Part V-a: Four Grandchildren of Andrew Russell and Josephine Davis

Memories of Mary Lucille Davis Woodliff

Isaac Luther Davis, Sr. was the second son of Andrew and Josephine Davis. Luther, at the age of 22, married Ellie Cronin on January 30, 1907 in Mobile, Alabama. He obtained a pharmacist’s degree some where along the way. One set of his grandchildren referred to him as Daddy Doc. After all, Luther’s father was a medical doctor so there could have been some influence there to pursue a career as a “druggist” as it would have been called in those days. He had three children by Ellie. They were Mary Lucille Davis, Margery Eunice Davis, and John Cronin Russell Davis. Ellie died on June 26, 1916 at the age of 30 or 31 leaving Luther a widower. In November of 1918 Luther Davis married Irene Cronin, the sister of his first wife. In August of 1919, a son named Isaac Luther Davis, Jr. was born.

Mary Lucille Davis was born on Jan. 2, 1908. She was quick to point out to me during an interview with her in April of 1997 that her parents had married on January 30, 1907, and she was born almost a full year after their marriage. My memories of Mary Lucille Davis Woodliff are many in comparison to others in her family except, of course, for those of my father (J. Cronin Davis). Memories are interesting in that they are made because the brain has a way of webbing and networking memories into what one might call a forest of memory trees. The more an individual memory of a person or event is cross referenced and reinforced, that particular memory becomes what I call a larger tree in the forest. Thus, it stands out more than the other trees.

The actual times I remember being present with my Aunt Mary Lucille were few and far between, but they were always SIGNIFICANT events. Mary Lucille was an engaging personality (an understatement!). You were engaged whether you wanted to be or not. She was vivacious, energetic, talented, personable, loving, controlling, devoted, proud of her family (immediate and extended), faithful, stubborn, short in stature, sociable, tender, manipulative, head-strong (is that the same as stubborn?), and the adjectives go on and on.

My first remembrance of Mary Lucille was Christmas 1949. I was five years old. Our family lived on Hollywood Street in Moundville, Alabama. We had moved there nine months before from Pascagoula, Mississippi. I distinctly remember that a package came to our home which was a less than modest house with two bedrooms, a living room, kitchen with a coal burning stove, a bathroom which had recently been added before we moved in, plus two coal burning fireplaces—one in the living room and an adjacent one in the front bedroom. The other bedroom and bathroom were heated by gas space heaters. The package arrived Christmas Eve afternoon. I remember that my parents said it was from my dad’s sister, Mary Lucille and her family who lived in Oklahoma. That is the first time I ever heard the word Oklahoma. As I was told, this was not the first time our family had received a Christmas package from the Woodliffs of Oklahoma, but this is the first one I remember. It was not a large package, but it was full of little gifts for each one in the family. The only gifts I can remember were some clothes for some of the kids in the family (5 at that time) plus a “steam pudding cake.” The cake was not very big so there was only a small piece for each of us. The aroma from the foiled cake packed in a cake tin filled the gift box with sweet spices. The smell of cinnamon and other spices was evident to the taste as well. As a young child I now had knowledge of another family that belonged to us. Mary Lucille would send pictures of her family from time to time, but during the Christmas holiday sometime during the early 1950’s, the Woodliffs made a world-wind trip to Alabama to visit relatives. We were on the itinerary. We now lived in Tuscaloosa, Alabama.

My second memory of Mary Lucille was now expanded since it included kids that I had never met to my knowledge. There was Lance and Duane (they seemed to come in couplets) plus Gail and Kay. Oh yes, there was the husband of Mary Lucille—Uncle Kirk Woodliff. I had a fascination with these new cousins since I only knew the many cousins on my mother’s side of the family and most of them lived in our area. Now, I was learning more of this foreign branch of relatives that lived an intriguing life (as told by Mary Lucille) somewhere a great distance from me. The boys and girls could dance and play the piano. They were also in sports. They were even “forced” to dance and play for us during that short visit of Christmas 1954. Uncle Kirk seemed to intervene (I didn’t know that word at the time but I knew what intervening meant) in that he “kept” Mary Lucille from exploiting the talents of her progeny. Years later I would remember this exploitation and know how to deal with it directly. I, too, with little coaxing was asked to play the piano. I remember Mary Lucille commenting that “the boy has a nice touch at the piano.”

My third memory was the summer of 1957. My dad decided that it was time for us to visit his sister Mary Lucille and her family. Wow! We would be driving all the way to Oklahoma. It was going to be a 500 mile trip and we would leave early, early morning and would even witness the sun rise.

A week before our departure, I was washing the dishes (there were always dishes to wash). This seemed to be my lot in life and I took it seriously even to the point of not allowing either of my younger brothers to come in the kitchen and “dirty up a glass.” They would have to wait one hour before fetching a glass of water for themselves. This could have been an early surfacing of the ugly head of a controlling personality that has caused grief for me and many others even down to this present day. It had its origins in the dish washing slave camp of the Davis household in Tuscaloosa, Alabama where our family had resided since 1951. As I washed a drinking glass that had a crack in the side of the glass, my hand slipped inside the glass. The glass broke under the pressure of my hand and a jagged piece of the glass cut a long gash below the largest knuckle of my right index finger. I still feel squeamish after all of these years as I vividly remember the blood gushing into the dish water and my cry for help. My mother came in and immediately wrapped an over sized hand towel around the hand in order to stop the bleeding. I was at the fainting stage by this time. I lay on the couch awaiting someone to take me to Dr. Cone’s office which was at that time on Greensboro Avenue. My dad was the one who took me. I’m sure it was hard for him because I remember him leaving the room while Dr. Cone stitched the gash on my finger. I didn’t feel too good either, but somehow we all made it through. As we left the doctor’s office, he said, “Oh, by the way, NO SWIMMING for two weeks. Keep the bandage dry. My dad told him that we would be leaving on vacation in a few days and wanted to know what he should do about getting the stitches out since we would be away. Dr. Cone told us to get a doctor in Oklahoma to do it. Well, we made the trip out to Oklahoma, and the journey there is another story in itself which will have to be left for some other blog in the distant future.

I was almost 13 years old when we pulled in the Woodliff’s drive on North Fifth Street in Henryetta, Oklahoma. Henryetta boasts of a number of world rodeo champions. It is located in the hill country of eastern Oklahoma about 100 south of Tulsa and 100 miles east of Oklahoma City. Mary Lu and Kirk’s home was situated on the side of steep hill with a driveway that seemed to be cut out of solid rock. Our family took the basement compound which included Lance and Duane’s bedroom where my parents slept plus the laundry/shower/bath area where the three of us kids slept on cots. Gail and Kay had their own bedroom upstairs as did Mary Lu and Kirk. Lance and Duane were banished to the screened front porch where they slept on air mattresses. It had to be hot since it was mid summer, but they seemed to survive without any visible complaints. That porch was later annexed and was enclosed and used as a study as I found out on a subsequent visit.

It was a fun time being with our cousins in OK. Mary Lucille took us to a dance lesson and taught us how to tap dance. We attended a movie in “downtown” Henryetta—“Tammy” was playing starring Debbie Reynolds. We were warned that the “picture show” (movie theater) was a place for the locals to gather and that we shouldn’t be surprised that midway through the movie the patrons would begin to talk and visit one another. The roar of the talking blocked out the sound coming from the movie screen and one had to read the lips of the actors in order to continue with the plot. No ushers came forth to quiet the crowd. This was Henryetta at its best.

I still had my right hand bandaged from the cut over the index finger. To my sorrow one afternoon everyone was going swimming “at the lake.” I thought I would have to spend the time on the shore trying to occupy myself while everyone else was having a great time in the water. Mary Lucille comes to the rescue by announcing that if the doctor said to keep the bandage dry then we will keep the bandage dry, but I could still go swimming by wearing a plastic bag which was secured over my right hand by way of rubber bands. It was difficult swimming with one arm in the water and the other held high above the water. But I did it and enjoyed the fun after all.

As promised, later that week I was taken to “The Clinic” to have the stitches taken out “The Clinic” was located down the hill from the Woodliffs. I almost passed out again watching the doctor snip the stitches, but the deed was done quickly. I returned to the Woodliffs a happier camper.

We traveled back to Alabama with many happy memories of cousins who lived in the wild west…one in particular who impressed me because he drove around town and to the lake even though he only had a permit to drive since he would not turn 16 until November of that year. How he was able to get by with that I will never know.

(To be continued)