Saturday, July 28, 2012

Willy Wispe: Children's Log #1, 1965


When I was younger, my family shared a sailboat with another family – an Alberg 35 by Pearson, called Willy Wispe. Through a web search, I recently discovered that Willy Wispe is still sea-worthy, still owned by the same family, and currently moored on Cayuga Lake, New York. It's been painted a much more beautiful color since the 1970's! It's very comforting to know it's still on the water, and from a distance looks in very good shape.


When we lived in Connecticut we would sail around New England during the summer. When we moved to Ohio, conveniently, the co-owners of the boat moved to Michigan, so we were able to share the boat for another four years.We would spend our summer vacations sailing on Lake Huron and Superior, in the Georgian Bay and the North Channel in Canada.

When we moved back to Connecticut my dad sold our interest in Willy Wispe and invested in day sailers and racing boats rather than a cruiser. Since we were teenagers by then, it was a good decision by my father, as it would've have been very tight quarters with five "adults" on board!

During the "Willy Wispe" years, every August we would spend two to three weeks sailing and traveling from port to port. It was cramped, with some challenges, but we always had an adventure – or two. My dad was a proud member of the Corinthians, the New York Yacht Club, and the Noroton Yacht Club, and as you will see in the Log, some of our vacations were actually spent racing as a family.

Coincidentally, one of our neighbors and a good friend of my parents was Bill Shaw, one of Pearson's most successful boat designers. There's a great article by Steve Mitchell from the GoodOldBoat.com on the history of Pearson Yachts, if you're interested, just click on the hyperlink. He's not the Bill of "Bill & Lue Allen", listed below; they were my de facto aunt and uncle, my parent's friends from University of Michigan, whom we spent many a summer, with their family, on Drummond Island.


My dad would write in the ship's Captain's Log every day. My mother, with her lifelong love of spiral steno pads, created a Children's Log for us to share our thoughts – a futile effort. I found three years of logs, all on the East Coast, and I'll post them here. Each one starts with kid's handwriting but soon thereafter, it's my mother putting in all the notes. And for a little more perspective, in 1965, the three of us ranged in age from 6-10.

Trip with Bill and Lue Allen


August 10, 1965
We drove from Darien to Watch Hill, Rhode Island. While getting ready for bed we noticed the lights getting dimmer and dimmer and found our batteries were dead.


August 11, 1965
We sailed from Watch Hill to Block Island. Later on in the day we went to a cocktail party. It was on the shore. We stayed at the party for about an hour. Billy and Bobby went back to the boat to get our name tags. Billy brought them back and Bobby stayed on the boat. As soon as Billy came back with the name tags, we were going back to the boat. Sarah said that she was going to row Mrs. Ambrose and Mrs. Allen. She was going as slow as a turtle. We did not get back to the boat rowing. My father was operating the launch because the boy wasn't there. 




We gave my father the painter of the dingy. He pulled us all the way to the boat.


August 12, 1965
We came from Block Island to Brenton Harbor new Newport. We came in third in the race. We lost our spinnaker just before we went over the finish line.


August 13, 1965
We went from Brenton Harbor to Bristol. Clambake. Saw Beth and Cathy Shaw.


From hereon, it's my mother's writing, and the information much more detailed and relevant to grown-ups.

August 14, 1965
Went into Bristol – walked to stores and met bus on street. Saw Herreshoff Museum. Back to boat. Did not sail in crew race because of rain and wind. Went directly to Potter's Cover. Made kites. Rowed and sailed dinghy.

August 15, 1965
Raced from Potter's Cove to Dutch Island Harbor. Went ashore after dinner and walked. Stopped at bowling alley where mommy washed. Walked all the way to Manny's Tavern, near Jamestown's Ferry Dock. Draft beer and shuffleboard. Ice cream cones after hours. Saw old fire engine. House for an animal next to tree with toys tied in it. Hard rowing going home.



August 16, 1965
Raced Dutch Island to Jamestown. Wind-up dinner. Chicken, rice, crabmeat salad, etc.


August 17, 1965
Cruised to Newport. Did laundry, shopped, left about 12:30 pm and went into increasingly dense fog. Turned back and spent night at Newport shipyard. At (after 1-1/2 hour wait) at "Christies."


August 18, 1965
Sailed from Newport to Cuttyhunk. Went ashore, shopped. Had a picnic on the beach with 2 fires. Boys collected firewood. Had steak, potatoes, tomatoes, and of course, wine. Sarah and mommy collected bay leaves and bay berries.
Artist's conception of the fort built by Bartholomew Gosnold's expedition on Elizabeth Islet, Cuttyhunk Is., Mass., in May/June 1602. The first English habitation in New England. Illustration in Robert Maitland Brereton, Reminiscences of an Old English Civil Engineer 1858-1908, pub. Irwin-Hodson Portland, Oregon 1908.

August 19, 1965
Cuttyhunk, long day's motor and sail to Nantucket. Had dinner and went to bed. Saw swordfish just caught.



August 20, 1965
Rented car and drove all over Nantucket, stopping here and there. Cool day. Had clam chowder dinner, shopped and shopped.





August 21, 1965
Allens left – we drove them to airport and then went to Surfside for a swim in the breakers. Had dinner out. Shopped again.




August 22, 1965
Sailed and motored from Nantucket to Falmouth. Played poker and went to bed.


August 23, 1965
Cleaned boat.




Sunday, July 22, 2012

Happy Birthday, Dad!



My father, Edwin Roy Ambrose, would have been 83 years old on July 23, 2012.
Happy birthday, dad!



Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Photo of the Day: Dragon Lady

Earlier I wrote about my grandmother, Sarah Louise Voegtly Ericke, having played the Queen in Goucher College's production of "The Dragon." As with the story about Camp Logan, if I wait to sort through all the family archives, scan and organize everything, and then write about it... well, I'd need a few more years at best. Let's consider this blog the draft version of the book I will never write. (And I promise that in the book everything will all be in order!) Here's an actual photo from the play, which I just happened to find in Goucher's 1922 yearbook, the Donnybrook Fair, while searching for something totally unrelated. My grandmother is the woman in the dark gown, looking indifferent to the woman who's on her knees, pleading with her. Check out that dragon!



Monday, July 16, 2012

Quote of the Day: Sarah, Age 6


"If I'd known we were going bowling I'd have changed my clothes."




Friday, July 13, 2012

Second Illinois Field Artillery, Summer 1917

Sorry I haven't posted in a long while. I've been on vacation and busy with other summer activities, not to mention a very hectic work schedule. Part of my vacation has been spent researching more family history, along with the dreaded scanning, so my plan is to make up for time lost by posting a couple times a week. Here's another look at my grandfather's life pre-WWI. I read the last of his war journal today, and he commented on how his return to the States coincided with his 25th birthday. That seems hard to even imagine. But boy, what a handsome soldier!


Ninety-five years ago, my grandfather, Carl O. Ericke transitioned from being in the National Guard to the U.S. Army, and from the Cavalry to Artillery. In July, 1917, he was transferred to the 2nd Illinois Field Artillery, which set up camp in downtown Chicago. It was here that his training began for World War I. I've compiled pages from his scrapbook and photos from the Chicago History Museum.


Elevated view of the 2nd Illinois Field Artillery camp at East Chicago Avenue and Lake Michigan in the Near North Side community area of Chicago, Illinois. This image shows unfinished long buildings in the foreground and brick buildings and smokestacks in the background. © DN-0068559, Chicago Daily News negatives collection, Chicago History Museum.

Joseph W. Mattes, Captain, 2nd Illinois Field Artillery, Company A. He was later killed in the Houston Riots, just a month after this photo was taken. © DN-0068448, Chicago Daily News negatives collection, Chicago History Museum.

Milton Foreman, Colonel of the 2nd Illinois Field Artillery, standing with an unidentified officer. © DN-0068463, Chicago Daily News negatives collection, Chicago History Museum.

The first call of duty for the 2nd Illinois Field Artillery was strike duty in Bloomington, Illinois, during a strike by the workers from the Bloomington and Normal Electric Power and Railway company.

Soldiers from the 2nd Illinois Field Artillery sitting behind machine guns on the lawn of the court house in Bloomington, Illinois. © DN-0068407, Chicago Daily News negatives collection, Chicago History Museum. 
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As you can see from a few of these photos from his scrapbook, Carl's training was not all work and no play! In the photo on the top left of this page, my grandfather is the man standing in the middle, the blond. In the bottom photo, he's the second one from the left.

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Group portrait of soldiers from the 2nd Illinois Artillery, Company A, waving their hats and posing for a photograph as they prepare to leave their camp at East Chicago Avenue and Lake Michigan for Camp Logan. My grandfather is the face to the right of the hat showing it's full insides (looks like a big black hole). Picture published August 16, 1917. © DN-0068564, Chicago Daily News negatives collection, Chicago History Museum. 


My grandfather didn't start his journal until he was scheduled to leave for Europe in May, 1918, so next  posts about him will be mostly images from his scrapbook. My earlier post on Camp Logan actually happened after this installment. I'll try to coordinate the timing of the oral stories, the scapbook, and the journal a little better going forward!



Thursday, June 14, 2012

On the Way to Camp Logan


Now that the Life in Botswana series is over, I am going to focus more of my posts on my maternal grandfather, Carl O. Ericke, and his life during the first World War. He recorded a few stories for my brother in his later years, so some of these stories are in his words. He also kept a diary, which I will transcribe for you... soon. My grandfather also put together a very beautiful scrapbook which I will post in articles and in it's entirety. I hope my cousins, who have never seen these images, will appreciate them here as much as I do. They are quite amazing.

War was declared and I wanted to enlist. My boss suggested I list in the National Guard that way he could replace me before I went overseas. So naturally, I agreed to this and I joined the First Cavalry in Illinois, National Guard. It didn’t work out the way I planned but it was interesting so I thought I would tell you a little about that.




Outstanding thing I have in my memory is the fact that I joined the cavalry because I liked horses. We went out for drill practice and it was very interesting. I remember we used to have parades and we did our stuff on Michigan Ave. My mother said she’d be in a certain hotel and would look for me. I was on horseback with my saber, parading along Michigan Ave. The captain said to present arms and we all drew our swords and held them at attention. It must’ve looked pretty good with all the swords flashing in the sun.





The thing I’ll never forget is when I got to the hotel where my mother was, watching for me. I had a sudden instinct to take a chance on getting into trouble, so I pulled in the reins on the horse and gave him my heels, which made him stand up on his rear legs. I then presented the sword by putting the heel of the sword on my chin, looking toward the hotel where my mother would be. That was something I’ll never forget and she didn’t either. I didn’t get put in jail or anything for doing that. Just a little incident I thought I would tell you.


A short time after this they sent us to Houston, Texas, for training our outfit because they didn’t need cavalry. It was the 122nd field artillery and they sent us here to learn about the French 75 guns. It was quite a thing and exciting. They put us on trains and, Colonel Foreman, who was quite a politician in Chicago, fixed it so his boys got to sleep in cars with upper and lower berths; so we went first class all the way down to Houston. 

When we got there I remember looking out the window and seeing a fellow on guard walking up and down and smacking his hand on his cheek every once in awhile. I figured there were a lot of bugs around that place and it wasn’t a very welcome sight. But we got off finally and rode out to this place that we were to train. It was quite a little difference from the cavalry!

We did a lot of walking and we had a few experiences down there. From then on, I walked instead of riding on a horse. And I walked and walked all the way over Texas, and later on in France.






They made us the first occupants of the camp down in Houston, for training. As a corporal I was made into a gunner. And that’s no small job when you think of all the training we went through. As a matter of fact, we had to learn how to dismantle the breech of the gun and put it back together again in the dark. That meant a lot of training and practice but we managed to cope with that. Finally we got settled down in camp and time began to drag a little bit. 





However it didn’t take long before there was some excitement in Houston! Rumors circulated that when soldiers were turning in their ammunition they would keep some it and then bury it under their tents. So sure enough, it wasn’t surprising when there was a fair in town and one of the soldiers shot a policeman. They immediately put in a martial law, and my unit was called in to take over for the rest of the camp.







We’d hardly been there for very long and we had to stop what might have been a mighty serious thing. Anyway, they called us together and issued each fellow one bullet for each .45 gun. And with one bullet we had to go into town and stop this trouble. We were all excited, and might say, somewhat afraid, as we drove in on trucks. We were the only outfit down there with our one battery. We stopped along the road and we all got out and they had us go through a field of grain, searching for all these soldiers who stampeded away from the fair.

There's a very interesting article, on the Texas State Historical Association website, if you're interested in reading the full history of the Houston Riot of 1917.

Monday, June 4, 2012

House Histories: Warwick Road, Detroit

A few weeks ago, I received an email from a man named Hubert, whose family has lived in my grandparent's house in Detroit since 1985. He found me by reading my earlier post, A Rosedale Park Christmas, where I talked a little bit about North Rosedale Park and this house, which my grandfather sold after my grandmother died.

I've collected many photos of homes that my extended family has lived in over the last century, most of which have are not identified. I think many have been torn down, especially those that were located in the now-downtown area of Pittsburgh. I will be sharing these photos and stories randomly over the next few months.

I promised Hubert I would post more about his childhood home – and my mother's! – on Warwick. I found this real estate listing from the late 1960's when my grandfather sold the house. Don't you love the punch-out system and the listing number placed on the front lawn? (click to enlarge photos)



Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Photo of the Day: Alfrida Stangeland

May is a busy birthday month for my family. Besides my two brothers, my maternal grandfather was born in May, as were both his parents, Charles Ericke and Emma Winterberg. And tomorrow, it is my paternal grandmother's birthday. Alfrida Stangeland was born on May 30, 1908 in Hetland, Norway. Her parents were Peder Stangeland and Kristine Hatleskog.


Saturday, May 5, 2012

The Nineteenth Hole


I have never known my mother to play golf. She understood golf, and would sometimes watch it on tv if it was pouring rain outside...and couldn't be in the garden...and my father had already turned it on. But I never knew she actually played the game. But by the way Nancy's clutching the cart, she probably enjoyed golf as much as she did sailing.

Isn't it weird how children only know their parents when they are older and often find it hard to picture them doing anything other than what they've personally witnessed them doing in their later years? Will I next find a photo of my younger mother skydiving, chasing tornadoes, or taming wild animals?

It also appears she's pregnant in this photo, and based on the timing, it's probably me in that little belly of hers, in the summer of 1958.