Thursday, April 17, 2014

Uncle Hubbard


This is the only picture of Hubbard Keen that I know of.
Here he is selling tomatoes(?) from the back of his pickup truck in Centerville, Delaware sometime in the 1920s.
Hubbard was my Grandfather Keen's older brother, son of Walter Hamilton Keen and Henrietta.

Uncle Jack Keen recently rather incidentally shared in an email;
"Uncle Hubbard was Dad's oder brother. He would come to our home at Thanksgiving & stay till New Yr. Bring turkey goose plus other produce.I played pinocle with him during Xmas holidays.He was an advanced agent for the Circus, might have been Ringling Bros. & baramun/Bailey circus. He had some great stories."


All we heard about Hubbard while we were growing up was this condensed tale:
Hubbard went out with her on Wednesday;
His father married her on Friday;
Hubbard went West and raised goats.
------------------------
EDIT:  Well, shoot. I just looked up the marriage record.  Louisa and Walter H were married on April 25, 1900, which was a Wednesday.  You'll just have to suspend that knowledge now, and go on with the story as traditionally told.
------------------------

When going through my father's papers, I came across a badly written composition for college freshman English class that told the rest of the story - at least as Newlin knew it.

Here is a 'warts and all' transcription of that paper - complete with the misspelling of both Hubbard and Louisa.

Biography of Uncle Hubbert

Uncle Hubbert was born in Wilmington about the year 1886 – the first of three children. His father was a preacher by gift , and a cabinet maker by trade. Because of limited finances, Hubbert quit school and took up the trade of tin-smith and metal-worker. His mother died just after his fifteenth birthday, and because his father could not afford a housekeeper the neighbors helped him and his father keep house.

After several months an attractive young lady of sixteen years, Miss Louise Hazelhurst, offered to be housekeeper for her room and board. She had left her own home because she did not get along well with her step-mother. She was welcomed to the job, and the family returned to their duties.

Uncle Hubbert, between the age of fifteen and sixteen was very nearly six feet tall, weighed about 170 pounds, and was very neat and manly in appearance. His character was that of nearly all preachers' sons of his time – he was a goody-goody at home and when he was in the presence of his father. The only bad habits he had were smoking and playing cards – the influence of the masters of his trade.

Uncle Hubbert had fallen in love with Louise, but this was not apparent about the house. They had dates, but they never left or returned to the house together. They nearly always met in Shellpot park for their little escapades. The love birds got to a point, on Wednesday evening, where he asked her to marry him. She consented, and they planned to elope the following Saturday. Time during the next two days passed slowly for Uncle Hubbert, as he had everything planned for the elopement on Saturday.

He was planning his life together with Louise. Friday night when he got home from work he got the shock of his life – he found that his father had married Louise in the afternoon. Saturday, after forcing himself to congratulate his father, he took his belongings and went to work, but he did not return.

With an “I don't care what happens” attitude, he headed north until he arrived at Philadelphia. Here he lived in a boarding home, and worked as a trolley car motor-man. During his wanderings at night he happened on a gambling joint. This was just the type of place he was looking for to make him forget his troubles. Being a good card player, he went home that evening with a good week salary obtained within a few hours. This continued for about a week, and then he quit his work and got a job playing cards for the gambling house. This environment just added to his disgust for women and what was right.

One night when he was more depressed than usual he indulged in the drinking of alcohol for the first time. When he got home early the following morning the boarding mistress was waiting for him because she had developed an interest in him, and was anxious about his safety.

She had found out where he was working nights and she could tell from his manner that he was not the type of young man to be in such places. That morning she managed to get him upstairs. He then related to her the story of what had happened at home and gave that as an excuse for being in his present condition. Emma, the boarding mistress, felt sorry for him and suggested that he travel to forget his troubles.

Soon he was bumming his way to California – only spending his money when his hard luck story for a meal didn't work. By the time he got to California, he was a pretty good judge of character because of his contacts with all classes of people. In California he joined the J.L.Barnes circus as a member of the lighting squad. Enthused about his work and pleased with himself, he wrote a letter to Emma thanking her for her kind advice and motherly interest. This letter started quite a correspondence between them. Years passed by and meanwhile Emma had left her husband and was following Uncle Hubbert from town to town. He had advanced from lighting squad to and advance advertising agent, and he made arrangements in the various towns before the circus arrived.

After ten years of service Uncle Hubbert was finally persuaded by Emma to leave the circus and to settle down in California on a goat farm with her.

The years with the circus had made him a shrewd businessman and a good conversationalist. It also created within him a strong desire to wander and gave him further opportunities to study character. Emma's influence, on the other hand, tended to steady him. He stopped gambling and playing cards, and for a while he gave up his wanderings. He was, however, still restless, and he soon became tired of California. They moved about from place to place – never staying long in one town.

At the present time they are living in a small town where they have lived for two years.



Orange - a short mischievous rambling on third grade


No stuff. Just story.
Logan's favorite color for a while was orange.
That reminded me of another little boy who liked orange.
Like everyone else in my first grade class, Peter Hendrickson was issued a box of 8 fat crayons.
He wanted to trade his blue crayon for my orange one.
We didn't trade, but he did manage to negotiate with other kids, and wound up with a majority of his crayons being orange.

Peter was also in my third grade class.  I think I would be embellishing history to claim that he had a favorite orange sweater that year. The sweater I remember could well have been in first grade.

In third grade there was a box in the front of the room where we put book reports. These were not really reports, but rather purple ditto forms that could be completed in five minutes - Title, Author, Main idea.
I don't know if the contest was official, but Peter and I were definitely competing to be the one who had read the most books.  As far as I am concerned, he cheated in a major way by getting chicken pox so that he could stay home and read for days and days.  Ricky McHugh might have been a contender, too, but he only read the skinniest books he could find, so, while annoying, he was hard to take seriously.

Our third grade teacher was Miss Coffin, and I suspect that she was new.  This was long before No Child Left Behind, so there was much more flexibility in the curriculum.
Miss Coffin was taking flying lessons, so her class learned to spell "fuselage" and "aileron" and to label the parts of an airplane on a line drawing.

Also, Miss Coffin mispronounced "mischievous".  She said  mis-CHE-vi-ous.
I have since learned that there has been much discussion of this word, and that she was clearly not the only one who used that pronunciation.  However, I was told at home that this was absolutely not right, and, indeed, on the subject of the extra syllable,  "evidence for the spelling goes back to the 16th century. Our pronunciation files contain modern attestations ranging from dialect speakers to Herbert Hoover. But both the pronunciation and the spelling are still considered nonstandard." (merriam-webster site)

NOTE TO SIBLINGS:  Not nearly as good a tale as "Afaghanstan", I know,but it's all I've got.