We visit St. Louis

When I was growing up at the turn of the century not many people from our community in Southern Illinois visited St. Louis in the course of a year.  Automobiles were still a novelty and hard roads were unheard of.  The only means of transportation to this metropolis was by train and, although the distance was but 70 miles, it was only those with sufficient money to spend who could indulge in a trip to the city.

The folks who went consisted of a few storekeepers to purchase goods, usually a bride and groom on their honeymoon, the doctor’s and the station agent’s wives and daughters to buy clothes, a few young men over a week-end to see the sights, --and the school teachers.  When I was 18 I joined this latter group and that fall a district teachers’ convention was held at East St. Louis, Illinois.  With Ethel Driscoll, the Beaucoup teachers and two other girls, I made the trip.

The meeting was conveniently arranged to be held on Friday so that the teachers by staying over night, might go to the city the following day for shopping.

My remembrance of what took place at the convention is vague, but I shall never forget an embarrassing incident which occurred on Saturday while purchasing a winter coat.

It came about like this. – My mother and Aunt Laura Jack had advised that I keep my money in a safe place while traveling.  Not in a pocket-book dangling from my arm.  Aunt Laura said city slickers could spot country shoppers and take their money without even being suspected.  A ladies’ hose was considered the safest place for her bills, so with mine tucked securely at the top of my lisle stocking I started the trip.

All went well at the convention, in fact, that day had not bothered me, it was the following one when I must use precaution.

Saturday came and we were off for St. Louis.  Upon arriving we looked about, then each turned to her own purchases, agreeing to meet again for lunch.  In one of the shops (Klein’s) I was shown a gray wool coat trimmed with black velvet collar and cuffs – just what I was looking for.  I modeled it before a mirror and admired it.  Perhaps I was too deliberated in my consideration as presently a floor walker appeared.  He was, I thought, the most handsome and attractively attired young man I had ever seen.

He pleasantly remarked that I had chosen one of their best sellers and that it was quite flattering to me.  Agreeing in my mind that he was right I smiled my best smile and told him I would take the coat.  He assisted in removing it and said he would have it wrapped, and then he asked for my money.

I stood there motionless, and something like a sickening feeling came over me as I remembered where the money was hiding.  I considered the thought of telling him that I had changed my mind and walk out of the store without buying the wrap, but I wanted it too much for that.  Finally I told him to wait a moment.  I stepped behind a counter, reached under my long skirt and brought out the cash.

Needless to say, my embarrassment was such that from then on my money was carried in another place and never again in my stocking.

The next summer – I think it was – my parents decided that the four other children were getting old enough to appreciate a trip to the city.  Uncle Burney and Aunt Carrie were now living in St. Louis, so it was arranged that my father would take the children over a week-end, while my mother and I cared for things on the farm.  They left Saturday morning in a state of hilarious excitement, that is, the children were hilariously excited, I don’t know what state of mind my father was in.  The train arrived in St. Louis around 9 o’clock in the morning.

Saturday was spent seeing the downtown sights.  My father even walked them down the banks of the Mississippi River and told them to put their hand in the water so they could say they had touched the waters of the Mississippi - this was somewhat to the mortification of the two older girls, Vera and Florence.

That evening they went to Uncle Burney’s home for the night, and on Sunday, under his guiding hand, they visited points of interest in the city, churches, the Zoo and other parts of Forest Park, etc.

It was a trip long remembered and much talked about.

Spring weather usually brought at least one exciting and terrifying wind and rain storm, the exciting and terrifying part being that if the storm looked like it might develop into a tornado or cyclone my father would get us out of the house and over to a little building some 20 feet west, used as a granary, which he deemed a more substantial structure-this was all taking place while the storm was in progress.

Storms in the city may be as destructive as elsewhere but certainly they are not watched as they are in the country.  Black clouds growing in size with rumblings of thunder brought concern to everyone.  The little chickens and there mothers must be rounded up and brought to shelter and anything else that couldn’t withstand rain or hail.  Men working in the fields would watch the clouds and give themselves time to get under cover before the rain came.  In our case, my father usually got to the house from the barn just before the rain came in torrents.

We were told to stay in the dining room during a storm as the front part of the house with its large brick chimneys was no place to be if the worst came, which, I am glad to say, never did, but it was always well to be prepared.

My father would take his place at the west dining room window to watch the storm.  As each flash of lightening my mother would urge that he stand back, but his had no effect upon him, he held his spot and watched.  If the rolling black clouds looked dangerous enough for us to go to the granary he gave the word and we prepared for the dash.  My mother would see that all five of us children put on some sort of a wrap over us.  Then, as we opened the west door to start, someone would pull the large oil-cloth from the dining room table, and with it over our collective heads we ran for shelter.

Once inside the granary we felt more or less at ease, no doubt because there was no west window from which to watch the storm.  Also this place had certain attractions, bins for corn and wheat, and sturdy old rafters low enough for the children to climb on.  Even my father would become interested in other things, such as rearranging boxes or sacks of grain, and we just let the storm take its course.

When it was over we came out and looked around with wonder at the changes that had taken place.  Leaves and sometimes branches of trees would be strewn over the yard and, to the delight of the four younger children, the low-land between the house and the barn would be covered with water rushing pell mell down to the pasture creek.  They never failed to take advantage of wading in it.

Gradually things became normal again and people went about their work with the thought that it wouldn’t be long until the season for storms would be over.

Figure 7: Hedges Spencer-County Surveyor, Washington County, Illinois from about 1920 until his death in 1930.

We lived on this farm for thirty-five years and grandchildren came and went and loved it as much as we did.

Figure 8: Hedges Spencer with his grandchildren, Virginia and Clair Jr. Secor.

On May 21, 1930, my father died there from a heart ailment.  He was buried at Greenwood cemetery, Nashville, near the graves of his parents and grandparents, Captain James and Mary Burns, who had given the ground for the cemetery to the Odd Fellows of Nashville, reserving a portion in the west part for themselves and posterity who wished to be buried there.  (This was Grandmother Spencer’s parents who had owned the Spencer farm before Grandfather Spencer married her and took it over.)

Figure 9: Grave of William Columbus Spencer and Mary Jane Burns-Spencer in Greenwood Cemetery-Nashville, Illinois

After my father’s death my mother moved to Nashville with Aunt Maud, who was living alone in the Spencer home.

In the fall of 1933 she came to St. Louis to live with her children. 

She died March 11, 1937, and was buried at Greenwood cemetery.