Georgia Baxter - Transcript

COOPER SCHOOL ORAL HISTORY PROJECT

EDITED DRAFT

Georgia Baxter

Youngstown, 1929-37

Audiotape

[This is an interview with Georgia Baxter on May 22, 2003.

The interviewers are Philippa Nye and Edie Neeson. The transcriber is Jolene Bernhard.]

Philippa: This is an interview of Georgia Baxter for the Cooper School Oral History Project.

This is Philippa Nye and Edie Neeson as interviewers and it’s May 22, 2003. Do you want to

repeat what you just said?

Georgia: I don’t remember my first day of school. I just remember being hurt while in that first

grade. That was when the principal came and took over the class while the teacher was going to

be out. She started right down the row of people reading and got to me, and she shamed me

because I did not read as good as the other kids. I stumbled and muttered.

P: This was kindergarten?

G: I didn’t get kindergarten. My parents held me back because I had a two-years-younger sister

than me. They didn’t want her to be home alone. So, they held me back. I didn’t get to have

kindergarten -- I went right into first grade where the other kids had had kindergarten and were

reading already. I had no idea what it was all about. Anyway, she shamed me and I hated her.

Not only me, all the kids at school hated her.

P: What was her name? Do you remember?

G: Bella Perry.

P: Mrs. Perry?

G: I think she was a Miss. They [teachers] didn’t get married in those days. Bella Perry. I

never heard anybody say a kind thing about her because she was such a gruff person.

Edie: What year did you start at Cooper?

G: Well, I graduated from the eighth grade in 1947. No, it couldn’t have been ‘47. I graduated

from high school in ‘41.

P: So, it would be ‘37.

G: Yes, 1937. [She started at Youngstown about 1929.]

E: What was the school called then?

G: Youngstown. I had trouble getting through every class because of my reading problems. If

you can’t read, you don’t absorb. It took me an extra year. I had to do, I think it was the fourth

grade, over. Other than that, they just moved me on. I got great comfort and pride out of my

sewing and choir and cooking lessons. Those were my favorites.

P: Do you remember what you sewed?

G: Oh, yes! The picture they keep repeating, the Cooper pages, there’s a picture of the

graduating class. That was my graduating class -- ‘37. I sewed the dress that I was wearing

there. [I learned to sew on a sewing machine.] All girls had to sew their own graduation dresses.

And the boys got to have bought stuff.

[Group laughs]

E: You sound like you were a little bit envious.

G: Well, at the time I didn’t think of it. I was just happy to have somebody help me do that

dress. The boys, that didn’t bother me. It wasn’t until later in life and you reflect, "How come?"

P: What did they do while you were taking sewing?

G: They had their shop. You know what that is?

P: They did wood construction.

G: Yes, they built things and used saws and stuff. {The school] considered one year of

allowing [girls] to integrate but it didn’t work out. Nobody followed through on it.

I enjoyed gym and music; sewing and cooking were my favorites. Other than that, I just slid

through the best I could.

E: What kinds of things did you do in gym class?

G: The usual. Playing games -- volleyball, learning the songs that they sang between that and

music class. [Learned folk dancing, played games.] Between those, I learned songs that I still

know today. I could memorize things but I couldn’t read them. What else do you want to know?

P: Tell me about how your family came to this area.

G: I was born in Kansas and two years after I was born, my sister was born. My father was a

farmer and he was having trouble with the dry area -- sand and stuff in Kansas. The doctor told

him if he didn’t move to a different climate, he wouldn’t last long. That put us -- father, mother,

aunt and six kids -- in a car, and we drove out here. We ended up in Bremerton for a short period

and then moved to [the] Seattle area. The Crown Hill area was our next move. Then we moved

to West Seattle. I was there for the rest of my growing-up school years. Grade school and high

school. We all got to graduate from those schools. I have very many fond memories of

[Youngstown and West Seattle High School]. But I wish I had been a better student.

P: What did your father do once he got here?

G: He became a carpenter. [He also worked at Bethlehem Steel Company.] During the

Depression, we would move from one house to another depending upon who needed work on

their house.

P: You actually lived with people who...

G: Not with them, no. We moved in empty houses that were being vandalized. You know,

anybody could find an empty house and take it over. They would move us into the house and,

for the rent, my father would upgrade the house. We always had a little bit of dirt out in the

yard. My dad always had his garden for vegetables. And his flowers. He was a flower person.

We had the fruit trees in the backyard and all kinds of food would be growing in the yard. Then,

he was a fisherman. He would get fish from the Sound and vegetables from the garden and

flowers for the house. That’s how we survived.

My mother, on the other hand, she kept us clothed. People, knowing we had a large family,

would give us the hand-me-downs. My mother would rip them up, wash the material, then cut

out patterns and make our clothes for us. Between the two of them, we didn’t have any troubles

through the Depression.

P: They were practically Homesteaders. Pretty self-sufficient.

G: Yes.

P: So, you lived in different houses around Delridge while you were going to Cooper?

G: Around the West Seattle area [clarifying].

P: Did you travel long distances to Cooper sometimes just to stay at the same school?

G: No, no. It was close. My first memories were there in Delridge. I guess I was three or four,

something like that. From Delridge, we moved up on Avalon Way. From Avalon Way, that’s

where we were living when I graduated from [Youngstown]. Moved on up the hill into West

Seattle on Avalon Way until I was fourteen or fifteen. Then we moved up off of 35th, by the golf

course up there, for a small period of time. My parent’s doctor -- Dr. Ida Hall -- her husband

died. He was a doctor also. And she didn’t like living alone because they had a little girl. So,

she talked my parents into giving up the life we had [on Avalon Way] and moving in with her.

But here she was not used to six kids in a house. Not only six but her child, too. It just didn’t

work out, so it was a short arrangement.

P: What order were you?

G: I was next to the baby. Between the only boy and the baby. That was a terrible position to

be in [laughing].

P: Did your brother pick on you, is that why?

G: No, not really. But he got all the glory and all the attention. He was the Crown Prince.

My baby sister was the darling. So, here I was -- the forgotten one. I survived -- it made me

stronger. I was able to take care of myself. Anyway, my favorite teacher was Miss [Jennie

Jones]. I have her desk in storage. I’m hoping you guys will find a spot for it in your school [the

renovated project].

P: I thought you said that the principal’s name was Perry?

G: No, no, no. Jennie Jones. What’s the matter with me [laughing at herself]?

E: Jennie Jones was the principal?

P: No, the teacher.

E: What was it about her that made her your favorite?

G: She always was kind. I never had to worry about being hurt by her. No matter what, she

was kind. She helped me get through the awkward period. She was the only person who ever

gave me undivided attention. I loved her for that. I moved on. I got married and had kids. And

then I found out she was living right close to me. She had been retired and she was living close,

down in Des Moines. I went to see her and she was blind. She remembered me and all, but she

was blind and not well. First, she was in the retirement home and then she went to the nursing

area. I continued to visit with her. And if she needed aspirin, I’d go get it. This kind of stuff.

I’d do what I could for her. When she was in the nursing area, I would go see her. She’d say,

"Oh, please rub my feet." "You don’t know how good that feels," she would say.

Then, she had trouble with her dentures. I don’t know why -- I’ve had the same problem here --

the help don’t think about people with dentures, needing them cleaned. Needing them rinsed.

Or needing them out at night. I got an infection in mine because I wasn’t getting the care here

that I should have been. I have learned to ask for it.

"Will you please put my teeth in a [picking up a cup]?" I’m not having any more gum

troubles. Anyway, I would do that for her and she appreciated it so much. When she first moved

from the apartment to the nursing home, she had to get rid of so much. And I had already

admired her desk. Oh, I’ve always wanted a desk like that. When she moved, she asked me, did

I want it?

"Well, what do you think?" I said. "Of course!" And I’ve had it ever since. It’s been a

treasure. I hope it will be carried on as something that was used in the school for many years. I

also have a vase that she used. She told me this was the vase she used in school all the time for

her flowers. When do you think [you] would be ready for taking something like that?

P: I think we could put it in the school anytime. And then we’d just have to move it out when

we do the construction. Your daughter and I spoke about it, and I just need to figure out a way to

go get it. So, when I get some time. I hope she’s not in a huge hurry.

G: She was asking, couldn’t I bring it here? Well, where would I put it?

E: What grade did Jennie Jones teach? Or what subject?

G: I think it was the seventh [or 8th grade]. Now, that’s why I wish I had my book [yearbook in

storage]. Because all that is in there. [I left the photo album with Paul Fishburg.]

P: But it sounds like it was early. Your first year --

G: No, no. I think it was the seventh grade. Something like that. Right when I needed

somebody to pay attention to me.

P: Can you talk about the neighborhood and what it was like around there then?

G: The kids were so different than today. So different.

P: In what way?

G: They had two parents at home. There was always somebody there to tell them what to do or

look out for them. The kids, I know in our case, we were not allowed out of our own yard,

without permission. "Can I go visit a certain person?"

"Fine. But be back at a certain time."

And that was the rules that the kids in the neighborhood lived by. At least the ones that I knew.

I didn’t know all of them because I didn’t get around. Like the kids that were allowed to run

wild.

When we moved, there were the fruit trees still out there. And another family moved in

that was there until she [the new owner] died a year or so ago. I asked her about the fruit trees.

And she said, "Oh, I don’t have those anymore. I had them for many years but the neighbor kids

were not watched." They would steal the fruit as soon as it was edible. She never got any of it

but she had the clean-up of the leaves and taking care of the trees. So, she just finally had them

cut down. She lived alone, she wasn’t married. She lived alone and she wasn’t about to have all

of that work on her shoulders and not get any fruit from it. So, she cut them down, which broke

my heart.

P: There were a lot of orchards, right? That whole valley had a lot of orchards back then?

G: Yes. When we moved from that place [on Avalon Way] up to Admiral Way, there was all

the woods behind us and we had sweet trees in there. Did you ever hear of the Boyson boys?

The Boyson boys were devils.

P: That’s the building that Luna Park had been in [to Edie]. That’s the Boyson [place?]

G: [The Boysons had a store just north of us.] The fruits were between the store and us. And

the boys would go in and take the fruit. When us kids would see them in there, we would run to

Mom and say, "Mom, the kids are in the fruit!" She’d go out and yell at them.

Then she would tell my dad. Well, he wouldn’t do anything. "Oh, boys will be boys."

We never got any satisfaction out of saving the fruit. Although, Mom always seemed to have

enough to can. That was why we would get through our winters, by canning.

She was a hard worker.

P: Do you remember anything else about the neighborhood? The golf course wasn’t there yet,

right?

G: No.

P: What was there? Was that just forest in there?

G: I really couldn’t tell you. I never got up into that area. They kept us close to home.

Oh, I am so sorry that they have dropped so much of the Christmas celebrations. It used to be so

beautiful. That was the only real Christmas I ever had was there at school [and Sunday School].

P: Did your family not celebrate?

G: [Only a tree and gifts.] Oh, we had the Christmas tree. Each of us got a gift. And I always

knew when my sister opened hers first -- that’s what I would have, too. I remember the

umbrellas. She always got everything in blue and I always got everything in red. It was alright.

But [my parents] could have handled it differently, in hindsight. The Christmas pageants -- all

the kids were one or two generations from another country -- so, they still had some clothes and

stuff from that country. And all the kids would put on their --

P: Native costumes?

G: Yeah, their costumes. And we would have a parade. Everybody in their own country’s

clothes with a gift for the child to take onto the stage. It was so beautiful.

P: What countries?

G: Oh, dear. I don’t know. It was all of them!

P: Do you remember what nationalities were around? Were there a lot of Italians --?

G: A lot of Italians, yes. We lived next door to the Spidoni’s. They were devils, too, the boys.

They used to do things to shock us girls. I’ve always been afraid of people with tempers because

of the Spidoni family. They were so fired up in tempers. And I would shy away from them.

Never was close to them because of their tempers. And it stuck with me all these years. I’m still

afraid of people with tempers. I stick to myself.

P: What were the issues of the day for the school and the neighborhood while you were a

student? Probably the Depression was one of them...

G: They had classes for children not old enough to go to school yet. Kind of like a pre-

kindergarten or something like that. [The school] would give them their lunch every day.

And that’s how I got started with helping children. Because they knew I was helpful with my

sister’s kid and was taking care of him. They asked me to help bring the ones that were in my

area to the school. For that I was given transportation on the trolley car to there. And then I had

lunch with [the children]. That’s where I learned to like cottage cheese [chuckling].

I remember the three little kids I took were Billy, Bruce and Marilyn McDonald. Now, I often

wonder what happened to them because it was such an unhappy home. Whenever I know

somebody that is under stress, I worry about them. I still to this day wonder what happened to

them.

P: Was it all kids that went to the pre-school? [G: Yes.] Or was it kids whose parents had to

work too much?

G: I have no idea how they got the kids. I wasn’t a part of that.

P: That makes sense, you forget. When you’re that young, you don’t know that kind of thing,

who qualifies for pre-school.

G: They had a commissary -- you know where the Bethlehem Steel Company [is]? Right down

at that area was a commissary where people were eligible to go get milk and bread [flour, eggs,

etc.].

P: It was like a food bank.

G: Yes, like a food bank. Only it was called a commissary at that time.

I remember my brother had his little red wagon. He and I, it was our job to take that wagon

down and get our stuff and bring it home. With my dad getting the fruits and the fish, and my

mother doing the clothes, we didn’t really need anything but the sugar and salt and -- the staples.

That’s what we would go there for.

My dad tried to have a little business on the side of selling fish because he always had much

more than what we could eat. He would sell and people were anxious to get it because it was so

cheap. A good size fish was twenty-five cents. The next size was fifty cents. And the huge size

was seventy-five cents!

E: Georgia just showed us about a twelve-inch fish, a twenty-four inch fish and a thirty-six inch

fish [joking].

G: Everybody was happy to get this fish that they knew was fresh. My dad would get it and

you’d get it the same day.

P: Did you ever go out on the boat with him?

G: [Yes.] Just a minute. This didn’t last long because somebody reported him for doing it

without a license. He did it just on the sideline. But he didn’t have a license, so that was nipped

in the bud. Now, as far as going out on the boat with him -- he built his own, I think it was

twenty-eight foot cabin cruiser. And that’s what he would go out and troll to get fish.

Us kids had to go in the boat because he could only have a line for so many people. The more of

us kids that would go, he could have more lines. We weren’t allowed to touch the fishing lines

[trolling]. We couldn’t fish. But we had to be a head count on the boat.

P: Was that a law?

G: No, that was my dad’s law! [laughing]

P: Interesting. If you couldn’t pull in the line, why did he want you on the boat?

E: Was that the fishing license requirement?

G: [Yes.] I think that was the law of the land at that time. Don’t ask me to explain it.

Of course, they didn’t tell us right off in the beginning. They made it sound like it was a

vacation-type thing. We soon caught on that if we weren’t there, he couldn’t have a line out.

E: What was it like to be on the boat when you couldn’t do any fishing yourself?

G: Just sit and try to get comfortable. There were benches and we would lay on the benches to

sleep. We wanted to sleep because we couldn’t fish.

It was fun. [half-heartedly]

P: What time were you doing it? On weekdays or just on weekends?

G: Weekends and holidays.

P: So, he didn’t take you out of school to do that?

G: Oh, no no no.

P: Do you ever remember being hungry during the Depression?

G: No, as I said, we never lacked for anything as far as material things. There was no love in

the house -- that’s what was hard. You don’t miss it until you grow up, look back and say,

"Hey!" There never was a hug, never was a pat on the back or the top of the head. Nothing!

They took care of us and that was it. That was us younger kids. The older ones got the attention.

Although, that brings up another subject. My oldest two sisters, my dad farmed them out to

families as Mother’s helpers. And he would go collect the money. That was part of his making

ends meet.

P: How old were they then?

G: [I don’t know when they started.] They were... sixteen and eighteen? Sixteen... Right in

there.

P: Were they still going to school then?

G: [Yes.] They graduated from school. High school. Although, my oldest sister, I don’t think

she graduated. She went but then quit to get married. Now, I’m going on my memory. It’s hard

to say but it seems to me she got married and quit school. But the second one graduated. And the

third one graduated. Then the boy, of course. He graduated.

P: Do you remember how you got to school? Did you take the trolley most of the time or did

you walk?

G: We walked until I had these young kids to take to school. I lived up on Avalon. I would go

gather them up, afoot, and catch the trolley there. A distance from the... what was that place I

said my dad worked? Where they had the commissary?

P: The Steel Mill?

G: The Steel Mill, yes. Up on Admiral Way, close to the mill. I’d catch a bus there. It would

go down Spokane Street, and it was this big trestle we were on. And I would get them off up

there and then get them down those long steps. We got off of the trolley onto the bus on

Delridge. And get them up to school. That’s the first time anybody ever complimented me. It

was Miss Jones. She complimented me on the way I handled those little kids.

E: That was a big responsibility!

G: Oh, yes. Nobody else ever complimented me. But she did, and that’s where I fell in love

with her. Somebody gave me some attention! [half-singing] That was my job, and for it I got a

ride on those buses and trolleys... and my lunch. When I didn’t have that, our lunch consisted of

peanut butter and honey. Every day of the year. We begged Daddy, "Can’t you get us

something different?"

P: Did you ever get to eat the school lunch? No?

G: That cost money. My dad was not about to spend anything on the family that wasn’t

required. He had lady friends that needed his chocolates and stuff. [bitter laugh]

P: You knew about that when you were in elementary school?

G: Yes.

P: Do you remember anything about the change of the name of the school? Was it Youngstown

a long time while you were there?

G: It was Youngstown when we graduated. There was a year [after that, when] it was still

Youngstown. Then it changed to Cooper.

P: So, 1939 was when it changed to Cooper?

G: I imagine.

E: How did you feel about them changing the name?

G: Well, I was out of there and gone. It didn’t really matter to me, although it’s always been

Youngstown for me. Cooper doesn’t count!

P: Did you go on to West Seattle High directly?

G: Yes, directly. I graduated from there [West Seattle High] in [19]41.

I had special teachers there, too. My gym teacher taught me the modern dance. I was always

into school plays that way. I have pictures of that, too.

P: Yes, we definitely have to get your scrapbook. What kind of activities were available for

students in the school? Were there after-school things you could do?

G: There were but I was never involved in those. It would require money [to pay for uniforms].

P: You had to pay for them?

G: Yes [I think].

E: Did you also have to take those same children back home again?

G: Oh, yes.

P: What did you do after school? What did you do fun?

G: Went home. Just went home.

P: Did you play with other kids?

G: Only those that I went to school with. To this day, two of the girls I grew up with in school,

Ivadell Oliver and Lottie Monihan -- I still hear from them today.

P: Do they live around here still?

G: Ivadele moved to Alaska when she got married. Lottie lives in West Seattle, just off of 35th.

P: Maybe I’ll have to try to track her down. So, you played with them?

G: Yes. We didn’t really play, like play play. We were friends.

P: Your parent kept you busy?

G: No, just keep out of their way. If they had kept us busy, we would have learned more.

Children were seen and not heard attitude.

P: What do you remember about the other kids in school?

G: Well, there were the good ones and the bad ones! Some boys, to this day, I cringe when I

think of them because they were such brats. And yet there were others that were pleasant, never

teased me, and were good kids. I treasure them in my thoughts.

P: Were there any different groups? Like did the Italians stay together --

G: Oh, yes. There were the Goobies [sp.?]. I’m trying to think of names here.

[Rustling, as Georgia searches for a paper.]

G: I don’t have it here. I had the last Cooper... the letter they send out, or whatever it is.

E: Newsletter?

G: Newsletter, yes. Do you have that with you?

P: I don’t, no.

G: That was my graduating class in [19]37. That could have triggered a lot of memories. And I

could have said, this one did this --

[Phone rings. Tape cuts out.]

G: OK, now what do you want to know?

E: What do you remember about the playground?

G: I shined in the playground because I was a tomboy. And I was the first girl to be chosen on

a boys team, you know, for baseball and that kind of stuff. I was always happy with that. I was

accepted. When I see that new complex across the street on Delridge, see where they use our

ground that we played our baseball in -- I bawled [the city] out for building buildings over our

baseball area.

E: This is the Delridge Playfield? Where they built the Delridge Community Center?

G: Yes. That [wading] pool was there when I was there.

P: Really? The little wading pool?

G: The little wading pool. I waded in it -- not very often.

P: Was there a building at all on that site?

G: Not where the buildings are now. That was all grass and play area.

E: And the kids from the school would go there at recess time?

G: Well, they would go there when the teachers would take them over. Then after school, we

were on our own, if our parents would allow us to go there.

E: What kinds of games did you play? Baseball...?

G: Baseball was the main one. And volleyball. Oh -- during the early years, up to the sixth

grade, we played [in] two different areas [at the main building] -- the boys’ area and the girls’

area. The girls’ area was on the north side. And we’ll [report] any boy that dared to even look at

our side!

P: Was that in the playshed or across the street?

G: [The playshed.] No, it’s on the same side as the school. On the north end was the girls. And

that’s where I learned to play hopscotch, tag and Drop the Hanky. All those kids games.

P: I don’t think I’ve ever heard of Drop the Hanky.

G: You haven’t? You haven’t lived!

P: We never played that when I was a kid.

G: Maybe it was called something different. You get in a round circle and somebody has a

hanky. They go around and, "Not you, not you. It’s YOU!"

And they’d drop it there by the person. That person would have to grab [the hanky] and get it

back and around ahead of the other person. The one that beat got to drop the hanky the next

time.

It was fun for kids.

Is there anything like that nowadays? That they call something different?

P: Not when I was in school.

E: We’re the Kleenex generation!

[Group laughs]

P: Nobody has a hanky now!

P: Did you ever get in trouble?

G: [Only once.] Once. It wasn’t a real bad trouble but to me, it broke my heart. As I told you,

I was sensitive. It was the same Miss Jones -- another reason why I love her so dearly -- she

caught me doing something I shouldn’t [looking at the spelling book]. And she just spoke to me

quietly to put my book away. Never spoke of it again. Oh, I treasure her that. But I saw all of the

other kids doing it. And I thought, if they can do it, I can do it. But I tried it the once and she

caught me. I didn’t know enough how to sneak. So, she caught me and said, "Put your books

away." I did and I never tried it again. That’s the best I ever got in trouble.

P: Do you remember other holidays? You talked about the Christmas pageant. Do you

remember other holidays and how they were celebrated in school?

G: [Easter. St. Patrick’s Day. George Washington and Lincoln’s.] May Day was something.

We’d give flowers out. I had some flowers and I didn’t know what to do with them, so I gave

them to a teacher. I don’t even remember what her name was. But she was so grateful because

nobody ever paid attention to her either! She always had a smile for me after that.

P: The two women we just talked to last week, who went to school in the forties, talked about a

Mother-Daughter Tea. It was an annual thing. was that going on while you were there?

G: No, I don’t remember them doing it while I was there. I just don’t remember.

P: What was your favorite room at the school?

G: Favorite room?

P: Did you have one?

G: Of course. Miss Jones’ room. And then the gym and the music teacher. They were all very

lovely people.

P: Do you remember where they had the music room?

G: Yes, it was right close to the office. You know where the office is? It was just a door or two

from there, the music room. They didn’t have music pieces. You know, the instruments. But we

used our voices.

P: What kinds of things did you sing? Like folk songs or...?

G: [Christmas music.] The old songs . Off the top of my head, I can’t think of them. Can you

think of any old songs’ names? Old-fashioned ones?

P: Not my strong point.

E: Me either. I can think of Christmas songs.

P: Oh, Susanna?

G: That would be one of them, yes.

P: I remember in elementary school, we sang Erie Canal and we sang about John Henry.

E: Working on the railroad?

P: Yes, there were a lot of old American folk songs in elementary school.

E: If you got hurt at school, who took care of you?

G: We had a nurse but I never saw her. I was a healthy kid due to always having good food and

clothes on my back and a roof over my head. That’s what I can attribute to my family.

I remember there were kids that I would go see. All they had for the meal was a can of pork and

beans. Heat it up and [put] some on each plate.

P: They’d bring it [to school] themselves?

G: No, no. I’m talking about going to their house. I’d be there during their mealtime. That’s

all they would have was a can of pork and beans.

It just made me realize how much my dad did. Of course, that was his hobby -- gardening -- so,

it wasn’t really a chore for him. That was another thing. He could have taught us a lot about

gardening but he never did. We weren’t allowed in his garden.

P: Do you remember the creek at all, Longfellow Creek? Did you play there?

G: I never saw it when I was down there. That was too far off from our yard. When they

started talking about it at the meetings, I didn’t know what they were talking about. I had never

been there or seen it.

E: Do you remember any unusual events that happened while you were going to school?

G: Well, like in all generations, there was somebody that got pregnant.

P: One of the teachers or one the students?

G: One of the kids. Seventh or eighth grade kids. It was quite a scandal but she lived through

it.

P: Did she have the baby?

G: Oh, yeah. She had it and she married the guy. But she was pregnant before they got

married. In those days, that was a pretty awful thing to do.

P: She was probably thirteen? Fourteen?

G: I imagine that. Could have been fifteen, I don’t know. But she was in the upper grades

there. That’s a scandal -- is that what you were looking for? [chuckling]

E: Well, when you say unusual, it could be just about anything.

P: I think once when I talked to you, you remembered walking by the Hooverville? Down on

[the waterfront on the way to Seattle]?

G: Yes. That had nothing to do with school but it was the area.

P: Talk about that.

G: We were never given anything. If we wanted to go to the movie, we had to earn our money

babysitting. A group of us would gather enough money to have a five-cent hamburger and a ten-

cent movie. Then we would gather and walk up the waterfront into town, where the movie and

the hamburgers were. To get there, between was Hooverville, which we wouldn’t dare do today

-- go by there. There’s too much drugs and stuff today. But there wasn’t any of that stuff. They

kept to themselves. We didn’t bother them, they didn’t bother us. We walked into town to see

our movie and have our hamburger, and walked back. Never did have an incident. I miss those

days, when there wasn’t so much bad things going on.

P: You felt like you could be pretty independent?

G: Yes.

P: That’s a long walk.

G: Sure it is! All my life, I’ve had to walk. Even before I got sick [1988], I was walking two

miles a day. Then I got sick and it all came to a standstill. I’ve been going backwards ever

since. Well, what else? You have to trigger my memory. When I left, I donated a whole bunch

of my ceramic squirrels. Whatever happened to them?

P: They’re still at the school.

G: Are they?

P: Yes, we just have them stashed in that room.

G: I would like to grab a couple of them back because I think of them every time I see my

squirrels out here [in the nursing home]. I didn’t know I would have this set-up when I moved. I

don’t know which ones I would like because I can’t remember what they were.

P: I’ll bring you the box and you can take a look from there. Do you remember when you went

to West Seattle High? Was there a certain reputation to kids from Youngstown? Do you

remember being teased for that?

G: No, I never ran across anything like that. I’m sure there must have been something because

there were some real nasty boys that went from Youngstown. And if you had that picture, I

could show you which ones they were! Fred Boyson -- I understand he’s died.

P: Was he in West Seattle most of his life?

G: [Yes.] As far as I know. They had that store and that’s where they had their living.

P: So, was that like a general store on the bottom there?

G: I was never in it. I couldn’t tell you. But I imagine it was. And they lived in the upper part.

P: You lived on Avalon, right? That was your street. But you never went in the store?

G: No. Between my dad’s garden and my mother’s canning and stuff, we hardly ever needed a

store. We couldn’t afford milk.

P: You lived on fish.

G: Fish and vegetables. And canned fruit.

P: Did you ever get tired of that diet?

G: No, that’s all I knew. I didn’t know there was other stuff. Food was put on our plate and we

had to clean it up. We had to clean up our plate -- Mom always had some kind of fruit or

something for dessert. And we were not allowed to eat our dessert until we cleaned our plate.

Rules.

P: Do you remember taking art?

G: Oh, yes. I had art. I excelled in art in grade school and high school. I wasn’t a genius but I

enjoyed it.

P: Do you remember what they had you do?

G: I remember I had to make a puppet once. I’ve got a picture of it in my schoolbook. I was

teased that it wasn’t what they expected me to do but it made me happy, I made that puppet.

During my junior year in high school, I lived a few blocks from Lincoln Park. I spent a lot of

time at Lincoln Park -- their volleyball and stuff. I wish I had my book. I have things I want to

show you. [Paul Fishburg—DNDA—should know where it is.]

P: Maybe you can ask your daughter to try to find it. I’ll come back and we’ll sit with the book.

We’ll do another interview then.

G: Let’s do that.

P: It will be more fun for you because you can remember more things and you can show me

stuff.

G: Let’s do that. To be continued. [ laughing]

E: As all good stories...

G: Chapter two.

P: Well, why don’t we call it a day for now?

END OF INTERVIEW OF GEORGIA BAXTER ON MAY 22, 2003