Surviving with Style: A True Auntie Fay Story

By Fay McGrath Westbury

Thank you for looking at my book. It is an invitation to travel on my journey toward surprising personal, business, and romantic success. There were no accurate maps. The road was not easy. Clear directions were not offered. There were times of dead end roads, scary box canyons and fearful flaws. A clear path was found after many years of searching. Developing courage to JUST DO IT often overcame the hazards.
Through this journey I have been told by many: Fay, you must write a book. And so I have. Over eighty years have been invested in this journey. This travel may assist you in finding your path. Even my own head shakes at the realization that this life has been my own.
You will hopefully find it interesting. Perhaps even informative. Your memory of like occasions may be evoked. If you have traveled around Western Europe, you may be taken there again or for some, the first time. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine the adventures I would encounter there.
But I did just do it all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781514422076

Book preview

Copyright © 2016 by Fay McGrath Westbury.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2015917993

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-5144-2209-0

      Softcover      978-1-5144-2208-3

      eBook         978-1-5144-2207-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Cover Design By Mary Kristen Photography, Spring Texas

Back cover photo of author by Life Touch

Rev. date: 07/19/2016

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

726984

CONTENTS

Foreword

Chapter One: The 1930s

Chapter Two: The 1940s

Chapter Three: The Early 1950s

Chapter Four: The Early 1960s

Chapter Five: The 1970s

Chapter Six: The Early 1980s

Chapter Seven: The Early 1990s

Chapter Eight: The 1990s, A Second Chance at Romance

Chapter Nine: No Stopping Now! Early 1992

Chapter Ten: To the USA: July 1992

Chapter Eleven: The 1990s, Europe on Wheels

Chapter Twelve: The 1990s, Back in the USA

Epilogue

Foreword

Thank you for looking at my book. It is an invitation to travel on my journey toward surprising personal, business, and romantic success. There were no accurate maps. The road was not easy. Clear directions were not offered. There were times of dead end roads, scary box canyons and fearful flaws. A clear path was found after many years of searching. Developing courage to JUST DO IT often overcame the hazards.

Through this journey I have been told by many: Fay, you must write a book. And so I have. Over eighty years have been invested in this journey. This travel may assist you in finding your path. Even my own head shakes at the realization that this life has been my own.

You will hopefully find it interesting. Perhaps even informative. Your memory of like occasions may be evoked. If you have traveled around Western Europe, you may be taken there again or for some, the first time. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine the adventures I would encounter there.

But I did just do it all.

FAY MCGRATH WESTBURY

Chapter One

The 1930s

A COAL MINER’S DAUGHTER

In 1930, the hills of southern Alabama were flocked with tall pine trees and pockmarked with coal mining camps. Early in the day, the valleys and dells were afloat with smoke from the breakfast fires in the wood-burning stoves and fireplaces. The earth was vivid red rust-colored, which indicated the ore and coal within.

From a distance it looked quiet and peaceful. Working the deep coal mines with narrow veins was difficult and dangerous. The occupation was not admired. However, the product was vital for the Bethlehem Steel mills in Birmingham.

During the beginning of the 1930s, the South was in deep depression and from most appearances still suffered from the humiliation and disasters of the Civil War. The miners endured great dependence on the mine owners and kept within these boundaries in order to eke out a living.

The weathered wood homes were perched on the hills without amenities such as plumbing or even piped water. Some provided electricity. There were outhouses and often washhouses located on the slope behind the homes. The workers were sincere God-fearing Christians and most maintained their dignity and self-image with that reverent trust.

MY BIRTH DATE

In November of that year I was delivered at home by the company physician, Dr. Bridges. Neighbors assisted with the event. Mother never complained about the pain, but I do know I was born at night after many hours of labor. My brother was two and a half years older than me. By all accounts, he was the perfect baby and child. He started walking at six months and was potty trained by ten months old. Many times I have referred to him as the sun, for he was surely the guiding light of my family.

By common standards, my daddy was well employed. He served as a crew boss and was very young to have attained that status. Purely by accident, a worker was killed by live electricity on his shift. Sadly, this kind of death and others like it were not rare. My daddy was used as a scapegoat and unjustly fired. Our livelihood was gone, our home was gone. There was no reserve to see us through.

We went to live with my father’s parents, who had nothing, and then to live with my mother’s parents, who had even less. My paternal grandparents lived in Pea Ridge down near Dogwood in a four room shotgun house off a dirt road with no amenities. Both grandparents could read and write, but they were avid snuff users. It was awful!

My father was one of four sons and had been permitted to attend school, part-time, until the eighth grade. My mother was one of ten children and the only one to go through high school. My maternal grandfather was a kind and active man who admired education even though his wife never learned to read or write. My mother told me she thought she was not very attractive. She had not married young, as her sisters had.

Living accommodations were very simple during that time. I feel sure that my baby needs and demands were a great burden to them all. Their ability to care for me with limited conveniences must have dampened the pleasures of having me.

When I was about two years old, one of my mother’s brothers wrote that some of the mining companies in Southern Illinois were hiring. We packed up and headed north. Leaving the poor South was the smartest decision we ever made. Nationwide, the miners were fighting to unionize. In Illinois the National Guard was escorting them to work. The name of John L. Lewis would be a common utterance in our home for many years to come.

THE MOVE TO ILLINOIS

Our simple household furnishings had been placed in storage in an old barn. Soon after our journey north, Peabody Coal Company No. 58 near Taylorville, Illinois, a town of about 12,000, hired my dad. We found a rooming house near the center of town that accepted us. We had one room with a kerosene burner and a shared bathroom. I feel sure this was the first indoor plumbing my family had ever experienced. I was being potty trained and I remember watching as I sat and made sure to get the last drop out. My brother and I were delighted to be dressed in our best to walk to the town square and shop at Penney’s. I do believe my mother was happy there.

Years later when my aged mother was living in my home, she related a sad tale of this time. My brother fascinated everyone. They found him exceptionally intelligent, well-behaved and quiet. His achievements were legendary. I, on the other hand, was very pretty with curly blond hair and a sweet smile, but was often very demanding. After all, I was two years old.

One night while living at Ms. Howe’s home, I wanted to wear my sweet nightie and was told to wear a different one. My dad became angry at my two-year-old tantrum and spanked me hard. Mother told me that he later spent the night rubbing Vaseline on my bottom while I sobbed. His severe punishment and my sobbing lasted until I was a teenager. I often had no idea what egregious sin I had committed and never received any answer or understanding. The problem was that I was not like my brother.

TO HOMEY VINE STREET

As we became more comfortable with leaving Alabama, we moved into a small plain house in Morrisville, a village nearer the mine. My bad case of whooping cough is still remembered. When my parents realized another baby was on the way, we moved to a nice house on Vine Street in Taylorville. I have memories of the day she was born, two days before my fourth birthday.

Mother knew the baby was coming that morning after dad left for work. Since my brother was in the first grade she thought it was a brilliant idea for me to attend school with him. I thought it was a dream come true. I was bundled up and took off with him. Of course, the school was not meant to serve as a convenient babysitter. We were admonished and sent straight home. The sun grumbled about my being with him. I am certain that was the only admonishment he ever received in his entire education. He held me in contempt forevermore.

When we got home, there were women in the house to help mother with the delivery. But I had no concept of why they were there and was told to go sit on the basement steps for the afternoon. The baby was delivered and was a surprise for my dad when he got home. We all loved the new baby.

I found a wonderful friend in Ina Jeliska who lived across the street. She was a year older than me. She had an older brother, Burl, for whom they had made a room on the lower level. They had an old sweet dog named Jappy. Sometimes I would be invited for dinner or even to stay the night. Ina and I liked to dress up. I would wear overalls and be a trainman, and she liked to dress as an Indian. We would often play in my yard but she was never invited into my house. We loved to sing Say, say, oh playmate, come out and play with me. And bring your dollies three, climb up my apple tree. We knew all the words.

I would always wonder why we did not stay on Vine Street and prosper. My dad was making good money and we furnished the house with nice things. My mother had a new Singer sewing machine, later an electric refrigerator, a vacuum cleaner, a wringer washing machine and my dad had a new Ford V8. But we proceeded to move into eight different homes in the area by the time I was in the fifth grade. This gypsy way of living prevented the accumulation of treasures or even accouterments of easy living. The lack of close friendships saddened me. And all this time we were renters so the pride of ownership was missing.

005_a_asdfghj.jpg

My paternal grandparents and their four sons

In Alabama 1933

006_a_asdfghj.jpg

Fay and Ina when we were four

On Vine St. 1934

007_a_asdfghj.jpg

Fay and George with Daddy’s new Ford

On Vine St. 1934

Chapter Two

The 1940s

ANOTHER MOVE

When I was in the fifth grade, my dad was finally offered a management position by an Alabama friend who was to be superintendent of a mine in Sparta, Illinois, near St. Louis.

We lived in a small but nice house in Sparta. It was my introduction to a bathtub with a shower. However, there was no hot water so the activity did not thrill me. I entered the sixth grade and was placed in the back of the room for I lacked skills in their studies because they were different from any I had encountered. Even though the house had only two bedrooms and the sun had to sleep on the sofa, he received glowing grades and exhibited proper deportment in all his classes. He even had a paper route and a bicycle. Social occasions or friends were of little importance to him. He read a lot and was always very quiet.

That summer we had a guest membership in the local country club that included swimming in the lake. Being bereft of friends, I would walk the mile and a half on the country road to the club most days. I now wonder how my parents ever allowed that dangerous activity, since I was only twelve years old. There was no lifeguard until late in the day and I was not an experienced swimmer. I had often swum out to the raft that was anchored in the lake. One morning I jumped in from a spot farther away. My strength was ebbing about ten feet from the raft, and I remember giving up. The next thing I knew, I was on the raft and a young man was there helping me. He soon dove back in and left me there. I rested and then swam back the shorter way. My young body was starting to fill out and I think now I was very fortunate to have survived that event.

OUR MOVE TO UTAH

Within a year, the mine had failed and the superintendent was found drunk on the sidewalk one morning. World War II was in full swing. Workers of all kinds were in demand. Most of the mines in which my dad had worked were either very deep or narrow seams that were difficult and dangerous to work. He heard that mines in the state of Utah had high seams where some work was done by machines and the work was easier. In addition, the United Mine Workers of America had demanded good housing for their members. We put our belongings in storage in Sparta, climbed into our Chevy, and left for Utah. It took us four tiring days and nights to get to Utah. Having the five of us confined in a small sedan took great patience.

Our first view of the Rocky Mountains was a surprise. We thought they were clouds on the horizon. The southern route had been chosen so we never really experienced the Rockies. We had packed a frying pan and potatoes and a few other things and stopped and cooked at night. We slept in the car but we did stop one night at a tourist home, which was a place that rented rooms to transients or people passing through. It was the first time I had ever seen my mother’s dentures.

Price, Utah was located in a valley and served as the central commercial area for several mountain coal mines. Dad got a job at the Sunnyside mine. Housing was at a premium so we lived in Price in a broken down motel for a few weeks. I entered the seventh grade there in September.

Even though I was not a scholar like my brother, I still found school interesting. I liked the Utah history class. Mrs. Risutto taught English and was nice to me. Mr. Thompson taught Civics and also worked at Penney’s. The students befriended me. Being new to the area probably helped me. I managed to get in a speech class and excelled in it, and I was the lead in a play we presented to a school assembly.

We found a house near the schools and rented from the landlord shark, Clara Moss. She was known for rent gouging and offering inferior places for exorbitant prices. Our place was supposedly furnished but was very bare and wanting. My sister and I slept on an old dirty antique sofa bed. We had a coal stove for heating and cooking. I have pleasant memories of cold mornings when we had cinnamon toast and oatmeal for breakfast. I often went home for lunch but preferred the meal served at the neighboring high school for one dime. One of the new tastes I enjoyed was Harvard beets.

BACK TO ILLINOIS

My dad liked the work in Utah, so we decided to drive to Illinois to buy a truck, load our belongings, and return to Utah to stay. We had to get our grades from each class prior to leaving since we were leaving at midterm again. My teachers were sorry to see me leave and each gave me an A. It was the only time I ever earned straight A’s.

We left Price on Christmas Eve. Crossing the Rocky Mountains, the weather was ferocious. The first night we stopped at a motel at Gunnison Pass, Colorado. Our cabin was freezing. There was a wood stove but we had no matches. My brother was delegated to climb up to the office for matches. When he returned he was so cold that he jumped onto the bed and broke the slats! We laughed and were so very thankful for the warmth. The next morning we had a small, cold breakfast. When we emerged from our cocoon we were swept away by the beauty of the day. The snow created sparkles on the quaking aspen trees, which glittered in the wind. There was a lot of roadwork that made for cautious driving.

The flat landscape of Kansas was welcomed and we made good time. We headed for West Frankfort, Illinois where our favorite Aunt Chubey and Uncle Carl lived. Again, we spent four days and nights on the road. We were warmly welcomed. There was a brief late Christmas gift exchange. I received a small cork gun that shot crows off of a wooden rack. Aunt Chubey and her husband had bought the house and it showed pride of ownership. She often repapered and repainted. They were lucky to have two bedrooms but had no indoor plumbing. Her house always smelled so good and she was always in good humor. We kids including two cousins all slept on the floor on pallets. Pallets were very common in those days.

We soon rented a one bedroom, partly furnished apartment. I enrolled at mid-term in seventh grade. My miseries there were short-lived, as within three months we were on our way back to Utah. My Uncle Howard, his wife Estelle, and four-month-old baby girl Ruth Ann, followed us to help drive the overloaded old truck. It took us five days this time. Our caravan moved slowly. We went to live close to the mine, in one of the new tracts demanded by the miner’s union. Sadly, there was not one available for all of us so we lived in a two bedroom house until a larger one up the hill was finished.

My unhappy life of being the often-ignored middle child and always moving from place to place without time to make close friends finally got to me. One evening I found a full bottle of aspirin and went out and sat in the car and swallowed the entire bottle. No one missed me for hours, and I finally got a bad tummy ache and realized I was going to live. That was the only time I was close to giving up, and no one had even missed me.

SUNNYSIDE MINE SCHOOL

I was thirteen and started eighth grade in an old, dilapidated, inferior school up the mountain near the mine. My teacher was a blind man who had a seeing eye dog. We had to take an early school bus because it took the high school students to Price afterwards. One morning I left the house while the moon was still up and trudged through the new-fallen snow. It was a beautiful sight but so, so cold. The snow came up over my boots. Still, we were in a new tract and there were school friends close by. The famous radio show Your Hit Parade entertained us. Several of us would meet at Charlene’s house and swoon when Frank Sinatra won. What fun!

Uncle Howard and his family kept the small house and we moved up the hill to a new, larger home. There were two bedrooms upstairs and a bathroom and one room in the basement that my brother used. The entire tract was devoid of any landscaping or sidewalks. It was not a pretty place, but it was better than we had ever experienced. I fell in love with Howard’s baby girl, Ruth Ann. My joy was being with her.

The population in the area was soaring, so a new elementary school was built. My mother had been awarded a teaching certificate in 1927 by the Alabama State College in Montevallo. Even though Mother was not Utah certified, she was commandeered to teach. Because the school opened late it was necessary to hold classes six days a week. We three children were expected to clean the house and do laundry on Saturdays.

As the eldest girl, I was assigned most of these tasks. It wasn’t fair, but I had no power to resist. I learned to be a good housekeeper, which included fixing good meals and doing all the family laundry and ironing. I felt really proud that I was so capable. My brother helped by bringing in the coal and keeping the stove going for the laundry.

By the time I finished junior high I had lived in fifteen homes. They had all been in coal mining areas, but at least they all had indoor plumbing!

OUT ON THE FARM

During my first year of high school in 1944, my parents bought a run-down farmhouse outside Price, Utah (pop. 5000). This was because my brother George wanted to live near his sweetheart Helen, whose family were farmers. We had never been farmers! This was our first home ownership. Again, there was no running water in the house, no bathroom, and I was just reaching puberty. I was miserable for many reasons; we had no neighbors, no friends, but a lot of hard work for the eldest daughter.

World War II was in full swing and my mother was again pressed into teaching school. My life became more difficult because she was working. Since she had never wanted to drive, she rode the school bus with us. Laundry days were so punishing in the winter: bringing water in, heating it, then dumping it in the irrigation ditch. It was hard work. Then we’d hang it out on the neighbor’s line. In the winter it finished drying on the heating stove. The following Saturday, it would all be ironed.

After the first year we did install some kitchen cabinets, which we ordered from the Sears catalog. But we never connected the sink or had indoor plumbing. My sister and I shared a room with no door and no closet.

I was not a happy farmer!

MY FIRST ROMANCE

After two years on the farm, I was longing for friends and a social life. I met a boy named Richard, who had just returned after three years in Germany with the military. Carbon College was located on the high school campus, and he was attending there on the GI bill. We met in town and at school. He worked at his father’s service station in Helper. He was four years my senior and had a car. He was very good to me. I looked forward to the chocolates and gifts on each holiday. Because of him, life was bearable. We became close but never discussed marriage.

Richard attended my brother’s wedding in 1947. We left the reception early. When he took me home he asked to come in. He had always come to the door to pick me up and had been in the front room. He told me that he needed to use the bathroom. It was dark, cold, and snowy. I had to refer him to the outside privy, mortified for him to learn of our lowly lifestyle.

Richard lived with his parents in Helper, a railroad town about seven miles away. I had often visited there. It was absolutely the most beautiful home I had ever experienced. It sat on a small hill, a lovely brick home with four bedrooms and two bathrooms, lovely furniture and a double garage. There was a ping pong table in the finished basement and a half-bath. The souvenirs of his military service were proudly displayed in the sun porch in a glass showcase. I was invited for Thanksgiving dinner. I had no knowledge of how to act at a formal dinner. His sister Barbara, who was two years younger than he, was also there. She was also in college and a personality of the year. I was accepted at the dinner but I was so very timid.

My brother George had joined the US Army and much of the farm work was left to my mother and me. We birthed pigs, milked cows, gathered eggs and planted a garden for the summer. My dad worked five or six days at the coal mine but he preferred night shifts and even rented a room up near the coal mine. My boyfriend was surprised to arrive at the house one evening to find mother and me bringing piglets in from the barn to put behind the stove where they were safe and warm.

Still, I was not a happy farmer!

BACK TO ALABAMA

Richard attended my graduation in 1948. He gifted me a set of my chosen sterling silver, but no plans for our future were made.

Two weeks after graduation, the house, farm and everything were sold. My dad and his three brothers, all miners from Alabama, wanted to try to start their own mine. So we loaded the old car we now owned.