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Note: N2 About Mary’s forbears, she knew little. “My fathers parents were both dead—I never saw them. My mother’s (Mary Day) mother was blind for 20 yrs & lived with her children while my grandfather was in the Soldier’s Home in Dayton, Ohio. I only saw them a couple of times on visits to Ohio.” Mary was born in Waynesville, North Carolina, the youngest child of parents who were natives of Ohio. Her father was a blacksmith, and her mother was a housewife who was alrteady quite ill with consumption when Mary was a young girl. Why they were in South Carolina remains a mystery. Some of the details of Mary’s life were transmitted to me orally while she was still alive. Others I find written in her own hand in a handwritten questionnaire which my daughter, Cara Marie Motteler Miller, gave to her when she was a college student doing family history research for a term paper. There is much that is not known, because her parents both died when she was very young, as did both of her brothers. Her sister died shortly after I married her daughter, Marilynn. About 1910, the Ellis family moved across the nation to Pacific City, Washington, the succinct reason given being “Health Problems.” Mary remembered nothing about the move because “I was only 3 yrs old.” Mary’s mother was very sick with consumption (tuberculosis). She remembered her brother Billie holding her in his arms as she coughed and coughed. She died when Mary was about seven years old. Billie subsequently caught tuberculosis from his mother and died very young. Mary’s father, Charles, remarried a woman who appears to have been the prototype for the wicked stepmother in Cinderella. And then he died in about 1917 (she says “cause Heart”) but she often said that he had been kicked in the head by a horse while shoeing the animal. A court battle ensued, in which the stepmother (whose name is lost to history) battled Mary’s sister Carrie for custody. Mary herself was called to the stand and testified unequivocally that she wanted to go to her sister. She prevailed, and “I was adopted by him (David Earl Moore) and Carrie.” She says “My mother suffered from TB for several years before her death—then my brother Billie got TB and died 2 yrs later—then my father died a month after Billie. Carrie & Dave were all I had left.” {Russell had died in an accident in the woods.--ZCM] Dave Moore—I often think of him as “Uncle Dave” because that’s how Marilynn always talked about him—had been born an Irish Catholic. He was fun-loving and gregarious, and liked his drink and fun. His marriage to the puritanical Carrie was a true love match, and he tried to reform, but occasionally fell out of grace. Carrie was very anti-Catholic and anti-drinking, to the end of her life. About her childhood, Mary said “They were very kind to me and often did without themselves to get me clothes, etc. I would have liked more freedom but we lived in the country and so had to entertain ourselves at home. I always hated farm life & was afraid most of the time of the animals.” “My sister often did all the home chores herself—no matter how tired she was—so I could do home work. “We went to Sunday School most all the time even tho we walked several miles.” In her spare time “Read—crocheted etc. & learned to sew. Very few movies.” “Holidays were for family & friends—always had a big dinner. lots of company. My sister always worked very hard to have these gatherings. We always had new outfits for Sunday School on Easter. Recipes: Oyster Dressing, Pumpkin Pie” Other things that stood out in her memory: “All the fun we had just being together with family & friends and how hard Dave & Carrie worked & to give us all the fun they could—even to sacrificing so much themselves.” “They (Dave and Carrie) wanted me to teach school but I didn’t want to do that.” Mary was an important person in the Moore household, and did well in school; she was clearly their hope for the future. However, she was somewhat rebellious and wanted to kick up her heels. “When I came home with my hair cut everybody cried. I must have looked terrible. Guess short hair was the ‘in thing’ at that time.” She had her hair bobbed, and “went to Baltimore [Ohio] with my father’s sister and went to work as a typist—attended Bryant-Stratton Business College in Baltimore.” Mary eventually ended up as a legal secretary, one of the best, and followed this career until she retired. During her career she worked for the State Attorney General’s office in Olympia, Washington, and for the Milton Eisenhower (brother of the president) firm in Tacoma, among others. In additon to working hard, Mary was stepping out, and having so much fun that her sister, with a reluctant Dave, decided that they had to come back to Baltimore to rescue her from the fleshpots. Mary had met a dashing young streetcar conductor named Albert Humphrey, and to fend off being carted back to Washington, married the young man. Dave and Carrie, foiled, had to head back to Washington emptyhanded. Albert quit his job, and Mary spent the next ten years supporting the wastrel, before she realized that she was in a dead-end marriage. Their marriage was childless, and Albert had convinced her that she was barren, a conviction that was very soon after her second marriage proved false. Disgusted with men, she divorced Albert and moved back to the West Coast. Mary had a close friend, Marguerite, who told her “I know you hate men; well, I have a man friend who doesn’t think much of women, either. I’m going to have to introduce you two.” And so she did. The man was Raymond Ginsbach. In Mary’s words, “I met him at a party before my girl friends wedding. He was an usher & I lighted the candles in the church aisle before the bride appeared. About June 1935.” She was attracted to him because “He was tall - dark & handsome & kind & loving.” They dated for “about 6 months” before he asked her to marry him. Unfortunately, he was Catholic, and Mary was a divorced woman, so it was not possible for them to be married in the church. Not wanting to be the cause of his excommunication, Mary fled to Santa Barbara, California. Ray soon followed, and on 30 January 1937, they were married “In an Episcopal parsonage”—Mary’s memory. Actually, It was Trinity Lutheran Church. The officiating clergyman was J. A. E. Naess and the witnesses were F. W. Taylor and Carolyn Taylor. For many years Mary and Ray tried to regularize their marriage in the eyes of the Church. The only way that they could have done so was by proving that Mary had never been baptized; then, according to the Pauline Privilege, she could be baptized a Catholic and married in the Church. Unfortunately, the small church in North Carolina where a lack of records would have proved that she had not been baptized, had burned to the ground along with all of its records. Mary’s sister Carrie knew that she had not been baptized, but was so anti-Catholic that she would not verify this information until after Ray had died. It is a measure of Mary’s character that she never held this against her sister. At the time of their marriage, Ray was a heavy equipment operator making pretty good money. Then he injured his back and was bedridden for quite a while, making it necessary for Mary to go to work. She was hired as a legal secretary by a local lawyer, after assuring him that she would not get pregnant (because Albert had convinced her that she was barren). Within a couple of months, however, Ray’s being immobile on his back notwithstanding, she found herself pregnant. Not wanting to bear her first child away from family, she prevailed upon Ray to return to Washington, a decision that she told me in her old age that she profoundly regretted. Margaret was born in December 1937. In 1940 Mary became pregnant again, this time with Marilynn. In October, when she was about seven months pregnant, they received a garbled telegram that led them to believe that Ray’s mother had died, and they headed back to South Dakota, much against Mary’s doctor’s advice. When they arrived, Ray’s mother came out onto the porch and they thought they were seeing a ghost. It turned out, of course, that his father, not his mother, had died. Mary was in great discomfort throughout the trip and always blamed it for the terrible time she had with Marilynn’s birth. She nearly died, and Marilynn was so badly bruised that they thought that she might not live either. Marilynn remembers her childhood in Chehalis, as they moved from one rented home to another, finally ending up in a new house which Ray hinself built. In about 1990 she and I drove to Chehalis, and one by one she took me to each house, including the last one, a still fine house which Ray had built with his own hands. During all of this time, and for most of the rest of her life, Mary was a legal secretary, mostly for private attorneys, but for the state attorney general’s office when they lived in Olympia. (The family moved to Olympia when Marilynn was about to begin her sophomore year in high school. By this time, Margaret was a student at Seattle University.) Margaret was always feckless (in Mary’s opinion) where boys were concerned, and Mary always made the mistake of showing her disdain at the boys she brought home. This was especially the case when she brought home Albert Krebs. I believe that Mary’s strong opposition actually drove them together. Margaret and Al were married in 1958 and the marriage only lasted about ten years. Al, like Mary’s first husband, was supported by his wife. I only know of one year in which Al actually had a job (teaching in an Oakland parochial school, about 1961-1962). I think that Mary was wrong about Margaret. Margaret was stubborn but not wrong-headed. I think that putting restraints upon offspring because one thinks that their behavior may deviate from the norm is simply wrong and may even precipitate that behavior. In fact, from nearly sixty years of perspective, Margaret has shown herself to be mature, hard-working, responsible, and at least as, perhaps more, caring a mother as (than) Mary. It is true that Margaret has sometimes chosen the wrong male companion. So too did Mary, and we can never put ourselves in one another’s place in making this choice. At any rate, Ray’s work was transferred to Tacoma. I think that the Caterpillar dealership in the Chehalis/Centralia area closed, but am not sure. So the family moved to Olympia, first living in a rented house off South Capitol Way not too far from Lincoln School, nor from my Uncle Jim Stanford’s house; then, after a short time, they moved up onto the east side of Olympia into a duplex which they had bought, which is where they lived when I was courting Marilynn. In the summer of 2003 I drove by the duplex; it had been converted into medical offices and the former front yard was a parking lot. Mary worked for the Attorney General’s office, and Ray commuted to the Caterpillar dealership in Tacoma. Their life continued on a fairly tranquil basis, interrupted by crises such as Margaret’s bringing home boyfriends that were anathema to Mary. (Mary once told me that she worried so much about Margaret because Margaret would do anything to please people. In reality, I think Mary saw too much of herself in Margaret.) Marilynn continued in school, doing well, and when she got to the age when she wanted to go to college, decided on Marylhurst, a small Catholic women’s college in Lake Oswego, Oregon, outside of Portland. The story of our courtship is best told elsewhere; suffice it to say that I showed up in the summer before Marilynn started college (1959) having already graduated myself (1957) and we dated once. The courtship proceeded by mail, and on the Christmas break, I proposed. Marilynn had invited me over to dinner, and her parents had been going to go out after dinner. Before they left, we said we had something to tell them, and when I said that I had asked Marilynn to marry me and she had accepted, Mary said, “I think I need to sit down for a minute.” However, I was accepted—I already had a good job and looked solid from that point of view. The wedding was arranged for the following summer. Right before the wedding, Mary fell on the sidewalk and badly injured her knees—as she had done just before Margaret’s wedding—but this time it wasn’t a bad omen. We were married and took off on our hectic honeymoon and began our new life in New Mexico. Then the phone call came that Ray had had a serious heart attack, and in a day or two he was dead (July 13, 1960). Ray’s notes describe our reaction. Mary loved Ray so very much and so very deeply. She was out of control for many months. When we entered the mortuary where he was on display in an open coffin, she let out a wail the likes of which I have heard only a couple of times in my life. I resolved then and there never to have myself displayed in that way; indeed, I intend to be cremated. Although Mary was a very strong, capable, and self-sufficient woman, until close to the end of her life she nevertheless defined herself by whom she was married to. Her life was empty to her after Ray died; he was the love of her life (and she, of his). When our son Clint was born, she and Mazie (Mary Ginsbach McLeod), Marilynn’s aunt, drove to Los Alamos to help Marilynn out with the baby. Mazie left after a few days, but Mary stayed on for Clint’s baptism. On the way home, in our miniscule Karmann Ghia, she was in the back seat, and we in the front seat were feeling so elated at our son’s baptism, when suddenly, once again, Mary let out with the wail. “Ray so would have enjoyed being here,” she sobbed, and, instantly sobered, we agreed. After a period of mourning, Mary started seeking another husband. I think she just couldn’t think about facing life without one. She brought one of these fellows with her to San Francisco to Margaret’s while I was in graduate school. His name was Werner, and he was German Swiss, and very critical of almost everything. Another one I never met because I was so busy with school. She attended dances at Eagles, Elks, etc. (Ray had been an Elk) and eventually met Harry Milton Freeman (Milt). Milt was the one she married. I have more to say about Milt under his name; I will say little about Milt here. I will attempt to analyze his character in his own set of notes. Suffice it to say that the marriage was not a good one from the start, except that Mary was very unwilling to call a halt to a commitment entered into before God, and Milt needed the cover of a marriage to conceal his pedophilic activities. They moved into a new home in Robin Hood Estates in the Lakewood area south of Tacoma. Mary was still commuting to Olympia and working for the state. Later she quit that job and became a legal secretary at the law office which included Milton Eisenhower, the brother of the late president. Eventually Mary sold the duplex in Olympia, Milt sold an older rental house in Tacoma, and they moved into the house into which he and his first wife had originally moved after they had been married, on South 72nd Street, and they had it nicely remodeled. Milt was a postman in Tacoma and lived conveniently close to his job. After Milt and Mary retired, they bought a trailer and then a fifth-wheeler and travelled about the country. They came and visited us in Michigan for several weeks, and for a number of years they summered in Tacoma and wintered in Hemet, California. Finally, some time after we had moved to California, they got rid of the fifth wheeler and the Tacoma house and bought a nice double-wide mobile home in a senior citizens’ park in Santa Maria, California, where they lived until their deaths. Mary dearly loved her daughters, but as concerned as she was about stability, I think that she wanted to settle near Marilynn in her old age, since she felt (rightly or wrongly) that we would be more able to help. I have already indicated above that I think all of her life she gravely underestimated Margaret’s intelligence and strength. Well, we did help, and most of this story is told in Milt’s notes. Milt was very set in his ways, and Mary, on the other hand, had many hobbies and interests, was gregarious and friendly, always had to be active. It was she who forced Milt to go on several world tours. I still remember her story about when when she was in China and came down with a terrible case of diarrhea, and had to be treated by a Chinese doctor. The doctor asked her how old she was, and she told the doctor eighty, and the doctor refused to believe it—“Our women, at 80, if they are still alive, sit in their chairs and rock.” Mary of course died on one of these world tours—in Stratford-on-Avon. Her death was sudden and unexpected (to us); heart attack; though the last pictures of her alive showed her looking very pale and gaunt. We got a call in the middle of the night; it was Milt, and as usual he had fallen apart. He wanted Marilynn to come to England and arrange the funeral. She refused and instructed him to have Mary cremated and to bring her ashes home, and dealt with the tour guide, to make sure that Milt could make it the rest of the way. Later, Marilynn and I were hugging and consoling each other, and I said, sobbing, “Thank God, your mom and dad are together again.” Mary was a wonderful woman. She had a strong personality and a strong spirit, but at the same time, lacked the self-confidence (until close to the end of her life) to manage her affairs without the help of a man. She was a true artist (or perhaps folk artist) who produced innumerable art works that will enrich her descendants for generations, particularly the bunka embroidery pictures that she undertook—some original, and some of which won prizes in the Santa Barbara County Fair. Mary was more of a mother to me (ZCM) than my own mother was, because of my mother’s steady debilitation over a period of about 25 years. At the same time, Mary was also a daughter to me, as I helped her through the tribulations based on Milt’s deviational behavior. I loved Mary as I have loved very few other people. She was good; she was strong; she was loving; she was steadfast; and she nearly died bringing into the world the person whom I love most on earth, her daughter Marilynn.
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