| This, also, is from the booklet "We Remember" compile by Giles Sydnor from the Clement and Rochet Raine Sydnor family, containing memories from many of the family members. I am asking that any inaccuracies in the excerpts will be reported to me by those who were closest to the stories. Again I have taken some editorial liberties, but nothing to disturb the intention of the memories. - Sydnor Landis Dickenson |
| I believe that over the years people have reacted to the fact that we were so large a family more strongly than to any other attribute or condition of our family. Most people do not know how a large family might operate, and of course all we have is our own experiences. Our dad’s pay was never good; public high school teachers are not known for high salaries. Dad was always on the lookout for a bit extra, and held a multitude of side jobs through the years. Insurance, tutoring, proofreading, newspapers, real estate, Savannah shipyard, night school teaching, summer school teaching. Each was undertaken to augment our income. Mother also turned some money for her exquisite needlework. Each one of us had work, and none of us kept for himself exclusively the product of his labors, but he did use what was needed to keep himself in decent condition, so far as possible. Dad never had any difficulties with Internal Revenue offices. Quite often, Mother would have a colored woman come in to provide however much aid she had to have, and here, let me add, a real affection between Mother and her helper maintained. Dad even called Hester “Darling” one day, and took the razzing which followed, including this mention of the event. In our home, when a child was able to contribute, he was assigned duties. How can a duty be assigned profitably to a five year old? We had permissive system – “Sides”. This was something which developed, as it was not thoughtfully devised. As an example, let’s go to Malcolm’s experience, as he recalled it. He was one of the younger brothers, and on Raine’s side while Walker was on Clem’s side. Raine was 9 years older than Malcolm and Clem was 11 years older than Walker. When Dad called everybody in the morning, a kind of reveille without a bugle, everybody got out. Usually mother was out of step with the household, with some real baby to attend. Clem and Raine would each dress, and keep a guiding hand on Walker and Malcolm. There were buttons to be buttoned which the little fellows cold not yet manage, shoes to be tied, ears to be washed and checked, hair to be brushed, etc. It never occurred to us that there was any other way to get up in the morning. Walker had just been sleeping in a double bed with Clem. (keeping each other warm), and Malcolm with Raine. The little boy would get on the wall side of the bed and the older boy on the outside and they would “make the bed”. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough. If the little boy needed help fixing a dish at table, cutting his meat, etc., if Dad had not yet got around to it, the older brother gave the necessary aid. When any of us got something good – sweets, cookies, fruit, nuts, etc., we expected to divide and it was expected of us. Perhaps and individual did not have enough to go around; the order of “right” was the little one on your “side”, then the little ones up to as high in age as a significant portion permitted. Usually, each one present got an equal share. If the older boy had some money from a present or a job, he would share with the little one on his side, never a very big share. We did not get “allowances”. A week of helping with chores by the little one could hardly have been worth more than three nickels. If someone in or out of the family took advantage or teased a little one other than his side buddy, the older boy stood ready to look out for him. If, for example, I wanted to jump Walker for some cause, I had to be prepared to take on Clem also. Under that circumstance, of course, I’d have had Fabe or Lav on my side; I had each, at one time or another. If the little fellow had any money saved up or if he had something extra, the older boy on his side had the accepted right to euchre (wheedle or cheat) him out of it. Not older boy took money of course; he borrowed it. Occasionally, the interest would eat up the principal. In games, the little guy had someone to choose him, and he knew where his ride on a bike was coming from. He knew who his street car or walking partner would be. He could trust the older brother on his side, or if he was teased or fooled by him, someway it was different than for someone else to do the same thing. At night, everything was reversed. The little fellow would get ready for bed with whatever help he needed and until he learned to say his prayers, the big brother helped him. Here was one exceptioni: each child preferred to come out to Mother or Dad, kneel, and let his prayer be heard, and that was the way it was almost always done. Then the little fellow would get into a cold bed, double-up and fall asleep as he warmed up. Later, when the older brother came to bed, the little fellow would be moved over and the older would get the warm spot, but he was so sound asleep, he didn’t remember in the morning. With a large family, the mother and dad have big responsibilities, and much depends on how the family is directed. We didn’t always like the strict discipline of Sundays, of respect for elders, of charity and kindness to others, of fair play (sharing the warm spot was not considered unfair), but those requirements have made our large family a blessing to each of us. We had a host of friends. Each large family must have special rules. -recollection of Giles, with lots of help Our family was given to practical jokes, and made our own entertainment as we played them on each other. Some family excerpts from the C. A. Sydnor family: One Saturday afternoon, Kendall was all decked out in a white linen suit, sports shoes, and was in high fashion of the day for a date. He had a car, and Mother asked him to run an errand for her, since he was early for his date. He invited the little ones to squeeze in and go for the ride, and squeeze in they did! For some reason Kendall had to return to the house for something, and while he was gone, one of the older boys hurried over, and attached a torpedo-like explosive “bomb” into the ignition system of Kendall’s car. In due time Kendall came back, got in, turned the key and the thing exploded! It hissed, belched smoke, banged and scared the living daylights out of Kendall, the only one not privy to the joke. He jumped out of the car, ran into the yard still completely in the dark and “shook”, and directed the little children, “Get out and run you little fools! Don’t you see the damn things blowing up!” Needless to say, we did not cuss in our family. But eventually the humor in the situation and the amusement it afforded everyone ws enough that Kendall enjoyed the joke – albeit much later! -recollection of Giles One weekend, while on a summer visit to Lynchburg in 1932, I along with Dad, Anna Lee, Lave, Millie and an assortment of little ones, took a trip and a hike up to the Peaks of Otter. We parked at the foot and hiked up and back. Going up I cautioned one of the younger boys, Lave I think, not to take notice, and dropped a dime in the path. Dad, following by fifty feet, single file, spotted it, picked it up with a remark something like, “Look here, look what I found. Way out here, too!” On the return trip down the mountain we were crossing a meadow of sorts with the little ones running about like beagles seeking a scent when Walker, about 13 at the time, came running up to show my wife Millie, Anna Lee, Dad and me this double handful of “seeds” he had found. When the rabbit that had dropped that pile of “seeds” did so, I doubt he had been thinking of the thrill he would give to one little city boy. -recollection of Giles Dad was irritated when Fabe answered the telephone, “City Poor House”. -recollection of Giles It was on hikes with Dad that he would point out one weed good for a horse sick with some ailment and another weed good for another ailment. The one I remember, and have used successfully many times, is the juice from the leaves of long-leaf plantain to dry up and clear up a poison oak irritation. Works every time. -recollection of Giles I think that Mother could be the scariest person I ever knew, and she dearly loved a practical joke on somebody else. She was too sensitive to enojoy one on herself. Her greatest thrill was in scaring someone else. Every member of the family can recall some scary incident of Mother’s doing. It would kill Dr. Spock! -recollection of Giles On one of my trips home, one of the boys told me that he had openly mentioned a short car trip, going to some nearby place. He said, “Giles, I looked around to see what Mother thought of it and she was not there. I looked out and there she was, sitting in the car with her hat on.” Mother loved to go and she loved any slight attention, approval, or even small flattery from one of her own so much that she could forgive about anything. -recollection of Giles Often I remember Mother to have been heavy, to have dressed loosely and coolly, but then I recall that when she was dressed for public she was an immaculate, striking powerful woman. Pictures of her as a young woman reveal her beauty. -recollection of Giles This must have happened just before Christmas, 1921. I was in a physics class in high school with Wesley Craddock, among others. Wes was interested in the new invention, “radio”. He had advanced beyond the crystal set. Guggenheimer’s department store sent out the call for help; they had received a delivery of Atwater-Kent radios and didn’t know what to do with them. On Saturday evening, Wes Craddock went to the furniture department of Guggenheimer’s.He selected a radio, connected a wire to a scraped spot on a bed spring for an aerial, and connected a ground to a steam pipe. Wes told us of the thrill from getting clear signals from Cincinnati, Pittsburgh, and Schenectady. Main Street couldn’t figure that one. -recollection of Giles As a boy, we did not have radios, television, sound movies and almost no movies at all. We had very few automobiles and fewer roads, no enclosed autos, no refrigerators, no super-markets and few of the packaged foods now sold in supermarkets. Rayon was just being introduced and there were few ready-made clothes such as shirts and underwear. At that, the most startling improvements were probably in the field of medicine. Seems strange that men can make such rapid progress in technology and seem so incapable of correcting social ills. -recollection of Giles Just about every source praised Dad as being such a good natural teacher. Dad disliked the necessary forms required in teaching, considering and calling them “red tape”. Even those forms which became a part of the child’s permanent record gave him no pleasure. Dad was not too organized in some ways. In all our years, from Williamsburg on, he was beset by the problems of expenses in caring for so large of a family. We never had any money extra, but in fairness, we never really needed anything that we didn’t get. Dad was impatient with me on occasions, but I only remember those occasions vaguely and do not now consider them of significance. Dad was carrying a heavy load. Being next to me in line, I always felt a closeness and affection for Beth somewhat different (but no less intense) than I felt for any others. When Miss Talbot made life difficult for Beth, I resented it, even though Miss Talbot was good to me. It used to hurt me deeply to hear and see Dad “helping” Beth play the piano. He would become impatient, would scold and slap, maker her cry to the point she couldn’t see the notes through the tears; the wonder is that she retained any love for music at all, much less become a talented musician. -recollection of Giles It was in Vidalia in the summer of about 1916. Keep in mind that Vidalia had no hospital and Dad couldn’t have paid for it had there been one. In some manner, Dr. Meadows had determined that I, Beth, Clem, Raine, and Fabe all n eededour tonsils and adenoids removed On a clear warm summer morning, all five of us were sent to a home near our Durden Street home, to a Mrs. French, I believe. Dr. Meadows came in, and he, Mother and Dad set up a field hospital in our central room, with the big bedroom adjoining to be the ward. At a handkerchief signal, Fabe was sent down, then Raine, Clem, Beth and I, we all took that walk. Dr. Meadows used chloroform, I think, and removed the tonsils and adenoids of each of us. Dad would take us, one by one, from the operating table (otherwise known as a kitchen table) to a bed in the ward. I think the fee from Dr. Meadows was $35. I don’t think any of us cost more than $25 to be born. -recollection of Giles In the summer of 1919 when I was still 15, on one Saturday morning, it was my job to take Malcolm, about 18 mos. old, to Miller Park in his 2 wheel sulky. The belt was fastened and Fabe came along. I took along the famiy camera to get some pictures of the two black bears in the bear pit. When we got to the park it was deserted, or seemed so. We left Malcolm in the sulky between the bear pit and a children’s wading pond – a small fountain like pond about 14” deep maximum. We piced some grass and managed to get the bears to turn into the light and got a few pictures. When I looked aroud, the sulky was empty. I noticed a white object floating in the wading pond. It was Malcolm, floating near the center, his white dres wet and ballooned out with air to keep him floating. Malcolm was on his back with head hanging down, some froth about his nose or mouth, his face dark blue, but he was not struggling. I thought he was gone. I stepped into the pool, picked him u, and put him face down on the walk alongside. I told Fabe to run for help and to start praying. I did some tall praying. For the first time for me, I applied on Malcolm the artificial resuscitation I had learned from reading the Scout manual. When I pressed first, a massive squirt of water and froth came out of his mouth and nose. I kept pumping until Malcolm responded. That was not long, I think. I then picked him up and took him up to the Park Superintendent and about then, aid really started showing up. The doctor appeared, then Aunt Mary, then Mother and Dad n Dr. Taliaferro appeared, all in what seemed a matter of a few minutes. The first doctor gave Malcolm many drops of bourbon. Dr. Taliaferro took over and gave it to him by the teaspoonfuls. By then I was sitting on the house porch steps praying when Dad came out to tell me the worst was over. Under the pressures and scare of the moment, Dad criticized me for letting Malcolm get away, and he was right, of course. Later, Dad indicated his pleasure that I had known what to do by way of first aid. I went to my job at Massie and Long’s, and by afternoon, Dr. Massie let me off at about three pm, long enough to go home to see how Malcolm was doing. Mother showed me. He was propped up on a double bed, diaper only, in the front room of our house. When she moved the prop, Malcolm, flushed to a cherry red, toppled over completely relaxed. He was totally drunk at 18 months of age, as much as I’ve ever seen anybody. Because of the poor lighting, the picture of the bears was underexposed. -recollection of Giles Mother liked to tell this story and Dad laughed as hard as any. I was about four. Beth and I were on the floor in a gathering of adult friends, and at some quiet moment, I moved and “made a funny noise”, loud enough so that no one missed it. I looked up at Dad and said, “Why Dad, ain’t you ‘shamed?” Dad, of course, was embarrassed. -recollection of Giles We hardly even had a doctor, because Dad relied on castor oil, calomel if the tongue had a white coat, lamp oil over a teaspoon of sugar for a cold, turpentine for an open wound. I remember in Jefferson when we were all due for a dose of castor oil and all crawled up under the bed, but we were fished out and still had to take it. Some of the self-medication we praced in our famiy somewhat belied the fact that our parents were educated and cultured people. Whoever heard of a college graduate taking the four oldest children to school, wach with a small bag of asafetida (a dried fetid gum resin of a foreign plant which smelled very bad) dangling from the neck and stinking up the room. It was to ward off an attack by an unknown which showed up later to be the Spanish flu. The practice of medicine was different in those days. Bill missed all of that.
-recollection of Beth Usually we remember more vividly the things we feel were unjust. I remember so well that, after a scolding when I left the room, the wind whipped the door out of my grasp, slamming it shut. I honestly did not slam it on purpose. This time Mother admistered the whipping, and it was the worst I ever remember getting.
-recollection of Beth Remember Fabe’s sunburn in Jefferson?
-recollection of Beth
-recollection of Giles Dad understandably hated to see Christmas come. Each one of us had a small display of gifts by today’s standards, but with twelve children, it tlooked like a mound of presents. One package was always new underwear and stockings. Dad kept making a clucking sound and reminding us that it was wrong to have so much when so many had nothing. I’m afraid we all sort of held back and didn’t put all our gifts on display because Dad worried so much. In Williamsburg on Christmas, Lav asked for a pony. Dad filled his sock with horse manure with a note, “Sorry, the pony got away. Santa”. Lav was satisfied with the explanation. Remember how we all went to bed by 5 pm on Christmas Eve, and were ready to get up by 1 am, about the time Mother and Dad were going to bed. Dad stacked up tin cans and tied a string from them to his bed. When we tiptoed in to see what Santa had left, Dad pulled the string. Oh, boy! We returned to our beds terrified we had scared off the old man, but later we had a beautiful Christmas tree in the library. Dr. King brought Kendall into the world using a new procedure called “twilight sleep” on Mother. Kendall was a blue baby, and we nearly lost him then, and up until he was three years old he had convulsions whenever his temperature rose several degrees. The treatment for this was a hot mustard bath, them wrapping in a blanket with an ice pack on the head. Once, when Kendall (or Malcolm) had cholera infantum and Dr. Meadowns said, “I’ve done all I can do, the rest is up to the Lord,” Dad took us into the garden and there we knelt while Dad prayed for our baby brother. When we went back in the house, Mother told us the baby was better. Prayer was an important part of Dad’s life. Each child was priceless in our famiy. Dad started saying, “I wouldn’t take a million dollars for any one of them, but I wouldn’t give you fifteen cents for another one.” -recollection of Giles Dad’s thoughts on death: “Death is a higher form of life, and I’m anxious to see what’s on the other side of the door. I’ve spent a lot of years knocking about this old world, and I’m realdy to go. Don’t mourn for me!” -recollection of Beth Mother and Dad played Chinese checkers a lot after the children had left home. I asked Mother whey they had quit, and she said, “Well, I found that I’d go to church and pick out a special hat and jump it all the way to the pulpit. I wasn’t getting much out of the sermon, so I decided I’d better quit.” One summer, during WWI, Dad was working as a timekeeper on the night shift in a shipyard in Savannah. He was earning some money important to us, but he was also trying to do his patriotic duty with a wartime job. He came home with the first case of Spanish influenza we had ever seen. As he stumbled up the street, the neighbors thought Mr. Sydnor was drunk, though he was not a drinking man. Dad nearly died at that time. It was the sickest I ever saw him. When we moved to Williamsburg, Clem and Raine were four or five years old. Girls in the school, now the Williamsburg Institute for Young Ladies, found they could tease the two little favorites by calling them girls. One day, goaded beyond endurance, one of the boys pulled down his pants to prove he was not a girl. The girls quickly invented something else to tease the boys about. Clem bases his claim that this must have been Raine on the fact that he is older (albeit by minutes) and wouldn’t do such a thing. -recollection of Giles Clem attended Lynchburg College, but headed for University of Virginia for one session. The newest thing for young men in clothing was under shorts in colors and designs rather than in the conventional white. Clem decided Raine should have all of his white ones, and he would go entirely with the new fad. Before packing his suitcase for his fraternity house destination at U VA, Mother had, unbeknownst to Clem, trimmed at least one pair of his new shorts with lace and tucked them into the pile. Mother reported that Clem was totally embarrassed when he invited the boys in his room at Virginia to “look fellows, the newest thing” and discovered, by holding them up, his cute, lace trimmed panties. The twins were identical, and it is remarkable how similar they are in behavior, reactions, and thought processes. The family never became confused by them (except for Dad when he’d get excited or angry when he might spank the wrong one), but teachers and business people in Lynchburg had major problems. Clem, who was manager for the telephone company, would hear a complaint on the street and be very gracious and kind while saying, “I think you must have me confused with Clem. He is with the telephone company.” Raine would do the same sort of thing. On one particular day, a man that both Clem and Raine knew approached Clem and got the good natured brush off based on the confusion theory. Again in the day, the same thing was done with the same man. Towards the close of the day, he saw Clem on the street a third time and approached him. “Clem, I’m glad to catch you. Two times today I thought I had you but I had made a mistake and got Clem instead.” Clem said, “Frank, you’ve done it again!” This makes the twins sound somewhat irresponsible, but in truth, no two men in the city are more civic minded, active, capable, and respected than are those two. Business leaders, civic leaders, philanthropic leaders, and churchmen make us proud of them as brothers. Their wives are very tolerant and wonderful. Raine told me that he was in a discussion with Beth West Tweady over several incidents that took place on 1215 Wise Street. You remember that on two occasions Daddy, in his stern manner, picked me up and spanked me for Clem. The thing that impressed me most, and I have never mentioned it before, was the fact that it didn’t seem to bother Daddy too much that he had punished the wrong child. Now for Beth West’s story: Apparently something occurred where someone was due a spanking, and our little neighbor, Jimmy West happened along. Daddy, quick as a flash, picked up little Jimmy and gave him a spanking, thinking him one of his own. I asked Beth what her Mother had said about it, and her mother, in her understanding manner, simply said no harm was done and Jimmy doubtless needed it anyhow. -recollection of Giles Again, I find that in his younger days, Dad was too quick to act and did not measure the possible consequences. He was very much changed in his more advanced years. See Rochet’s story. In high school I got two “Saturday Schools” for playing hookey. On Friday, I left my books at the Shoe Shop and came home and told Mother I would want a lunch the next day because I was going on a hike. Saturday morning I got my lunch early and waited at the shoe shop until time to go to school. Between the time I had left home and got down to school, someone had called Daddy. Mrs. Gregory was sick and Daddy would have to take school that day. When I walked in, all Daddy said about it was, “Have a seat, son, you can get a lot of studying done today and next Saturday.” I tell this story about Fabe as I remember it, as it was told to me.
At the back of the classroom was a continuing disruption. Fabe had caught
a small black snake and those seated near to him had some interest in
what was going on. Eventually the teacher singled out Fave and called
him up to her desk. By that time, Fabe had the snake inside his shirt,
and it was wiggling about. Fabe believed he was innocent unitl proved
guilty and he would admit nothing. Foolishly, the teacher “searched”
Fabe: when she looked in his wiggling shirt, she was totally unprepared
for a black snake. Today it would be said, “She lost her cool!”
I have an idea this incident contributed to his banishment to the Siberia
of Bethlehem Steel Pipe Mills for a year. Eventually, he did all right
in high school. -recollection of Giles On the day of the multiple tonsillectomies, Lav remembers approaching our porch. Dr. Meadows was on the porch, sharpening his pocket knife, and talking with Dad. Dr. Meadows talked to Lav a little while, and then Kendall arrived. Kendall eyed the doctor suspiciously and maneuvered toward the porch, exactly like a man-shy puppy, when of a sudden Dr. Meadows lunged toward Kendall and gruffly commanded, “Come here to me, Suh.” Kendall flew to Mrs. French’s. Apparently upon arriving at Mrs. French’s, he announced, “They ‘kotched’ Labbon (Lavelon) but they didn’t ‘kotched’ me.” -recollection of Lav I was there and remember the croquette episode involving Brantley at dinner very well. We were all seated in the breakfast room about to ask blessing and be served from a big platter of round, brown, salmon croquettes. Brantley was late. (When Mother told me the story she had Brantley in the high chair.) He came bursting in from the kitchen and took a quick glance at the nest of croquettes on the table. With all his ebullience, Branley said, “All right, Daddy, gimme some of the horse s—t.” Everybody was startled since nothing like this had ever been tried at our house before. Dad said, “What did you say, Son” Brantley realized the slip he had made, was subdued, and meekly pointing to the dish, said, “Help me to some of that, please.” In our home, the most unexpected things happened. -recollection of Kendall One pretty school day, Lavelon and some other boys were returning home via 12th Street from John Wyatt Elementary School. As soon as they thought they were a safe distance past Mr. Hiller, who was working in his junkyard, they yelled, “A Hiller, junk dealer, bottle washer, cherry stealer.” Unfortunately for Lav, all us Sydnors had a family resemblance and he was recognized in the crowd. When Lav arrived home, Mr. Hiller had already called home and Dad was waiting at the front door. Dad made Lav run back down 12th Street, apologize to this Jewish merchant, and promise that it would never happen again. -recollection of Kendall The era of which I am thinking could very well be remembered for its many colorful ice wagons, it’s big policemen, and characters around the streets. This was about 1920 to 1924. The ice wagons were large, heavy, covered affairs, two horses, with a sep across the rear where the iceman stood to chop and pick and chip away. These fellows, usually colored, could ring the bell so that you could tell whether or not it was Standard Ice, pained white trimmed in green; Kinnier Co., red trimmed in white; Duiguid Bros, green trimmed in white; Mays Bros., yellow and orange; or Reveley ice Co., blue and purple, the boys with each wagon delivering ice according to the ice cards hanging conspicuously on each house. The card was about one foot square with 15, 25, 50, or 75 printed in each corner. The number on top was right side up and indicated the poundage of the block desired. We would be awakened at daybreak by these horses trotting down to the ice company for their first delivery. Later, we would join in the fun when they congregated for lunch around the watering through (at Richardson’s store) at noon. -recollection of Kendall Most of the Sydnors raised each other (and it sounds to me as if the rest of Lynchburg helped out.) Billy, before he could talk plainly, climbed on the back step of a red Kinnier wagon to get a sliver of ice, but then had to hang on while it raced to the stable at the end of the day. Our phone rang and a woman’s voice asked if Mrs. Sydnor did not have a little sandy haired boy about two years old. Mother replied that she did, but that he was out in the front yard ten minutes ago. The Voice said that they had a little boy who had ridden the ice wagon over to Campbell Avenue who looked like a Sydnor and she thought he said his name was ‘Bi Syd”. Mother had me make a quick check, then get on my bicycle to bring him home. He was at the cotton mill nursery. -recollection of Kendall So much centered around Richardson's Store and the watering trough just outside. (This was located half block away on the corner of Wise St and 12th.) Almost always there was an accomodating, trusting little negro grocery boy Mr. Richardson or Claude would have "stop up" to the Stanley's or sometimes two or three blocks away with not much more than a loaf of bread. These little boys, usually very black, would sit back by the fire and keep it going. Automatically, they took cans and pumped into them the purchases of kerosene kept out back. Those little boys were almost always the butt of the salesmen's jokes and games. There was one confidence game I saw played many times. Whenever a new boy showed up, they would take him into their confidence and build him up with blattery. The the grocery salesman would tell the crowd that he and the boy could hide an egg on the boy and nobody could find it. The trusting boy, all smiles, retired to the rear with the salesman, hid the egg and returned. After a futile search of thepoor little boy, the frisking would be given up and one of the group, in on the gag, would rest his hand on the boy's cap and yellowish egg would roll down the side of the boys' head. After a good laugh, they would give the boy a piece of candy, watch his face break out in a broad smile, and watch him go to the horse trough overflow to wash. The favorite target for this and similar gags was Kenneth. -recollection of Kendall Another of the amusing gags at Richardson's went like this: The salesman would put a funnel into Kenneth's trousers at the belt buckle and have Kenneth hold his head way back to balance a penny or a nickel on his forehead. When he says "Go," Kenneth was to tilt his head forward to drop the coin into the funnel. If Kenneth did so, he could keep the coin. Always, someone would be drinking a Coke or Pepsi or a drink of water.-recollection of Clem Until Lynchburg, whenever Dad taught boys, it was accepted that if a boy neeeded a paddling, Dad would give it to him - and he could handle some pretty big sturdy ones In a Georgia town, Dad was paddling a boy who had matches in his pocket. (Come to think of it, when I was young, not even safety matches were used generally.) This time, the boy's trousers started to smoke and Dad stopped and said, "Son you are on fire!" In his paddling, Dad had already smothered the fire, but the charcoal had to be picked out of his clothes. -recollection of Giles Kendall had been told repeatedly about the circumstance of his near death at birth and afterward, attributed in our family to the experimental use of "twilight sleep". The difficulties for Kendall recurred for a considerable time. He would turn very dark and he was told that he was "brought to" with hot coffee. He said that, "As a child I was often ashamed by Mother announcing to everyone around that I was the only black baby she ever had. Black coffee today turns me on and causes me to tremble more than is natural, and I often wonder if there could be a connection. Raine tells of Dad, that on one occasion when his grandchildren were plentiful and visiting at 1215, he stopped one little fellow on the steps and said, "You are a cute little fellow -now, whose child are you?" He tells this, and the accurate, story of the "Shadow." He started his account by referring to a tendency to practical jokes inherited from the Raines and to a conclusion, "I'm not proud of my part in it," i.e, his part in this "Shadow" joke. The “Shadow”, who was eventually shot and killed in one of his acts, turned out to be a negro high-school student who had put much of his reading and imagination into practice. (There was a scary serial on radio at the time called “The Shadow”. “The Shadow Knows” was the final admonition.) He would visit, at night, homes where there was a girl in the family and quietly find his way into her room and would no more than sit on the side of her bed and maybe tickle her feet until she awakened. Usually, a loud scream followed and the Shadow would disappear with no more harm done than that. He would do something like this several times a week and if you’ll keep in mind the mystery of the whole thing, you can imagine something of the excitement among the women and girls of Lynchburg. The Shadow became more and more brazen, even defying the police. He would
often leave notes with various messages, sometimes telling about where
and when he would strike next. With Dad’s permission, and frankly I was surprised to get it, Clem and I cooked up our version of a visit by the Shadow. Beth had a date, probably with Arthur whom she later married, and we waited for her to come up and get to sleep. As was planned, I was the Shadow, and I must admit it was even scary for me, as I dressed for the part. I think quietly slipped into her little room at the end of the hall. It was really well done, according to reports of methods employed and I must admit the scene was tense even for me. I gently tickled her feet but got no response. Finally, I moved up toward her head and just at that moment, she screamed out, “The Shadow! The Shadow!” I then ran down the steps, out the back door, with Clem, the “protector” in hot pursuit. I must admit that Beth did not crumble and had enough nerve to call the police. I remember her looking at Clem standing on the back porch and saying of me, “There he is right there!” Anyhow, Beth’s voice was recognized, because of her acquaintance made while working in the City Health Department, and it resulted somehow, and I don’t remember just how, in our having to call the police to tell them it was just a practical joke. Raine tells in more detail of the instance reported by Beth when Dad took the girls at the school to church and locked the hobo, Henry Finney (or Feeney) in the building with us. Early the next morning, Dad saw the light from a match through the transom and chased the guy out of the building. Dad dressed and went out to awaken the town policeman. They patrolled the streets and saw a suspicious man in front of a store. (In Williamsburg, anybody around and about at daybreak was somewhat suspicious looking.) In short, they found one of Mother’s silver spoons in his pocket and took him and the suitcase to jail. Later Henry testified that he had spent several days in the building and that on one occasion a lady went into the music room where he was sleeping and leaned over the radiator to adjust a window. What Feeney stood to gain vs. what he stood to lose makes me wonder how bright a hobo, tramp, or burglar he was. Had I been a burglar, I certainly would not have thought of the Sydnor household as being a good prospect. Maybe he did not do a good job when he “cased the joint”. -recollection of Giles Dad kept his white shirts in one of the drawers in the bottom of the big antique wardrobe that came from Mother’s home. Invariably, he would leave the drawer open each time he’d go in it. Mother would fuss, but it did no good. One day Tabby, our family cat, had a litter of kittens in Dad’s drawer. When Dad came home and saw them, he fussed a little and moved them into a nice box on the back porch. The next morning, he left the drawer open again. Mother was no dummy when it came to things like this; she went down and got that litter of kittens and put them right back in the drawer. When Dad came home and found them, he was more than a little perturbed. “That durn cat has moved those kittens back into my drawer.” Mother almost gave herself away by laughing but she constrained herself and told Dad that she had asked him to keep the drawer closed. Dad moved the kittens back to the porch. When Dad left the door opened the next day, Mother moved the kittens back in. That was the day Dad learned to keep the drawer closed. (Come to think of it, Dad being the “boss”, isn’t it remarkable how often Mother had her way? That girl was sharp!) When Brantley was a little fellow, Mother turned him over to Kendall to keep one day. Kendall went over to the field on 12th Street near Richardson’s store and took Brantley with him. In order to play ball and not be bothered with Brantley, he tied him to a tree. In a while, he forgot him; he even went home and left him tied. The colored girl who was helping Mother then (Irene, I believe) came by and, seeing Brantley, untied him and took him home. In the meantime, Kendall suddenly realized that he had left the baby in the field. He race over to the field, didn’t find Brantley, and raced home scared to death. He went in and started telling Mother. She pretended she couldn’t understand what he was talking about, and after a minute or two, sent Kendall to her room to get the afghan off the chair next to the baby’s bed. When Kendall got the afghan, he saw Brantley sleeping in his bed where Mother had put him. - recollection of Walker I do remember this and think of it often. Mother dearly loved to take trips. Whenever Aunt Mary, Mrs. Sears, or Miss Elsie Gilliam would call, Mother was ready right then to go. Dad always said that she kept her bag packed. He might have been kidding Mother, but as a matter of fact, Mother did keep a bag packed at one time. The bag had the essentials she would need on an overnight trip and she kept it ready to go on a moment’s notice. Walker Walker tells that he never milked a cow, but that he was an accessory. He held the cow’s tail for Clem, Raine and Lav and maybe Fabe. He said, “They didn’t’ have the sense of most farm boys; the average farm boy would have put a loop on the side of the shed and then not worried with a tail holder.” If you’ve never held a tail, you probably don’t know how much strength there is in one. When you’re standing there and get to dreaming, if the cow decides to swat away a fly, you might as well not be there. If Lav, for example, happens to be in the line of fire, he’s had it. When it happened, I usually got squirted with milk. I will admit I wasn’t a very good tail holder. At the same time, it should be added, my pay wasn’t so hot either. I was to get a nickel on Saturday but, not knowing when Saturday came or just forgetting about it, meant that I didn’t get paid. I don’t recall ever getting a nickel in pay. My pay was about equal to the service rendered. Walker Earlier, a story was told about Walker and the telephone, “A little fool, etc.” Walker wants to tell his version and I think he should be heard: his version is interesting and maybe young Charles will believe it, until he gets a little older, anyway. Walk says that when we used to sit up in the upstairs room in the evenings and the phone would ring, the older boys would send one of us younger ones to answer it. If it happened to be a girl calling who wanted to speak to Raine, and Raine wasn’t home, she wouldn’t say who was calling, what she wanted or anything, just simply “Thank you just the same.” When Raine would come in, he’d get as mad as the dickens with us for not telling him who had called, any messages, etc. Once, when Raine was in the hall and I had answered the phone, it was for Clem who wasn’t at home. It was a brief conversation. After the caller had hung up, I held the receiver hook down and continued on the pnone just to make Raine mad. “Yes, yes. No, I don’t know. I don’t know. Yes. etc.” When Raine could stand no more, he yelled down and said to “tell them you’re a little fool and can’t talk on the phone.” I repeated the instruction into the dead phone. Walk said, “I never have minded their kidding me about it because I had the receiver down and was doing it to get his goat.” (Note to the family: anyone who needs dental work and DOES NOT believe Walker’s story, think about what a fine dentist young Raine is!) Walker Kendall tells that he required that teachers be in assigned classrooms at 8:30 am and pupils by 8:45 am. One morning, Dad took the front steps of the high school two at a time and rushed inside to stare into the face of Dr. Glass who could be anywhere. Dr. Glass pointed to the clock as evidence that Dad was two minutes late. Dad explained that as he was leaving home, a situation arose which required that he stop to discipline one of his boys. Dr. Glass sized the situation up at once, his frown turned to a look of approval and he walked with Dad to class. He told Dad that his was the only reason he would accept for a teacher being late to class. Giles I, Giles, was visiting in Lynchburg once when Mother and Dad were with a group on the back porch. Mrs. McCorckle and Baldwin Jennings Wood were visiting guests. Malcolm and I were there and there were others of the family to make up an audience. At that time, Prince ws getting old but he enjoyed family privileges. That particular Sunday afternoon he had a strong odor. While the light conversation was going on, Prince wandered in, smelling up the place. I corrected him, “Come here, Prince. Lay Down” Price was Malcolm’s dog and he certainly was not responding to anyone from Maryland, where I had moved. Malcolm spoke up, “Giles, prince is an educated dog. Watch this: LIE down, Prince!” Prince immediately did as Malcolm directed and I have tried to remember the difference in the use of “lie” and “lay” since. It is somewhat embarrassing to have a dog more knowledgeable and refined.
Giles One hot summer day during World War I, fun-loving Mother telephoned the creamery to tell the manager that she was Mrs. So and So in Richmond and was to pass through Williamsburg at a scheduled daylight hour, by train, and wanted four pounds of Mr. Niering’s delicious butter to take home with her. Mr. Niering was an accommodating worker. As train time approached, Mother took up her station at a rear window. She saw Mr. Niering come out with a well-wrapped package (no dry-ice in those days) and lock up and start his walk of several hundred yards down the double track to the station. On time, the train came and departed. In time, she saw Mr. Niering on his return to the creamery - counting time for packaging, probably one and a half hours of time shot! Mother laughed hard at the joke; Mr. Niering did not think it amusing. I don’t know how Mr. Niering learned who his tormentor was. My first job was in that creamery, $1 per week, and I did not think Mother’s joke very good. Mother was a dyed-in-the-wool Joker, a very poor Jokee. Giles (Note: Giles was the eldest and first married, and this from Giles wife, Mildred.) Giles has asked me to think back to our early married life when the young Sydnors from 1215 Wise first visited with us. Walker and Brantley were the first ones, and it must have been in the summer of 1932. Brantley was 11 and Walker must have been 13. We had a three room apartment at the time, and the boys were intrigued with sleeping on the Murphy bed in the living room. Mother Sydnor had given them explicit orders on behavior and how to take care of their clothes. Brantley was quite a sight stooping over the bathtub washing his own stovepipes, shorts and socks. I enjoyed myself thoroughly entertaining the boys while Giles was at work. We played games, we visiting and I took the boys crabbing on hot day for Maryland crabs. We caught about a dozen crabs and on the way home bought snowballs (shaved ice in a paper cup tray with fruit flavored syrup and a wooden spoon). Nothing before or since ever tasted so good, mainly because we were so hot and thirsty. Never having cooked live crabs before, I called my mother for directions and the boys and I were not too pleased to find that we had to put live crabs into a steming pot. Some of the crabs got loose and had the boys hopping about the kitchen in their bare feet. Such jumping and yelling! I wonder what the neighbors thought was going on. After the crabs were rounded up and cooked, I still didn’t know how to pick them, so we took the kettle of crabs around to Mom and there took out the meat. After watching this operation, the boys lost all their appetite for the wonderful crab cakes I made.
Another time I was making a cake and the boys were watching. When I took the eggs from the ice-box, one of them rattled when I shook it I have a feeling the egg was bad, so I got another one and Brantley asked if he could open the bad one in the garbage can. He came back with the statement, “There’s a perfectly good egg sitting in the bottom of the garbage can.” Since then, I’ve always opened eggs into a saucer and wonder at how young and stupid I was. When Roche and Bill visited us, they were quite small. It was right after Beth and Arthur married in 1933 and we had another wedding to go to in Baltimore; one of Beth’s bridesmaids, Alice Sievers. The wedding was in the morning – a Saturday morning I think – and Giles couldn’t’ get off from work, so the children and I went into Baltimore on the trolley. We were all dressed up and I remember Bill in his white sailor suit with long pants. The blouse had a cord with a whistle in the pocket and I had to keep and eye on Bill so he wouldn’t blow it at the wrong time. Neither Bill nor Roche were too happy with the wedding that took place in a home. Bill was interested in one of the guests, a large woman who carried a small Pomeranian under her arm. He said to me, in a whisper, “Mildred, that’s the first time I ever say anybody take a dog to a wedding.” Giles got there in time for the luncheon which was shrimp salad. This didn’t help the children any as they expected ice cream and cake, and didn’t like shrimp salad. The brightest spot for them was a surprise visit by their beloved Beth and Arthur, still going the rounds on their honeymoon. Another time, I was fixing breakfast for Roche and Bill and couldn’t find either one when breakfast was ready. At that time we were living in a row house and both children had gone down to the corner grocery to spend some money Giles had given them the night before. They came back with jaws stuffed with candy and I jumped them for going without permission and for eating candy before breakfast. They looked quiet guilty afterwards, put away all remaining candy, and ate their breakfast in silence. Afterwards, they both approached me to ask if I was still mad. They did it by talking turns. Bill woud say, “Mildred?” then Roche would say “are you,” then Bill would say “still mad” and Roche finished it off, “with us?” Of course, this little incident endeared us to each other more than ever. We were looking at an old picture just recently of Bill, after he was much older and could swim, and our eldest Buck down at Oliver Beach near here. We have always enjoyed the visits from Lynchburg. Mildred Early on a pretty morning, a rat was found loitering in the garbage cans behind the house. Dad called as many of us together as were available and had us armed with brooms, rakes, sticks, ar whatever was in the area that might destroy the rat, should the rat run. The can was placed in the center of the large circle. The circle was made up of five or six of the boys and I think Rochet was included. As the can was turned over, the rat ran and had the entire yard pretty much to himself. On seeing such a cowardly sight, as I’m sure Dad was anticipating, Dad wasted no time in chasing the rat. Instead, he with his broom, began chasing one son, then another, madly swinging at any and all fannies and making mention of “You’re just too yellow for your own good!” (A side bet: If Brantley was there and as old as eight years old, 10 to 1 he did not run!) It’s wonderful to look back when we were young and to our many visits to 1215 Wise. I learned so much, and sort of bathed myself in Mother Sydnor’s charm. She had the knack of living a life of her own while all the family buzzed around her. Her kindness was always foremost and this stemmed from her sensitiveness, which included others as well as herself. The time we had to return to Baltimore and the weather had truned cold – she heated a brick for my feet and gave me a no-longer-used crib blanket to keep out the drafts in old two-seater Ford. Her interst and enthusiasm when our babies were due, and the way she loved to make baby clothes fascinated me. I saved all she made for me and have kept them for the grandchildren. Most of Rochette Anne’s children were christened in one of the dresses made by Mother Sydnor. Coming from a family of three girls, I always enjoyed the hub-bub and even the stomping up and down the steps that the boys used to do. I can still recall the slam of the side door when each one came home from school and yelled, “Mother!” just to check in. Soon after, they scattered to their many interests, but first would report to Mother where they were going. Dad Sydnor’s interest in planning and getting meals always fascinated to me. He was very good at fixing the country ham. A trip to the market with him, where all the farm people would greet him in such a respectful way when his main purpose was only a paper sack full of eggs, made an impression. His forgetfulness didn’t help too much with some of his cooking, so he got plenty of ribbing about burning the toast and over-peppering sausage and beans. Brantley’s favorite request was “Scorch the oatmeal, Dad!” Brantley really liked the scorched flavor of it (acquired taste?), and Dad Sydnor was almost sure to oblige. Later, when we visited with the children, Grand mommy would let Rochette Anne play in a certain drawer in her dresser where she kept odds and ends enough to amuse a child for a long time. We visited when Buck was keen on climbing trees and he delighted in climbing the big apple tree in the back yard. Malcolm had to rescue him from his high perch. To me it was always a sorrowful thing that our younger children have so little to remember about their grandparents. (Note: It was a long trip from Baltimore to Lynchburg in those days, and Giles had more and more responsibility with Bethlehem Steel, and I believe Mildred meant she was sad that they couldn’t visit each other more often.) Mildred This from Rochet: In thinking about my childhood days, things or memories more general than specific occur to me. I think of Daddy as being stern, but fair. Neither of our parents had what you might call carefree dispositions, although this quality shone through more in Mother’s nature than in Daddy’s. Whenever I was sick, it was Daddy who doctored me and sat by my bed. I’m sure Mother cared, but she wasn’t as demonstrative. Though I’m sure there was never extra or maybe even enough money to go around, I never had the feeling of being poor. In fact, how they instilled this feeling in me, I’m not sure, but I felt very proud of my family and our responsibility and position in Lynchburg. The church is largely responsible for this, I think, because of the respect I felt was had for Mother and Daddy and the responsibility they, Mother and Daddy, expected of us. Rochet Church was a mighty important part of our lives. As a youngster sometimes when Daddy had read us the riot act and then perhaps would have family prayers, I would think him a perfect hypocrite, but later, especially as a parent, I could understand. I would think him a bit tough not to let me go off to college dances or anywhere that would keep me from church but he said if God had blessed us with a voice or some other talent, then it was up to us to use it in His honor on Sundays. Also, we could date on Sunday night, but only after Young People’s, or TO Young People’s. Rochet One incident stands out that involved Sunday and spending money on Sunday. I had saved 75 cents (probably with help from Giles) which was an enormous sum then. Brantley and Billy talked me into slipping the money out of the house one Sunday afternoon and the three of us took off for Miller Park on the pretense that we wanted to swing, see the animals and walk through the greenhouses. All the time we could hardly wait to get to the park and stuff ourselves with Cracker Jacks, ice cream, pop and candy. It’s a wonder we didn’t get sick because so many sweets at once was a very rare happening, even perhaps a once in a lifetime affair. We thought Bill would be quiet about it, but we didn’t reckon with his extreme youth and all the exciting things he’d experienced, so he couldn’t resist telling, within Daddy’s earshot, how we’d spent 25 cents apiece. We knew better, and that we were completely wrong, and when faced by Daddy about it, we had no excuse and did he evermore paddle Brantley and me! This is of little interest to anyone else in the family, but it stands out more vividly in my mind than anything else I remember, and probably is the reason why I was a Mother with children of my own before I would spend money on Sunday. Even now don’t make Sunday shopping a habit. Rochet A happy memory was watching for Daddy to come home and meeting him and reaching in his pocket for half a bag of peanuts left from his lunch. Such a simple thing of no real importance, but along with hundreds of little things he’d do, they make for a very happy childhood. Like pitching ball back and forth and all the time making small talk or listening to something that was of momentary importance to me, telling us stories he’d make up as he want along, helping with our lessons, perhaps a little impatient, but willing. In later years, in high school, he was a wonderful, understanding teacher and friend as well as my father. When I was in his Geometry class, for some reason I didn’t want to call him Daddy and couldn’t call him Mr. Sydnor so for that whole year I called him Clem – with his permission. When I asked if he minded, he said it rejuvenated him. When Mr. Isley made life so miserable for me in his math class, Dad was always available to comfort and to coach me. Rochet He was a marvelous man, just as Mother was the finest woman I’ve ever known. Until she died, she was a sure partner for any game, whether croquet, Rook, Michigan poker or even Canasta. Her children, husband and home were her interests. She was not the least bit interested in clubs, not even church circles. She was a great confidant. I remember the first time Thom kissed me good night. It was the first time I’d been kissed by anyone, and it really scared me and left me weak as water, and I was sure as shooting it showed up all over. I hoped and prayed Mother and Daddy wouldn’t be up, but Mother was, and I felt honor bound to tell her I’d been kissed, and her answer was, “How did he hold you?” What an understanding mother! Enough of that. My narrative is very poorly written and much too wordy, but it may give a little insight into our life at Wise Street; that is, from the eyes of one of the younger ones. Daddy was the first to admit that he was easier on us than on the older ones, and that’s one of his characteristics I admired the most. He didn’t mind admitting to himself that he might be on the wrong path – or maybe it might be better to say that, as the times and customs changed, so did he. I firmly believe if he were living today, he’d be a real liberal. Rochet About his death: the last time I saw him was on Bill and Jean’s wedding day. He hadn’t been well at all, and because he was in no condition to attend the wedding breakfast, I offered to stay with him so that Mother might go. When I took his lunch to him, he asked that I stand at the foot of his bed so he could look at me. He said he wanted to soak up with his eyes the sight of me, that he knew he had only a short while to live, but that I shouldn’t be sad, he was ready to go and that he was ready to see our brother Brantley. I can’t recall his exact words. Ten days later, he died after having the best day he’d had in ages. After a summer supper he’d enjoyed thoroughly, he and Mother sat on the front porch for awhile. Then he got up, walked to the fence to talk to a neighbor, walked to the back yard and collapsed with his heart attack. No suffering, and I’m so grateful for that. I hate to think what our lives might have been if Mother had had a different disposition. Daddy was the public figure; being older, he was more set in his ways and had a more dynamic personality. Opposite to him was Mother, who was an introvert, not too easily ruffled and slow to anger. But she did possess a temper as I well remember, but only when she was driven to it. She had a great sense of humor, an absorbing interest in her children and their activities and was completely unselfish. She had a tendency to depressions but they were not too long lasting. I can’t remember anything special about her. I do recall Mother and the older boys closeted in her room and hearing raucous laughter while Daddy and we younger ones had to just sit and wonder what was going on. I well remember how generous she was with her hard-earned sewing money. I remember her tenacity at the card table, and her joy at winning. Rochet A little more than a month before she died, she was visiting Thom and me in Salisbury, NC. She was very popular there and our friends enjoyed our bringing her with us. At that time, we decided that she would move in with us since Dr. Brickhouse had said she could no longer stay alone. I think she really dreaded it, but she knew it to be necessary, was accustomed to our family doctor, and knew we had plenty of room. But she made a remark that I didn’t pay too much attention to at the time, but later which became very significant. It was that once she broke up her home, she wouldn’t live long. Actually, one week from that day, we buried our mother. On Saturday, October 5th, 1956, Raine drove Mother and furniture for her room to Salisbury. We had an argument about church the next day, because she wanted to go to the Presbyterian Church and I thought she should go to ours where all her friends attended. (note: Rochet’s husband, Thom Blair, was rector of the Episcopal Church there). She went with me that morning, but I’m sure it wasn’t finished. Monday, Beth called to say she and Arthur were on a trip and were in our neck of the woods and wanted to drop by. Tuesday was Giles’ birthday, so for our birthday present to Giles, we had her call long distance. Wednesday we went to town and she bought a new hat and dress and Thursday we were awakened by Grace Brisbane, who had discovered Mother unconscious on the floor. She too, had had a good few last days and died quietly with no suffering. Thom wants to write a little something about Mother, because he really loved her. She was not the kind of in-law you hear so badly maligned these days. It was his urging that made me feel free to ask her to come with us. Rochet I should not let this opportunity of openly appreciating a family’s customs pass. Having put in much less time with my entire family than I wish I had done, I think that I, Giles, enjoy more than any other the family get-togethers. Usually it is a picnic type of reunion where it is wonderful to see and learn the progress of so many nieces, nephews and now their children. Every in-law is as near perfect as I could choose. After one of these affairs, I usually am ready for bed at bedtime. Always I have a renewal of my gratitude to God that He permitted me to be a member of that family. Being a member of a large family is not of itself a special blessing for all such persons, but in our case and our family, just belonging and remembering is an incalculable gift. I am sure that each brother and sister, natural or in-law, joins me in expressing to God our thanks for His goodness to all of us. Giles
Compiled for Internet by Syd Dickenson |