Memoirs of Norbert E. Gnadinger, Sr. Volume 1

1935

Yes, I survived the winter and I did graduate from St. Vincent de Paul Grade School. All of my activities are more pleasant now for I am older and I could be trusted in a wider range from my house. Mom and Pop could not really keep up with me anymore so they turned me over to my personal Guardian Angel to protect me while I was out somewhere getting into trouble. One bit of trouble I got into and which I have been ashamed of even unto today happened this way. As usually happens, I started running around with one exciting boy in the neighborhood who was a “bad” boy. Everyone knew he would end up in jail, so they said. He didn’t but he was the cause of my thinking I would end up there. Several times we walked downtown to experience the excitement of Fourth St. The blocks between Main St. and Broadway were crammed with all types of interesting stores and there must have been ten or twelve movie houses along this stretch. Everything was so new and wonderful. It was like going to Disney World. After an exciting time and while on the way home, this boy would show me what he had stolen while walking through the Five- and Ten-cent stores. He said it was easy and there was no one around to catch him. Since none of us had any money at this time to buy these things it seemed right to pick up a free pencil, a comb or something else we needed but could not afford. I didn’t try this right away for I was scared of it. After a few times of watching him go home with all these goodies, I tried it. I was lucky. I got caught on the first try. I wasn’t much of a thief. A lady “floor-walker” had me by the arm and in the back room before I hardly knew what was happening. I had to give her my phone number and the name of my pastor at church. She didn’t fool around. She called them both, confiscated my ill-gotten booty and sent me home. When I got there I was to have my mother call her immediately to confirm that I kept my word or she would have me locked up. Mom didn’t say much to me but I could tell she was really disappointed. I had to promise I would stay away from this “bad” boy and I did keep my promise. Pop never did bring this up and neither did Father Ruff at church but they knew about it and I knew they did. I was so relieved that I didn’t have to go to jail.

This winter, for me, began by my traveling a longer distance to enjoy the tremendous(?) snowfalls we always had when I was a kid. Automobile traffic was picking up more and more and it was getting dangerous to sleigh-ride in the street down Ellison and Kreiger hills. Our choice now became the hill along Poplar Level Rd. in George Rogers Clark Park and the still popular hill in Cherokee Park at the end of Eastern Parkway. We would sometimes also go to Tyler Park hill but it was shorter and not as much fun. The great thing about visiting the parks to sleigh-ride(everyone seemed to own a sled) was the large “bon” fires which were always there to warm you between slides. Most of us would take a couple of potatoes along to roast in the fire. Once you pealed the black crust off the outside of the potato, the inside was delicious even without salt. To satisfy our thirst, we would eat the clean snow. This was all quite a feast. Also, I can still visualize all the kids standing around the fire with steam rising from their wet clothes and gloves.(2-28-2001)

Now that Harry Cooper and I both owned bicycles, we began to do more things together. Before this, we only met at family picnics, first communions and weddings. This summer, especially, we were active together and I’m sure we strained our Guardian Angel-Boy relationship very much. A good example was our bicycle trip to Charlestown, Indiana. There was no great planning session. We called each other on the phone, talked back and forth about what we might do and someone thought of the brilliant idea of riding to this little town in Indiana we had heard of. I’m not sure we knew what we were getting into and I am sure our parents didn’t know we were going to do this. It was fun. We were really out in the country. It was a beautiful, warm, day and we did not consult the weather report to find out if it would rain. We never gave this a thought. We owned nothing and carried nothing along with us that the rain would ruin, if we got soaking wet. We finally made it to Charlestown, rode around the heart of town(one city block in those days), found a drugstore which was open in this very quiet town, bought and ate a nickel ice-cream cone and immediately hit the road back home to Louisville. We had no real interest in the town. Our interest was in successfully making the trip. It was another of our real adventures. If we had to use the “bathroom” there was always a clump of trees and bushes along the road. This must have all happened on a Saturday for I can clearly remember crossing the Clark bridge into a very crowded downtown Louisville. On Saturday, most folks only worked a half day and it was therefore the main shopping day of the week. Harry and I parted at Second and Market Sts. among all the trucks and automobiles. He headed west on Market to 34th St and home and I continued out 2nd St. and on to Germantown.

Several times that summer we also rode our bikes up River Road to “Uncle George’s” camp at Transylvania Beach. Our meeting place was a little different. Since it would have been out of my way to meet Harry downtown, we made it a point to meet at Pipe Line Lane(Zorn Ave.) and River Road. What’s this “Pipe Line Lane” stuff, you ask? Well, the Louisville Water Co. has one of their water-pumping stations on the river bank at the end of Zorn Ave. Large water pipes were laid underground and up the river bluff to the water storage reservoirs along Frankfort Ave. Then, a double road was built on either side of the “Pipe Line” to the top of the rise. Hence, Pipe Line Lane which was later name-changed to Zorn Ave. Anyway, we met at that location and continued up River Rd. to the camp. There was a small stretch of camps on the river there but then we rode our bikes through the Cox farm all the way to Indian Trail. This area is now the Carrie Gaulbert Cox Park which was donated to the county by the Cox family. The fields on both sides of River Road were covered with growing corn stalks. Naturally, we pilfered a few “baby” ears of corn to eat and fill our empty bellys. Aunt Clem was always at the camp in the summer time. She and Uncle George had a daughter, Clara, who was handicapped and they used the camp as a place where Clara could move around more safely than in the city. Clara always enjoyed company but, thinking about it now, I feel that we took advantage of Aunt Clem. She never said anything but I feel we surely used her good nature to guarantee us a fun day. And it was fun. We had free swimming, boating and fishing if we wanted it and our cousin, Rose Lee Determann was usually there and joined in the fun with us. We spent the whole day there and if we were lucky, Aunt Clem would fix us a vine-ripened tomato sandwich with mayonnaise for lunch. The tomatoes were from her garden and it was like eating “high on the hog.” Harry Joe and I made this trip that summer and the following summer as well besides spending the annual fourth of July family reunion with the Determanns’ at their river camp.

Now, we must draw-in the Steinmetz brood who were our age. That is, Bernie and Gabe Steinmetz. Harry Cooper is two months older than I am. Bernie is a year older and Gabe is a year younger. The thing which drew us together was Fountaine Ferry Park in the west end of Louisville at Market St. and North Western Parkway. At the time, this park was our equivalent of the present day Disney World. It had a very large swimming pool, picnic areas for family get-to-gethers, a boat ride through the “Tunnel of Love”(enclosed and dark), a “Racing Derby” ride on high, wooden, trestles out over the Ohio River bank, the “Hilarity Hall” of slides, rides and “make you sick” barrel rolls, all of the usual rides you find in an amusement park, a peep show(non sexy) at the park entrance, an attached Night Club(Gypsy Village) for dances and, to us, an attached, very special, “skating rink” In later years, Helen and I went to several dances at Gypsy Village with the family. But, at the time, the skating rink became an overpowering draw for all four of us considering it was all the way over on the other side of the city for three of us. For a time, Bernie and Gabe would skate with us every Sunday afternoon but they soon left us to go to the Fourth Avenue Skating Rink on Fourth St., just south of Broadway because it was closer to their home. Aunt Tillie Cooper must have thought I was one of her children for I was at her house almost every Sunday for skating. I did not take advantage of her hospitality though because this was still during the depression and it would have been a hardship for Aunt Tillie to feed me constantly. If she offered me anything at all I would not refuse. One thing I never refused was a piece of her “Transparent Pie.” I have no idea what ingredients were in the pie but it was transparent, sweet, and, delicious. Harry Cooper still talks nostalgically about this pie.

I have registered at St. Xavier College for the 1935-36 school year. The name may fool you but I have a tuition receipt which does spell out St. Xavier College and I have my final report card which spells out St. Xavier High School. It is possible that during my school year the name was changed officially. My school tuition, and this will blow everyone away, was $5.00 per month of which one dollar was for athletics. I was eligible for tickets to all the sport games except those played with Male or Manuel High Schools, and I could participate in gym. classes. The school was located on Broadway between first and second Sts. on the south side of the street in a hugh, old mansion. In the rear, next to the Young Mens’ Hebrew Association, was a small gymnasium just large enough for basketball games and which had a running track built above the floor. My home room was 1C even though it was on the third floor. We stayed in the same room all day and the Brothers(Xaverian) moved from room to room to teach. During my year at St. X, my cousin, Joe Determann, was a senior and, naturally, his room was on the first floor.(3-04-2001)

Normally, the school year would start the day after Labor Day in September. 1935 was one of those years when there was a serious epidemic of Polio(poliomyelitis) or, as it was called, Infantile Paralysis. This was an acute infectious virus which attacked nerve cells and usually left the victim crippled through atrophy of the skeletal muscles. Fortunately, there was no one in our immediate family who contracted this virus except my cousin, George Stober, but I knew many persons my age who had an arm or leg shrunken and disabled because of it. Doctors didn’t know a great deal about this virus at this time but they were sure, from experience, that it spread quickly through young people in crowds. For that reason, when many cases of Polio were diagnosed during the summer months, everyone was urged to stays away from crowds such as picnics, ballgames and even churches and schools. For that reason, St. X didn’t begin classes until Sept. 25, 1935. Most of the spread of Polio occurred during the hot months and, as the weather cooled, the number of new cases would diminish and in the best judgement of the health department, the emergency was over. There were cases of Polio every summer but an epidemic occurred only about every eight to ten years and a few cases each summer didn’t panic everyone. This fear of “Infantile Paralysis” continued into the 1950s when a successful vaccine was developed and Poliomyelitis was eventually removed as a serious disease all over the world. This was a great relief for Helen and I for our children were still susceptible as they were barely into their teen-age years.

A real tragedy happened to all of us during this Polio scare. My Pop committed suicide on Sept. 9. Even today I have a hard time thinking and writing about it. I will first explain just how it happened and then I will write all I can about Pop and his life so you can form your own opinion. I still don’t understand why it happened.

Pop worked for C.Lee Cook Co. near Eighth and Kentucky Sts. as a machinist. Each morning, Brother Carl would drive Pop to work so he could use the car during the day, and, when it was possible, I rode along. We also took Mr. Frank Steier who lived across the street on Ellison along for he also worked at Cooks. After Pop had eaten his breakfast each morning, he would go down into the basement to crumble-up some tobacco which he chewed at work. The rest of us finished our breakfast. This particular morning Pop didn’t come back upstairs for quite some time. Since it was about time to leave for work, I ran down the stairs to get him and found him hanging from the light fixture in the ceiling in the middle of the back room. I screamed for Mom and Carl who came rushing down the steps. No words could cover our shock. While Carl grabbed Pop around the legs and held his weight, I stood on a chair and untied the rope. We laid Pop out on the floor but we knew nothing about resuscitating him. All we could tell was that he was not breathing. We were in real turmoil. Mom was in shock, naturally. I believe Carl called brother Robert and either he or Carl called the doctor and the police. I knew no more of what followed for I was sent, on my bicycle, to Robert’s house to baby-sit his children while he and Pauline worked with Mom and Carl to arrange things. I feel now that I was given this task in order to get my mind on other things besides the death. It evidently worked for I never had any nightmares or had other reactions to this. My thought over the years was why had I lost my Pop just at the time we would have begun to form a grown-up relationship. And, I wonder if this happening may have hardened my character and changed my approach in dealing with people on a day-to-day basis. Only a psychologist may analyze this effectively. I feel as though it did not affect me permanently. In those days, almost all funerals were conducted from the home if it was convenient. This is the arrangement we made for Pop. He was laid out in the dining room. Pop had many friends and the house was crowded until late at night. The home burial system always included a wreath which was hung beside the front door to signify that a death had occurred in that home. The rest of the funeral procedure was basically the same as today. The Funeral Mass was conducted at St. Vincent de Paul Church and the burial took place in St. Michael’s Cemetery.(3-05-2001)

Frank(as he preferred to be known)Adam Gnadinger was the youngest of eight children of Edward C. and Catherine(Gehrig)Gnadinger. He had four brothers and three sisters. Pop’s father died a month before he was born leaving his mother a widow with all of her children seventeen years of age or younger. Grandma Catherine was thirty four years old when she had to assume this responsibility. Pop, naturally, never knew a father. I have no knowledge of how they were able to survive through those hard times. We know there were no government hand-outs available and pension plans were not generally available. Brother Frank remembers hearing that a black couple was hired to help raise the children. Perhaps Grandma Catherine worked outside the house and supported the family, I know nothing about the black couple except, when I was very young, I would ride with Pop while he visited some black people who lived in a house in the alley next to the Braddas and Gheens candy factory off Preston St. near Brechinridge St. I never went in with him during these visits and I was not told who they were. The Gnadinger family home was located in a small shot-gun type home at 631 E. St. Catherine St.

Before he transferred to St. Vincent de Paul parish at Shelby and Oak Sts., Pop was a member of St. Martins Church on Shelby St. as was my Uncle John Steinmetz who was a life member of the parish. In 1904 when Pop was 22 years old, he married the sister of John Steinmetz, Regina or Ricky as she was called. Ricky had clerked in her father Conrad’s grocery store on Logan St. alongside Uncle John up to this point. On March 9, 1905 a baby boy was born to Pop and Regina but he died soon after his birth the same day. On March 19, 1905, Regina also died from complication suffered during child-birth. Both are buried in St. Michael’s Cemetery. What a severe blow this must have been for Pop to lose a son and a wife in such a short period of time. Uncle John was still standing by Pop’s side offering help for he introduced Pop to the sister of his fiancée, Mary Catherine Determann, my mother, and they were married in 1906. Uncle John later married Mom’s sister, Bernardine Determann. Pop and Uncle John then became double brothers-in-law. My feeling is that Pop never fully recovered from the loss of his wife and son.

Over the years, Pop worked at Ahrens and Ott(American Standard), Drummond Mfg. Co.. American Elevator and Machine Co., American Car and Foundry, and finally the C.Lee Cook Mfg. Co. Most of these years he worked as a machinist. I can only speak for his later years when I found him to be a very quiet man who appeared to me to be unhappy. I know that eventually he became an alcoholic. He was what we called a week-end drinker. I, personally, never knew him to lose a day of work except during the depression years when work was sporadic. He brought in a regular pay check every week. Because of his drinking, I know that he and Mom argued quite a bit. That, and the pressure of never knowing when he might lose his job because of the lingering depression, and, the fact that he had a large family to support must have been depressing. I was young while all of this was happening and now there is no one available with a full knowledge of what might have gone wrong with Pop. I do know he was well liked by a lot of people for they made a point of telling me this in later years. Clara Thome, who lived next door to us on Ellison Ave., once told me she wished her father had been as nice a man as my Pop. He was also active in the church and he and Mom actively supported the church and school. In pictures taken of our large families, he was always in the middle of the group.

At this point, I have to take back an earlier statement when I said that the Gnadingers were not a fun loving group like other relatives. This was true but after analyzing the above information I feel that all the Gnadingers went through traumatic experiences which left them not much room for learning anything related to open joy and friendliness and Pop’s experiences put even more pressure on him. I was protected so well during my childhood that I cannot even imagine what the Gnadinger children, my aunts and uncles, lived through.(3-06-2001)(Robert’s son, Albert Joseph Gnadinger was born Apr. 18, 1935)