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Show PAGE THE ZEPHYRDECEMBER 89 12 The Christmas of 1932 by Jim Stiles My mother was only five years old in the cold and bitter winter of 1932. It was bitter for more reasons than the freezing temperatures and early snowfalls that fell upon the Ohio River Valley. For twenty-fi- ve million Americans, there was no work and no prospect for work. Families that just a few years earlier were a part of the nations safe and secure middle class, now found themselves homeless and hungry. My mothers father, my grandfather, was one of the unemployed. Sue, which Is my mothers name, often overheard the grim conversations between her parents and it scared her. How was he going to keep food on the table, my grandfather would ask my grandmother, and she would softly reassure him, youll find a way, Frank. Sue asked her father why they were poor; he smiled wanly and tried to explain lts the Depression, he said. Everybodys poor. That helped a little. At least her family wasnt alone. But the Depression? It was hard to explain to a five year old. As the month of December and the Christmas season approached, Frank and Susan and Sue Montfort could be thankful that they still had their home, that theyd canned many vegetables from their summer garden for the winter, and that they were all healthy. But job prospects were grim and the familys savings were almost depleted. While window shopping on Fourth Street, Sue had eyed a red checkered dress at Santa Stewarts Dry Goods. But her mother dampened her hopes not be many was having a bad year too, she explained. There may tree. feared there the under might not even My grandfather presents be a tree. Or a turkey. Nothing. It was that tight. One afternoon, Frank decided to take a walk. Somehow he felt better when he was moving, for when he sat, he thought He thought about his familys dilemma and his inability to change it So, wrapped in a worn wool overcoat, he shoved his hands deep In the coats pockets and moved briskly up Birchwood to Frankfort Ave. Frankfort Avenue was the commercial center of the Crescent Hills section of Louisville. Its sidewalks were lined with small shops and markets, although many of them were closed and boarded up. As he watched the lined and worried faces of the people he passed, my He knew he had no grandfather stifled the urge to sink into self-pit- y. right to leel victimized for he was surrounded by other victims. He was not alone. For that reason, Frank almost felt guilty when he was suddenly confronted with a stroke of remarkable good luck. He had just passed beneath the marquee of the old Crescent Theatre when a man appeared behind the ticket window of the box office. The man was holding a small cardboard sign. In crude handwritten letters it said: HELP WANTED. grandfather could scarcely believe his eyes for a long moment, before he ran inside. In a few minutes, Frank Montfort was the new ticket collector at the Crescent Theatre. He glanced through the ticket window and saw a dozen faces fall as the manager removed the "help wanted sign. He knew that a matter of seconds could have changed My ATTORNEYS TITLE Lynda Stocks, manager William L. Benge, licensed agent Locally Operated land title insurance title searches Real Estate Closings 76 So. Main 4 259-547- 5 everything, and he cold have been on the outside looking in. But he wisely decided not to flog himself too severely for his good fortune. he After all, hed been recently plagued by nothing but bad news face. on his could go home today with a smile In reality, Frank was happier than he had a right to be. The job was nothing permanent; he was hired only for a week to help out during the Christmas rush. And the job paid twenty dollars. Twenty bucks. But that amount of cash could go a long way in 1932. He could get a turkey and all the dishes that go with it to make a proper Christmas dinner. He could afford a tree, and maybe if he was very careful, still have enough money left over to get that red checkered dress. My grandfather brought the news home to his wife and daughter, and the next day he started work at the theatre. Collecting tickets at a movie matinee did not exactly challenge Franks Intellect, but It never even occurred to him to complain. He was grateful Just being there and the days passed quickly. On the day before Christmas Eve, the manager called him into the office, and handed him a crisp $20 bill. Whether the theatre would need additional help after Christmas depended on the crowds the manager explained, and he added stay in touch. My grandfather nodded, shook the man's hand, and put the bill In his coat pocket. There was an extra bounce In his step as Frank walked briskly down Frankfort Ave. His sister Louise and her husband Ham planned to stop by the house later. Ham and Louise had a car, and with their help, Frank and Susan hoped to find a turkey, a tree and the dress for Sue. He passed a man standing alone by a lamp post His face was dirty and unshaven, his clothes were in tatters. His hands were wrapped in rags. Clutched in his fingers was a pint of Kentucky bourbon - a cheap brand, and as my grandfather walked in front of him, the man tried to hide the bottle. My grandfather looked away; Frank knew that had the breaks gone differently, the man could just as easily have been himself. Thanks for your support on November 7. look forward to serving the citizens of Moab for the next four years. 1 TOM STOCKS |