POST SCRIPTS
by Elizabeth Goddard Field
Eighty years ago Riverside was a magical place for children. It was safe and quiet and we were free to roam. It probably still is. In the Spring, I loved to cross the little foot bridge behind the hotel to Riverside Lawn. Under the tall trees of the woods were carpets of wild flowers and I trudged home to Cowley Road with little wilting bouquets for my mother. She had to love flowers, or me, to receive them so happily -
In the meadows around our house Worth Landon and I would hunt for bugs and critters. He was fearless, and because of him I have never been afraid of snakes or spiders. He lived around the corner on Herrick Road. He died young of a burst appendix. There was no penicillin then. It was our first experience in losing a young friend, he was dearly loved, and the church was overflowing with people and flowers. We sang "the Son of God goes forth to War" and in my memory, it was never sung again in that church.
We lived a stone's throw from the tracks, and one Sunday afternoon when we were all outdoors, we heard a terrifying, warning blast of a train whistle. My father raced to the tracks just in time to see the fireman of the train was braced on the cowcatcher with a child under his arm. It was my three year old brother Lester whom he had snatched up just in time. The engineer had seen a white paper on the tracks but it stood up a little too late for a full stop. Lester had been pushing a little car along the rails. It was quite a story in the papers, the fireman was highly commended by the railroad, and my dad gave him a gold watch.
About a block or so from our house a small US mail plane fell into a field near the tracks. That was a thrill too as especially as no one was killed - years later I remembered that little plane when I was standing for hours in the Boston Commons with hundreds of others awaiting the appearance of Charles Lindbergh returning from his heroic flight to Paris.
New Years Eve 1913 there was an awesome fire in our beloved landmark water tower. I was about to be five years old, but I remember what a spectacle it was a clear view from our western dining room windows. My father filled every possible receptacle in the house with water. I could just see over the window sill and I watched through Jack Frost's beautiful etchings of trees and ferns on the window panes. It was rebuilt in due time more graceful and handsome than before. As Dorothy Unger tells me it needed extra height for more pressure.
Speaking of fires, I have three more to mention. The Story house at 99 Herrick Road burned down in about 1916-19. Eddie was in my class in school so it seemed very tragic. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall putting on his shoes, when he suddenly realized the wall was hot behind him. So that's how it was discovered, and they all escaped empty-handed.
Another fire was the Beech house where Sis Beech Hellyer and her family grew up. It was a cold night, and we walked over to see it. Carl Hoefer a volunteer fireman was causing quite a stir. He was upon the peak of the roof and the Chief finally got him to come down. There was a sort of "bucket-brigade" as a row of men passed along from the house all the valuables they could carry out to neighbors houses. I don't remember whether Sis was living there then.
Another fire near our house and on Herrick, was arson. They were not there very long when it burned, rags soaked with kerosene were everywhere and going up the stairs.
The grade school caught fire when I was in the first grade. It was near the end of the year, and we finished our classes in the town hall. Our teacher printed the word 'VACATION" on the board, and challenged us to guess what it was. Not a one of us figured it out, it was humiliating -
Many of you must remember Joe Bettecase who drove his horse drawn cart from door to door with his lovely garden vegetables. His big truck farm was in Lyons west of town and south of Ogden where all the apartments are now. Of course the ice-man's truck was a welcome sight on a hot summer day. We girls would rush out for ice chips and bag them into a handkerchief to suck on. The boys rushed, too, but they just grabbed and dripped -
An old man leading a donkey came around town and put children up on the little beast to take our pictures. Of course the parents bought them. I still have mine. I am wearing a sort of glazed panic expression, and a huge hair bow.
The village, or possibly Mr. Ames the school superintendent, put on a pageant by the river at Bloomingbank Road near the Hellyer's and Blayney's houses. There were all kinds of events representing early history - It could have been about 1915 or 16 and I was about six years old, and small for my age then. Most of it was a blur to me as I had a major role in it which probably lasted about sixty seconds. There was a log cabin which was attacked and burned by wild Indians. The family inside consisted of mother and father played by high school students, and two children, 'Wiz" Crews from 140 Herrick Road and me the baby sister. My father rushed out of the house carrying me followed by the mother and sister, all of us wearing long white nightshirts. Probably no one even saw me, but it is a vivid memory still - "Wiz's" brother Ralph with red hair had the most beautiful dog with hair the same color.
There must be some of you who still remember World War I? We had two cousins "over there," the Sterling brothers from Monroe, Michigan. One was a sailor and the other a soldier. They were heroes to us, and with any mention of the battles, we thought of them fearfully. They both came back, to our relief. Shortly after the war ended, General Pershing and his entourage traveled the Burlington, and the train stopped in Riverside on the south platform. It seemed as though he gave his speech to the whole town. At least I know the entire grade school was there waving small flags. I was about nine, I think - to all of you who think of World War II being the BIG ONE, imagine how impressed you'd have been if Ike had done that in 1946. Maybe he did, somewhere -
There used to be a trolley car with a pot bellied stove for chilly days, running La Grange, Riverside, and River Forest or Hillside, perhaps farther. We were allowed to ride it occasionally for special things like a movie in La Grange. One day Ruth Fuller and I took what change we could round up and went by trolley to a little amusement park in River Forest. Our goal was the roller coaster. We rode it over and over until our nickels ran out. The the operator said "OK, kids go on all you like for free" - we were the only customers he had, and I guess he probably felt he'd lose face if the cars went around empty -
When the Ring Lardner's and the Jack Briggs' lived near us on Herrick Road, Ring at 150, and Briggs next to him, our parents had many pleasant evenings together, bridge games with the Lardners and a couple of columns came from our house via Ring to the Tribune - One was an alphabet in rhyme Caroline was working on for school. One line was
E is for Elizabeth,
my very own sister,
I will never do anything
to desist her.
Ruth Owen Briggs was a poet and Jack a cartoonist. She wrote a poem about Caroline -
A little Maid of half past four
Often flashes by my door
Skipping as she passes by
My little friendly firefly
I call to her to enter in
But a sunbeam's only where she's been
And all that I have left to prove
Is the smile that caused my lips to move
When we five Goddards joined the five Reagan children at 82 Nuttall Road in the big Reagan house, life itself became an amusement park. Mother was very tolerant of the many friends who played all kinds of games with us all over the inside and outside of the house. There was one strict rule - we didn't care for it, but we understood it. We could not feed anyone anything. Apples and soda crackers were bought in bulk, and we were to come right home from school and have one apple and two soda crackers each - Period! And we were not to eat at any friends house - Mrs. Fuller adored her two girls Ruth and Dorothy - One day she planned a taffy pull, and begged me to stay. She said she understood mother's rule and we'd keep it our little secret. So I stayed, what fun it was.
One game we loved that could be played all over the big three story house, plus basement, was "sardines." You all remember that - One hides and the others as they find him pack in quietly till all are there. It got to be very giggly waiting. One day I hid in our big downstairs coat closet. It had a window on the driveway and twelve hooks for our coats were around the wall. Harvey Schulz found me first. He was my first crush, not a big emotional thing just a twelve year old crush. So that was a little extra spice. Harvey took me to a movie at the town hall once, too, and a banana split at the Bluebird ice cream parlor, my first one ever!
Harvey's older brother Otto was at the house a lot. He was full of energy and surprises. He and our older sister Keturah were fearless and always up to something. We had a big apple tree in our back yard. It was great for climbing and had two or three platforms in it. One day several of us were all over the tree, with Otto, as usual, at the top, when suddenly and wordlessly he dropped all that way straight to the ground, and took off at full speed. He was after a foolish boy who thought he could get away with Otto's bike. Of course, he didn't get far.
We had a big yard to the side of the house when our cow was pastured there it made baseball hazardous. There are three houses now on our ballfield. We had chickens next to the old stable in back. It was my young brother Sterling's job to care for the chicken coop. He had the ingenious idea of papering the walls with the Sunday comics to entertain the hens. We put on a circus in back one time. We used Archie's goat cart, had clowns, acrobats, tight rope (a board) and anything else we could improvise. We tried to charge admission but even the littlest kids in the neighborhood were too wise to fall for that.
Father Reagan had things pretty well organized those first few months. Every Saturday morning we seven girls lined up by age for a shampoo, rinsed with soft rain water from the rain barrel. None of us had ever had a haircut so imagine what he got himself into. As each finished she went out into the back yard to dry by the big apple tree. We shook our hair clean and fluffy in the sunny breezes. Father finally was sick of that job, and we all filed in to a Chautauqua show with newly cropped heads. We had been begging for the new "Bob" popularized by Adele Astaire - we felt very self conscious, but if anyone noticed us it was just for sheer numbers (no pun intended).
The Chautaugua circuit was a visiting entertainment series, held in the grade school auditorium. They went from town to town. We saw Will Rogers with his spinning lariat, black-face tap dancers, singers, plays etc. The quality varied but it was always fun.
One year I was amazed at a date that turned up when I was in 7th grade, It seemed odd to me then - 9-19-1919.
Some of us sang in St. Paul's choir - two wonderful things came from that. Our beautiful Edwina Love from Long Common Road married handsome Jimmy Otis and she asked the choir to sing. We had front row seats for the lovely event. Also the choir had opera tickets in the auditorium on Michigan Avenue. We had a chance to go two or three times a season. We climbed to the top of the peanut gallery and passed around the opera glasses. We kids woke up for the ballet scenes, or for something exciting like the triumphal march from "Aida" and the elephants. Mainly the charm was, we could stay up late and see the city lights.
One more church story, while I think of it. Years later in the cold snowy winter of 1955, the Bishop made his annual visit. Snow was piled high, and no pavements even showed so cold it had been. There was to be a luncheon for him at the Walter Hellyers on Bloomingbank Road, and many of the old faithful church members were in advancing age. There were discussions over who had the courage to drive the Bishop, to meet his train, take him to church and to lunch and then back to the train. My mother, Ellen Saint-Cyr insisted she could do it. She had snow tires on and hadn't skidded yet. She was very strong minded at 73, and they agreed. She accomplished the mission with no difficulty. It wasn't till the spring thaw that she discovered her snow tires had been in the trunk all winter.
But to go back to the early twenties, there were street fairs held south of the station. The streets were closed off, and the park was full of booths. A band would be there for dancing in the street. I won, on a lottery, a huge ham. The only one thrilled over that was my mother.
It was a great thrill to go to the city. From the Union Station we could board a bus drawn by two horses, and have a ride to Marshall Fields. I always tried to get the front seat next to the driver to watch the horses. I probably wanted to see if they would slip on the icy pavements. A frightening thought.
The high school students, over the years, produced some very good musicals - considering the small enrollment of the new school they found a wealth of talent. A memorable one was in 1921 or '22. One scene opened on a row of quaint shops - across the stage in front of the shops came mincing Archie Reagan in a blue silk dress draped on his six foot lanky frame. He swung his purse and his hips as he and the chorus sang "Alice Blue Gown." He was a devil, but a comic and could always make us laugh. The finale of that show was Gordon Clithero playing like an angel on his trumpet the hit tune 'Whispering." The applause was deafening and the encores would be going on still if they hadn't pulled the curtain finally. Gordy went on to play with one of the Big Bands. Our class, four years later, halfheartedly tried to take our turn. The scene I remember with embarrassment was the one I was in. There was a big hat constructed on stage. A door flopped open making a ramp and out came six or eight of us dancing and singing "If you knew Susie." I don't remember much applause or any compliments.
In 1924 some misguided soul organized a beauty contest. My sister, Caroline, won handily, but not before it became the talk of the town. Another candidate, Mary Jane, had a real politician for a mother. She held a telephone campaign on behalf of her daughter. It was hilarious to the student body, and it was the first and last attempt at a beauty contest.
When we finished school, some from high school, some from a "finishing school," or a few from College, we all tried to get jobs. Those who went to Moser Secretarial School went into offices, some into banks, or selling in department stores. An ordinary job paid $15 for a five and a half day week. Private Secretaries or specially trained employees could make $25, about the top in salaries. Commuting monthly tickets cost only $5 - good for every day except Sunday. We were usually tired. and fell asleep on the return trip, the 5:20. The conductor knew us all and would shake us awake as we neared our stops. Only one evening he missed my sister Caroline and she woke up in La Grange. She was late getting home as she had to wait an hour for a return train. We kind of wondered where she was. I had a fun job. I worked for Marshall Field in a special order studio in the Field Annex. We made parchment, and made lamp shades, designed and painted them to suit customers own lamps. We had a great time, but we still only got $15 a week.
On one trip home a big painful cinder blew into my eye. I walked to the corner of the Arcade building where Schweitzers Drug store was. I found George, and he, with the corner of his handkerchief, took out the cinder. It didn't occur to me to find a doctor. All my life optometrists have commented on the scar.
I figured I have actually lived in Riverside only twenty six of my eighty one years, but I have gone back at least once a year and usually more. Of all the places we have lived and enjoyed, Riverside is still the one magical memory - My Home Town.
Written by request of the Riverside Historical Society
1990