking her if she would like to have lunch with me a Saturday or two later. The physical situation is very important in describing this first real encounter between us. We had two desks in a fairly small room with each of them facing an opposite wall. So we were back to back. I turned around to issue the invitation to her. She never even looked at me. She stared at the wall, saying emphatically, No. The firmness of the refusal came as a surprise to me. I was, after all, one of her bosses; and I was making no great move on her. This was an innocuous suggestion that we go have a bite to eat. My feeling at the time was that this was the end of things. She was clear about her feelings, and mine were not that positive.

The Third Meeting and a Linkage

Despite the negativity of the situation, it must be concluded that I was drawn to her. In a couple of weeks, I was back asking her to go out with me. This time I got a dramatically different reception. She was quite positive in accepting. Later I learned the reason for the big change. After our initial encounter she had spoken to our staff member, Ruth Hurless, noting that I had invited her to lunch. 1 refused him, of course, she recalled saying, because I did not want to go out with a married man. Ruth’s rejoinder was, Are you crazy? He’s not married. He’s the most eligible bachelor in town. Why do you think that girl who works at Allison-McCloskey comes in here all the time?

I took Susie far to the other side of San Diego, to the La Mesa Inn. I do remember that I had been there a couple of times in the past and thought it was rather pleasant. But I also have a suspicion that I did not want to hang around Pacific Beach. My motivations were undoubtedly confused, but I was clear that this was to be a social event, not a prelude to marriage. We had a good time together, and I knew immediately that this was a person I wanted to see again. From that point things progressed rapidly; and, within a month or two, I found myself proposing to her. Any anxieties about marriage disappeared with the prospect of spending a lifetime with this great person. And I did think of the relationship in terms of a lifetime. One reason I had been so reluctant about contemplating marriage is that I did see it as a long term deal.

Susie reported to me later that my cousin Pose had expressed her enthusiasm for the union, declaring, We are all so glad. We thought Frank was going to wind up a bachelor. Had I not met Susie, I think I might have. Again, thanks to Ed. He provided the big difference in my life.

Exposure in Waibel’s Café and a Change in Marriage Plans

The original plan was that we would be married in Pacific Beach, an arrangement that pleased both our mothers. I contacted a tennis-playing friend for whom I had a lot of respect. His name was Quinton Garman, and he was the pastor of the local Lutheran church. Neither Susie nor I had strong church affiliations, so the Lutherans were just fine. That was about as far as the planning had gone when Susie and I went for lunch at the restaurant adjacent to the North Shores Sentinel office. The food was quite adequate but the real drawback to the place was the loud-mouthed owner, Larry Waibel. I didn’t eat there much because I really could not stand him.

On this day he called across the room to us, Congratulations, Frank and Frances, on your engagement! The announcement was a complete shock. Only Ed and our mothers knew about our plans. How could this irritating creature have uncovered our secret? Later we learned that he had made a lucky guess. When Verna, Susie’s mother, learned Susie would be leaving and would no longer help in her children’s store, Verna decided she would sell it. She put a classified advertisement in The Sentinel, which Waibel had seen. Why would Verna be selling? His guess was that it had to do with Susie. What would she be doing? Getting married, of course! To whom? I still don’t know how I turned up on his radar. In any case, the wild guesses were correct. Of all people, Larry Waibel had nailed us.

This sudden revelation did not make much difference to Susie but it had tremendous significance for me. I had come to realize I was a very private person operating in a very public situation, and I did not like it a bit. When I realized my long-held dream and became the editor and publisher of The Sentinel with Ed Self, I had no idea that the owner of the newspaper in a small community would be highly visible. He (or we in our case) controlled the local information source and was therefore seen as a powerful figure. And there was the fact that the publisher has to have many local contacts. He is inevitably well-known. The interest in the publisher’s personal affairs was understandable; and yet I resented it. Ed felt much the same way; and not long after our marriage, Ed and I decided to sell The Sentinel.

Perhaps more than they should have, these feelings had a direct bearing on our marriage plans. Now, the last place I wanted to marry was in Pacific Beach. Much of the feeling was emotional, but there was also a practical side. It would no longer be possible to have a small wedding. We now had to think of all the advertisers and other prominent locals who would be offended were they not invited to the wedding.

Elopement to Laguna Beach

It was not something I wanted to face, and thus I proposed eloping to Susie. She had never been enamored of a big wedding, and so elopement was fine with her. Thus we settled on Laguna Beach as the place we would tie the knot; and we wanted Ed and his wife Dottie to accompany us and serve as witnesses.

First Stop: the Carlsbad Inn

There was one big problem, however. Dottie was immensely pregnant with son Bob. It required that we make a stop for her every 30 miles of the trip. The first one was at the Carlsbad Inn, where we encountered a beloved

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Ed and Dorothy Self, left, and Susie on the road to Laguna Beach for our marriage.

high school teacher, Mary Philippi, who had herself just married. Though we were separated by six years in school, Suz also knew and adored Mary, so it was an auspicious beginning to our elopement.

Pronouncing the Vows in Laguna Beach

Those were relatively alcoholic days, and so it was mandated that every stop involved a trip to the bar. By the time we reached Laguna Beach, three of us were very happy, and Dottie was accepting of it all. Laguna Beach, in 1948, was a lovely, relatively unpopulated place. But we had a new problem. Our planning had not included the identification of a minister who would marry us. This was a short-lived difficulty, however, as we rather quickly uncovered a retired, rather elderly minister who was very happy to officiate. My recollection is that he was either Presbyterian or Methodist, and he had some association with Corsicana, Texas, where Susie was born. That association with Corsicana was important because our minister felt he knew Susie’s grandfather, who was a minister.

Back on the Laguna streets as man and wife, we bade goodbye to Ed and Dottie and headed for the local bus terminal. There we were to secure transportation to the Los Angeles Union Station where we would take the highly regarded overnight train, the Lark, to San Francisco. Before leaving Laguna Beach, however, Susie declared that she had not forgotten her responsibilities as a student at San Diego State College. She had brought along her German book to study but had difficulty managing it in an upright condition.

A Miserable Trip to San Francisco on The Lark

The Lark was the preferred mode of transportation between Los Angeles and San Francisco in 1948. It left in the late evening and arrived in the early morning the next day. It was almost entirely a sleeper train, nicely appointed, and carried all the necessary restaurant and bar facilities. Airplanes were beginning to make inroads, but they had yet to offer the luxury of the fine train. Going on the Lark was something special for Susie and me, so we had reserved a compartment, which included an upper and lower berth as well as bathroom facilities. It was, of course, the night of our marriage. This was particularly important because, in accord with the mores of the time, we had most certainly not slept together before the night of February 14.

As might be anticipated, we elected to share the lower berth. This meant, of course, that we would be quite intimate because a train berth is not nearly as wide as the standard single bed. In the best of circumstances, any real sleep would have been difficult. It happened, however, that some kind of heated pipe ran all along the bed near the wall. It was hot! Perhaps one person could have found relief on the far side of the bed. For two that was impossible. One of us was planted firmly on the hot pipe. It is true that there was some love making, but on the whole it was a thoroughly miserable night. The experience on the Lark was a dud.

San Francisco and the Honeymoon Begins

The Fairmont Hotel

With our arrival in San Francisco the next morning, things were better. A rather quick taxicab ride deposited us at the Fairmount Hotel atop Knob Hill. Even though the year was 1948, the Fairmont was already old and much respected. Its construction had begun in 1902 and was completed in 1906, awaiting its opening when San Francisco was struck by its famous 1906 earthquake and fire. Observers reported that the day after the earthquake the Fairmount stood proudly on the hill overlooking a downtown that was in shambles. All the mansions of San Francisco’s wealthy elite, also on Nob Hill, were destroyed by fire. While the Fairmont structure was unharmed, flames did destroy its lavish interior. It was another year, 1907, before the Fairmont opened to the public. Thus we ventured into its grand, unforgettable lobby 41 years later. We found our room, which I believe was on the fifth floor and provided an exposure to downtown and its busy harbor, nice but not lavish. We were quite comfortable.

At this point a word about economics seems in order. Our room was $15 per night, and I think that was the total charge. There was no tax and other add-ons one finds today. I remember thinking the price was completely within our means, and that same feeling covered all the expenses incurred as we enjoyed a honeymoon exactly as we wanted it. We did not limit ourselves in anyway. And this was financed on my income of about $5000 a year. We were living solely on the $100 per week draw I had from the North Shores Sentinel. We perhaps were making some profit beyond that, but Ed and I could not afford to take out more. Our working capital was so deficient that any extra money had to be put right back in the business.

We went to some of the finest restaurants (about which there is more below), and I don’t remember feeling the prices were ever really a stretch. It was quite a different story when we returned to the Fairmont in 1988 for our fortieth anniversary. The price for the same room was then $200. What strikes me today about the experience in 1948 is that very middle class people like ourselves still had sufficient money to enjoy the luxuries of the society. Today only the really wealthy feel comfortable dining in the most exclusive eateries of San Francisco or New York. I believe our money income has increased about 22 times (with no money deflator), but the claims on such funds are far beyond anything we knew in 1948. Our long-term care insurance, for example, costs nearly $10,000 per year. In effect Susie and I enjoyed our honeymoon in the best of times. We spent money as if we were among the most affluent today.

A Truly Romantic Night at the Balalaika

While we did a lot of sightseeing in San Francisco, including the required trip to Berkeley where Susie had spent her freshman year, what I remember most were our truly marvelous dining experiences. The very best of them

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Susie and Frank at the Balalaika restaurant on the first night of their honeymoon in San Francisco.

occurred on our first night in San Francisco. It was at the Balalaika restaurant, which was only a short walk from the hotel. I no longer remember how we happened on it, but the Balalaika did not top anyone’s list of San Francisco’s fine restaurants. I remember it, though, as very nicely decorated, with an attentive, courteous wait staff in tuxedos, extremely good food selected from a varied menu, and a violinist who touched every amorous bone in my body. The setting was perfect for our first real night together; and the violinist seemed continually to serenade us. It was extremely romantic and constituted a night I have never forgotten. Our picture was taken there and reveals an extremely happy couple.

Cracked Crab at Ernie’s

A second dining event, nearly as memorable, occurred when we went to Ernie’s on Montgomery Street for lunch. Susie had patronized the place when she was at Berkeley in 1944-45 and had never forgotten it. There was a second reason Ernie’s was a must on our honeymoon. It was a place known for its absolutely delicious seafood, and Susie knew I was extremely deficient in my awareness of these kinds of culinary experiences. I had grown up in a very traditional English family where crustaceans were not regarded as fit food. Even with all my New England experience, I had not experienced such delicacies as crab or lobster. So Susie determined that Ernie’s was the place to go to break these taboos. I don’t remember all the good things we ate, but the cracked crab was to die for. Ernie’s was certainly one of my great restaurant experiences.

Sadly, Ernie’s is no more. It closed in the late 1990’s after about a century of operation, nearly 50 of those years under the guidance of the same brothers. On the Internet, I found several references and one fairly long report on Ernie’s, which I include here. The brief reference is that Ernie’s was known as the …fanciest place in town for many years. The longer report says that:

"Ernie’s opened as a modest family-style Italian restaurant with checkered table cloths around the turn of the 20th century, located near what was the old Barbary Coast area of the City. When it closed in 1995, it was one of the few remaining restaurants of the kind that had once epitomized the classic San Francisco dining scene. All of them are now gone, and only a few remnants of the 19th century still remain in San Francisco: Tadich Grill, Sam’s and John’s Grill.

The original Ernie Carlesso, died in 1946 and his partner, Ambrogio Gotti, retired in 1947.  Ambrogio Gotti sold the restaurant to his two sons, Roland and Victor, who had already been working at the restaurant as busboys.  Only 21 and 25 years old when they became sole proprietors, the two brothers continued as the operators for the next 48 years. This by itself is a milestone that is hard to match.

Susie Saves me from Myself

While Susie was a liberating influence on my eating habits at Ernie’s, there were other times when she asserted her control over my diet. As I have already noted, I came from a thoroughly English household with a great predisposition toward fatty foods. Thus, when I reached for the cream to put on my cereal at breakfast, I was immediately restrained, with the quiet observation that I could get along with milk. (Later it was 1% but there were no such distinctions in 1948.) Similarly, when I began to pour salt on my food at dinner, an arm went out to halt me. Perhaps surprisingly, I was accepting of these intrusions. I guess I knew enough about diet to recognize she was right. My own guess is that I would be long dead except for Susie’s deep concern for my health.

High Tea in the Garden Court of the Palace Hotel

A third memorable dining event (not quite dining- -it was high tea) occurred at the Palace Hotel, which is located virtually at the heart of San Francisco and which has been a Palace Hotel site since 1875. The present structure, however, is not as old as the Fairmont. The original Palace, built in 1875 and destroyed by fire in 1906, gave the Palace name much of its importance not only in the United States but around the world. It was reputedly the largest, most luxurious and costly hotel anywhere. It was designed as the American counterpart to the grand hotels of Europe. It took three years after the fire for the new six-story Palace to be erected on a full city block at Market and Montgomery streets, adjacent to the financial district. The new hotel was in every way a fit successor. It  … possessed 7,000 windows, 14-foot high ceilings and an unprecedented opulence. Today’s Garden Court was conceived as the hotel’s carriage entrance - a gateway to the splendors and remarkable innovations within. The hydraulic elevators - an engineering marvel for the time - were dubbed rising rooms." In each of the lavish guest