John Cronin Russell Davis, Sr. (My Father) Part VIII

Part VII-h: Four Grandchildren of Andrew Russell and Josephine Davis

John Cronin Russell Davis, Sr.
(My Father)
Part VIII

• For the Cronin Davis family living in Tuscaloosa, Alabama during the middle of the 20th Century (1951-1959), life was ordinary, regular, predictable and stable. The older brothers played sand lot baseball in the vacant lot across from Whitfield Gibbons’ grandparents’ home which was one block east of where we lived. Whitfield and his mother and sister lived with his grandparents. Whitfield organized snake hunting excursions which included Cronin Jr. and Charles. As I remember, they would go out at night and take a long stick with two prongs at the end which had been whittled into points. These sticks were used to trap the snake’s head in between the prongs. The snake hunters would bring the snakes home and put them in large jars which contained the preservation solution. If you were invited into the basement, you could see a virtual zoology lab which had what I thought were hundreds of snakes—more than Noah had on the ark. Whitfield knew how to “milk” a snake’s venom. This only gave me the creeps just thinking about it, but it didn’t scare the stew out of me like the tarantula fights that were staged by my older brothers.
• Our clapboard sided rental house was perfect for the propagation of huge, I mean, gigantic spiders. Webs were all over the south side of the house. The spiders were captured in small fruit jars and then placed in a box to do Gladiator style battles. To watch these vicious contests between two hairy Araneide creatures gave me nightmares. This situation was on exacerbated by the fact that the large spiders were able to penetrate the siding and, in some mysterious way, work their way into the back bedroom which was actually an enclosed back porch. On many nights when I went into the shared bedroom to get into the iron-framed double bed which thankfully I didn’t have to share at this stage of my life, a tarantula would be sitting on the pillow ready to inject its poison into my neck as soon as I settled my head on the pillow. There would be a blood curdling scream that was louder than an air raid siren. My father or someone would come to the rescue and slay the black dragon. I got into the habit of always sleeping at the foot of the bed in a sideways position with my head slightly hanging off the bed. I’m sure that this sleeping position is the cause of my back trouble at the 5th lumbar which has plagued me all my adult life. No amount of vacuuming the webbed corners of the room seemed to deter the infestations of spiders. After Cronin and Charles left home for college or the Marines, I was allowed to sleep in the front bedroom with Larry. Arachnophobia was not a word in my vocabulary in those days, but the fear of spiders continued way into my adult years. My father sometimes would imitate me when he saw a spider. He would say, “Watch out, Ronnie, there’s a “spydah!” This is the way I pronounced “spider” in my southern dialect.
• Besides snakes and “spydahs” there were other baneful creatures that inhabited homes and yards in the Deep South--roaches and huge black, orange striped grasshoppers. Spraying insecticide on a very regular basis never seemed to matter. The large oak trees around homes seemed to produce armies of roaches that never ran out of reinforcements in the battle to scare the daylights out of children and adults alike. I never saw a small roach. They were always at least six inches long with twitching wings and had the speed of NASCAR races. Roaches could never be caught because of their speed and the keen ability to fake the direction that you thought they were taking to escape your stomping foot. My mother was the only one I knew who developed the uncanny ability of stepping on a roach bare foot. I don’t have the intestinal fortitude even to describe the outcome of the “unfortunate” roach. Suffice to say, it didn’t get away!
• The “Texas” grasshoppers, as we called them, were descendants of the Biblical grasshoppers from one the Ten Plagues that Moses was commanded to lay upon the Egyptians in his quest to get Pharaoh “to let my people go.” One grasshopper alone could decimate an entire day lily bed in a matter of hours. They could copulate and produce a zillion progeny overnight when you thought you had killed the last one the evening before with a gasoline, soaked firebrand. My wife and I have lived in Michigan for more than 35 years. We came here to teach music at a four-year liberal arts college. That was the reason for the move—to find work. However, if you ask my wife why we moved to Michigan, her answer will not be to seek employment but it was to get away from roaches which don’t seem survive above the Mason-Dixon Line. In fact, to this day, when we visit relatives in Alabama, we NEVER leave a suitcase open and unattended. As soon as the item you needed from the suitcase is secured, you immediately, if not sooner, zipped the bag tightly shut and all the while kept a panoramic eye open for any clandestine invasion of the infamous cockroach. We well remember once after returning home to Owosso the fear that struck everyone in our house when I discovered, to my horror, as I was placing a pair of trousers from the suitcase back into my closet, that a dreaded cockroach had barnacled himself on the trouser leg for the 900-mile trip back to Michigan. The white-glove inspection began immediately to determine if there were other invaders present in the rest of the baggage.
• In November of 1960, my parents purchased their first home at the ages of 45. There house payment was around $100 a month including taxes for the entire life of 30 year of the loan. That story next time around. (to be continued)

John Cronin Russell Davis, Sr. (My Father) Part VII

Part VII-g: Four Grandchildren of Andrew Russell and Josephine Davis

John Cronin Russell Davis, Sr.
(My Father)
Part VII
• The years from October of 1951 to August of 1959 paralleled the first eight years of my formal schooling. I had entered first grade in September of 1951 at Moundville Elementary School. As stated in an earlier post, the State of Alabama required all students entering first grade to be six years old by October 1. My birthday is October 5 so I was almost 7 years old when I entered first grade. Alabama public schools, at least the one I attended, did not have a kindergarten. I didn’t know the alphabet; I couldn’t count to 100; I couldn’t write my name, obviously; I couldn’t tie my shoes; I couldn’t hold a handkerchief and blow my nose; I couldn’t make it through the day without taking a nap (at 7 years old, mind you!)—my mother even mentioned to me once when we I was driving her to Birmingham for a doctor appointment that she hoped that when I began a career that my employer would allow me to take a nap in the afternoon because she was sure that I would need it (I was 23 years old at the time). That remark caused not a little steam during the rest of the conversation. However, as the years progressed, guess what? She was right! Wow! How I hate to admit that! There were several more “I couldn’ts” but the obvious was that I was immature and behind in a lot of learning skills. My two-year old grandson knows more now than I knew at 7 years old.
• Needless to say, the first six weeks at school are mostly a blur except for the fact that I distinctly remember the rest period after lunch. Every child was supposed to bring a pallet which meant a small quilt or blanket. I only had a towel to lie on for the brief rest period. I’m sure that there were no extra blankets at home and certainly no small quilts. My recollection is that I would fall sound asleep in seconds after I lay down. My teacher would always have to wake me up. There were times when we couldn’t be on the floor because the custodial staff had swept the wood floors with what was called a “sweeping compound” and it made the floor a bit oily which was to keep the dust from forming into dust bunnies. The compound-swept floor needed “to dry” before we children could get back down on the floor for a rest after lunch. We were supposed to lay our heads on our desks and rest in that position. I could never lay my head sideways and then try to rest since my sinuses would plug up and I couldn’t breathe—the woes of being in first grade! One other thing I couldn’t do then and still can’t do was to sit “Indian” style on the floor during story time. The children were supposed to sit with legs crossed so that our feet wouldn’t touch anyone else. My legs were and still are short and are unable to cross at that angle. The teacher insisted that I sit this way and I sat miserably for the 20 minutes of the story. I told my dad about the situation. He went to the school and told the teacher that I had a genetic defect in that my legs were short and it was his fault—he was short of stature and even was given the nickname “Shorty” by the fellows at the plant. Thus, I was the only one in the class that had a dispensation to sit with my legs straight in front of me. Cool to have a dad who would go to bat for you.
• In mid-October of ’51, we moved to Tuscaloosa. My parents lost no time in enrolling all of us in school the very next day after the move. The two older brothers were enrolled at Tuscaloosa Junior High, a public school. Larry and I were enrolled at St. John the Baptist Parochial School. It was the parish school which included grades 1 through 8. The school had grades 1 though 12 in its earlier history, but when we enrolled it was only grade school through junior high. Of course, I was in first grade. Larry was in fourth grade. My mother and father left us at the school that day. There was no time for being introduced or to get acclimated to the new environment. Sister Mary Thomas (Order of St. Benedict) was my teacher and Sister Francine (OSB) was Larry’s.
• Catholic education was once again reinstated in the family. The older three had been introduced to parochial schools at St. Mary’s in Mobile and then at Our Lady of Victories in Pascagoula, thus, continuing in the foot steps of our father who had been trained in his education at the feet of the Sisters of Mercy at St. Mary’s grade school in Mobile and later by the Christian Brothers at McGill Institute in Mobile from which he graduated in 1933.
• During those eight years from 1951 to 1959 the memories merge and sometimes fuse together. Memories like:
o Getting our first TV on December 18, 1954 which was the Saturday before the 4th Sunday of Advent of that year. It took Cronin and Charles (two oldest brothers—17 and 16 years old, respectively) and our Dad all morning and part of an afternoon to install the antenna on the house at 502 34th Ave. It was a cold, damp December day--a penetrating cold that can only be experienced in the south when the humidity was high and the temperature hovering in the 30’s. How far should the antenna be turned to the left or to the right in order to get the best picture on the console TV which was seated in the living room? Someone had to be viewing the TV, another had to be at the front door to relay a positive or negative answer, someone else in the yard would continue the relay to our Dad and brothers on the roof. Afterwards the guide wires had to be secured so that the antenna wouldn’t collapse when the wind was storming about. At last! A decent picture which by today’s standards would look more like a snowstorm 50% of the time. Of course, the TV signal was being transmitted from Birmingham, Alabama from WBRC TV Channel 12. It was good enough, nonetheless, to watch the Lawrence Welk Show that evening. Other minor adjustments to the antenna were made on subsequent days until we had a “for sure” image on the TV.
o The time when Cronin and Charles (the year and date forgotten) were walking on the train trestle over the Black Warrior River. It was a forbidden activity for obvious reasons. Warnings had been readily issued by our parents shortly after moving to Tuscaloosa. The Black Warrior River is a navigable river and bridges for automobiles and trains were constructed at a point to connect Tuscaloosa with the neighboring city of Northport across the river. The bridges were drawbridges which stopped traffic whenever river traffic went under the bridge structure. The distance from the bridge to the top of the water was a considerable distance. If one fell from the bridge, death could be expected. Here is the account of the escapade as told by Charles in February of 2006:
“About 5 of us were walking across the trestle. When we got about half way across, we saw a train coming. We were all about 14 or 15 years old except Dom (Dominic) who was 11 or 12. The crossties over the river do not have any dirt or slag between them. There is only air and you can see the river when you look down. It is about 100 feet down. We all ran to a platform that was attached to the trestle. It stuck out about 10 feet from the tracks. All of us older guys made it in plenty of time, but Dom being younger was scared to run on the tracks because of the air gap between the crossties. One would not have enough room to stand between the tracks and the edge of the trestle. You would have to jump off or get hit by the train. What saved Dom from being hit or having to jump was that workers had put two extra boards on the side of the trestle and Dom lay down on the boards. The train missed him. I really thought he was going to be killed.”—Charles
• In a neighborhood like ours, the grapevine is always at full function. The train trestle event went through the neighborhood faster than a wild fire. Our parents were waiting for the criminals by the time they returned from the daring adventure. I don’t remember the trial, verdict or sentence, but I was reminded once again that the two rules and only two rules our parents had for the household were that (1) you don’t sass them and (2) you don’t lie to them. Over the years I deducted that those two rules covered the entire moral law given by Moses on Mount Sinai. I also learned that it was dangerous, very dangerous, to fall into the hands of an angry God or his earthly representatives (parents). (to be continued)

John Cronin Russell Davis, Sr. (My Father) Part VI

Part VIIf: Four Grandchildren of Andrew Russell and Josephine Davis

John Cronin Russell Davis, Sr.
(My Father)
Part VI

• In looking back over the years, the move to Tuscaloosa in October, 1951 would be considered a “permanent” move for my parents. They would spend the next 34 to 40 years rearing their family, seeing children leave home and marrying, grandchildren being born, retiring, and living out their days in an area where many of their ancestors as well as family members had lived for decades upon decades. My parents were 36 years old at the time. For my father a long career at B.F. Goodrich started the year of the move. My mother would soon launch a career in sales that would become legendary. The family would be complete with the birth of Glenn the year before. In these post WWII days, the family would settle and set down roots that are in 2008 producing the 4th generation of Davises.
• Daddy (as most in the South call their fathers) would work at B. F. Goodrich for about a quarter of a century in order to provide for a growing family, but his real love was being a “fix-it” man. He would continuously find ways to explore this wonderful talent. The man could fix anything! He had an incredible mind for the mechanical which was well beyond the doctoral level and was probably much more advanced than any PhD. From washing machines to lawn mowers, small machines, automobiles, clock works, you name it, he could overhaul, reinstall, completely rebuild, and never tire of the tinkering. All of this eventually led to a sideline business that was completely self-taught—piano tuning and piano technician. Through a correspondence course in piano tuning (if you can imagine such—people go to universities to get their piano technician degrees) he began a “moon-lighting” career that continued until he died. Piano tuning and piano repair with the sideline of reed pump organ repair became an obsession with the man. There were always pianos in the basement that were in various stages of repair and restoration. Self-players, spinets, uprights, and even grand pianos passed through the basement on a regular basis. For several years we had a self-player piano with lots of rolls that could entertain for hours on end as long as someone had the stamina to pump the bellows. Two of the six boys took piano lessons and enjoyed playing on their own, but the upright was just plain fun with so many songs from the ‘90’s (1890’s) available on piano rolls.
• Running parallel to the Piano Man’s career was a career in sales that our mother began. Sales of Nobility silverware, china and crystal and sales of Nutrobio (vitamins) were the preludes to the gargantuan sales career as a World Book Encyclopedia representative. The woman probably sold more World Books than any other Field Enterprise representative in the nation, and that is not use of hyperbole. I remember calling World Book headquarters in the mid-1990’s to see if I could get a back year book for the set that my mother had given us in the mid-80’s (a set that she had won because of her super sales even in “retirement”). Since the set of World Books was in my mother’s name, they had to verify the serial number. The sales rep scrolled through page after page of documents which listed all the sets she had sold or won. The rep commented that she had never seen such a portfolio of sales in her entire life! Mama sold a lot of World Books. There was a family joke in which my Dad said that Mama would probably sell a set of World Books at his funeral. She did sell a set on their 49th and last wedding anniversary while they were eating out at the famous Miss Melissa’s Restaurant in Moundville, Alabama. Ten months later in July of 1985, at our Dad’s funeral visitation the long-ago prophecy was fulfilled. As friends and neighbors and extended family filed passed our Dad’s casket on the evening of the visitation, one of my mother’s friends whispered to her that it wasn’t the right time to ask, but after everything had settled down could my mother give her a call. The woman wanted to talk to our mother about buying a set of World Books for her grandchildren. The laughter that came out of Mama’s mouth at the mention of the World Books wasn’t immediately appreciated by the mourners. But, after inquiry, everyone got a big laugh out of the situation and I’m sure our Dad did too.
• The sales penchant that Mama had certainly had not started in 1951 with the move to Tuscaloosa. She was doing sales as a teenager. In fact, in 1933, at the age of 18, Mama won a trip to the Chicago World’s Fair because she sold the most subscriptions to a Beautiful Baby Contest that was held in Moundville, Alabama. Ironically, Daddy was at the same Fair as was mentioned in a previous post. The two had yet to meet but that was soon to happen as Daddy settled in Moundville, Alabama that year after he graduated from high school. My Dad’s cousin, Evan Terry, told me this past summer that his cousin Cronin (our father) met Evelyn Elliott (our mother) at Hale County High School’s football games where Evelyn was head cheerleader. Mama didn’t graduate from high school until 1936 due to the fact that her high school had closed for a time during the Great Depression. She finished high school three years after most of her contemporaries including her future husband. I’ve long thought that Providence had a real hand in that delayed graduation. I don’t think I would be around writing this memory if she had graduated on time.
• Incidentally, that cheerleading gene in Mama has been passed down to her progeny. All you have to do is talk to one of her “chilluns” or “grandchilluns” Enough said. (to be continued)

John Cronin Russell Davis, Sr. (My Father) Part V

Part VIIe: Four Grandchildren of Andrew Russell and Josephine Davis

John Cronin Russell Davis, Sr.
(My Father)
Part V

• During the summer of 2008, we made a visit to Alabama and I was able to pinpoint the exact time that my parents and brothers moved to Pascagoula, Mississippi. My oldest brother said that it was the 3rd month of his 4th grade year, 1947. We moved to Moundville, Alabama in the 3rd month of his 7th grade year which was 1950.
• The move to Alabama was probably precipitated by the fact that my Dad’s radiator shop just wasn’t bringing in enough income for the family. The sixth child was on the way, and he would be born in October of 1950.
• I have a few vivid memories of the move. Larry and I were sent ahead of the move to live with my mother’s sister Mabel and her husband Jesse and their two children. The Wiggins’ lived at the top of a hill just east of Moundville. I was five and a half years old and still was very much a Mama’s boy, and I got very homesick for my parents. The situation was exacerbated by the fact that Larry who is 2 years 7 months older (7 years old at the time) was stricken with food poisoning. He was VERY sick and could offer no comfort for his younger brother. I cried a lot at night when no one would hear me whimpering for my Mama.
• The move took place but the rental house was not available at the time of the move because the house had no indoor bathroom. My mother had told my father that she had grown up with an outhouse and she would never again use an outhouse especially with a family soon to have six children. So, the landlord was hastily attaching a bathroom to the two bedroom house. The construction was delayed and wasn’t finished until after the actual move to Moundville.
• We were all shifted around to various relatives who lived in the area. I remember staying at my mother’s brother’s home. His wife had either already had or was expecting to deliver twins at the time of our move. Everyone had to be crowded with this expanded family parceled out all over the town of Moundville.
• The move-in day finally arrived and I was excited about living in a “new” house. When I find a picture of the “new” house, I will post it on the blog. You will wonder how we all survived in this modest (some would rate it as a shack) house. I was happy as long as my parents would be there with us.
• When I awoke on the first morning of living in the “new” house, I was absolutely elated to know that our Dad was busy building coal fires in the big bedroom and the living room. Those two rooms had grates for coal in the fire places. A coal fire had already been started in the kitchen pot-bellied stove. Coal had already been delivered to a pile in the back yard complete with a coal bucket.
• I distinctly remember running outside to watch the smoke curl out of the chimney. I had never seen smoke coming out of a chimney. The older kids must have already been at school. Rick, the baby of the family at least for seven more months was a little over a year old plus three month.
• Our Dad had taken a job as an auto mechanic at Moundville Motor Company which was owned by his Uncle Evan Terry, the husband to Katie Davis Terry.
• We lived on Hollywood Street long enough for our youngest brother Glenn to be born and long enough for my mother to step on a rusty nail while she was fetching coal from the coal pile out back. Long enough to experience a bitterly cold winter with some snow, a first for me. Long enough to learn to ride a 20 inch bicycle. Long enough to give our brother Charles a chance to jump from a stack of cotton bales at the cotton gin across the road and bust his eye so it look like it was bigger than his head. This scared the stew out of our Dad who was trying to have compassion on a son who had disobeyed regarding the off limits of the cotton gin warehouse. At the same time he had a medical emergency on his hands and had to give in to his compassion. Long enough for me to lose my first tooth on my oldest brother Cronin’s birthday, Aug. 2 of 1950. Long enough to learn after I had had all my booster shots for school that I didn’t qualify for first grade since Alabama law had changed that summer to exclude anyone from first grade who was not six by October 1 of that year, 1950. Long enough to experience the first true love of my life, Sarah Donelson, who lived next door and who moved away somewhere down the road during that year. Long enough to bond with my Great Aunt Katie Davis Terry who cared for me many days during the week in order to give my parents a break from too many children underfoot. Long enough to learn that wind whistles around the corner of the house and causes pigs rooting down in the pasture below our house to start squealing loudly. The “cutting” wind was so sharp that it cut the pigs and made them squeal and would cut me if I went outside. That’s the way my brother Charles kept an eye on me when he was put in charge as the baby sitter. It worked.
• It must have been in the spring of 1951 when we found another rental house called the Griffin home. It was a much larger home with oak woodwork, high ceilings, ceramic fireplaces, a dining room, several bedrooms, a wrap-around porch, tin roof, and all in all a very spacious home compared to the one on Hollywood Street. I don’t know the reason for the move from one house to the other, but I could guess that overcrowding had to be a factor at the Hollywood Street house.
• If my memory serves me, the six to eight months we lived in the Griffin home, I had time to learn what The Grit newspaper was and how to sell it. I learned that when your parents tell you to avoid the old saw dust pile left from an abandoned saw mill on the hill near our house that they meant business. Walking around the saw dust hill would bring tragedy because there were sink holes that would magically appear and suck you under, and you would be burned alive by the perpetual fire that was constantly belching smoke into the air. One day I was walking through The Pines. a grove of southern pine trees that was a passageway to my uncle’s farm, with my brother Larry and cousin CD (Charles David). They wanted to have a little adventure and see if there really were sink holes and fire, but most importantly, it would be shorter to walk through the saw dust pile to get home rather than take the “safe” route. Of course, I had seen the wrath of God poured out upon older brothers who decided to take the wrong path in life and then be punished by His representatives on earth (our parents), and I told Larry and CD that I wasn’t going with them. When I got to the bottom of the hill where Larry and CD should have come out, I waited a sufficient number of minutes. When they didn’t come out, I went wailing down the street to our house and told my parents that Larry and CD had died in the saw dust pile. My mother called her brother who was the father of CD and they went tearing off up the hill in our ’38 Ford. Of course, the reason the rebellious ones delayed on the fateful saw dust pile was that they enjoyed playing in the saw dust since they could not find any sink holes at least that they could see. So, why not sin even the more since sin is always enjoyable. Well, all I remember was that my name was “Mudd” and they got what was coming to them.
• School started in late August of that year. I was in the first grade for about six weeks and my parents decided to move again. Our Dad was now working at B. F. Goodrich in Tuscaloosa about 15 miles from Moundville. They had found a rental home in West End of Tuscaloosa and so we moved a few days after my birthday in October. (to be continued)

John Cronin Russell Davis, Sr. Part IV

Part VIId: Four Grandchildren of Andrew Russell and Josephine Davis

John Cronin Russell Davis, Sr.

(My Father)

Part IV

A flood of long-forgotten memories has deluged me this day. So here goes another post.

• I’m sure that my father, Cronin Davis, Sr. was part of these memories even if I can’t picture him in the actual frame of the memory. These memories had to be during the years of 1947-48. I would have been 3 and 4 years old at the time.
• My brother Larry celebrated his 6^th birthday on March 28, 1948. It was Easter Sunday, and I thought it was a wonderful thing to have one’s birthday on Easter. As years rolled along, I wondered when Larry would celebrate his birthday on another Easter Sunday. It never happened and not too long ago I checked on the dates for Easter into the 21^st century and found that the next occurrence of March 28 being Easter Sunday would be in the year 2027. Larry will be 85 years old and I will be 83. I remember Larry’s Easter birthday as being a sunny Sunday with traditional egg-filled baskets, Sunday Mass, a meal, and watching Larry open a present or two.
• Another connection to the date of March 28, 1948 came to light a couple of years ago. I was reading a journal of Thomas Merton who was a Trappist monk at Gethsemani Abbey, Kentucky—a prolific spiritual writer during the 40’s, 50’s and 60’s. He had a journal entry for March 28, 1948 which revealed his thoughts about Easter Sunday that year. It was cool to corroborate a memory of a 3 and a 1/2 year old with the memory of a man who would have been 34 years old at the time. Actually, the same age as my own parents.
• On September 4, 1948, our little town of Pascagoula, Mississippi was in the storm path of a hurricane. My brother Cronin told me that during the year before in September, 1947 there had been another hurricane which had pounded the Gulf Coast. But, the one in 1948 sticks out in my memory even to this day. I was almost four years old. My mother would have been six months pregnant with my brother Rick. The warnings went out. I remember my two older brothers helping our dad board up the windows of our rented duplex. The winds had picked up and were swirling the tall Southern pine trees that dotted the back yards of all the houses in our subdivision. The subdivision backed up to what was called The Canal—a drainage culvert of some sort. I thought the Canal was a river. As the storm approached my father had everyone come into the house. All of the sturdy furniture (couch and large chairs and a table) had been placed in the center of the living room. The formation reminded me of a play fort. Quilts were placed on the hardwood floors, and we got down under the table with was protected by the couch and chairs. The sky appeared dark green, almost a drab olive green. The wind howled and lightening and thunder was prevalent. I was somewhat fearful but my parents seemed calm. Plus, I thought it was neat that we were playing fort. I must have fallen asleep during the storm because I don’t remember any other details until the following morning. When day came the skies were clear but the wind was still blowing very hard as it swayed the pines around the house. There was one pine tree that had been toppled in our back yard. What struck me most was my parents’ dismay and shock and eventual anger to find out that the entire neighborhood had been evacuated and our family had not been notified. I can still hear my dad saying, “We could have all been blown to Kingdom Come!” I didn’t know what “Kingdom Come” meant but was sure it was a place I didn’t want to get blown to. Several years ago I talked with my brother Cronin and asked him if my memory was correct. He assured me that it was. He also told us how vulnerable he felt as an 11 year old while the storm was in progress. He was very frightened.
• Because the pine tree had fallen in the back yard due to the hurricane, we all found a new place to play on the long trunk of the tree with its many remaining branches for pretend play. My dad said that he would eventually burn the tree right where it was, and we could have a hot dog and marshmallow cook out with the tree trunk serving as our grill. Before that happened, however, there was much play in and around the tree. Early one evening we were all out on the tree. We heard a whooping yell that pierced the dusk which was descending on our neighborhood. Lo and Behold! My brother Charles (second to the oldest) flew around the corner of the house into the back yard. He was riding on his bike and was yelling and crying out to stay on the trunk of the tree. A “mad dog” was chasing him--actually, a dog that Charles had probably aggravated and then enticed to chase him. In one leap in the style of the Western movies of the day, Charles literally flew off his bike. The bike kept going and traveled away from the tree with the dog in hot pursuit. Everyone was safe on the tree.
• When the tree was cremated, we were all in tow with our sticks for roasting hot dogs and marshmallows. For some reason, my brothers thought it was great to roast the marshmallows until they were totally black. I don’t ever remember having a roasted marshmallow until then, and it took me to the time I became an adult to realize that most normal people didn’t blacken their marshmallows like I did. And to tell the truth, I really never did like hot dogs. I just liked the bun with ketchup. My dad was always understanding of me when we would go to a hot dog stand and he would explain to the vendor that, “Yes, my son will have a hot dog but without the wiener.” I was too shy, then, to speak for myself since I had three older brothers to talk for me as well as a father.
• The last event of the year 1948 came on December 7. I was home with my mother who was great with child. She woke me from an afternoon nap and told me to call my dad at his radiator shop. I didn’t know it at the time but my mother was in labor. This was going to be her fifth child and she probably knew that her labors progressed rather rapidly at each successive birth. How I managed as a four year old to call on the phone is beyond me. More than likely, it was an event where one picked up the receiver and asked the operator to connect with the person requested. I remember telling my mother that the man at the shop said that Daddy had gone to school to pick up the boys. My mother seemed in a panic. My Dad came in shortly with my brothers. My mother went straight to the car with her suitcase. We were told later that our Dad had paused in conversation a little too long and Evelyn told Cronin that if he didn’t want to deliver this baby he’d better get on the stick. The 1938 Ford probably had never experienced the acceleration and speed that poured upon it as my parents flew to Moss Point, Mississippi for the birth of their 5^th son.
• Rick was born minutes after they arrived at the hospital. My mother still had on her slip since there was no time to prep her for the birth. This didn’t bother her one bit. After all, my mother had delivered our brother Charles in a log cabin with only a midwife since the doctor couldn’t make it in time due to another delivery in Hale County, Alabama.
• The evening of December 7, 1948 brought my father back to our house to announce that we had another brother. We were all told to get ready to go back to the hospital in order to see the new baby and my mother as well. I distinctly remember my Dad telling my older two brothers to get Ronnie’s shoes on and be quick about it. Before we left for the hospital, we went next door to tell the neighbors (the Baggetts?) about Rick’s birth. The husband of the couple we visited looked down at my feet and exclaimed, “Cronin, that boy has something wrong with his feet!” They all began to laugh and realized that Cronin Jr. and Charles had put my shoes on the wrong feet—the toes pointing out never seemed to bother me until everyone laughed. (to be continued)

John Cronin Russell Davis, Sr. Part III

Part VIIc: Four Grandchildren of Andrew Russell and Josephine Davis

John Cronin Russell Davis, Sr.

(My Father)

Part III

Some of my earliest memories (impressions?) of my father (Cronin Davis, Sr.) are more sensations and vague, dreamlike sequences that surface in my memory from time to time. I’ve questioned myself on many occasions if these were actually first time impressions on the brain at the time of the event or whether they were memories of someone telling me about the event much later after the event had occurred. I keep concluding that these impressions were actually made at the time of the event since I questioned my parents later in life if they remembered the events. Sometimes they did but they were surprised at the detail of my memory which helped, especially, my mother to corroborate that what I was describing was indeed a real event but with details she did not remember.

• Before I was 18 months old I remember the fragrance of my dad’s aftershave lotion as he rubbed his cheek against my check. A fragrance that he seemed always to have had. It was like the softness of your parents’ bed when you were allowed to climb into bed with them. The pillows and sheets seemed to have a texture that was definitely softer and seemed to embrace a child in warmth and security.
• I remember the “roughness” of his face when it was unshaven.
• I remember my dad leaving on a train, a steam engine that belched lots of black smoke from the smokestack as it prepared to leave the station. I was later told that our father worked in a shipyard in Pascagoula, Mississippi during the 2^nd War and he left Mobile every Sunday afternoon on the train and returned on Friday afternoon to spend the weekend with us. Because of this weekly separation, I was scared of my father since I didn’t know him very well. Apparently, he had worked in Mississippi from the time of my birth in 1944 or, more than likely, well before that time. We eventually moved to Pascagoula and lived there until 1949.
• The steam engine locomotive was the reason that I thought that rain clouds came from the smoke that belched from the smokestack and colored the clouds black. It seemed to rain shortly after the train left the depot. I was probably in grade school before I was able to be set straight on what causes rain because I was sure that train locomotives were the reason. Actually, I’m still not sure what causes rain.
• I remember as a toddler reaching up to explore what was on a kitchen table and pulled a hot cup of coffee down on myself. I was scalded and my dad swept me up into his arms in a panic. I remember screaming with pain
• I remember being bundled tight in a blue blanket with my father holding me. My eyes were blinded by ceiling lights that were very bright. I felt quite sick. I found out later that my parents had rushed me to the doctor because of a high fever. I was diagnosed with scarletina (a precursor of scarlet fever).
• I remember my father letting me be the one to press and break the “reddish-yellow button” that was visible inside the plastic oleo (margarine) bag. The “button of color” was an option given to the consumer if one wanted to have a yellow color to the margarine. After breaking the button of color the consumer then kneaded the plastic bag until the contents turned yellow. Dyes in foods must have been in use long before I was born.
• I remember being bathed by my father in a very large sink (perhaps, a kitchen sink). The sink was so large that my brother Larry and I could fit in it together. We were living in Pascagoula by then.
• I remember yelling at the top of my voice as a signal for my father or mother to come rescue me from some aggravation being imposed upon me by my older brothers. I was really good at yelling and developed the technique so well that it could be turned on and off at will whenever I was threatened or when danger had passed. The yell was probably a prototype of alarm now used on automobile security systems. The yell was VERY effective and was highly perfected to the disdain of older siblings who would at times bribe me not to activate it by giving me chocolate or some other sweet enticement.
• I remember sitting beside my dad on a church pew in a parish church somewhere out from Pascagoula. It wasn’t our regular parish of Our Lady of Victory. For some reason we would occasionally attend a different church for Mass. This smaller structure had a wonderful belfry and bell that rang for several minutes before the service began. I remember seeing the bell swing in the belfry as we approached the building.
• I was probably around 3 years old at the time of these Pascagoula memories.
• I remember my dad’s reaction of horror when my oldest brother Cronin (Jr.) broke his collar bone one summer evening when everyone was outside playing games. My dad was exasperated with Cronin for running into a guide wire of a utility pole as well as very compassionate in knowing that the injury really was paining his son. My dad didn’t do well under the strain of medical emergencies.
• I remember one summer evening when all the kids were supposed to be in bed when I heard my mother and father go out the front door, get into the car, and start the engine. I ran to the front porch of our rented duplex and asked to go with them. This was probably one of the few times my parents could have some quiet time together as they drove to get an ice cream at the local drive-in soda hop. My dad motioned for me to get in the car even though I was clad only in my pajama bottoms. He told me to lie down on the back seat and not to speak. I was so glad to be able to tag along that I was as quiet as a mouse as I listened to the muffled conversation coming from the front seat. More than likely, this event, which may have happened more times than I remember, allowed me, without ever a complaint, to invite our younger son into our bed at 4 a.m. every morning from the time he was able to climb out of his crib until he was 5 years old. (to be continued)

John Cronin Russell Davis, Sr. Part II

Part VIIb: Four Grandchildren of Andrew Russell and Josephine Davis

John Cronin Russell Davis, Sr.

(My Father)

Part II

Cronin and Evelyn Davis were married on September 9, 1936. Eleven months later in August of 1937 their first of six sons was born. The first son was named John Cronin Russell Davis, Jr. Cronin, Jr. was born at the Health Infirmary on the University of Alabama’s Tuscaloosa Campus. Fourteen months later in October of 1938 a second son was born and was named after his maternal and paternal grandfathers. Charles Luther Davis. Charles was born south of Moundville, Alabama in a log cabin that actually doubled as a restaurant and dwelling for the family. My parents operated the restaurant. This business adventure ended abruptly (according to one of my older brothers) when the authorities discovered that my father was selling bootlegged whiskey on the side to make ends meet. This led the young Davis family at the outbreak of World War II, to move to Mobile, Alabama where they lived for a while at 58 Lemoyne Place with Isaac Luther Davis and his wife Irene Cronin Davis, the parents of Cronin Davis, Sr.

In March of 1942 a third son, Edward Larry Davis was born. Larry was named after Uncle Ed Davis, the brother of his paternal grandfather. The family at that time could have been living in Chickasaw, Alabama, which is short distance north of Mobile. The street name of the house could have been Green Street. Cronin, Jr. and Charles the older two sons began their elementary schooling at St. Mary’s Parochial School in Mobile which was only a block away from the grandparents' home. When the family moved to Chickasaw, I’m not sure if the two older boys continued their schooling at St. Mary’s. These were war years, and tires, gasoline, and numerous other items were rationed so every auto trip had to count and only necessary driving was allowed. My mother told me that she remembered buying a city bus ticket for herself and the children. They would ride the bus to the end of the line and back as a way of getting out of the house for a little entertainment. In October of 1944, a fourth son was born to Cronin and Evelyn Davis. Ronald Evan Davis (yours truly) was named after Uncle Evan Terry, the brother-in-law of his paternal grandfather. A fifth son was born in December of 1948—Richard Wayne Davis. Rick was named for himself as far as I know. Glenn Alan Davis was born in October of 1950. Once again a name that stood for itself. I remember asking my father why three of his sons were born in October. I thought it was interesting that we celebrated our birthdays within nine days of each other. His only reply was, “Son, we had three cold winters.” I didn’t understand his answer until several years later.

At this point, in order to expedite in a timely fashion this account of John Cronin Russell Davis, Sr., I will give a summary of memories of my father as I recall them. With anyone’s life there are so many facets that are intertwined and woven together that several volumes could not contain all of the events as well as personal thoughts of that life. This meager account is a feeble attempt to pass on to future generations a partial memory of one of their ancestors, namely, John Cronin Russell Davis, Sr. (to be continued)

John Cronin Russell Davis, Sr.

Part VIIa: Four Grandchildren of Andrew Russell and Josephine Davis

John Cronin Russell Davis, Sr.

(My Father)

Part I

On February 14, 1915, the third child, a son, was born to Isaac Luther Davis and Elle Cronin Davis. His birth certificate said that he was over 10 pounds and that his birth date was February 30, 1915. Nonetheless, his family attested to the fact that Cronin Davis was a Valentines baby, and he would remain a favorite of his two older sisters throughout their life time. Mary Lucile, his older sister, would have been 7 years old, and Margery, his second sister would have turned 3 the December before Cronin was born in February. Tragedy struck the Davis household sixteen months later when Elle Cronin Davis died in June of 1916. Cronin would have only been 16 months old at the time and was still nursing. Mary Lucile wrote years later that the death of her mother was overwhelming for her as it would have been for any child of 8 ½ years. Isaac Luther asked his sister-in-law Mayme Cronin Connick if she would continue nursing his son Cronin until he could be weaned. Aunt Mayme had a child (Vera Connick) who was six months older than Cronin so she was still nursing her own child at the time of her sister Elle’s death. As would be expected, my father, Cronin Davis, always was very close to his Aunt Mayme and always considered her a favorite aunt.

When Cronin was almost 4 years old, his father remarried. He married his wife’s sister Irene who would have been his children’s Aunt Irene. They were wed in November of 1918. Nine months later this new marriage brought forth a child, a son, who was named Isaac Luther Davis, Jr. The young boy would forever be known as I. L. At the time of I. L.’s birth the other children called their step-mother Aunt Irene. In order not to confuse I. L. has he grew up in the family, Aunt Irene requested that the older three children begin calling her “Mother” instead of Aunt Irene. The older three children complied with their step-mother’s request and from then on she was “Mother” to all of them.

As has been told by various relatives, Cronin grew to be a strong boy with well developed muscles and a fine physique. His stature was inherited from his mother’s people, the Cronins, and more precisely, his grandmother Mary Ann Taylor Cronin. His grandfather John Patrick Cronin was quite a tall man well over six feet. His grandmother Mary Ann Cronin, however, was very short as were many of her children. Nonetheless, Cronin Davis’s tallness as a man was not determined by his shadow. His broad muscular shoulders and arms as well as strong muscular legs—characteristics he gave to some of his sons and grandsons and even great-grandsons—were only the outward characteristic of a man who had an equally strong and generous heart for sharing his talents and abilities with those he knew.

When Cronin was 14 years old he began smoking cigarettes. He used to hide the cigarettes under a large wicker clothes hamper so that his parents wouldn’t know that he smoked. Around the same age, when a riding a horse one day, Cronin fell off the horse and broke his leg. Evidence of the break would stay with him for the rest of his life as one leg was shorter than the other. Not enough shorter to be seen by others but enough to be felt by the owner of the leg.

I was told by several sources (Father, Mother, 1^st Cousin of my Dad (Evan Terry) that when Cronin Davis graduated from McGill Institute in 1933 at the age of 18, he hopped on a motorcycle and rode all the way from Mobile, Alabama to Chicago, Illinois. Cronin attended the 1933 World’s Fair. After staying in Chicago for the Fair, he ran out of money. After wiring his dad for cash, Cronin left his motorcycle on the streets of Chicago and somehow made his way back to Alabama. He settled in Moundville, Alabama, the boyhood home of his father. Cronin’s cousin McGlaun Evan Terry told me recently that Cronin lived with his family (Uncle Evan Terry and Aunt Katie Davis Terry and children—Evan Terry, Barbara Ann Terry and Hilda Terry) until he married in 1936. My dad worked several jobs for his Uncle Evan (aka Evie Terry). He worked at an ice house delivering ice, drove a truck for delivery of farm produce, and worked as a mechanic at Moundville Motor Company (a Ford dealership and service company). Cousin Evan Terry relates that Cronin would most likely have met his future wife, Evelyn Elliott, at one of the football games played at Hale County High School in Moundville. Evelyn Elliott (my mother) was head cheerleader at HCH. This was a position she held throughout her lifetime in all areas of her life. She graduated from HCH in 1936—three years after her intended graduation in 1933. The Great Depression had closed most schools during that time period and she wasn’t able to finish high school until ’36. Cronin Davis and Evelyn Elliott were married on September 9, 1936. They were married in Tuscaloosa, Alabama at the Rectory of St. John the Baptist Catholic Church and spent there first night at the Moundville Hotel with dinner at the locally famous (even to this day) restaurant MELISSA’S. I assume you can still get a REAL hamburger at MISS MELISSA’S. This restaurant has a story and history of its own. Cronin and Evelyn would eat at MELISSA’S over the years and celebrate their 48^th wedding anniversary in 1984 (their last anniversary before my father’s death in 1985) by eating at MISS MELISSA’S as it is called these days. (To be continued).