A Journey to Remember: A Story of Challenges, Decisions, Adaptations and Outcomes

By Jack M Van Hooser

With the encouragement of his family and friends, Jack M. Van Hooser shares a humorous personal account of growing up on the road with his father and older brother on the heels of the Great Depression. Unimaginable in modern times, the two young brothers spent their formative years occupying themselves in many major cities across the southeaster

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jack M Van Hooser
• Release date: Aug 10, 2016
• ISBN: 9780692679487

Jack M Van Hooser

Jack M. Van Hooser is a humble man-considerate, gentle, and unpretentious. His unflappable attitude and disposition seem out of character for a person whose formative years were unstable and challenged by every imaginable disadvantage. He grew up in the midst and under the influence of an economic depression, a major world war, and a fragmented family. Seemingly, on every path and at every step he was thwarted by obstacles, barriers, and pitfalls; yet, he overcame the clutch of defeat to become a fierce competitor and superlative achiever in every domain he entered. Seemingly, he used every roadblock as a stepping stone. As a high school student, he was the president of his student body; as an athlete in high school and college, he was all-state, all-southern and ultimately was recruited by three NFL teams; as a coach, his teams were consistent winners-on and off the playing field; as a business and professional leader, he rose to the level of State Assistant Commissioner. He is a mission and purpose man of faith, committed to his spiritual beliefs, his family, and community.

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Prologue

Daddy and Mother; Billy, Jack and Charles

This is a true story that I have been encouraged to write by many people, both family and friends, as a result of sharing some of my life experiences with them. My experiences included times of sadness, happiness, funny occurrences, adaptations to new people in my life, and always, challenges. Please accept my style of writing as a personal conversation in sharing my story with you. You should know that I do not pretend to be an author and when I begin writing, my hand puts on paper what my heart and memory tells it to. Also, I would never include a person’s name in a story if I thought it would hurt their feelings or offend them, so I will take the liberty to use a few fictional names without taking away from a story’s credibility.

The story for me begins in Columbia, Tennessee on February 29, 1932. Nothing special about that date, but not many people are born on a leap year with a birthday every four years. I was the middle of three boys with Charles born in Cross Bridges, Tennessee in 1929, me in 1932, and Billy born in Birmingham, Alabama in 1936.

My mother had lived at Cross Bridges, a small community outside of Columbia, Tennessee where she had completed the eighth grade in school. She married Daddy at age 16 and the duties of a mother came quickly, with three boys being born in the next few years. My daddy was raised in a small place outside of McMinnville, Tennessee named Dibrell and he finished the 12th grade in school. Mother was born in 1910 and died on Christmas Eve 1986 at age 76. She had two step-sisters. Daddy was born in 1881 and he was the fourth of six children; two sisters and four brothers. Daddy died in November 1951 at the age of 70. The only work I ever knew that Daddy did was going house to house in a neighborhood convincing the residents to let him have pictures of loved ones refinished. I am satisfied his earnings were less than the minimum wage of the time and much less than today.

We lived in a small frame house on East Ninth Street in Columbia, Tennessee. The house was not big, but we had electricity and running water with an inside bathroom. I am sure we were considered poor by some people, but my brothers and I did not know it, as we never felt disadvantaged or different.

My parents divorced in 1939 when I was seven years old and near the end of the first grade. Charles was 10 years old and in the fourth grade. Billy was only three at the time. Today he probably would have been in the pre, pre, pre class at school. I never knew the reason for their divorce. They apparently did a good job of sparing us of the problems they were having. In later years, we never asked them why, as they always did their best for us. They made us feel wanted and always loved us. I learned, as you will read in the following pages, the feeling of being loved can sustain you through the good times and the bad.

Mother and Billy moved to a farm at Fountain Heights, Tennessee which is outside of Columbia to live with her mother and step-father. Mother worked on the farm and raised Billy. In 1941, Mother married Luke Moser who was a farmer in Bryant Station, Tennessee, which was 14 miles out of Columbia.

Charles and I left Columbia with Daddy in the late spring or early summer of 1939. We were inseparable until 1944. We were young and continuously alone during the days in different cities across the southeast with new people to relate to. You may have heard the saying, which is not original with me, Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away. Believe me, on the road with Daddy and Charles, I was out of breath many times. Overall, I feel the breathless moments, both good and bad, shaped our lives for the better. Hold on for an exciting journey from 1939 to today.

Chapter 1: Life on the Road with Daddy and Charles

Charles; Daddy; Jack

During the period of time from the spring of 1939 until the spring of 1944, Charles and I traveled with Daddy into most of the southeastern states except Florida, North Carolina and South Carolina. At least, I don't have memories of being in those states. In fact, I have very few memories of the states listed in the following pages. I also do not remember the sequence of when we were in the cities, mentioned alphabetically in this chapter except for the last one, but the stories just stand out for some reason. I am satisfied that we were in three or four times more cities than mentioned, because we seldom stayed in a city longer than three or four months.

To give you a picture of who we were when our journey started in 1939, Daddy was 57 years old, Charles was ten and I was seven. Daddy was of average height, medium-build and gray hair that was combed straight back. He always had a pleasant smile and was neatly dressed in a tie, coat, and hat. In general, an attractive man that you would be comfortable around. He was in the picture business as mentioned in the Prologue.

We traveled light with limited clothing, no business material for Daddy, no sporting materials for Charles and me, and certainly no animals. Daddy never had a car to my knowledge, so we traveled from city to city by hitchhiking or by commercial bus. We never had a suitcase or hang-up bag, and traveled using two cardboard boxes tied with string used by grocery store butchers to tie packages of meat. This string was strong and butchers would provide the string at little or no charge. Health insurance? Are you kidding? Luckily, we never needed a doctor.

Usually we stayed in a one-bedroom apartment and shared the one bathroom with other renters on the floor. It was a treat for us to have a room with a kitchenette which included a small stove and a refrigerator. A private bathroom was pure luxury. When we arrived in a new city, Daddy would leave our two boxes with a merchant and he would look for a room for the night. Charles and I would be free to do whatever we wanted to do with the understanding that we were to be at a designated location at a certain time. Keep in mind there were no cell phones in those days, nor did Charles and I have watches. Somehow or another we were always where we were supposed to be and on time. After a visit to the local beer joint, Daddy would return with a room rented for the night, or longer. There was only one time I can remember him failing to find a place to stay – when we arrived in Harlan, Kentucky. The story about that exciting night is included in the section about Harlan to follow.

School? Not a high priority on our list of things to do. In the cities mentioned in this chapter, I will indicate to the best of my memory the cities in which we attended school. We seldom went to school! In the cities that we did go to school, Daddy would walk into the school office and declare, This boy's in (a certain grade). We never did have a report card or paperwork from the prior school(s) reflecting what grade(s) we each should be in. In fact, it could be in October and this would be the first time in the year we had registered in a school. Daddy always got us in the grade he had designated for each of us. He was always polite and a very convincing person. Always being a gentleman, when inside a building, he took off the hat he always wore. When we left the school's office, the staff would like Daddy better than Charles and me. The reason we never had a report card from a school was because we would usually leave a city overnight. Daddy would simply tell us we are going to another city tomorrow or the next day. Charles and I could care less as we had not been there long enough to make many school friends anyway. Our friends came from the streets or a public community center, and we enjoyed the excitement of a new city.

Daddy would drink beer, lots of beer! He never had beer in our room, even if we had a refrigerator. Charles and I seldom went into a beer joint with him. If we did, it was because the joint provided free sandwiches on the bar. Daddy would tell us to eat all you can. He would enjoy the peanuts and popcorn with his beer. His drinking was after he finished work and before he came to the room. On many occasions however, he came home drunk and occasionally he had soiled his pants in the seat. Charles and I would clean him up, clean his pants the best we could and wash his under shorts in the bathroom. He was never mean or loud, nor was he physical with us. Many nights he would come in late and we would still be up worrying about him. He always got up the next morning in a good mood and went to work. When he would meet us at a place outside the room, he was always on time. On time for us was a range of an hour or so to a specific hour designated.

It should be emphasized that Daddy never told Charles or me not to smoke or drink, although he did both. He should have been a psychologist, as he understood what made people tick and he was street smart. People just liked him! He never made an issue out of not drinking or smoking, but he encouraged us to be fair and dependable in our dealings with other people. Charles and I never did drink or smoke. Billy, bless his heart, he really did both. Billy's story is to come in a later chapter. He went to the bottom as an alcoholic and then rose to the top as a human being. He was my hero! You will embrace his story and respect him as a child of God.

We had a daily money distribution ritual except on Sunday, when Daddy did not work. Going to church or participating in religious activities were not a part of our life. Somehow or another, we knew right from wrong and now I know in my heart that Jesus was taking care of us during those days. His love for us sustained us during the good and bad and the happy and sad times. Before Daddy left for work each day, he would say to each of us, Here is a quarter for lunch, 12 cents for a movie and 5 cents for popcorn. The 12 cents for the movie increased to 15 cents before we left the road with him. If we did not go to a movie we could spend the money on anything we desired.

We enjoyed the weekday movies; scary ones with Boris Karloff and Bella Lugosi; funny ones with The Three Stooges (Curly, Larry, and Moe), Popeye, Bugs Bunny, and Donald Duck; police shows with Humphrey Bogart, North West Mounted Police and Chester Morris. Also, our favorites were the western movies, with an extremely young John Wayne, Hopalong Cassidy, Roy Rogers, and Gabby Hayes. We never missed the Saturday morning continued short stories called, serials such as The Green Hornet, Zorro, Gang Busters and Red Ryder. Each Saturday, the serial would end with the hero in an obvious life-ending situation. We would return the next Saturday to see how the hero escaped death yet again.

I remember the brief news reels which would usually be shown after the cartoons and before the main movie. I did not like to see the reports of the Americans fighting against the Japanese or Germans during World War II. Even at a young age, a sense of concern existed with hope it would not happen in our country. We loved the members of our military and would speak to them when passing on a street. The story about our relationship with soldiers in Columbus, Georgia is located later in this chapter.

The movie theater was a special place for us. Often it would be a meeting place in the evening for Daddy, Charles and me. The pictures were shown from noon until closing back then, and the theater was not emptied after each showing. New people would take seats for the next showing and if you wanted to see it again, you could remain. Charles and I would look at our favorites two or three times using our money allotment for popcorn and candy. Daddy had a cough that we easily recognized and we listened for it on days he would join us inside the theater. When we heard the cough, one of us would run to the back and get him. Usually, he would look at the entire movie regardless of where the story was when he started it. We did not care, as he often brought food in a grocery bag like cheese, bologna, crackers, and sometimes three whole dill pickles. The ruffling of the bag or chewing the crackers would sometimes bring from other attendees a Quiet. or Shhhh. On occasion Daddy might give a Shhhh! back. We were never told to leave the theater by the ushers, but they told us to quiet it down a few times.

Charles and I enjoyed occasionally going to work with Daddy and he seemed to enjoy having us. He would go unannounced into a community of lower socio-economic people and walk down the streets from door to door. Today you would not feel safe doing that, but in those days people seemed to respect each other for who and what they did.

Daddy would knock on the door and ask the person who came to the door, usually a lady, if he/we could come in and usually we were invited in. His purpose was to take old pictures the residents might have to a photo studio to have them refinished. He was a master salesperson – if he had been a commercial salesman, he would have been the top producer/earner. Daddy, always a polite gentleman, would casually look around the room and if he spotted a picture on the mantel or a dresser, he would ask the lady if the person in the picture was her aunt or grandmother. If yes, the deal was done, the sale was made. After examining the picture, he would point out the cracks, fading or other defects of the picture. Then he would ask if she had other pictures of the person in the photo, followed by informing them that in the near future, the picture would deteriorate until the person in the photo would become unrecognizable. If they did not want that to happen, for $1.99 he could have the picture refinished and it would look like new. It would be framed to protect against deterioration for 99 cents and returned within a week. Most of the time the lady would agree and may have other pictures needing the service, or might refer him to other potential customers. Daddy would take the picture to a local reliable studio to refinish for $1.00 and purchase a frame for 39 cents at a 5 and 10 cents store.

Daddy had a great sense of humor, wasn't shy and was very alert mentally. If Charles and I were with him and Daddy smelled food cooking, for example turnip greens, his favorite, he would say with a smile, Is that turnip greens I smell cooking? Always they would say, Do you and the boys want some? Yes, you know his answer. We would go into the kitchen, sit at her dinner table and be served. Daddy did not hesitate to ask if she had any onion or cornbread and the ladies were always pleased and happy to respond. When we left the house where we had been strangers an hour earlier, we left as friends. One thing I leaned by going to work with Daddy, his legs were in good physical condition, as he could out walk us. We would walk all day from where we stayed to and throughout the neighborhood and then took the long walk back. Sometimes he would stop off at a beer joint for a beer, or two or three, and we would go on back. Sometimes the three of us would go back together all the way and that was good, as we enjoyed being out with him like that.

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