Baehr-Evans Family History Ver. 22Feb2019

Will’s boy, who was mentioned
in the letter from Minnie's
father to August, was William
Dudley Dietz. He died in 1908,
at the age of 18. Here is a
picture of him taken in 1898
with his sister, Marian
Katherine Dietz.

In 1900, Minnie was living with her mother, Anna Katherine, at 626 Main Street in Warren, Ohio.
Minnie was 28 years old and the last child to stay with her mother. Minnie's father had died in 1891,
right before his 60th birthday and by 1902, six of her brothers and sisters had died. The brothers
alive in 1900 were William Georg, August Jr., and Heinrich Carl (Henry). Minnie cared for her mother
until her mother's death in July 1903.

In 1906, Minnie was still in Warren and I
find photographs taken of her with family
members. Only a few of the pictures are
identified; but somewhere, besides William
Dudley and Marian Katherine, are August's
daughter, Geraldine, and Henry’s children
Erwin, Marjorie, and Frances. Erwin is
easy to identify because he became a U.S.
Marine and is in uniform.

Erwin Dietz in USMC 1924
From 1910 through 1912, Minnie was a stenographer for W. Thomas in Warren and later she
was the private stenographer for T.H. Gilmer of Warren, Ohio. The Gilmers were well-known and
respected lawyers in Warren.

~ 46~

On the 1910 Census, Minnie was a roomer in a house on Washington Avenue in Warren.
Somehow, she always surrounded herself with persons of prestige. The homeowner was Fred T.
Stone, the Trumbull County Auditor. Also, at the same house, was the Ackley Family. Thadius
Ackley was a merchant jeweler, his wife Rose was a physician, M.D., their son, William was a
commercial jeweler and William’s wife Florence was an opera vocalist. An Ackley family niece,
Nancy L. Conrad, was a school teacher. One other roomer besides Minnie was Laura Elder, a clerk
for the City Probate Judge.

My mother told me, “Minnie had a very fine job,” which in those days meant that she earned a
great deal of money. But she also enjoyed life. Minnie loved to travel and must have been thrifty
enough to save her earnings for extensive journeys.

In one of her albums, she is with family members in August 1912 on a mountain resort vacation
in Estes Park, Colorado. These pictures are priceless in that they are identified even to the name of
the horse, “Bonnie,” that Minnie rode during their holiday. By 1913, Minnie is in California being
photographed on Catalina Island, in Hollywood, Los Angeles County, in Roubideaux, Riverside
County, at some California Missions, and in Tijuana, Mexico. These photos are not identified, but
the places are obvious.

< Between July 15 and August 4, 1914, Minnie
took a cruise to Hawaii aboard the “S.S.
Matsonia.”

In 1915, Minnie was 43 years old and did not want to be a middle-aged woman. She simply fixed
the problem by applying for a California driver's license and stating that her birthday was September
12, 1895, and not 1872. On January 1, 1916, Minnie F. Dietz, 1767 Orchid Avenue, Hollywood,
California, brown hair, brown eyes, 5 feet and four inches tall and weighing 112 pounds suddenly
regained twenty-three years of her life.

In 1918, Minnie had a mailing address at 1743 Orchid
Avenue in Hollywood, California. At the same address
was Alice A. Harrison. Both Minnie and Alice A. Harrison
bought U.S. Government War Savings thrift stamps in
1918 to support the war effort in the World War.

Alice Harrison & Minnie Dietz

~ 47~

Back home in Ohio on January 3, 1918, Minnie’s niece, Frances A. Dietz, became a candidate for
membership in the Presbyterian Church. According to the Session notes, her mother Cora, already
a member, brought her daughter. The Moderator of the Session, the Reverend Franklin P. Reinhold,
explained the main truths of the Presbyterian Church and Frances was received into the faith. She
was baptized Sunday, January 6, 1918. (3) Meanwhile, Minnie’s brother, William Georg Dietz,
was busy with home-front activities while the Great War was being fought in Europe. He was the
guest speaker at the "Raising of the Liberty Loan Honor Flag" in Lodi, Ohio, on May 5, 1918.

In the Fall of 1918, Spanish Flu threatened Warren, Ohio. The October 17, 1918 Sessions report
at the Dietz’s church gave the following announcement. The Spanish Influenza Epidemic has
occasioned much alarm. The City Board of Health has ordered all public meetings, after tonight, to
be discontinued until the epidemic abates. While there is little sickness in our parish, our Session
deems it wise that the quarantine ordered by the Board of Health be established. All meetings of
every character will be discontinued in our Church until the quarantine is lifted by the Health
authorities of the City. Signed: Elder J. Estabrook, Clerk.

The next Session met on December 6, 1918. On account of health conditions in the parish, our
next Session to be held the last week of January instead of the scheduled first week. Minnie saved
a letter that her niece Marjorie wrote on November 10, 1918, one day before the Armistice and during
the infamous influenza epidemic.

Dear Aunt Minnie,

It has been a long time since I have written to you. I have been at home nearly 3 weeks on
account of the flu. The movies and churches and schools have all been closed. I have been helping
Mama. But will be glad when school starts again. I miss my schoolmates. We had a spring chicken
today for dinner. It tasted very good. I wish you could have been there with us. Last Sunday
Papa and Mama and Mr. and Mrs. Wakefield went to Cuyahoga Falls to see Aunt Mina and I stayed
at home with "Sity." Erwin went to Greene with Louise Finney and her Dad. I guess she has a case
on Erwin. Sity gets so many nice letters from her beaus from France and Scotland. I am so glad
Christmas is coming soon. I do hope that this horrid war will be over by that time and the American
soldiers will get the Kaiser's goat. I want to thank you for the thrift stamp. Allison Bennet died the
other day in Pittsburg. He was such a cute little fellow. I will have to stop now as it is my bedtime. So
good bye and write soon. Love Marjorie. PS I also want to thank you for the pretty Halloween card.

“Amazingly enough,” reported Bob Pinti, Warren Deputy Health Commissioner in 2018, “not a
single Warren resident perished from the Spanish Flu.”

The president of Hiram College in 1911 was Minor Lee Bates, D.D. He also served as substitute
minister at the Dietz family’s Presbyterian Church during absences of the Reverend F. P. Reinhold
(May 14, 1911). In 1919, Dr. Bates went to visit Minnie on a trip West to collect money for a college
fund. Miner Lee Bates, Hiram Class of 1895, was a colleague of Minnie's brother, William Georg.
President Bates hinted in a letter to Minnie that perhaps Miss Harrison could contribute to the college
some day. I would guess that Miss Harrison and A. A. Harrison, who lived with Minnie on Orchid
Avenue, are the same individual.

On the Federal Census in 1920, Minnie and Alice Harrison were still living at 1743 Orchid in
Hollywood. Miss Harrison was 59 years old and Minnie was 48. Their neighbors included Christian
Scientists and a movie star, Nella Noxan.

The 1920s were fine years for Minnie. Family letters kept her informed of life in Warren. She
saved one letter filled with news from her brother Henry, September 16, 1923.

~ 48~

Dear Sister,
Your welcome letter was received. We are always glad to hear from you. Yes, we have had

some interesting things happen among our family in the past few weeks. Marjorie was operated
on for goiter by Dr. Crile of Cleveland three weeks ago tomorrow at noon. The operation was very
successful so that she was able to be brought home the following Sunday. Cora was with her the
entire time. Marjorie is feeling well now but will be unable to attend school for at least two months.
Her goiter continued to grow very rapidly for the past year and we decided that an operation was the
only relief and we are now glad we had it done while she was still young.

Along the latter part of July, Erwin got it into his head he wanted to join the Marines or the US
Navy, so I thought a month's soldiering would cure him of it. The US government has a training
camp at Camp Knox near Louisville, Kentucky. On July 27, he joined this camp for a four weeks'
stay, coming home on August 25th. When he came back he was more determined than ever and
nothing would do but soldier experience. A week-ago today, he and another boy went to Cleveland
and enlisted with the US Marines for a four-year period. A furlough is allowed them every six months
provided they are anywhere near home. He never was any account in school, so I thought this would
perhaps teach him something as he had it in his system and he was bound to carry it out. He will
see the world both in America and Europe besides learning a trade during the time.

It was pretty hard to see him go to be gone so long but it was his own wish and there was no
talking him out of it. He left for Paris Island Training Station at Paris Island, South Carolina, and I
don't know where he'll be sent from there. Some day he will see the Pacific Coast and perhaps be
near where you are located. I don't know where he got this roving disposition, surely not from me.

Nat Sabia stopped to see me several weeks ago while visiting here and reports you as doing well
and in good spirits. Yours with love, Henry.

In 1924, someone mailed Minnie an article where her accomplishments are mentioned in the
Warren, Ohio Tribune Chronicle along with those of the rest of her family. Mr. and Mrs. Dietz
were both strong characters (and) lived exemplary lives. Four children still live, William a very
successful business man of Cleveland; August, connected with the Erie Railroad in Cleveland,
holding an important position; Henry, Teller of the Union National Bank and Minnie who is sten-
ographer and confidential clerk of T. H. Gilmer.

On May 3, 1926, Minnie became a Notary Public for Los Angeles County. She also had a
position at C. E. Toberman Co., which handled real estate, insurance, and mortgage investments.
Her office was located at 7065 Franklin in Hollywood and she had her own business card. She was
living at 6864 Bonita Terrace, Hollywood, California.

All was well back in Ohio. In January 1929, Marjorie Dietz was fully recovered and graduated
from Harding High School. William Georg Dietz had been busy with his duties as docent at the
Cleveland Museum of Art and with his dedication to Hiram College as Chairman of the Finance
Committee of the Board of Trustees. Minnie was so very proud of her brother William Georg.

~ 49~

On April 29, 1930, Minnie received two urgent telegrams.

The first telegram arrived at 11:00AM on April 29, from Marian Dietz, daughter of William Georg
Dietz. Father and Mother in automobile accident Sunday. Father died this morning. Mother in no
danger whatsoever. Funeral Thursday.

Later that evening, a second telegram was received. Appreciate your wanting to come but believe
it unnecessary. Mother still in hospital but recovering rapidly. She will be home in a few days. Only
suffering from cuts and bruises and is wonderfully brave and courageous. I am perfectly well.
Curtis and Arthur Pettibone taking care of everything. Love Marian.

I have a microfilm clipping from the Warren Chronicle stating that Mrs. Dietz was driving the
electric motor car at the time of the accident. Mrs. Dietz (Jessie) recovered from the auto accident;
but when she tried to settle her husband's estate, she found a financial tragedy due to the stock
market crash. At the time of her father's death, Marian and husband Curt Bennett were living at 2431
Overlook Road in Cleveland Heights, Ohio. On June 9, 1930, Marian wrote to her aunt.

Dearest Aunt Minnie:
Just came home from Mother's and found your letter and hastened to write a short scribble. Any

minute I may go to the hospital--tonight, tomorrow, or next week. Curt plans to send you a night
letter after the baby arrives.

Mother is better now but had another set back in the form of pleurisy last week. It of course
worried us some and discouraged her, but tonight she walked in to the dining room for dinner and
sat on the davenport in the living room talking to us until we left. Still keeping the trained nurse. So
far, she hasn't been well enough to write a letter but speaks of "Minnie" almost every day and says
you are the first she wants to write to.

The leg which flared up earlier seems all right now and I can't see how she could have any more
set backs. It should only be a question of gaining strength now. Curt is taking wonderful care of us
both and I am in fine condition to have my baby. Curt will stay at Mother's while I am in the hospital.
Heaps of love to you all, Marian.

That evening, the promised night letter went out at 7:00. Curt and Marian were happy to
announce the birth of their son, Curtis Burnam Bennett Jr., on June 9, 1930.

It might seem that deaths came back to back in the Dietz family, for another tragedy occured on
June 16, 1930. Minnie's brother August had been seriously ill. He wrote to his family on April 8,
1930 from Shaker Heights.

Dear Brother and Family,
Just a line to let you know that I am up and around again. Have taken several walks. Find I am

a little weak in the knees yet but gaining strength every day. Received your card from Athens. You
must have had a fine trip and enjoyed yourselves. Suppose you saw the 17 historic elms that were
pictured years ago by Dr. McGuffy of reader fame. Excuse this writing as I am a little unsteady yet,
but slowly getting better. I see they are having a big time with sheet and tube at Youngstown. Hope
any changes will not affect your mills at Warren. Love to all, August

~ 50~

A telegram from Geraldine Dietz, June 14, 1930, read Father (August Dietz, Jr.) critically ill. End
seems near. On June 14 Minnie received another telegram. Condition unchanged. Do not know
how to advise about coming. Frances sent the last telegram on June 16th stating that Geraldine's
father, August, had died, and that the family was inquiring which railroad Minnie was taking from Los
Angeles. Minnie then had only brother Henry. Henry wrote an interesting letter on November 25,
1930.

Dear Children: We have had the most delightful fall weather this year with the thermometer
around 70. It appeared more like spring than fall, but upon awakening this morning we saw a slight
fall of snow, and it's real cold with prospects of getting colder by night. Newspapers tell us that you
have had snow and extreme cold weather in California.

In a letter from Marjorie she tells us she has a chance to motor home with some friends for
Thanksgiving, arriving here sometime Wednesday about midnight or later. This means that Erwin
or myself will have to take her on her return trip. Probably Sunday. The poor kid is tickled to get
home for a few days in order to get a few meals of her mother's cooking.

Last Sunday we had as our dinner guest Uncle James and Aunt Mina from Youngstown. We had
a nice dinner and they appeared to enjoy themselves while here. A week ago, today, Biery's dog
Buddy was tied by a rope out of doors near their back door. In some way, he gnawed the rope in
two and got away. They inserted an ad in the “Tribune” offering a reward for his return. Thursday,
they got a telephone call from somewhere on Ohio Street saying that Buddy had been found on the
street, dead, probably run over by an automobile. A couple of small boys had found him and identified
him by his collar with a small piece of rope attached to it. You can imagine how the Bierys feel about
it after having him 7 years.

We haven't heard from Frances since the first part of this month. Perhaps the community fund
matters are taking all her spare time. This is the last day of the drive and we are short some
$70,000.00 dollars from the goal. Cleveland is short a half a million.

Work at the mill looks not so good. Erwin was off 3 days last week, started to work yesterday at
3 o'clock but don't believe it will last long. Here's hoping you will enjoy your Thanksgiving dinner.
You have always had such delightful times on that day.

Write and tell us about it. I am enclosing some shap shots we took on our trip to Athens in
September… The backgrounds are oil wells. We were in the oil region at that time. With love, Henry

After William Georg Dietz died, his
widow Jessie lived with their daughter

Marian Dietz Bennett, son-in-law Curtis,
and grandson Curtis at 2290 Ardleigh
Drive in Cleveland, Ohio. All was well for
them except for the growing instances of
crime that put dampers on their social life.
The Dietz family was not yet affected by
the economic reversals in the rest of the

state. Back in Warren, the Caler and the
George F. Baehr families were suffering
from the Great Depression.

Curtis Bennet 1930

~ 51~

California in the 1930s knew about the troubles in the East only through newspapers. Jessie wrote
to her sister-in-law on Valentine's Day, 1932.

Dear Minnie,

I was glad to receive your letter a few days ago. I think we are having quite as much sunshine or
more than California. It has been such a warm, open winter. Many days we have our gas furnace
turned off hours at a time. Today is one of the days that we need the heat. It grew much colder last
night and is around 20 degrees today.

Friday, I drove to Canton with my friend Mrs. Champ in her car. The fields were so green and in
some places the farmers were plowing. Think of it, no frost in the ground in February. We went to
Canton to get some apple butter which a friend there had promised us. She made it last fall and it's
delicious. Soon you will receive a snapshot of little Curtis taken out in front of the house. I think
Marian gets them tomorrow. They are small. This morning they tried to take some a rear view, so
he would be larger.

He is the peppyist little rascal. You should hear him call his father from the top of the stairs, when
he is ready to be put to bed. I am sure he can be heard all over the block. He walks down to the
corner with his mother or me to McNally-Doyle to get a sugar cookie and yesterday he went to the
automobile merry-go-round to see his car washed which interested him greatly.

We had a most pleasant musical party. They had such a good time that they stayed until after
one o'clock and then it ended in excitement. We had asked for police protection since there had
been a hold up right in front of our house a week earlier. The officer came to report early in the
evening, but when our guests came to go, a doctor's car was missing containing his bag which upset
him most, and a tool chest was stolen from another car. Quite a number of the guests came back in
the house. We called the police. A stunning officer came and got all the facts and told us other
startling tales until they were all afraid to go home.

The doctor's car was found two days later abandoned on the street over in Newburg with his bag
and all, but the engine was frozen up.

Actually, we don't go out very much at night, I don't at all. Cleveland is as bad as Chicago this
winter. Most of the hold ups are by young boys. I think crime is just contagious. Curt and Marian
were saying while we were eating dinner, last night that they would not think it safe to take a walk
around the block after dark.

Marian has been working on this plan, man-a-block, this past week. She is a captain and has
secured the families to employ a man who starts tomorrow morning. He came Saturday to see her
and get instructions. He has been out of work 23 months and has four children. The Associated
Charities has been helping him for the past three months. He seemed like an intelligent young fellow
and very grateful. We don't need him and many other people on the street do not as they employ a
man, but a man like him has to be helped.

I know you will enjoy this little clipping about Dr. Vinson's janitor. Dr. Vinson is president of
Western Reserve University. I think it is rare.

Men are very gloomy about the business outlook, but I can't think the country is going to the dogs.
Dividends are being suspended all the time and real estate is in a terrible state. Will's estate has not
been turned over to me yet and probably will not before the first of June. What would Will think to
have his fortune shrink as it has? It would break his heart after all his years of hard work. It surprises
me to see my brother so pessimistic. He has always looked on the bright side of things. I am afraid
I have written you a scary and a gloomy letter and you will feel thankful that you are out in California.
You and Frances keep up good cheer and I am sure the world will be a better place to live in some
day. With love to you both. Affectionately, Jessie

~ 52~

The joke that Jessie Dietz found so humorous would not be so funny one year later, but in 1932
she was able to laugh at a destitute janitor. In 1933, her husband's estate would dwindle to almost
nothing.

So, Say We All Dr. Vinson told of this janitor dropping in to request a blank check. Asked if one
check would be enough, this individual replied: "Yessah. All the money I got in the bank can be
drawn out all on one check!"

Exactly one year later, another Valentine's Day, Minnie was lucky to find a ten-dollar bill in the
streets of Hollywood. By then her sister-in-law did not speak so light-heartedly about the economic
disasters of the nation, for in 1933, the Dietz family itself became a statistic in the Great Depression.
Jessie's letter in March begins an attempt to have Minnie protect the family securities.

March 14, 1933. My dear Minnie: Received your air mail letter this morning. I certainly am sorry
that I did not send my important letter last Tuesday relative to the bank stock by air mail then you
would have received it before the terrible disaster and avoided all this business confusion.

But first, we are so relieved to know that you are all right and $10.00 to the good which is a lot
these days. Frances thoughtfully sent a special delivery letter here Sunday. She had heard from
Ray.

Our bank situation here in Cleveland worries us greatly. The Guardian is to be reorganized and
we don't know what that means to depositors yet. I trust you received my letter Monday at the latest
and that will enlighten you somewhat.

Ham my young nephew-in-law whom I am retaining to look after my interests has sent you a
letter this morning by air mail and I hope you will have no objections to acceding to this plan. Every-
body is one nerves here. Curt was called to Kentucky yesterday by the death of his father. He will
no doubt be away all the week. With much love from Marian and me. Yours, Jessie

Jessie Dietz seems much more concerned with her bank problems than with the minor in-
convenience of the death of her son-in-law's father. Still, she had not fully realized the extent of her
financial losses. Ham (Hamlin L. Gresinger) asked Minnie to accept her deceased brother's stocks
in her name, even though a double liability would be placed on any property Minnie owned. Jessie
was trying desperately to secure immunity from liabilities placed on her holdings. Her lettter on
March 27th has a frantic timbre and for the first time she expresses concern for another's suffering.

Dear Minnie,

Your letter enclosing stocks was received the 24th and I intended to reply at once, but my time
has been much taken up by business affairs. When Will left everything in trust in the Guardian Bank,
he felt it was a safe provision and now it turns out nothing could have been much worse. On urgent
advice of my brother, I have revoked my trust at the Guardian and taken all securities away from
there. At present, they are locked up in a safety deposit box at the Society for Saving. This is strictly
confidential, you know. How much I will lose of the cash still there, I don't know, but a considerable
percent I fear. In checking account, saving account, and a cash in court trust, I have about $3,500.00
which I can't get at. I can't draw a check at present.

Ham was with me the day all my securities at the Guardian were turned over to me and I was
petrified until we had them safely locked up. We decided it would be safest to walk to the Society
for Saving. If it had not been for Mr. Edison, I would not have been able to get a box there. He said
I was getting the last box and they had innumerable applications for boxes which they could not fill.

~ 53~

Marian is hard hit by this bank closure. She had been saving to make some investment. Will gave
her an allowance and I continued it, now I can give her no more at present. My responsibility to
others worries me terribly, but I am helpless for the time being. Can't you pick up some more ten-
dollar bills?

I am so sorry Frances is not coming here again before she returns West. I would like to tell her
some things about this banking situation. Marian talked to her on the phone Saturday. Thank you so
much for acquiescing in the transfer of stock. It probably will not do much good. It must seem to you
that our concern about your earthquake troubles in California are secondary, but I assure you we
have read everything and realize what a terrible calamity it was. To think of your writing to me at 11
o'clock that night and you seemed so cool about it, too. We are thankful that you are safe. Weren't
you scared out of your wits? Marian and Curtis are waiting to mail this letter. He chatters every
minute. With much love from us all. Enclosed are stamps for registered mail. Jessie

I first remember Minnie on Balboa Island, California, in the 1950s. She lived in an upstairs
apartment of a two-story house owned by Mrs. Bishop or Bischoff, a retired judge. Minnie lived with
her sweet little grey cat, Eloise. Eloise was the most pampered animal that I have ever known. She
was perfectly groomed. She even had her own storybook! Minnie herself was always as perfectly
groomed as her cat. She was always powdered and curled and was never without her very bright
red lipstick.

We knew Minnie as Aunt Minnie. My mother explained the relationship as "some sort of
connection to the family through the Baehrs." Minnie invited us to dinner often. I remember her
coming to our house only once. She was a tiny person and a large meal for her would be a small
snack for our family. We would always go home from her house starving! After dinner, she would
always serve chocolate creme mints that were sold in long, thin green and white boxes.

Minnie and Eloise lived for many years in Balboa. My mother was kind to Minnie and considered
her part of our close family. When Minnie became ill in the 1960s and could no longer care for
herself, she moved from Balboa to an elegant rest home in Santa Ana. I believe it was called Balzers
and it was quite expensive. Minnie told us that she could afford it, so we needn't worry. Minnie’s
family back in Ohio probably still perceived her as rich, for she had lived among the prestigious in
Hollywood and Balboa, California, but Minnie's money dwindled quickly at the rest home.

She asked my mother if we would please allow her to store a trunk or two for her at our house.
We put the trunks in our back store-house, behind my playhouse. My play house was called The
Backroom. The trunks were safe and, of course, we never opened them.

My mother continued to be wonderful to Minnie, driving us up to Santa Ana for many pleasant
visits with her. Balzer’s was only about ten miles from our house, but my mother hated to drive, and
the long journey certainly was an act of love. We would bring Minnie little items that we had
embroidered or made for her. She was always so appreciative.

Suddenly, we received the sad news that Minnie's money had run out and that she had been
placed in an old folks’ home. The county home was depressing. The smell was terrible. For us,
nothing changed, and we still visited Minnie, even when she was tied to a chair and didn't know us.
At holiday times, we gave her special treats and tried to make her comfortable.

Minnie died on May 15, 1964 at the Ideal Care Nursing Home, 12681 Haster Street, Garden
Grove, California. She had had arteriosclerosis for fifteen years. General debility, senility, and
bedsores made her too weak to fight off acute pneumonia. I believe that the nursing facility
telephoned us with the news of her death, or maybe Minnie’s friend, Mrs. Ray Hays, called us. Mrs.
Hays lived at 8414 ½ East Second Street in Downey, California.

~ 54~

Minnie had always spoken lovingly of her nieces. A couple of days after Minnie died, these nieces
arrived from Ohio to take over arrangements. All I remember is the day they burst onto our property
on Tustin Avenue in Costa Mesa. Compared with their beautiful Eastern homes, our place,
especially our dreadful store-house, must have seemed paupers’ quarters. We three little Baehr
girls, my two sisters and I, probably seemed like ragamuffins. We certainly did not dress the way
the nieces had when they were small.

The nieces were correct in believing that their Aunt Minnie had been wealthy, as their aunt had
been a hard-working lady. What they did not realize was the expense of her care after she became
ill. The nieces refused to enter our house, but marched back towards my play house and the storage
area. I recall their yelling at my mother, demanding to know where Minnie's trunks were hidden. My
mother was too shocked and upset to speak. We stepped back as the nieces pulled down the dusty
trunks from the top shelf of the store room. They dumped the contents out on the grass and began
to rifle through everything. They claimed that we had opened the trunks and stolen Minnie's
treasures.

Poor Minnie! All she had packed had been little trinkets, old papers, and some photo albums.
The nieces were furious and stormed away in a fit after calling my mother a dishonest woman! I am
certain that they went back to Ohio with the tale of the Baehr thieves. Naturally, we weren't invited
to the funeral.

Perhaps in 1963, Minnie's nieces were looking for some negotiable stocks and bonds in the trunks
that we were storing for their aunt. Maybe we did look rather well-to-do, after-all. In 1963, I was in
my everything coordinates era, complete with matching hats and gloves. Peggy was thirteen and
no longer wearing her Davy Crockett outfit; and Kathie was a nicely dressed ten-year-old. I still
cannot understand why all the blame was cast upon my mother. My father was there, but the nieces
didn't accuse him. I guess my mother’s poor Caler family had a sad and unmerited reputation.

Baehrs: Bob, Mary, Anne, Kathleen, Peggy in 1963

After the nieces left, we looked in the trunks and found some pretty little snuff bottles, a postcard
collection, and papers, papers, and more papers. Minnie's treasures! My father said I could have
everything, since there seemed to be family history involved. Dear little Minnie Dietz certainly left a
treasure in genealogy information for me and I thank her so very much.

~ 55~

Endnotes: Part One: Chapter Nine

1. Back row, left to right: Kate Waldeck (Hemple), Polly Jones (Prithers), Minnie Bishop (Creahan),
Lizzie Lane, Miss Andrews (teacher), Minnie Dietz, Gertie Drennen (Holman), ____Grimm, Jay
Caldwell.

Second row: Anna McGlinn (Pilmer), Tobithia Tanzy (West), Freeman Scott, Charles Boyes, Warren
Morrison, Dan Moore, Fred Selkirk, Fred Harris, Vincent Lowrie, James Fanning, Maggie McGlinn,
Maria Tanzy.
Third row: Gustz Loetz (?), Harry Angstadt, Charles Cowan, Frank Angstadt, Frank Harris, Homer
Whitnum, Frank Carnes, Henry Cline, Tom McGlinn, ____Scott.
Fourth row: Bertha Kirkpatrick, Nellie Spear, Lucy Cook, Lillian Waldeck, Anna Reid Wakefield.
Fifth row: Ida Spear, Clara Waldeck, Carrie Gloeckle, May Kirkpatrick (Estabrook), Mina Cowan,
Kate Fanning____, Anna Kayser (Elliot), Peg Cline, Rebecca Peck, Kate Koehler.
2.The Cousin Jennie who signs Minnie's autograph book in 1883 appears to be the same cousin
Jennie who wrote to William Georg Dietz in 1903.
3. Presbyterian Church Session Records, Warren, Ohio 1920; Film #1906876, Family History

Center, Salt Lake City, Utah.

~ 56~

Chapter Ten

LILLIAN ELDENA KOEHLER

Lillian Koehler’s mother was Christianna Anna Kübler (Kibler). In 1855, when Anna was 4 years
old, she came to the United States from Württemberg. Anna traveled with her widowed father,
Johann Georg Kübler, and her sisters, Rosie, Carolina, Mary, (my great-grandmother), and
Wilhelmina. In 1881, when Anna was 26 years old, she married 23-year-old William Albert Koehler.
William Albert was born in Ohio in February 1858. His father, Philip, was from Germany and his
mother, Lydia Angstadt, was from Pennsylvania.

Anna Kibler and William Koehler had
two children: Lillian Eldena Koehler,
born in July 1883, and Albert William,
born in 1885. Lillian (Lilla) was the
niece of my great-grandmother, Mary
Kibler Baehr. Lilla was the cousin of my

grandfather, George F. Baehr.

The photo here taken around 1900
shows Lillian Koehler on the left and her

cousin Anna Baehr on the right.

Lilla’s grandfather, Phillip, was a prominent businessman. “Philip Koehler and his brother, John,

were the founders of the Warren Marble and Granite Company. Philip was the engraver for the

company, but he contacted lung consumption in a few years and was not able to work. There was

a separation between Philip and his wife, Lydia. She lived with Grandpa (William Koehler) and

Grandma (Anna Kibler Koehler) for a time. Philip died in Cleveland at the age of 54. In a few years,

the brother sold the company to a Mr. Corbin, and as far as it looks, he gave all the money to his son

who went to New Castle, Pennsylvania, and started a bank. The Corbins still own the company

today in the year 2001.” Lilla’s niece, Verna Koehler Mellinger, March 2001.

Lilla’s father, William Koehler, and her uncle, John Baehr, purchased adjoining lots on First Street,
in Warren, Ohio, and each built a two story Victorian style house for his family. They built no fence
between the structures. Thus, the two sisters (Anna Kibler Koehler and Mary Kibler Baehr) and
husbands and the six cousins could share a common garden. It must have been a happy and close
neighborhood, filled with many friends and relatives. Down the street at #23 lived Henry Webber
and his family. Henry was a master-carpenter and he built pieces of furniture for the Baehrs and the
Koehlers. Over at #6 were Ernest Geuss and Anna Dietz Geuss with their six children. Around the
corner at 626 Main Street, lived John's sister, Anna Katherine Baehr Dietz, and her daughter Minnie.
Holidays must have been a time for pleasant family gatherings, small gift exchanges, and general
conviviality. Everyone shared the German language and a common pride in the connections to the
great castle or Feste of Coburg, Germany, where Lilla’s uncle, my great grandfather, John Baehr,

was born in 1833.

~ 57~

After the Koehler parents died, and their son Albert Koehler married, Lilla moved into her cousins'
house to help take care of Fred, Anna, and Lottie (Florence Charlotte) Baehr.

Lottie died January 31, 1941. According to my father, “The ‘aunts’ (Anna, Lottie and Lilla) were

attended by a quack doctor, Dr. Allen Welk, who was in Youngstown and would minister to them by

telephone. They would call him, and he would prescribe medications over the phone. Of course, he

would bill them handsomely. Once Lottie got real sick, and she went to his residence. She died

right there in his office.” Robert Baehr, 2005

The office/residence of Dr. Welk was 759 Fairgreen Avenue, Youngstown, Mahoning County,
Ohio. D. H. Hauser, the coroner, reported that Florence Charlotte Baehr died of Erysipelas, an acute

infectious disease of the skin or mucous membranes caused by a streptococcus and characterized

by local inflammation and fever. She was 65 years old.

Lilla first saw me when I was 6 months old and then again when I was 4 years old. In 1949,
we drove back to Ohio in our new Studebaker, and, of course, one of our visits was to the Baehr
house to see Lilla and her cousin, Anna Baehr. That is when I shocked parents and relatives by
burping and saying, “Excuse me all to Hell.” Not sure where I learned the vocabulary.

Fred died on April 25, 1950, of a cerebral hemorrhage at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Warren, Ohio,
and was taken to the MacFarland Funeral home. Anna told me, “One day, Fred fell down the
basement stairs and died.” I remember my visit to the house when I was 8 years old. I would not
go near the steps; but I kept watching the closed door that led to the basement, expecting Fred's
ghost to come out! The house was old-fashioned, with dark paneling and I was also afraid to go up
to the second story. I imagined that Fred would come out to push me down those stairs, too.

My father tells me that Lilla was quite opinionated, but she never mentioned any of her views to
me. Lilla belonged to the Central Christian Church and I was told she did not care for Catholics, but
she loved my parents and their little girls. As Lilla's life had been dedicated to family, she was
overjoyed to consider my mother's Caler kin part of her close circle of friends and relatives. Soon all
the Calers knew, loved, and respected Lilla. She still hated Catholics, but Robert and Mary's people
were exceptions!

Lilla never married. Out of her four Baehr cousins, only one, my grandfather, George Franklin
Baehr, married. My cousin Catherine told me she had a “feeling that Lilla was secretly in love with
cousin George Baehr.” Catherine Dohar Eakins, 1997

**********************************************************************************

Lilla’s brother, Albert W. Koehler, married Susan Clarke. They had one child, Verna Eileen
Koehler (Mellinger). Verna was born June 2, 1915. Lilla nicknamed her Dolly and it was by the
name of Dolly that she was remembered by my father. Verna corrected me immediately when I
visited her in 2003. She asked me not to call her Dolly.

“My Aunt Lilla wanted a male child to be born to her brother. She was very disappointed when I
was a girl. I was told that Lilla wouldn’t use my name for my first six months, then when she did refer
to me, she just called me Dolly.” Verna Koelhler Mellinger, 2003.

Verna’s obituary sums up her life. (Verna) was a 1933 graduate of South High School and studied
piano for eight years at the St. Louis Conservatory. She transferred to harp and took advanced
studies at Baldwin-Wallace College in Berea. She was a harpist with the Youngstown Symphony,
the Thompson Funeral Home, and the Fred B. King Funeral Home, all of Youngstown, Mahoning
County, Ohio, and on various radio stations in the area.

Verna later worked for the former DanDee Pretzel Company in Leetonia, Ohio, and was a letter
carrier for the U.S. Postal Service in Leetonia for 18 years, retiring in 1985.

~ 58~

She was a co-organizer and den mother of Cub Scout Pack 37 and was the first treasurer and
charter member of the Columbiana County Genealogical Society; (she was also in) the Germantown
Mennonite Society, the Beaver Township Historical Society, the Tri-State Historical and
Genealogical Society and the Lancaster Mennonite and Historical Society.
Obituary for Verna E. Koehler Mellinger, Salem News, Ohio

Verna married Edward Mellinger, December 06, 1941 and had one son, Ira Mellinger, born
January 5, 1946. I met Ira on a trip to Ohio in 1949, when I was 4-years-old. After Verna’s death,
April 14, 2009, Ira and his wife, Marjorie, contacted me by telephone.

**************************************************************************************************

Besides caring for her Baehr cousins, Lilla Koehler was an accountant for the Warren
Metropolitan House Authority. My father said she also worked for Smith's Plumbing. She ran the
place and knew all about pipe fitting.

Every Christmas, Lilla and Anna Baehr would send my sisters and me fifteen dollars each to buy
something special. I thought that my fifteen dollars was a small fortune. One year, Peggy and I
bought red boots with part of our fifteen dollars. We were so proud of our boots from Anna and Lilla.
Actually, what I recall most about Anna and Lilla was their fuzzy Henna red hair.

My cousin, Catherine Dohar, spent many happy hours with Lilla. Lilla took the Dohar sisters,
Catherine and Maryam, to the theatre and to the opera. Lilla liked telling the girls about her lovely
Model T Ford. Lilla had sold the car in the 1950s.

“Would you believe that some man came along and gave me one hundred dollars for that old car?
One hundred dollars! That’s a great deal of money, you know!” Lilla Koehler.

Lilla and I became penpals, as soon as I learned how to write. I loved receiving her letters that
were always filled with such excitement. One example is a letter from Lilla when she was 76 years
old and I was 14.

Warren, Ohio. August 5, 1959. Dearest Anne: Can't say little Anne any more. My! How you have
grown and what a nice-looking young lady you are! The hot dish holders came yesterday, and I
am so pleased to have them. They are just what I needed and so pretty and so very well made, too.
Thank you so much for making them for me. They have more meaning when they are made
especially for me. And thank you for your nice picture. You look so pretty and also sensible, too.
Have shown all the Baehr girls' pictures to my people and they think you are such nice girls. Would
have written when I received your picture, but yousaid you were making something for my birthday,
so I waited to thank you for both presents at once.

Really celebrated my birthday this year. A girl friend took me to dinner on Friday evening; my
neighbors in our two houses had a dinner on Saturday for three who live there and whose birthdays
are in July and my sister-in-law had a dinner on Sunday. They were all very nice.

Saw Mom (Caler) a couple of weeks ago, but she has not mentioned going to California. She
looked well. It was Sunday evening and she was at Agie's (Agnes Stewart). Gerry and Becky
(Challenger) were there, too. Was so happy to see her. Haven't seen her for a long time. Tiny's
line is always busy so I have not talked to her for some time either. Kids were not well, but I do hope
they are okay by now.

Did I tell you that I went to New York City for a short vacation? Left the 16th of June and came
back the 23rd. Had a good time, weather was very comfortable, saw five stage shows and Radio
City Music Hall. Took the boat ride clear around Manhattan Island and rode thru Grand Central Park
in a horse-drawn surrey with the fringe on the top. Have been very busy at the office and weather
has been much too hot. Always glad to hear from you. Hope you are all well… Much love, Lilla

~ 59~

Our last visit with Lilla was on our trip to Warren in the summer of 1962. She invited us over one
afternoon before we packed up to return to California. My maternal grandmother, Bessie Caler, was
with us to see all the antiques that Lilla had placed on the dining room table for us. Lilla gave us
crystal, silver, a set of precious Haviland, a diamond engagement ring, and Civil War documents that
she had saved from her cousins' father, her uncle, John Baehr. Lilla wanted us to take everything
from the Baehrs, but there was limited space in our 1958 Ford station wagon. With only a word I could
have had the beautiful piano; but as usual, I stood there too shy to say anything. Besides, I would
never dream of asking my father to spend money on shipping charges. The fine instrument probably
went to the highest bidder at an auction house after Lilla died. Lilla did give us family heirloms, but
nothing could have been more valuable than the stories that she shared with us.

Lilla wasn't living in the Baehr house in 1962. She had sold it after Anna died in 1954. Lilla spent
the years before her death renting at 342 Porter Avenue NE. Lilla died on October 23, 1962, at her
brother's house, 273 Lucius Avenue, Youngstown, Ohio. MacFarland and Son Funeral Home
conducted services for Lilla. She is buried at the Oakwood Cemetery, 860 Niles Road S. E., Warren,
Ohio 44483-5953.

In 1995, Jim MacFarland gave Ramón and me a tour of the Funeral Home. It is a beautiful old
building in downtown Warren. The MacFarlands keep a fine horse drawn hearse that was made in
about 1895. According to Jim, “Warren's best families were buried from the MacFarland Home.”

~ 60~

Chapter Eleven

GEORGE FRANKLIN BAEHR

I have little from my paternal grandfather.
He was a happy 12-year-old when he
wrote his signature in his cousin Minnie
Dietz’s autograph book.

To Minnie:
May your voyage through life

Be as happy and free
As the dancing waves
On the deep blue sea.

Your Cousin
George

Warren, June 16, 1884

Also, he left a few photographs; a marriage certificate; a sprinkler head he designed; a clothes
brush decorated with a sterling silver monogram; and a diamond ring that, according to Lillian
Koehler, he bought for someone named Alice. Finally, there is a booklet and bill from his funeral in
1948.

I saw my grandfather, George, only once and that was in Santa Ana, California, in 1948, right
before he died. All I remember is a very dark room and a little old man lying in bed. I was only three
years old, but I remember how gentle he was. His toes were sticking out from under the blanket and
I tickled them, so he would laugh and feel better. He pretended that he enjoyed my short, probably
two-minute, visit. My mother, Mary Caler Baehr, described George as “such a sweet old man.” She,
my father, my grandmother, my sister Peggy, and I often went to visit his grave at Holy Sepulcher
Cemetery, Orange, California. I remember hopping from plot marker to plot marker afraid that if I
stepped on the soil, the cadavers would pull me under. Once Peggy needed flowers for Grandfather,
so she went over to a freshly dug grave and borrowed a few. I remember that my grandmother
shook her finger at us and talked to us about respect. Actually, we were usually very quiet and
respectful little girls. On our Ohio trip in 1962, Lilla Koehler told me that George was set to marry a
girl named Alice. It was about 1912 and he was 40 years old at the time. He bought her a beautiful
diamond ring set in gold and platinum. Lilla said that Alice died before the wedding. Perhaps she
was the love of his life and he could not bear to sell the ring nor to give it as an engagement ring to
another person. He gave the diamond to his sister, Anna. She wore the ring all of her life and
entrusted it to my mother to give to me when I grew up. Now, I have worn the ring since I was 18
years old.

~ 61~

In a telephone conversation in 1996, my aunt, Elizabeth Caler Dohar, St. Mary's Church secretary,
mentioned a notation by Monsignor Faschnat that she had found on George Baehr’s baptismal
record in Warren. Evidently, there is information George had been married before and that he had
another wife living. According to Tiny, such an impropriety would be a tightly kept secret. In 2000, I
sent for a copy of the baptismal information, but there was no mention of a previous marriage. Now
I suppose that the Alice story was simply the official statement from the family. Such a nice, romantic
Victorian love story! Oh, well, the genealogist goes back to the keyboard often. History would be
simpler to write if the characters had put a bit more fact into their scripts. Now what do I do with the
story about the death of Alice and the diamond ring that was given to George’s sister, Anna? The
tale is good. I shall keep it, mainly, because that is the story I received via oral history; and secondly,
because it is probably an approximation of the truth. It makes no difference to me that my grandfather
might have been married twice, but it certainly complicates matters.

Most stories that I have about my grandfather, George, come from my father. George spoke
German with his sisters, sang old German songs to my father, and was gentle and kind. According
to my father, his dad was in his forties, a bachelor, living at home with his parents, his brother Fred,
and sisters, Anna and Lottie, in the Baehr house on First Street in Warren. My father’s relative, Verna
Mellinger, said that the mother, Mary Kibler Baehr, was ailing and the family needed a nurse to take
care of her. They hired Annie Rogerson, a 33-year-old immigrant from Wales. Mary died February
13, 1914. Annie Rogerson and George Baehr married on June 18, 1917, in Youngstown, not in
Warren where the family lived. The secretary of St. Patrick's Church, 1420 Oak Hill Avenue,
Youngstown, Ohio, sent me the following note.

It is indicated on the Marriage Record that George Baehr was not Catholic at the time of this
marriage. All mixed marriages were performed in the rectory at this time. The witnesses were Anna
Kleinman and Joseph Johnston. The marriage certificate was sent for on July 3, 1945 or 48, the
year being marred by the official seal.

George and Anne’s son, my uncle George Anthony Baehr, was born December 23, 1917. The
attending physician was from Niles. George was baptized at St Mary's Catholic Church, Warren,
Ohio, on May 5,1918. His godmother was Maria Vanderford. This baptismal certificate was
requested in 1936 when George Anthony was 18 years old, perhaps for Social Security reasons.
Social Security was instituted August 14, 1935.

George Franklin and Anne's second son, Robert Franklin, was born on July 12, 1919. They were
proud of their little boys and tried to keep them neat, clean, and proper. They enrolled the boys in
tap-dancing and elocution classes to teach them poise and correct manners. The elocution teacher
was Gloria Bronsio who gave lessons on Porter Avenue. Grandma always favored their first-born,
but I can guess that my grandther's favorite was Robert. Grandfather was Lutheran but had to attend
Catholic services after he married Grandma. One morning when all were dressed for Mass, Robert
decided upon a romp in the mud in his proper little gentleman's suit. Grandma was furious. No one
could leave for church until Robert was washed and changed. I can imagine a twinkle in his dad's
eye and a father's secret wish that he could go play in the mud, too, instead of going to a church
service. My father believes that this tumble in the mire was on his First Communion Day.

My father told me that his dad was sick a great deal after the Depression hit the country. His dad
had been a gentle person, a mechanical engineer and designer, and it was a terrible strain on him
to be forced to cut lawns to try to support his family. Grandma ended up working for the Ohio Social
Services and the Old Age Pension Department. In her files were names of the poor families, such
as the Calers of Warren.

~ 62~

My father was very close to his dad and gave me the following account in 1997.

“Dad was a sweet, loving, and very mild man. We were close because we both liked sports. We
played catch a lot out back and he taught me to throw curve balls. He loved the old-time baseball
and knew all about the old-timers who played. I had to teach him about football and we both took
an interest in Notre Dame.

“He always was proud of the places that he had worked. He walked to work all his life. He used
a horse and wagon for a china company. One day the horse bolted, and Dad ended up in a ditch.
He never drove a car, probably because of his age or because he just never got around to it.

“He loved music and played a guitar. Of course, we never saw any of this, but he told us that he
used to play a harmonica tied to him while he strummed a guitar. I guess he liked to smoke a cigar
once in a while, but I never saw him smoking.

“He worked for Grinnell Company in Warren. They are still in business. They made sprinkler
systems for buildings. I think that General Fire Extinguisher Company was the parent company, but
I'm not certain. Dad was close to the vice president of the company. Everyone liked Dad. The VP
lived in a big house out on Mahoning Avenue in Warren. Dad was a draftsman. Sometimes on
Sunday, when there was extra work to be done, he'd take us to the company to show us around.
Dad and I were very close.

“Dad was a good man. He never wanted to hurt us. When Mother told him to discipline us, he
would take us into the bathroom with a stick. He'd tell us to be sure and scream loud. He would hit
the wall with the stick and George and I would yell pretending to be hurt. Once I fell through a sun
spot in the snow into the mud below, ruined my clothes, and was sent home from school. Dad never
got mad. People at work called him 'Doc' because whenever anyone was injured or sick, Dad was
there to fix him up. Dad really liked me because I was into sports. George wasn't an athlete and was
into other things, so he and Dad weren't as close. When I was in track, Dad would save all the
newspaper clippings about me. I am eternally grateful that he saved all that. He even got to see me
run once. I think it was in Salem, Ohio.

“Dad used to tell me stories about his dad (John Baehr). You know, I was a kid and didn't absorb
too much, but I remember the Civil War stories. Once his dad was with a group of soldiers and they
were watching cannon balls roll past them. One of his buddies stuck out his foot to stop the ball.
The cannon ball took the soldier's foot off.

“Then there was the time when the insurance companies decided to re-write their pension plans
and since Dad was near sixty, they laid him off. The VP Mr. Neracher tried to help Dad. Oliver "Box
Car" Davis got him work cutting grass at the country club and digging out stumps.

“Mr. Neracher got Dad a job in a big plant, a four-story foundry, as a night-watchman. Sometimes
Dad took me with him and I got to go on the rounds with him and even do some of his duties. We
were in St. Mary's school when one day the nuns pulled us out of class and told us to go home, that
our dad was sick. They said that his health broke, but I guess it was mainly mental.

“Somehow he had it in his mind that he would hurt someone. We knew that Dad would never
hurt anyone. He was so gentle. He insisted that we tie him so that he wouldn't hurt anyone. We
had to put him in a sanatorium and then he was sent to an asylum in Massillon, Ohio. Mother had
to apply for work and even tried to sell encyclopedias and had to travel as far as Toledo. It was hard
to make ends meet.

“Sometimes we would live upstairs in a place and rent out the downstairs; sometimes we'd live
down and rent out the upstairs.

~ 63~

“The aunts (Anna Baehr and Cousin Lilla Koehler) helped a lot. Mother finally got a job with the
Ohio State Old Age Pension as an investigator. She bought a Model A Ford and learned to drive,
but she didn't like driving. Once she crashed the car into a tree and hurt her breast. Later I think
she had cancer there, but I am not sure.

“Sometimes when Mother was gone, we had to hire housekeepers to take care of Dad. We even
tried shock therapy on him. We thought we could snap his mind back to us. Once I took him out in
the car and got the speedometer up to ninety. I told Dad I would crash the car if he didn't snap out
of it. He seemed to be better after that, but I don't know. He was such a sweet and loving person
that when things went wrong, he just couldn't handle it. It wasn't hardening of the arteries like people
said. It was more mental.

“Dad's cousin, Lilla Koehler, and Mother fought a lot. During their fights, George and I couldn't
go visit the aunts. Lilla found George and me jobs parking cars where she worked. It was great
because we were earning good money; but Mother and Lilla had a fight and Mother made us quit.
That was too bad, but they both had strong wills, Mother and Lilla.

“They fought mainly about politics and religion. Lilla was really biased. Well, she was just
opinionated! In the 1940s, Dad took instructions, became Catholic, and made his First Communion.
Lilla was mad, but her cousin Anna didn't care. Sweet Anna went along with anything. It was Lilla
and Lottie who didn't like Coloreds or Catholics. Mother hated the KKK (Ku Klux Klan). One day
they were marching down the street in their sheets and Mother chased them away with a yardstick.
Paul Kelly and his buddies and the K of C (Knights of Columbus) beat them up. They never came
down our street again.

“George went into the Army and I went six months later. I was about to get married in 1943, when
all of a sudden, Mother sold everything--I guess in August--packed Dad up and they took the train to
California. She said it was to visit George who was in the Army stationed in the California desert.
Poor Dad missed our wedding. Looking back, I believe she left just so she wouldn't have to go to
my wedding.

“After that, I got a furlough at Easter and went out West to see them. I had to hitchhike from Los
Angeles. Some old ladies picked me up and drove me from Los Angeles all the way to Corona del
Mar! They dropped me off at the post office downtown and there was my dad walking out of the
building!

“Dad had been hit by a car on Coast Highway when he and Mother were living at the beach. While
he was in the hospital, the doctors did a prostate operation on him. After the war, Mary, you, and I
stayed with them for a while at the house in Corona del Mar. Later they moved to Santa Ana,
California. I remember a dream I had that Dad had died. I called him the next morning and sure
enough I found out that he’d died. He, Mother, and George had been living at the Santa Ana house
on Pine Street. It was 1948, July the Second.” Robert F. Baehr, 1997.

~ 64~

GEORGE FRANKLIN BAEHR AND ANNE ROGERSON BAEHR
By: Kathleen Baehr Salmas - 1969

George F. Baehr, my grandfather, was born October 2, 1872, in Warren, Ohio. His birthplace
was a house built after the Civil War by his father, John Baehr. When George was young, he and his
siblings and cousins had to attend German school on Saturdays. The parents were from Germany
and spoke mostly German.

When his mother was sick, a nurse came to take care of her. The nurse was Anne Rogerson
and later she and George were married. After this, George was a draftsman for a manufacturing
company in Warren. He liked sports. He always played baseball with my father. He liked singing,
poetry, and gardening. During the summer, he grew roses in a small glass hot-house he had. The
main thing my father remembers about him was his kindness. My grandfather died of pneumonia
in July 1948.

Anne Rogerson, my grandmother, was born
August 8, 1880 in Wales. Not much is known
about her family. Her parents were John and
Margaret Ring Rogerson. Grandma had three
sisters--Mary, who died of black measles,
Catherine Theresa, and Rosemary Veronica.
There was also a boy who was still-born. While
Grandma lived in Wales, she was a school
teacher.

Kathleen Baehr and Anne Rogerson
Baehr

She came to America in 1912 on the RMS Lusitania. A couple of years later, it was sunk by the
Germans. When she came to Ohio, she became a nurse and in 1934, she became an investigator
for the Old Age Pension. Then she sold everything and moved to Corona del Mar, California, and
never returned to Ohio. Anne enjoyed sewing, cooking, and reading; and until about age 85, she
was constantly doing beautiful oil paintings. She died September 20, 1967.

Although my grandmother was born in Wales, she was very English in her ways. For instance,
the way she told jokes. She always messed them up by telling the punch line first. What I found
amusing about her were her remarks about the Irish. When describing an Irishman, she would say,
"He's Irish, but he's nice," or "He's Irish, but he is educated." So, as you can see, she was more
English than Welsh.

Kathleen Baehr (Salmas), 1969.

~ 65~

Chapter Twelve

ANNE ROGERSON BAEHR

Anne Rogerson Baehr, about 1930s
My grandmother’s maternal grandparents were Michael Ring, born about 1821 (son of Cornelius
Wring, born 1799) and Roseanne Sergeant. The name Ring comes from the Old English, Rhing or
Hring or from the Frankish, the French neighbors across the English Channel from Wales. The
name Ring could also be spelled as Hring, meaning ring, circle, row, ranch, range, or rink. The name
could even go back to the Greek, krikos, meaning ring or to the Latin meaning circus, ring, or circle.
The name Ring is also found in Ireland and many Irish immigrants to Wales in the 1800s carried the
surname Ring.
My second great-grandmother's maiden-name was spelled Sargent in 1850 and Sergeant in
1856. The name Sergeant comes from the Latin word, Servus, which can mean serf, serve, service,
servile, servitude, or slave. Michael Ring and Roseanne Sergeant signed official documents with
their mark, an X. I believe that the last name of Sergeant and the marks of X suggest that my
Welsh/Irish ancestors were not from the ranks of the rich and famous. Researcher Patrick Hickey
indicates that Roseanne was born about 1826 in Tipperary, Ireland. (Ancestry states Tippenry.)
Michael and Roseanne (Anne) Ring’s first child was my great grandmother, Margaret Elizabeth
Ring. Margaret was born April 6, 1850, in Dowlais, Glamorgan County, in the Principality of Wales.
Her place of birth is recorded as "Behind Plough, Dowlais." The Welsh registrar explained that
“Plough” meant “Plough House.” In 1850, Michael Ring was a laborer. Their next child was Ann,
born on May 18, 1856, on Water Street in Neath, Glamorgan County, Wales. By 1856, Michael was
no longer a common laborer, but declared his profession as that of a cabinetmaker. “My, my! What
a step up,” commented a librarian at the L.D.S. library in Sugar Land, Texas, 1990s.
My grandmother’s paternal grandparents were Andrew and Ann Norton Rogerson. Andrew was
born in Galway, Ireland, about 1815 and Ann Norton was born in Birkenhead, St Helens, Lancashire,
England, about 1826. Their son John Rogerson was my grandmother’s father.

~ 66~

In an email from Monica Wiliams is the following. I have recently been doing research on the
Rogerson side to see if a story I was told about (Andrew Rogerson and Ann Norton) had any basis
in fact. The story was that (they) eloped to Liverpool because she was from a higher social class
than he was, and this was the only way they could wed. The detail on the census puts his birth place
as Galway, but the story mentioned Roscommon. As yet, I can find no link or evidence to that story.
Monica Williams, April 2007.

My great-grandmother, Margaret Ring, married John Rogerson about 1874. In 1875, John was
a “hawker” by profession. Their daughter, Catherine, was born in Neath, Wales, on July 7, 1875 on
Rosset Street. Their second daughter, Rosemary, was born November 18, 1877 on Court Street in
Merthyr Tydfil, Wales. Dianne Green, from the Merthyr Tydfil registrar’s office, sent me a map
indicating where Rose was born. It appears that Court Street curves into and becomes part of
Tramroad Side North. My grandmother, Anne, was born Annie on August 8, 1880, at 3 Fountain
Row on Tramroad Side North. The birth was registered on August 30, 1880 by Deputy
Superintendent Registrar, Tudor Evans. According to my maps, Tramroad Side North is directly
across the street from the train station and was perhaps a hotel or market place. The Welsh Census
researchers found no family at 3 Fountain Row in 1881.

In 1881, John, Margaret, Catherine, Rosemary, Margaret's sister, and a serving woman were
living on Albert Street #18 in Merthyr Tydfil. John was a traveling draper and Margaret's sister, Ann
Rhing, was a dressmaker. The serving woman, Margaret Ridney, was 21, a general servant living
in the house. She was born in Merthyr Tydfil.

There is a question now. Where was baby Annie? Since my grandmother, Annie Rogerson, was
born on August 8, 1880, she would have been at least 7 months old when the 1881 Census was
taken. All infants were listed on the Census, but John and Margaret Rogerson listed only two
children living at the house.

Now that we know what did happened, I will go on to what might or could have happened. The
easiest guess why Annie is not on the 1881 Census is that the census taker just forgot to write the
baby’s name. There was an infant Ann next-door and too many of the same name could have
caused confusion. Such a simple answer. Or could Annie’s world have been more complicated? I
recall once asking my grandmother her mother’s name and she replied, “Mary Agnes.” I reminded
her that she had previously given me the name as Margaret. She answered, “Margaret, Mary Agnes.
It’s all the same.” I have no idea what she meant. If only I had asked for an explanation!

“The Census was taken on the night of 3 April 1881. The census enumerator went out to all the
homes and businesses in his district and he gave them forms to be filled out of who was in the
household or at the business on the night of 3 April 1881. In a couple of days, he would return and
pick up the paperwork. If the family living in the household could not write, the enumerator would sit
down with them and fill out the form.

“Then he would take the forms back to his office where he would use them to fill in the blanks on
the census form. What is to say that in the process, someone stopped by to see him as he was
writing in the information about the John Rogerson family? When the person left, the enumerator
thought he was done with the Rogerson family and left Annie off the census form. There is no way
we can prove this because the original forms were destroyed in April 1881.

“Annie is on the 1891 Census with the family, so I wouldn’t worry about her not being on the 1881
census.” (1) Annie Lloyd, Welsh Genealogy, November 11, 1999.

~ 67~

I met Annie Lloyd again at a genealogy conference in 2000 and she gave another possibility.
“In those days, it was law that all children be vaccinated against communicable childhood
diseases. The city officials would use the census as one means of finding all newborn children.
Often parents were frightened of the vaccinations and would not mention a newborn child on the
census.” Annie Lloyd.
My grandmother mentioned a sister, Mary, who died of black measles and a brother who was still
born. Grandmother also talked about another sister. “Rosemary Veronica, nicknamed Vernie,
was a principal at a Catholic school in a village called Cefn Coed in Glamorgan County,” (Cefn Coed
is in the northwest of Merthyr Tydfil, Wales.) Anne Rogerson Baehr, 1967.
Grandma also told me about a niece, Teresa Rhing (1896-1981) who married a man named Paul
C. Weaver in 1923. (3)
The Rogerson family is on the 1891 Census and Annie, age 11, is listed as a scholar. With her
is her father, John Rogerson, 43, born in Swansea, Wales; her mother, Margaret, 41; and her two
sisters, Katherine, 16, and Rosemary, 13, both scholars.
In 1902, my grandmother’s paternal grandmother, Ann Norton Rogerson, died at the age of 82
as a pauper inmate in a Swansea workhouse.
Times were very bad then. So very sad. An e-mail from Ann Evans Harrison, Wales, September
2007.
When my grandmother, Anne Rogerson, was 22 years old, her father died at the age of 50, on
February 21, 1903. He had been a travelling drape at least since 1881. (The word drape came from
Old French to Norman French and then to Middle English to signify draper, a dealer in cloth or
clothing and dry goods.) He had suffered from heart disease for many years and died of pneumonia
at Swansea Hospital, Swansea, Wales. His widow registered his death on Februrary 23, 1903, and
she might have returned to the home they had shared at 4 Monumental Terrace, Cefn Coed.
I had lovely correspondence in 1982-83 with Edward Bullock, a registrar from Swansea. Through
him, I was able to obtain the Danycraig Cemetery burial records of my grandmother’s parents, plus
a bit of a surprise in the grave.

There is a John and Margaret Rogerson
buried in grave 5420. John Rogerson, 50,
was buried from Trafalgar Terrace,
Swansea, Wales, on 26 February 1903 and
Margaret Rogerson, 54, was buried from
Prince of Wales Road, Swansea, on 3
March 1910. Stanley Peterson, 13, was also
buried in this grave from 30 Brynmelyn
Street, Swansea, on 9 March 1936.

C. Jenkins Director of the Environment
City of Swansea.

~ 68~

I wrote for birth records for Stanley and discovered that his mother, Eva, was unmarried and
served as a barmaid. Stanley’s death information was provided by his uncle, G. H. Foskett. Mr.
Bullock did all he could to help me.

He wrote the following to me. No luck. I have searched our records for the Entry of Birth of Eva
(Stanley's mother) right through from about 1896--1906, which well covers the years you mentioned,
but there is certainly nothing in Swansea. Could be that Eva came to these parts from elsewhere.
Her maiden name of course was Peterson, as the Birth Entry of Stanley shows that she was Miss
Peterson when he was born.

It was not until 2007, when I contacted my Rogerson kin through the Internet, that I was able to
learn where Stanley fits in my family tree. He was a nephew of my great-grandfather, John
Rogerson. Stanley’s mother, Eva, was the daughter of John’s sister, Annie Rogerson Peterson.

My cousin, William Dohar, sent me letters from Wales. Poor Merthyr Tydfil was almost without
noteworthy features. There's some historical information in the pamphlets, but the tale is sadly
common in many Welsh towns and cities. Merthyr Tydfil used to be a thriving center for mining
and metal-work; then in the Nineteenth Century, its fortune changed, and it has pretty much been in
steady decline since. The good people of Merthyr Tydfil have gotten by with far less than, say,
villagers in an average English town where the city center is ancient and often unchanged. Wales
is a beautiful place with rugged seascapes and beautiful, rolling green hills.

Father William Dohar, 1990.

~ 69~

My grandmother’s mother, Margaret Ring Rogerson, died in 1910. No death certificate was
found in Swansea. The Welsh Registrar suggested that I contact the Krans-Buckland Family
Association for information. Joyce Buckland answered my letter on March 4, 1996.

I made a quick search of the Civil Registration Indexes which cover the whole of England and

Wales. There was no entry for a Margaret Ring Rogerson in the March quarter. I also checked

under Rhing--nothing...Deaths were supposed to be registered within five days, so she should have

appeared in that quarter, if the death date is correct. I can only assume the date is incorrect or

perhaps she died elsewhere or perhaps she missed being registered, although that is very rare by

1910. Joyce Buckland, 1996.

One strategy is to assume that she is dead and go on with the family tree; but details Intrigue me.
Not until October 2007 did I finally find a death certificate for Margaret Elizabeth Rogerson. Her
actual death date was May 29, 1910. She died of organic insanity (also called organic dementia)
from which she had suffered for eighteen months and heart disease she’d had for more than eighteen
months. The place of death was Bridgend, a county asylum in Glamorgan County, Wales. The
death date matches the one on the tombstone at Danycraig Cemetery where Margaret is buried with
her husband and their nephew, Stanley Peterson.

During our social luncheons, when I was in my 20s and Grandma was in her 80s, she told me
about coming to America in 1912. Information that I obtained later from London stated that no Anne
Rogerson applied for a United Kingdom passport during the years that Grandma left Wales.
Evidently, she had not intended to return to Europe. I would imagine there was a bit of anxiety when
she booked her passage for America in 1912. The great sea-vessel Titanic had gone down in April
of that year.

“I came to America aboard the ‘RMS Lusitania.’ I
knew the captain and had dinner with him. Ours was
one of the last voyages sailing from Liverpool.” Anne
Rogerson Baehr, 1966.

According to the Manifest of the RMS Lusitania,
Annie Rogerson, Welsh, 30, a school mistress, who
had been living at the Lower Lamb Hotel in Swansea,
Wales, arrived in New York on December 21, 1912.

~ 70~

Ellis Island Records, July 2002, show her contact in Wales was a cousin, Henry Jones.
Henry Jones was probably the landlord of the Lamb Hotel. In an e-mail from Ann Evans
Harrison, Wales, October 2007.

First and second-class passengers did not have to go through Ellis Island inspections. Annie
probably landed at one of the Company’s Piers 53 to 56, Port of New York, North River Foot of West
14th Street. There, railway tickets could be purchased, and baggage checked to any part of the
United States and Canada. A postal and telegram office, telephone booths, carriages, and taxis
were available there on the wharf. Annie’s destination was the house of her uncle, Cornelius Rhing,
on Main Street in Sharon, Mercer County, Pennsylvania. On the same ship was her cousin, Margaret
B. Rhing, daughter of Cornelius and Bridget Kelly Rhing. I believe Margaret’s middle initial should
have read “V” for Veronica. On the Passenger Lists Leaving UK 1890-1960, Annie Rogerson, age
30, and Margaret Rhing, age 18, were both listed as servants. Annie’s birth year was given as 1882.

From Pennsylvania, Annie moved to Warren, Trumbull County, Ohio. By 1913, she was hired as
a private nurse to care for Mary Kibler Baehr, widow of John Baehr. It was there at the Baehr
residence that Annie met George F. Baehr. The invalid, Mary Kibler Baehr, died in February of
1914.

My grandmother mentioned working in Springfield Lake Sanatorium in Akron, Ohio. She told me
she had cared for tuberculosis patients as a nurse. Springfield Lake Sanatorium institution opened
in February 1915. It began with room for seventy-two tuberculosis patients and in four months was
filled to capacity. The death rate was high. In 1997, the sanatorium still existed as the Edwin Shaw
Sanatorium, 1621 Flickinger Road, Akron, Ohio. The hospital has no record of my grandmother’s
employment there. The Human Resources Manager wrote the following. I am sorry to say, that our
employment records do not go back as far as 1915-1917...I apologize for not being able to help you
and wish you luck in your search. Christine C. Yuhasz.

In 1915, English citizens were warned not to attempt crossing the Atlantic during what were called
the Hostilities. Germany announced that any ship in the English Channel would be sunk, but the
Cunard Line advertised the RMS Lusitania (2) as safe. This Steamer is fitted with Marconi’s System
of Wireless Telegraphy. Also, with the Submarine Signaling Apparatus. The “Lusitania” and the
“Mauretania” are the Fastest Steamers in the World. (Passenger list, 1915)

On the passenger list from the “Lusitania” leaving from Liverpool, England, on April 17, 1915, I
found a Miss Emma Rogerson. I do not know if Emma was related to my grandmother. The ship
arrived in New York on April 23, 1915. The captain was W.T. Rurner, RNR, Staff Captain J. G.
Anderson, Chief Engineer A. Bryce, Chief Officer J. T. Piper, Surgeon J. F. McDermott, Assistant
Surgeon J. Garry, Purser J.A. McCubbin, Second Purser P. Draper, and Chief Steward F.J. Jones.

On May 1, 1915, the RMS Lusitania left New York to return to Liverpool. May 7, 1915, Anne
Rogerson heard the horrible news that the ship had been torpedoed and sunk by German U-boats.
There was a crew member, an engineer or engineer’s helper, by the name of J. Rogerson on the
passenger list of the returning Lusitania. I do not know if he survived the attack.

~ 71~

In March of 1917, my grandmother was living
in Warren, Ohio. Anne Rogerson married
George Franklin Baehr on June 18, 1917, in

Youngstown, Mahoning County, Ohio. Their
first child, George Anthony was born

December 23, 1917 in Warren, Trumbull
County, Ohio My father, Robert Franklin,
was born July 12, 1919, on High Street in

Warren.

Robert and George Baehr

According to my father, Grandma had to go to work during the Depression in the 1930s. She
conducted investigations for the Ohio State Old Age Pension Department.

“Sometimes, when I wasn’t available, Carl Little would drive her around. He worked at the steel mill
and had odd hours. He would use our car. We started off with a Model A four-door, probably a ‘29,
I don’t know. Then we traded it in at the D.E. Miller and Sons Ford Agency in Warren. Our neighbor,
D.E. Miller, was one of the sons. He lived next-door to us in the big house. We traded our Model A
for a 1934 Ford V8. Miller told us that the V8 was a good car and that it had been State owned and
kept up mechanically. Well, it had belonged to the State, all right, but to the State Highway Patrol!
We found out the car was a real lemon. Once I went up to Notre Dame to pick up George and
noticed that the car was using too much oil. Turns out, it had an oversized fly wheel in it and wa s
leaking oil badly. Anyway, Mother had to make calls out in northern Trumbull County, around
Mesopotamia or Farmington, I don’t know. She had to verify birth dates and ages. Most of those
people hadn’t registered their births and the only documentation was in family bibles. They had to
haul out their bibles and show family dates. I remember one time out in the farmland we went to
investigate a big family.

“Half of them were there sitting in a huge living room, some sitting on the floor. They were all
yelling at one another. One would start hollering then go out and slam the door. Another one would
come in and the whole scene started over just like you see on television episodes today. Mother met
some good friends there at the old age pension office. One was Rose Jones in Niles. She had
another good friend, but I don’t know her name. After a while we taught Mother to drive. Our car
had a gear shift and once when she was coming in the driveway, she hit a big tree in front of our
house. That’s when she hurt her chest so bad and had trouble with it later. That was a hard turn
into our driveway. I remember once I pushed the accelerator instead of the brake and crashed into
the hedge. Our next car was a Hudson Terraplane. It had a huge wide front seat and had automatic
shift, one of the first of its kind ever made. I forget what they called it. We had the Hudson for about
three years then we bought a used Buick in Cleveland. It was black, with side mounted wheels like
a limousine. It looked like an expensive car, but it wasn’t. After that, I don’t know what Mother drove.
Then George was gone. He went into the Army in April of ’42. I joined in October and Mother sold
the Buick, probably right before she and Dad moved out to California.” Robert F. Baehr, May 2000.

~ 72~

Anne Rogerson Baehr was a completely different person to everyone who knew her. No two
descriptions of her could ever be the same. For the Baehrs, she was a terrible foreigner and a
Roman Catholic who forced herself upon the family and broke it apart when she took their brother
from them. To her first born, George Anthony, she was the dearly beloved mother who covered up
for his misdoings until the day of her death, but with whom he would have horrible, screaming battles
over her money and his wayward friends. To her second son, Robert, she was the backbone of
the family. In retrospect, my father described her as the strong person who held the family together
when his father was sick. He has many pleasant memories of his mother. She wanted the best for
her children. She might have appeared to be snobby, but her goals were lofty for a good reason.
She would constantly reprimand him when he wouldn't be with the best people. Grandma saved him
from going the wrong way which would have been easy for him to do. He says her only faults were
her extreme prejudices against the Irish and her tendency to put George before him in everything.
One of his mother's favorite statements was, "So-and -So is Irish, but she's nice."

To my mother, Mary Caler Baehr, Grandma was someone to forgive and to tolerate. Grandma
was the one who worked for Ohio Social Services and who investigated the Caler clan's use of
welfare money and who did not want her son Robert to marry into that low-class family. Grandma
was the one who flew into a rage when she was told that Robert and Mary Caler were having their
marriage banns announced at St. Mary's. She thew away all of Robert's treasures, including his
leather-bound Dickens collection and his childhood mementos, and moved bag and baggage to
California before the wedding. Grandma was the one who hinted that my mother was a drug addict.
One night when she was babysitting for us, she ripped through all my mother's anti-arthritis
medications looking for proof. My mother never held a grudge, but she could not forget all my
grandmother's past cruelties. Then, why did she beg my mother not to let my father touch any
alcohol? "Don't let him drink, Mary. You don't know. You just don't know." The more I study about
my grandmother, the more questions I wish I had asked.

To a mortgage company in Orange County, California, Anne seemed to be a rich old lady who
owned a fine home on Pine Street in Santa Ana; but according to her grieving son, George, she had
“lost her wits and been committed.” George’s name had been placed on the Deed of Trust (23
December 1946) and he sold the house in June of 1952. When Grandma discovered that her house
had been sold out from under her, and that George had used the money to pay off his debts, including
the $2,500 he owed my father, there was a terrible row. Grandma received only $425.52 of the
$7,200 sale of the house. As usual, soon all was forgiven and forgotten, and George was once again
on the good side of his mother.

To the local loan companies in Santa Ana, California, Anne was the honest, faithful, old lady who
went monthly to make small payments on loans that she had co-signed for her son, George. Six
months before she died, she was too weak to make the long bus trip from Newport to Santa Ana.
She talked my father into making the last payments for her. My mother wrote to me about one of my
father's adventures in a letter dated March 6, 1967.

Daddy went to the bank and then to pay Grandma's loan. He said they (he and his mother) had
talked ‘Morris Plan, Morris Plan.’ So, he went all the way out to 17th Street and paid Morris Plan.
Then he said to the girl, “You moved your office, didn't you?” And she said, “No. We have been
here since 1958.” Then they began to compare notes. Daddy found out it was Household Finance,
not Morris Plan. He had to get his money back and go back downtown to pay the bill at Household.
…….. Mary Caler Baehr, 1967.

~ 73~

To me, Grandma was perfect! I have only wonderful memories of a dear lady who adored me
and I in return adored her. I do not remember my first encounter with my grandmother, but I was
reminded of it often by my mother. I was a very happy child who had always been treated like a little
princess. I had never been struck nor reprimanded by my gentle mother. My grandmother saw me
when I was about six months old, but of that meeting I have no recollection. My mother told me that
one day, when I was about three, she and I were shopping in downtown Santa Ana.

We happened to run into my grandmother amongst the shoppers on Main Street. The lady was
introduced as Grandma, and she leaned over to pat me and to ask me how I was. Sadly, I lowered
my head and whispered, "My mother hits me." My poor mother was mortified! Grandma was
shocked and from that moment on, she took me under her wing as her favorite grandchild. After I
told Grandma that my mother hit me, I never lied to her again. We always had a close and loving
relationship. I remember her house on Pine Street in Santa Ana. Looking back, the house must
have been one of the small, three-bedroom bungalows so common near downtown Santa Ana; but
to a 5-year-old child, the dwelling was a mansion. The stairs that led up to the porch were fine and
grand and I felt so important as I precisely climbed each step. The front door opened to a huge
formal living area, a sparkling dining room, and a swinging door which led to the kitchen. I insisted
that the kitchen was for Grandma and me only. Neither my parents nor George could enter while I
played waitress for Grandma's dinners, banging the swinging door with authority as I went back and
forth with orders. In those days, I wanted to grow up and be a waitress in a restaurant, but Grandma
told me, “No, you don’t! A waitress is just a servant!”

Off the living room of Grandma’s house was a small, dark room where I had seen my grandfather
in 1948. Down a short hall was a large, scary room where Uncle George lived. It had strange, black
wall-hangings and a velveteen bedspread. I don't remember Grandma's bedroom.

Once I spent the night at Grandma's. It was not the Pine Street house, but another Santa Ana
house where Grandma and George had to live after he sold her estate. About midnight, a terrible
thunderstorm struck, and I went hysterical. I could not be calmed. Grandma and George had a
telephone in those days and called my father in Costa Mesa for help. They always thought of him
whenever anything went wrong. I could hear all the frenzied communication between Grandma and
my father. George was running around wringing his hands and turning on all the lights and the whole
time I was yelling and yelling. I guess my father told them how to settle me down without his driving
up to Santa Ana for me at one o’clock in the morning during a horrible winter storm.

The next memory I have of Grandma is in her place at 300 ½ Fernleaf in Corona del Mar. The
landlady, Karoline Droguey, (4) lived in the main house on the same lot. George had a tiny, one
room cottage between the Droguey house and Grandma's. George and Grandma were not speaking
at that time. An ugly giant poodle roamed the property and pretended to be a watch dog. We always
hated him, and he smelled awful. His name was FiFi, so I guess he was a girl.

Then somehow, Grandma and George were back on speaking terms and were living at 1600 W.
Ocean Front in Newport Beach. Once a week my father and I would take Grandma to the Newport
Library on Balboa Peninsula. She always came home with stacks of novels. She read the
newspaper every day and was well informed on all subjects. She was the one who would not let me
rinse my face in bath water because of all the bacteria in it that would cause skin infection. She
taught me about bone structure and correct posture. In Eighth Grade, I was voted the graduate with
the best posture! Grandma certainly was ahead of the times.

Grandma was always meticulously clean. I remember the smell of dusting powder on her. I never
saw her in a night gown, robe, or housecleaning clothes. Even once when she was in hospital, she
was sitting up in a proper bed jacket neatly tied in a bow under her chin. We were always welcome
at Grandma's, but no matter what time we arrived, she had already polished the house, had her bath,
and would be waiting for us in a silk dress and jewelry.

~ 74~

We believe she had had a mastectomy back in the 1930s. She never allowed me to see the scar,
but she told me that it was very ugly and had been made by a knife. She needed extra time to cover
her scar when dressing. Grandma had diabetes and had to inject herself daily with insulin. George
was very patient and good to her administering her medications and helping her with her clothes.

Grandma was proper in everything from dress, to speech, to the way she walked, and even to
the proper way she nibbled her food. My sisters and I always ate like there was no tomorrow, but
Grandma would just roll her eyes and only sample what was on her plate. She was one of the first
to experiment with health food that we thought was awful. I never heard Grandma use an improper
word or make a grammatical error. She said that the pizza parlor next door to our house in Costa
Mesa should be called Ed and I, not Me ‘n’ Ed’s. She never spoke of a bathroom but would excuse
herself saying that she had to go to visit Mrs. Jones. Grandma was very small, but she always stood
tall and stiff and walked like royalty. Whenever I caught her looking at me, I would stand very erect,
stiffen up, put my nose in the air, and go about my business. Grandma loved it! Grandma wore only
famous brand clothing. She bought all her clothes and the gaudy jewelry, that my mother hated, at
Hulda’s second-hand shop in Laguna Beach. She absolutely refused to wear any of the nice, new
things we would buy for her at J. C. Penney's or Sears. My mother would be infuriated. Eventually,
my parents just gave Grandma money for all holidays so that she could buy the best labels. In 2007,
when I finally saw photographs of her family in Wales, I realized Grandma was dressing just like the
ladies back in her homeland.

Grandma and George never owned a car in California. They did all their traveling by bus, which
was never more than Newport Beach to Santa Ana. When they came for dinner at our Tustin
Avenue house in Costa Mesa, I would walk downtown to meet them at the 17th Street bus stop. I
know George was there, but all I recall is walking down 17th, arm-in-arm with Grandma. George
never touched, hugged, nor kissed us; but Grandma always wanted to hold my arm when we went
walking. Sometimes my mother would drive down to the beach to pick up Grandma.

Since Grandma had no other means of transportation, she'd always ask my mother to make a
few stops along the way. My mother was terrified of driving and the stops made her nervous. Once
we had to go pick up Grandma, when we were in the middle of making pizza. By time we returned
to Costa Mesa, after stops at the bank, grocery store, and drugstore, the yeast in the pizza dough
had multiplied all over the kitchen. I can still see masses of white dough oozing over the breakfast
nook table. We saved the pizza, and all ate like pigs that night, except Grandma. She just picked,
which made my mother angrier still. Grandma had to be extremely careful about her diet because
of her diabetes. She would allow herself one bite of my mother's wonderful desserts but had to
scrape off the gooey frostings which we loved the most. In Grandma's opinion, I was perfect and
could do nothing wrong. The only time she corrected me was when I jumped on Grandfather's grave
stone. She thought that my sisters were bad, and my mother would be so upset. I would just laugh,
and my sisters always seemed to be oblivious. After all, I thought I was the favorite.

Since Grandma lived on the strand at 1600 West Ocean Front in Newport Beach, California, she
wanted me to stop by whenever I was at the the teenage meeting place at 15th Street. My best
friend, Connie Loeser (Torres), and I would visit about lunch time. My grandmother would fix us
dainty English sandwiches and have us shower and change before we took the bus home with our
scruffy friends. I was happy that Grandma approved of my Connie: "She's a nice little girl."

~ 75~

Once, I told Grandma that I wanted her to buy me a fur coat when I turned eighteen years old.
She promised, but I wanted to be sure. I made up a contract which she willingly signed. It was
witnessed by my mother and by me. After all signatures were penned, I laughed at my
grandmother and kidded her for being dumb enough to sign away the fortunes that I realized she
did not possess. Then it was Grandma's turn to laugh.

“Oh, I'll sign anything. It doesn't matter what I say now. I know that when you are eighteen, you
won't want a fur coat!” Sure enough, when I was eighteen, I didn't want a fur coat, but I showed
the contract to Grandma anyway. “See! I told you!” she responded.

Kathy, Anne, Peggy, Mary, and
Grandmother Anne at right going to
Anne’s Mater Dei High School
graduation in 1963.

Grandma Baehr always told my
mother that she wanted me to attend
Mount Saint Mary's College in Los
Angeles. It was the most prestigious
women's college in the Southwest
where all the best people sent their
daughters.

My mother just laughed."Where would we find that kind of money?" My grandmother
answered, “Never you mind. That’s were little Annie should go.” In 1963, during my Senior year at
Mater Dei Catholic High School in Santa Ana, California, I was called to the principal's office. Oh,
my goodness! I was terrified. I was Miss Baehr and I had never done anything wrong on campus,
nor off. Father (later Bishop) Montrose asked me why, if I were graduating number thirteen in my
class, I hadn't registered for a major college. I politely explained to him that we didn't have that kind
of money and that I had chosen to go to a junior college to obtain the same education for a fraction
of the cost.

Father didn't say much more than "Oh" and dismissed me. One week later I was called back
to his office. What now? I still start to cry whenever I remember that interview. Father sat me
down and announced that he had obtained a scholarship for me to attend Mt. St. Mary's College.
Provisions had been made for me to live off campus where I could earn room, board, and book
money. He handed me a registration form and a pen. “Here fill this out and go up to Los Angeles
and pick out a home to live in.” I can't remember thanking Father. I probably didn't say anything!
That kindness from him was to change my entire life, but I just stood there in silence.

I am so thankful that Grandma lived to attend my graduation from the Mount. Now I can only
imagine the pride she felt when the Archbishop of Los Angeles handed her granddaughter a college
diploma in front of all the best people in the Southwest.

Grandma always had her philosophy about money: "Never you mind." Grandma was very proud
of being English and she was pleasingly arrogant.

~ 76~

When we took her for a day of shopping in Tijuana, Mexico, she refused to carry her proof of US
citizenship paperwork with her.

Bessie Caler and Anne Rogerson Baehr Right before we came to the border
1963 officer on our way back, my father told
Grandma to just keep quiet about her
birthplace. Our maternal grandmother,
Bessie Caler, born in Scotland, was also in
the car and agreed to claim U.S. birth. Not
Grandma Anne Rogerson Baehr! We all
cringed when she announced to the guard
that she was British born. He dutifully
demanded to see her papers.

“I don't need to show you any papers. I
say that I am a naturalized American citizen
and that means that I am a naturalized
American citizen. Allow me to pass!"

The guard was so shocked by the rebuke,
that he mumbled something about next time
carrying papers and waved us through.
(Grandma’s citizenship had been acquired by
marriage, so she really had no papers.)

Grandma kept one friend, Agnes G. Davis, from her days in Ohio. Agnes moved to Alexandria,
Virginia, but she and Grandma remained penpals. The last address I have for Agnes is 2167 Fairfax
Road, Columbus, Ohio 43221. Agnes had a daughter named Helen.

When I was 20 years old, Grandma and I grew to be closer friends than ever before, for I was an
adult and we were somehow equal. I took my Ramón to meet her. She highly approved of him.
(Ramón David Evans and I were married in 1968.) At least he wasn’t Irish. I am certain that she
noted the surname was very Welsh and not anything foreign.

"He seems to be a nice young man!" Grandma wanted to be certain that I had only the best.
Grandma and I had regular outings those last years before she died. I had a car and would take her
to all her stops along the way. We lunched in the fine places that she could never afford when we
were growing up. We would sit and chat like young girls on an afternoon on the town. We talked
about my new job as a teacher, the lad I was going to marry, and sometimes, but not enough, about
her family in Wales.

Grandma died on September 20, 1967, four months after I graduated from Mount St. Mary's. It
was almost as though she had met her goal: Little Annie had graduated so all was right with the
world and it was then time to move on. Her funeral was at Mount Carmel Catholic Church on 15th
Street in Newport. Uncle George refused to attend, but we spotted him standing in the vestibule,
peeking around the corner during the Requiem Mass. Grandma is buried at Holy Sepulcher Catholic
Cemetery in the Orange Hills, Orange County, California. After Grandma died, her son, George,
grew odder than ever. He started arranging altars and shrines to Grandma, complete with her picture,
burning candles, and incense.

~ 77~

Endnotes: Part One: Chapter Twelve

1. Annie Lloyd, 4635 Stoner Avenue #4; Culver City, California 90230; 310-398-3924;
Cardi2@aol.com

2. The Cunard Line was inagurated July 4, 1840. The Cunard Steamship Company, LTD, 8 & 12
Water Street and 1,3 & 5 Rumbord, Liverpool, England. The maiden-voyage of the Cunard Line’s
Lusitania was September 7, 1907. Besides the ship built in 1907, there had been other vessels
with the name Lusitania: one built in 1877 and one built in 1906. All three were shipwrecked.
The RMS Lusitania, on which my grandmother was a passenger, was 15,449 square feet and the
ship registered tonnage was 9,145. The ship’s master was D. Dow. There were 1,216
passengers.

3. Teresa Helen Rhing was born April 29, 1896 in Cleveland, Ohio, to Cornelius J. and Bridget
Kelly Rhing. She was one of the first graduates of St. Scholastica Academy, Sharon,
Pennsylvania. She married Paul Chester Weaver on February 09, 1923. Teresa had three
sisters, Anne, Florence, and Margaret Veronica (Bombeck) and two brothers, Cornelius, and
Francis. Teresa and Paul Weaver had four daughters; Sister Phyllis Weaver, O.S.B.; Florence;
Mary; and Margaret and one son Paul D. Weaver who lives in Fountain Valley, California.

The famous author, Erma
Fiste Bombeck, is the daughter-
in-law of Margaret Veronica
Rhing Bombeck. The photo is
from the book cover of Family—
The Ties That Bind…and Gag,
1987.

4. Karoline Droguey (Droge) born in Germany about 1887; died September 1973. Karoline was
widow of Carlos H. Droege, born in Germany about 1867. Karoline and Carlos had a son, John,
born about 1923. Mrs. Droguey swam every day in the Corona del Mar surf.

~ 78~

Chapter Thirteen

GEORGE ANTHONY BAEHR

Uncle George
By: Kathleen Baehr Salmas - 1969

Geoge Baehr, my uncle, was born in Warren, Ohio, December 23, 1917. He attended St. Mary's
School for nine years and then Harding High School for three years. He tells me that when he was
younger, the only thing you could do on a Saturday night in Warren was to stand outside
Weinberger's Drugstore and crack your knuckles. But he and my father seemed to think of plenty of
things to do. Once they had a magic show where my uncle made my father disappear inside a box;
although, apparently, they found him. They also joined the local company of actors and later George
made his own movie.

After high school, George joined
the Army. Everyone was surprised
when he was accepted because he
was very skinny, and everyone
thought that he had a bad heart.
On the other hand, my grandmother
had to beg the Army to take my
father, whose eye-sight was poor.
George was stationed in Arkansas,
Louisiana, California, and New
Guinea. While overseas, he
participated in the Invasion of Leyte
in the Philippines.

After his discharge, he worked in the veterans' hospital and then in the advertising department of
Rankin's Department Store, Santa Ana, CA. He now lives in Newport Beach, California. At one
time, he had his place all rigged up. There were about six buttons on the arm of the couch, three for
different lamps, one for the radio, one for the air conditioner, and another for a fountain he had. We
told him that his whole house would probably blow up, so he just recently disconnected everything.
He spends much of his time painting pictures or making statues, lamps, and other decorations. I
am always telling him that he should become a professional comedian. People already are asking
him for his autograph; they think that he is Wally Cox. After all, if you look like Wally Cox, can imitate
Boris Karloff or Alfred Hitchcock, can speak with any accent or like an old man without teeth, and
have a crazy sense of humor besides, you can make a fortune.

~ 79~

Uncle George
By: Peggy Baehr - 1965

I think that my uncle is one of the most interesting people that I have ever met. Perhaps the fact
that he is an artist makes him the unusual person that he is. My uncle, whose name is George, is
my father's brother, but one would not know this by looking at them. George is very thin and stands
about five feet, nine inches. You might, however, subtract a couple of inches from this height; for his
black hair is nearly two inches high, but it is always neatly combed. His light, flesh colored glasses
frame blue-gray eyes, eyes which look happy, seldom sad. George's nose is often the subject of
family jokes. This nose is curved and slightly on the large side. When he is not eating or talking he
has a cigarette in his mouth. He has a small mouth; his lips are rather thin.

As I mentioned before, he is a thin person. His arms are also thin, thin hands and fingers long
and slender. If you see him at home, you will most likely notice the oil paint on his hands, one of the
marks of an artist. George has long legs, but his feet are small for a person of his height. George's
walk is not really easy to describe. Most men take long steps and walk fast. My uncle prefers to take
small steps and even if he is late for an appointment, nothing can hurry him.

George is definitely my favorite uncle, artist, and relative. This may be because of his well-
developed sense of humor, his very easy-going manner, or just because of what he is-- a friendly,
interesting and likable person.

Brother George
By: Robert F. Baehr - 1994
Brother George always took advantage of the situation he would find himself in. He was stationed
out in California at Desert Center Camp during World War Two. He would go into Hollywood on his
furloughs. He would be in his uniform, of course, and he would go into the studios. Once he became
an extra in a movie and no one knew who he was. He stayed at Desert Center for a year or two until
the camp closed. In fact, he came back from a furlough once and everyone was gone. There was
nothing left at the camp except there was his tent sitting out there with nothing around it.
George was with the 10th Army Corps. He almost drowned when they landed on Leyte. He was
wearing very heavy equipment and he went down in a shell hole. Some sailor pulled him out; saved
his life. He was in a clerical or communications group. They lost all their typewriters when they
landed on Leyte.

~ 80~

Uncle George
By: Anne Baehr Evans

George was, and remains, a constant subject of family discussions. In 1994, I wrote down a few
memories.

George always lived with his mother, my paternal grandmother. My first recollection of him is when
he lived with his mother at 601 E. Pine Street in Santa Ana. I remember a dark and scary room where
George slept, but I do not recall being with him in the room there. I heard stories about how after his
father died, George convinced a banker that his mother had lost her wits and that he had become
executor of her estate. He proceeded to mortgage the Pine Street house. When my grandmother
discovered that her house had been sold, she threw a great fit, but nothing could be done, and they
had to move to a rental. George and my grandmother had many fights and sometimes would not be
on speaking terms for ages at a time. I never became involved in any of the tension. Grandma did not
like any of George's friends. Once he was implicated in some murder case and investigators were at
the house. Grandma was furious.

Another recollection of him is when he lived in a tiny bungalow nextdoor to a small house that
Grandma rented from Mrs. Drouge in Corona del Mar, California. George and his mother continued
their rows and many of our visits with them were separate. We would first chat with Grandma and
then walk through the gardens to George’s place for a short visit. He never encouraged us to stay
long.

In the 1950s, Grandma and George moved to 1600 West Ocean Front in Newport Beach,
California. They rented the downstairs of the Ketchum house. The Ketchums lived upstairs. George
always lived off Grandma's old age pension from the government. George did the yard work and
kept quiet and the Ketchums never bothered him. George was an artist and he kept the place very
pretty. One of the neighbors hired George to landscape her yard. People who were out on strolls
would stop in front of the houses to gaze upon the lovely gardens that George kept manicured. Also,
George was an inventor and he experimented with novel wiring in his mother’s house.
George had a few friends in Newport. I remember Gertrude Cox and Rebecca Archer. Rebecca
worked for the American Embassy and always came home with marvelous stories of her trips around
the world. I might be mixing up Gertrude and Rebecca, but I recall going to a neighbor’s house where
we had to sit and watch hours of boring slides from exotic places. George was quite proud of his
wealthy acquaintences.

~ 81~

He had a US patent on
the first color television
screen for home use. On
October 8, 1967, I wrote in
a letter to Ramón:

George came for dinner and
brought something exciting to
show us: a check for $5,000.00
for inventing Telcolor ® and
now that the screens are in
production, he'll be receiving
royalties forever. If all goes as
planned, George says that he
will have 6 million dollars.

He sold his product well in Africa, but no money ever seemed to appear. Any money he obtained
from royalties or from Grandma, he spent on cigarettes, oil paint, and art supplies. He finally found
a job at Fry's Market at 15th Street in Newport, but he was fired a few years later for stealing from
the cash register.

Once my mother hired George to paint the inside of our house. He would paint while she was
working for my father at McFerran Company and while we girls were at school. My mother was
extremely organized and neat. One day after George had been painting at the house, she noticed
that all her dresses had been tried on and some of them had been worn and belted. After that, we
were all nervous and scared to have him alone at the house. One day, it must have been in the late
1960s and George was about 43 years old, he decided to earn some money from my mother by
artistically arranging all our old family pictures.

Minnie Dietz’s pictures were not identified, but at least they were in order and we could have
figured out who was who. Uncle George took all the pictures from the Baehr and Dietz families,
carefully avoiding any Caler family pictures, and proceeded to mix them up, cut and trim them, and
fit them into homemade cardboard frames. Occasionally, he would add to the collection a
photograph that was not even of a family member! He had been left alone in the house again much
against my mother's better judgment. She simply never quite trusted her brother-in-law. She was
right, as usual, and this time, he had destroyed our priceless collection of photographs. I will just
guess that this was the time when George decided to rearrange Bible entries, too. My mother was
furious and sad--all of us were crushed--but we didn't say a word to George. The damage had been
done and we were always just a bit cautious when speaking to George.

After Grandma died, George made at least two suicide attempts. I remember the telephone
calls from Hoag Hospital in Newport Beach. George never paid any of the medical or other bills. He
would take out loans and put my father's name as co-signer. My mother instructed us to hang up
when the loan officers called the house and tried to hassle us. None of us thought that George would
hurt us. We thought that he loved us; but looking back, it seems that he simply tolerated us. He
liked to talk but was not interested in our lives.

~ 82~

He always had good stories to tell us about his experiences in the Philippines in World War Two.
He was in communications. His service number was 35-300-839 and he served in the US Army as
a Technician Fifth Grade from April 3, 1942 to June 9, 1945. He was separated from service at Van
Nuys, California. Records for George’s service were destroyed in an archive fire in St. Louis, July
12, 1973. After the war, he was in a veterans' hospital in Long Beach, California, because of a
mental breakdown. My mother said that George was never the same after the war.

When we had our family-portraits taken at holiday time, he would try to be alone in the photos
with my mother. She would be so angry, but she wouldn't say a word to him. She'd tell us girls
afterwards that it was as if he were pretending to be married to her. George had a vivid imagination.
When I was in college he would write funny letters to me pretending that he was my wealthy Uncle
Maurice.

George never had a driver's license. My father says that once he lent George a car in Laguna
and a tire blew out, but that was the extent of George's driving. He and Grandma took the bus
everywhere. They made a very odd couple and everyone in town knew them.

Uncle George was really a wonderful artist. He encouraged me to go into art, but he refused to
teach me anything. My mother was so provoked and told me that George could at least teach me
some skills in payment for all the grief that he had caused the family. Once George sold a painting
at the famous Laguna Beach Festival of Arts for $500.00, but he never offered to pay my father back
a penny. Finally, George moved into a men's group home in downtown Santa Ana. I was married
by then. Ramón and I would go to sit with him and to carry him Christmas gifts. We realized that he
was probably selling the gifts for cigarette money. The last time that I saw George was about 1976.
Charlotte, Lorraine, and I were on the bus on Main Street in Santa Ana, when George boarded with
a very odd looking Black boy. The lad was skinny, had strange clothes, and long braided hair, and
I was afraid of him. I didn’t let on that I had seen George. When my father called the group home
to ask about George, someone told him that the last they'd heard, George had donned women’s
apparel, moved to Los Angeles, and taken the name Georgeanne. My father always planned to ask
the Salvation Army to look for George. For many years we considered him missing.

After George disappeared, Ramón was helping clear out some of the things that George had
stored at my father’s house. Most of the items were just junk. Ramón filled the back of his truck with
everything. The last piece placed in the back was a painting of some nude men. The nude scene
was facing out the back window. Poor Ramón was oblivious. A motorcycle police officer saw what
he must have believed to be pornography in the window and found probable cause to stop Ramón
in order to investigate the driver and the contents of the truck. Ramón received one of his usual fix-
it tickets. The officer was convinced that Ramón was just an innocent mover on the way to the dump
and didn't say anything about the nudes. When Ramón reached the Goodwill site, he was shocked
as he realized what he had been showing to the City of Costa Mesa.

In 2007, I checked the Social Security lists
for death information about George, but I
found no records. His Social Security
number is 278-079-089, issued May 7,
1968. In 2015, my sister Kathie disvovered
through the Internet site “Find a Grave” that
George died October 4, 2004. He is buried
at the Riverside National Cemetery,
California, with a death date of October 6.

~ 83~

Chapter Fourteen

ROBERT FRANKLIN BAEHR

My father, Robert Franklin Baehr, was
born on High Street, across from St.
Mary’s Catholic Church, in Warren,
Trumbull County, Ohio, on July 12, 1919.
His father was 47 years old; his mother
would turn 40 the following month, and
his brother, George, was just 19 months
old.

The 1920 Census from Warren, Ohio, recorded the Baehr family renting at 129 1/2 North Elm
Street. The house was a duplex. George and Annie had two children, George, 2, and Robert, 6
months.

The homes in the area had been divided into rentals and a total of thirteen persons were at 129
and 129 1/2 N. Elm. Listed as a second head of household at 129 ½, was a married couple, Olaf
and his wife, both 20 years old. The names are hard to read. At 129 were Horst Brach, 43, and his
wife, 39, their two children and the wife's mother. In the same house was the Mahaffrey (sic) couple,
Henry, 45, and Maud, 39.

My father’s paternal grandparents had died by 1920 and over at 13 First Street, the Baehr home
was occupied by his uncle and aunt, Fred Baehr, 40, a painting contractor and Anna Baehr, 38, a
milliner. Aunt Charlotte Lottie Baehr was not listed on the 1920 Census. If she lived away from
home for a while, the occurrence would not be discussed at family reunions in later years. Oral
history tells me that none of the Baehr siblings married nor moved away, except my grandfather.

The enumerator, Rena Carter, who came around on January 5, 1920, found significant changes
in the old German neighborhood. William and Anna Koehler were still next door at #17 with their
daughter Lillian, 36, but there were now boarders at # 17 1/2, the Joseph Caplans with their daughter,
age 2. The Caplans were from Russia and spoke Yiddish. He came to the United States in 1911
and became a junk dealer. Lilla befriended the Caplans’ daughter and I have pictures of the child in
the Koehlers driveway. At # 19 was an Italian family and at #23 a Hungarian family. Over on the
other side of the Baehrs at # 11 was an English-speaking family, Harry and Jessie Norton and at #
11 1/2 Harry and Edith Frank had taken in a Yiddish speaking Russian roomer, Ben Rosen. At # 9
1/2 was a German family and at # 5 Scandinavians.

Over at 110 Harmond Court were (Raymond) Robert Caler, 41, wife Bessie, 32, her son Paul
Kelly, 8, their daughter Catherine, 4 months, and Robert’s widowed mother, Mary Emma Edelblute
Caler, 67. The census enumerator, Minnie Kirkpatrick, wrote that Bessie and her mother Mary
Mahar spoke Scottish as a native tongue. (I believe they spoke Gaelic.) Mary Glen Mahar died a
few days later in Youngstown, Ohio, on January 20, 1920. In 1922, Robert and Bessie Mahar Kelly
Caler had their second daughter, Mary Eileen Caler (my mother). Elizabeth Anne Caler, Geraldine
Caler, and James Caler were born soon after. Robert Baehr and Mary Caler would be united in
marriage years later.

~ 84~

Mary Caler (Baehr) Class of 1930? Mary on far right, second row.

My father has happy memories of his childhood; although, I hear that he was sometimes
considered a terror in his day. One day at St. Mary's school one of the nuns asked what the students
planned to be in the future. The nuns wanted my father to become a priest. When Robert
announced that he wanted to marry and have children, sister scolded him. He was known as the
class clown and usually came out ahead in confrontations with his teachers.

“My brother, George, and I used to play over at the Bensons’ house. They lived out at the end of
Mahoning Avenue. Behind their house was a great woods and George and I would run in there and
play all day. Then when we came out, the Bensons would give us ice cold water from their well.
Sometimes they made lemonade for us with their well water. They had a step-son named Bill Childs
and every Fourth of July, he would put on a big party for us. I think Lilla Koehler or the Baehrs were
related to the Bensons through marriage, but I’m not real sure. I know that the aunts and the Bensons
were real close friends”. Robert F. Baehr, April 2000.

At home, brother George was often the favored child with their mother, but their dad seemed to
favor my father. Grandma’s opinion was that George needed special help, but Robert could always
manage for himself, especially in the later adult years.

“I always wanted to take boxing lessons, so I could hold my own with my glasses, but Mother
put George and me in tap dancing and elocution classes.” Robert Baehr, April 2001.

Besides cultural education classes, the two brothers shared some fun times. They directed and
filmed a movie, gave magic shows for the neighborhood kids, and one day contrived a parachute
jump from the roof of their garage. They had planned to use bed sheets for the parachute and were
climbing up a ladder to the roof, when my father hit George on top of the head with a hammer. It
must have been the yelling that alerted their mother and thus ended the Army Air Corps stunt.

~ 85~

My father remembered the Flood of 1938. The family was on an automobile trip to Boston, but
they never made it. They had to stay in a tourist home. He also remembered a visit in 1939 with a
Lydia Pickens, a head librarian, who told him about a trip to Canada and how she hated Quebec
because everyone was Catholic.

There was no Catholic high school in Warren, so my father had to attend Harding High. He was
much admired by everyone, especially by a quiet little girl named Elizabeth Anne (Tiny) Caler. Of
course, she never let on. Her sister Mary (my mother) knew about Robert (Bobby) and told me she
would have run away crying if anyone had ever told her that she would some day grow up, fall in
love with him, and marry him! Bobby Baehr! Never!

My father loved sports and tried out for the high school football team. Neither his build nor his
glasses made him varsity material, but a track coach watched him run and had him on the high
school track team immediately. His dad kept a beautiful scrapbook of Robert's record breaking
sprints.

In May 1987, The Youngstown Vindicator published famous headlines of fifty years before. Along
with labor strikes in Pittsburgh and costly road improvements in Columbiana County was this
headline. Warren beats Sharon in track, 73-49. Bob Baehr wins 100, 220 and 440-yard races to
pace winners.

As an adult, my father was usually very healthy. As a child, he had scarlet fever. “We were living
on Elm Street at the time. I think I got sick from drinking water outside there.” Robert Baehr, January
2001.

In 1931, he had a tonsillectomy in Youngstown at Dr. E. Goldcamp's office. He was lucky to
have been taken to a medical facility. Many Depression years’ children, including the Calers, had
all of their operations on kitchen tables!

“Mother took George and me on the streetcar from Warren to Youngstown. We carried our
blankets and pajamas with us and we had our tonsils out at Dr. Goldcamp’s office. Afterwards, Mr.
Quick, Glen Speedy Quick, was his name, came and drove us home. He had an old Packard or
Hudson and used to drive us around places. Mother didn’t drive then. Mr. Quick had three children.
One was my age, named Jean. She was my first girlfriend, but nothing ever came of that. Phyllis
Quick was George’s age. Then the Quicks had a son, a great deal younger, but I don’t remember
his name. It might have been Charlie. They lived on Fairmont, right around the corner from
Longfellow Court, in Warren.” Robert F. Baehr, February 2000.

My father had an operation 1943 for a left eye squint. The eye disorder was corrected at the Army
Station Hospital at Camp Breckenridge, Kentucky. In the 1950s he had bad bouts with strep throat,
but after he quit smoking in 1957, he had no more trouble.

My father's next hospital stay was for a quadruple by-pass in 1991, and other than bum knees,
he kept himself in fine shape and health.

My mother writes in her journal about their meeting: I had dated a few of the local boys, but I
thought they were all stupid! One was too fast, one talked like an ex-con, and one burped in a
restaurant when he took me to dinner. I soon started to refuse all comers. To me they were all a
bunch of farmers.

~ 86~

One of Dr. White's patients, Betty Wherley, kept asking me to join the young
people's club at St. Mary's Church. I kept refusing as I had no desire to join a
club of any kind. Finally, after months of refusing, I gave in and went to their
Christmas party. (Mary Caler is in center second row down with white collar.)

I wore a navy skirt, a white blouse, and a red jacket. I didn't know at the time, but back in the

corner there stood a young, blue-eyed man and he had fallen in love! I danced with him several
times and he asked if he could take me home. I said, 'No, I have to go home with the person who

brought me.' A few days later, I received a Christmas card from him.

When my sisters, Tiny and Gerry, saw from whom the card was, they were so excited. Didn't I

realize that he was the cutest boy in town and so popular? They had seen him on stage with the

Joyce Kilmer Players and they both were in love with him. Bobby Baehr told his mother that he had

met the girl he was going to marry. We had our first date January 4, 1941 and were going steady

forever by June 7, 1941. Mary Caler Baehr, Costa Mesa, CA.

One subject about which my father was proud was his work history. He loved an audience to
listen to the chronological narrative of his various professions. The first three jobs that he men-
tioned were in Warrren. He began by scrubbing trousers at O'Loughlin's Dry Cleaners. Between
1939 and 1941, he stayed with the company, running equipment. For one month during 1939, he
tried selling gas water heaters. He worked for the Copperweld Steel Company in their chemical lab
before he went into the US Army. Besides the jobs that he narrated, there were others, including
parking cars for a company where his relative Lilla Koehler worked, and delivering newspapers with
his brother, George.

When World War Two began, Uncle George was immediately accepted into the U.S. Army, but
my father could not pass muster because of his eyes. He told me, “I didn’t want to be left behind!”
Finally, by memorizing the eye chart, he was accepted on the second try. He left for Army duties in
October 1942, slated for infantry training. When his vision limitations were noted by his commanding
officers, he was reassigned to Kentucky, staying on the homefront for the duration of the war.

~ 87~

My parents were married October 23, 1943. My mother was a stenographer at Fort Breckenridge
Army Base. My father had been assigned there as a dental technician. I was born in November 1945.

His job was making false teeth for the
German prisoners of war interned at the
camp. He claimed that he tried to make
the teeth fit just a bit tight! The prisoners
all loved my mother and would smile at
her when she passed them. Of course,
when my father was by her side, the
POWs kept their heads down.

~ 88~

After the end of World War Two, my father was to be assigned overseas duty, but fortunately the
order was canceled. It seems a friend (Sidney Greenstreet?) working in the base office crossed his
name off the shipping out orders and put in the name of another soldier. My father was honorably
discharged in March 1946 from Fort Knox. At that point, my father fulfilled his promise to my mother
to take her to California.

“My first job in California was fumigating orange trees. Then I tried to find work with the ‘Register,’
but they weren’t hiring veterans. Finally, I found a job with the ‘Santa Ana Globe.’ I was accepted
on the G.I. Bill to be a reporter but ended up doing canvassing for subscribers and working in the
delivery department”. Robert Baehr, 2000.

“My mother, Anne Rogerson Baehr, had written to say that all was forgiven, and she invited us to
live with her, George, and Grandpa in their house in Corona del Mar. We arrived in May 1946, and
I imagine, we were a bit of a shock to her. She had a boarder, a man named Steffison. She
immediately threw the poor old man out to make room for us.” Robert Baehr, 2001.

I was told that the house was lovely with big windows. It was on Poppy Street up from the Hurley
Bell Restaurant (now the Five Crowns Inn) at 135 Coast Highway. The area was called Cameo
Highlands and my grandparents bought the house for $1,500 and sold it for $4,500. The most
expensive homes sold for about $8,500. My father tells me that the house on Poppy later burned
down. We stayed with Grandma until September 1946. She could not tolerate my yelling and made
my parents feel inadequate because they did not want to cater to my every whim. A few months
later when we met Dr. Margaret Davis in Santa Ana, my mother was informed that I was screaming
all the time because I was hungry.

“My mother sold her house to get rid of us. I had to tramp both sides of Balboa Boulevard to find
a place to live. I finally found a cabin in Balboa, next to the Fun Zone, for forty dollars a month. We
met Elsie and Bill Browning and the Schneiders there. All we had was a trailer and an old car. (We
had to sell the Olds we came out in.) We stayed there at Rickey's Sierra Motel on Adams Street
until Tiny (Caler) and Al (Dohar) came out on their honeymoon. Rent went up to forty dollars per
week for the summer months, so you and Mommy had to go back to Ohio with the Dohars. I lived
at the YMCA (1) and at the same time I was let go from the ‘Globe.’ The two men running the paper,
Sky Dunlap and George Bishop, thought they could buck the ‘Register’ and just ran out of money.
Those were such sad times. I had my 52-20 that the government gave to the soldiers after the war,
but I only took three weeks of it.” Robert Baehr, 1999.

Another of my father’s jobs was as a canvasser for Al Wombolt selling Wear-Ever pots and pans.
Sometimes the prospective clients ate better than the salesman did as they sampled foods prepared
in Wear-Ever. One housewife who attended a Wear-Ever party, most likely conducted by my father,
was Ann Gonzálbez Evans. My father also had jobs in a tamale factory, a pickle factory, one month
as a construction worker, four months as an usher at the Anaheim Theater, and finally in March of
1948, a long-term employment with Barr Lumber Company, 1022 East Fourth Street, Santa Ana.
Mr. Steffison's son was the purchasing agent for Barr Lumber.

During my father’s canvassing job for the Wear-Ever Company, he met the Word family living in
an apartment on 10th Street in Santa Ana. They had an 8' x 20' garage for rent, so my father sent
to Ohio for my mother and me. I guess Paul Kelly gave her the money for us to fly back to California.
The dwelling was actually half of a one car garage. They bought a couch at McMahan's for the sitting
area. The refrigerator was outside and around the corner from the kitchen nook.

“A year later Mary's mother came out. A man in an upstairs apartment left his car out so that we
could make a room for her. He was good hearted.” Robert Baehr, April 2001.

~ 89~

We lived at 1524 West Tenth Street until Aunt Katie Maher Collins committed suicide and left
everything to her favorite niece, my mother. With the money from the Collins' estate, my parents
were able to invest in their first home. On October 8, 1948, they borrowed $5,000 from the Newport
Balboa Federal Savings and Loan Association and purchased a house from J. Stuart Innerst for
$9,500. The house was at 1724 Tustin Avenue in Newport Heights, now Costa Mesa. They bought
a new Studebaker to make a trip to Ohio in 1949. Also, my mother sent a large portion of the estate
money to her sisters and mother in Ohio.

My parents had two more children, Peggy, born in 1950 and Kathie born in 1953. In 1952, my

father began work at Douglas Aircraft as a mail delivery man. He was there for six months until a
strike was called. Then, he and Elsie Browning, a dear family friend, worked for Engineering Models

Corporation until it went out of business when one of the owners committed suicide.

“There were three owners at Engineering Models. George Wilson was one, and a guy named

Barney was a second owner. The third owner, a sales rep, I can’t remember his name, was real

nice. He was an ex-Marine with a wife and a couple of kids. He hanged himself. I knew the

investigator on the case and he told me that this was the most bizarre scene he’d ever worked on.

I guess the guy had dressed himself in chains and women’s clothes, set a fire, and hanged himself.

I lost about four hundred dollars with the company. I’d given them the money to buy a lathe, but

never got anything back.” Robert F. Baehr, February 2000.

During the Korean War, my father built mine-sweepers for South Coast Shipping Yards. We
loved to peek through the holes in the navy-gray fence along Newport Boulevard and look at the ship
Daddy was building.

In the mid 1950s, my father went to work for Ike Eichhorn. The hours were terribly long and often
he would come home from work close to midnight. My mother always had his dinner waiting for him,
the plate kept warm over a pan of boiling water. I was never a great eater and at that time I
discovered I could scrape the extra food I didn't want onto my father's plate. No one ever found out,
but my father certainly ate more than my mother intended him to eat.

While working for Eichhorn's All-Weather Aluminum Awning Company, my father fell off a ladder
and had a concussion. I remember the late afternoon when three men carried my father in our living
room and laid him out on the couch. It was terrifying. He couldn't move or speak. He was bed-ridden
for about two weeks and in extreme pain. I remember carefully washing his hands and face for him,

but the slightest pressure caused throbbing body aches.

In 1957, my father started to work for McFerran Screen Company, at 1425 West First Street, Santa
Ana. In March 1959, he bought the business.

“I thought Mac McFerran would stick around a while to show me how to run the shop; but next day
after I paid him, he just took off and left me to do things cold turkey.” Robert Baehr, 2001.

My mother did the bookkeeping and I worked there twice a week during the summers. I learned
how to type and how to run an office. I never quite managed to conquer the hold button on the
telephone. I disconnected many a customer, but my father was always wonderfully patient with me.
When my office work was finished, I would stay out in the shop and practice speaking Spanish with
the window screen maker, Eleanor Hernández.

In 1969, my father purchased awning making machinery and set up his plant at 203 North Clara
Street in Santa Ana and then moved his screen shop to 2217 West Second Street. He was on

Second until January 1973. His last factory move was to 7590 Garden Grove Blvd. in Westminster.

He incorporated with Harry Taylor, who was a 49% percent owner.

Harry Taylor turned out to be an embezzler and caused near disaster for McFerran Company.
After April of 1979, my father was able to save the company, keep his business license, and continue
on by himself. He owned McFerran Company and conducted a successful business out of his home
in Santa Ana for the rest of his life.

~ 90~

I always regretted not being competent enough to go into business administration to become a
partner in the family venture. Somehow, I was not destined for the corporate world. Besides his
jobs, my father did much volunteer service. He counted the Sunday collection at St. Joachim's
Catholic Church in Costa Mesa from 1950 until the 1990s.

I counted with him for several years. Every
time the balance was off, Fr. Nevin would
look at me and announce that someone
must have made a mistake! My three girls
at one time or another and my sisters all
helped with the collection. My father also
was involved in other parish activities,
including the Knights of Columbus and the
annual committee for the spring carnival.

About 1964, my father decided to build a new house for us. He and my mother helped to design
the house and my father was the contractor. The house was a beautiful showplace. I missed the
big moving day, as I was studying in Mexico; but Ramón was there for the move from 1724 Tustin
Avenue to 355 East 22nd Street in Costa Mesa. My parents lived there until July of 1981 and then
moved to Peppertree Lane in Costa Mesa.

My mother had suffered from rheumatoid arthritis since about 1953. She underwent eleven
operations in an attempt to repair joints. She never quite recovered from a staph infection that she
caught during one of the hospital stays. She died August 22, 1981.

My father kept very busy with his McFerran Patio Company, family, friends, and church. In the
autumn of 1990, we sent my father on a trip to North Carolina to study at an Elder Hostel for a week.
He sent us one of his famous hand painted postcards.
Hi, everybody: Having the best week vacation ever. Have to be careful. It is easy to overeat here.
Like having all your meals at Sizzler's! Learning lots about the mountain folks around here. Love,
Popi. Robert Baehr, North Carolina, 1990.

I have memories of a wonderful childhood and a perfect father. I knew none of the problems that
his Depression Era family encountered. Food was always overly abundant; we grew up in one
house, had new coats every winter, and went to Catholic school. Other than being the last family in
the city to buy a television set (1953), I cannot recall ever wanting for anything. My father was always
patient and loving and I cannot recall that he was ever angry. My mother was known to use some
colorful language, but my father never did.

Once in Sixth Grade when I brought home a "D" in geography, my father's comment was the same
as Father Nevin's. “Well, I see you don't like geography!” I remember evenings when my father tried
unsuccessfully to tutor me in arithmetic. I can see him sitting in his big green leather chair explaining
over and over, first one way, then another attempting to help me.

~ 91~

My father was a good math teacher, but I was a slow student. He did do a fine job of teaching me
to drive a stick shift truck. We had some horribly jumpy starts and abrupt stops while Peggy bounced
from side to side in the pick-up bed, but I finally caught on and my father was ever so patient. The
only time he expressed any fear was one morning on Bristol on the way to work. I pulled out to pass
within an inch of the driver coming up on my left. All my father said was, "Whoa, that was close." I
assured him that I had seen the car and that I had had plenty of room. He never knew that I hadn't
a clue there was a car coming on my side. It was a closer call than he thought.

In 1994, my father moved to 1010 W. Mac Arthur #131 in Santa Ana and lived across from my
sister Peggy He died on Father’s Day, 18 June 2006. We had a quiet graveside service and were
honored that the pastor of St. Joachim’s Church came to officiate. Since my sister Kathie was a
volunteer for the USO (United Service Organization), two US Army generals came to the cemetery.
General Michael Teilmann presented Kathie with the United States flag on behalf of the President of
the United States for my father’s honorable service in World War Two. He had been a proud soldier,
and this was a fitting way to say goodbye.

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ROBERT F. BAEHR

My father wrote this autobiography for my sister Kathie's high school project in 1969.

I was born July 12, 1919 in Warren, Ohio. The event took place in a house across the street
from the Catholic church that I would attend for the next twenty-three years. This house has not
been designated a national shrine as yet, but it no doubt will happen soon. We moved soon after
my birth--possibly by request--to a duplex on Elm Street. My earliest recollection in life is of my
mother's chasing some Ku Klux Klan members off the porch with a yardstick. I never joined the Klan,
but I was to meet that same yardstick frequently during the next dozen years.

My formal schooling began at Elm Road School Kindergarten. I have the distinction of being
the only child in the school's history to fail to pass Kindergarten. I had to go for two years. Either
they loved me there or else no first grade was ready for a boy of my caliber. I spent the next nine
years at St. Mary's Catholic School and then three years at Warren Harding High School. I was an
altar boy early in school; and to this day, forty years later, I still serve Mass at St. Joachim's Church
in Costa Mesa, CA.

I've been active in sports all my life and specialized in track at high school. One of the records I
set at high school was going three years without a date until the senior prom. I have never been able
to understand this phenomenon. Possibly, I played hard to get and just over-did it.

After graduation, I sold water heaters door to door, went to college one year, did dry cleaning,
and worked in a steel mill. One night at a church club party, I met Mary Caler, a sweet girl with a
heavenly smile and I fell in love immediately. There was a photo of the group taken at the party. I
took it home to show it to my mother. I pointed to Mary’s picture and said, “This is the one I’m going
to marry.”

In 1942, I entered the army and one year later was married. We lived in Kentucky at the army
camp and had our first child November 11, 1945. I was discharged in 1946 and we came to California
to seek our fortune. It is now 1969 and we still are seeking it. We did find happiness here--three
lovely daughters I am proud of.

Endnotes Part One: Chapter Fourteen

1. The YMCA (Young Men’s Christian Association) building, listed on the National Register of Historic
Places, is located at 205 W. Civic Center Drive, Santa Ana, CA. This Spanish Colonial Revival style
building was dedicated in 1924 and housed the first YMCA in Orange County. In 1991, the City of
Santa Ana purchased the building.

~ 92~

Chapter Fifteen
Anne Elizabeth Baehr Evans

One of my students once said that what she liked best about me were my stories. Another more
scientific acquaintance described me as a person who could exaggerate any information into a
fantastic tale having absolutely no semblance to the original data. I take both comments as
wonderful compliments. Although I am diligent and precise in my research, I agree that I tend to
disregard accuracy in some of my personal writing. The following account is my life as I interpret it.

My father was stationed at Camp Breckenbridge, Kentucky, during World War Two. My mother
worked at the camp as a stenographer. They both detested the South and my mother had great
difficulty keeping her Northern opinions to herself.

Perhaps there was no maternity
ward on base, perhaps there were no
civilian hospitals in the area, or
perhaps my parents did not want their
first child to be born in the South. At
any rate, when my mother went into
labor, my father borrowed a car and
drove across the Ohio River where I
was born, November 11, 1945, at St.
Mary’s Hospital, 3700 Washington
Avenue, Evansville, Vanderburgh
County, Indiana.

~ 93~

The attending obstetrician was Dr. Ritz. The hospital charge was about $10.00 for the ten-day
stay. I always understood that my parents wanted me to have a birth certificate from the North, or
from anywhere except Kentucky. I was baptized at Sacred Heart Catholic Church in Waverly,
Kentucky, by US Army Captain William J. Borer, the chaplain of the 1570th SCSU. (Service
Company Service Unit.) My maternal grandmother, Bessie “Mom” Caler and my godmother, Aunt
Gerry Caler, came from Ohio for the Baptism. My godfather, George A. Baehr (my father’s brother)
was not able to attend. The proxy was a soldier, Walter Sudbury.

My father was discharged from the Army in March 1946 and we moved to California. By time I
was six months old, I had already lived in Indiana, Kentucky, Ohio, California and had gone back to
Ohio again. My mother and I had to return to Ohio while my father looked for work in California. Of
course, I don’t remember these trips, but my mother told me the stories so often that I seem to recall
more than I really do. One of my first memories is of being paralyzed and not being able to walk. I
might have been 3 years old. I can see my father carrying me into Dr. Davis’ office. (Dr. Margaret
Lewis Davis, born Margaret “Maggie” May Davis, January 6, 1892, Atlanta, Cass County, Texas, to
Lonney Oscar Davis, born 1861, and Charlotte Ann Lewis. Lonney was a pharmacist and his father,
J.J Davis, born 1833, was a physician.)

Dr. Margaret Davis was our pediatrician. Her office was in a lovely old house, 1516 North.
Broadway in Santa Ana, California. She was about 56 when we met her. She had white hair pulled
back in a severe bun and to us always looked to be about 80. She told us that she was from Texas
and that she had graduated from medical school in Chicago. According to the American Medical
Association files, Dr Davis graduated from Rush Medical College of Rush University in 1930.

My father told me that Dr. Davis was a certified anesthesiologist and that she was the
anesthesiologist when I had my tonsils out. Dr. Davis had a soft Southern accent that reminded one
of the landed gentle folks of the old days. Once she was dusting her desk with her hand and she
told me that the Negroes would clean fine furniture that way and that the oil from their hands improved
the wood.

Anyway, I believe that my father carried me to the medical office after hours, for Dr. Davis had to
unlock the front door and turn on all the lights. I can see her face that showed absolutely no emotion
as she examined my legs. She tried to telephone a specialist in Los Angeles and became angry
when the operator told her that the staff was not available during weekends and that she could try
back on Monday. By Monday, I was walking again, and my parents brought me in to see Dr. Davis.
She was amazed and commented that there are some things that we just don’t know about.

In July 1948, my mother’s Aunt Katie (Catherine Maher Collins) committed suicide in her garage
in Culver City, California. Her entire estate was left to my mother. My parents used the money to
buy our house at 1724 Tustin Avenue in Costa Mesa, California. Also, they bought a brand new
yellow Studebaker from a dealer in Newport Beach, Nikerson’s on Newport Blvd. at the bridge
crossing Coast Highway.

An early memory I have about our Tustin Avenue house is my first and only run-in with the law. I
was taking my dolls for their buggy ride. Being a very careful mother, I did not want to walk them in
the dirt and chose to go down the center of the street. I continually looked back over my shoulder
and was perturbed to discover behind me a line of cars as far as the eye could see. Finally, a
patrolman, probably alerted to some traffic situation off Seventeenth Street, pulled up beside me,
leaned over to the passenger window of his car, and called out to me.

“Little Girl! You go home!”

~ 94~

I had never been so insulted in my life. I remember the cold stare I gave him as I turned my
buggy around and headed home through the dirt with my babies.

My mother, her arms folded, was waiting for me at the Dutch door. She just closed her eyes and
shook her head. That Dutch door brings me to another memory. We had been on one of our trips
East to see the Ohio folks. I had left my teddy bear, Honey-Bear, in a filling station restroom
somewhere along the route back to California. Of course, I was devastated to discover one of my
children missing. Honey Bear was about ten inches tall and had chocolate brown fur. My parents
felt helpless and must have decided to order me a new bear and have it shipped to our house. One
day a delivery man--I would swear he was in a chocolate brown uniform--came to the Dutch door
with a package for me. In the box was a brand-new bear in pink fur. “Oh, how wonderful!” said my
mother. “The nice people at the gas station must have cleaned Honey Bear and given him a new fur
coat.”

I think that it was late 1949. I must have been four, but I knew that my mother was weaving a
story, so I wouldn’t be sad. In turn, I didn’t want to make her sad by spoiling her tale, so I just nodded
and pretended to believe her. I never told my parents that I had seen through their scheme. I was
profoundly touched by their attempt to save me from any pain resulting from losing my teddy bear.

My sister Peggy was born in 1950. I remember the day she was missing. My mother was
hysterical. She was a perfect parent in every way. If there were a prize for a mother most dedicated
to her children, she would have won. No child in her care was ever out of her sight for even a
second, until the day of Peggy’s disappearance. The two-year-old had vanished into the air and was
nowhere to be found. I was sent to run through the cornfield and check the muddy steam that ran
down the side of our back yard. No Peggy. My mother ran out to the street, looked in the garage,
began eyeing the vacant lot on the other side of the yard. No Peggy. Finally, we both went into
Peggy’s bedroom at the back of the house and there was my sister sound asleep in her crib.
Apparently, she had wanted her nap and had climbed into bed on her own and put herself to sleep.

My maternal grandmother, Bessie Maher Caler, came out to live with us in the 1950s. We loved
each other dearly, but she would irritate me no end when she would try to catch me in my fibs. My
dolls ate pabulum that was left over from Peggy’s bowl. I always fed them in the breakfast nook in
the kitchen and they ate quite well. “Mom” Caler insisted that I was the one who was really eating
the pabulum. One night I looked up from feeding my babies, and myself, to see my grandmother
peering around the corner at us. I was furious, but I did not accept defeat.

I retaliated by attempting to kick “Mom” Caler. My mother intervened and said that kicking a
grandmother was not allowed. Since kicking was out, I decided that I could seek revenge in other
ways. I started calling my grandmother “Mo-o-o-om” making the sound of a cow in reference to her
substantial size. Also, I would wait until she was climbing up on a chair to reach her special
collections of antique cups.

When she was tottering on top of the chair, I would run over and look under her skirt and laugh
at her huge cotton underwear. Mom Caler was always very angry with me but held no grudges. She
called me a “Thron-thripped-thrabid-thrayture,” but refused to translate from the Gaelic words.
“You’ll find out someday what it means!” In the 1990s, a Gaelic speaking LDS librarian in Sugarland,
Texas, said it sounded like “Triple times over, terrible, awful creature.” Another translation is from a
Gaelic -English dictionary: Bad. Bad. Come hither, child

When my grandmother returned to Ohio, we remained wonderful friends by mail. Often the
package man would bring boxes of lovely antiques from Mom Caler. She sent me a pink cup from
Germany that I was to use for tea when I had fever. She sent special little plates for my cinnamon
toast and hand knit rags that we were supposed to use for scrubbing dishes. I still have the scrub
rags that we used for coasters rather than for cleaning. Also, she sent me an oil lamp that had
belonged to her husband, my grandfather, Raymond Robert Caler.

~ 95~