"A Taurus woman is a tall woman. Tall in individuality and in character. She can reach tall enough to meet almost any emergency life throws her way. She is the salt of the earth, a combination of most of the qualities a mate looks for and doesn't often find. She may have a temper, but she won't go through the roof without good provocation. She'll play life's game with cool, admirable calm under the most difficult of trials. Her candor and honesty are undiluted by the standard feminine tricks and tears. The Taurean girl has more moral and emotional courage than many a tough male, and enough confidence in her sex to let him be the boss. But if he can't, she'll take over and run things herself. She seeks a real man, because she knows she's a real woman. She has a mind of her own, and she knows how to use it." (Sun Signs by Linda Goodman)
* * *
"Personal discontent will run away with you and make a muddle of your life if you don't learn to control your critical attitude toward other people...You have an aggressive and adventurous spirit, and in both a figurative and geographic sense, are likely to wander a good deal during your years on earth..People are always coming to you with wild yarns about your friends. Don't allow yourself to listen to idle talk...Your sound mentality gives an assurance against serious mental difficulties, which will carry you through a whole lot of stress...Stubbornness is marked, and you are a tough customer to make change your mind once you've made it up...You are popular with the opposite sex, with a robust magnetism and fire to your personality that comes from high good spirits...You have more than your share of admirers. You are loyal, devoted, ardent, with a measure of idealism. And you are easy to look at, with a magnetic aura around you. Sex appeal trimmed with idealism...There is a mystic, inspirational bent about you. Though you were comfortable as a youth, you will find your material path difficult. You will do your best on your own. Work for and among strangers...You are careful with money, but never seem to have enough..." (Heaven Knows What by Grant Lewi)
* * *
Florida Gay was known most her life as Gay, but she later changed it to Fay, a contraction of her first two names.
She was of medium height and stature...probably tall for a woman, although the years slumped her shoulders. She had blue eyes, dark auburn hair, and soft features, probably plain, although she had the mouth and jaw of a Taurus woman.
Gay was born 10 May, 1888 in Grafton, Taylor County, West Virginia. Her family had a farm in the Grafton area and, according to grandson Ron's biographical letter, Gay "hated farming with a passion and left the farm when she was sixteen years old. She traveled to Akron, Ohio" where factories were springing up to manufacture tires for the "horseless carriage." She got a job with Goodrich Tire & Rubber Company, one of the several young companies opening
for business and drawing multitudes to work in the factories from the surrounding states.
It would be speculation to say that after living in Akron and working in the shops for five years, saving her money, she decided to return to her loved ones in West Virginia. Her father had sold the farm in Grafton and bought another one in Elkins, in Randolph County. There her older sister, Stella, who had married in 1897, lived with her husband and family.
Older sister Cora had married in 1902, and even younger sister Rosa got married in 1909. Gay was still single. She had probably come back to Elkins for Rose's wedding, and stayed. Gay is listed for the 1910 Federal census as residing with her sister Stella and brother-in-law Perry Poling, at age 22.
There was a non-relative residing at the Polings according to the census and, although again speculating, it might well have been her future husband, Dallie Davis, from Mannington over in Marion County. Dallie's grandmother, Lodema Grooms, had died in 1907, and he had been raised by his mother, Delphia Davis, in the home of his grandparents. This might well have brought Dallie out of Marion County to Elkins.
Gay was as independent as any woman before or since. But she had the Taurean need for security, emotional as much as material. She was every bit a woman, able to have and raise children. She could be loyal, devoted, and ardent in her relationship with a husband. And she was the only one of the sisters without the secure warmth of her own hearth.
* * *
On Saturday, 2 April, 1910, John F. Phillips, Clerk of Court for Marion County, signed an application for a marriage license for the eager young couple.
Florida Gay Ramsey, 22 years old, of Taylor County, and Dallie A. Davis, 21, of Marion County. Both gave their place of residence as Joetown. Dallie would turn 21 on 12 March, 1912.
They were wed that same day at the house of the Reverend John Slaughter in Joetown. Gay's brother-in-law, the good Reverend John, presided. Her sister, Rosa Slaughter, was her maid of honor.
I have no way of knowing who attended their wedding, but I might speculate that Dallie's mother, Delphia Davis was there, perhaps his uncle, Daniel Grooms, and Aunt Cora and grandfather Lewis J. Grooms as well. I would expect that the Ramsey sisters Stella Poling with husband Perry, and Cora and George Pennell attended. And surely brother Elmer Ramsey and family. Perhaps not. I know the Ramsey sisters were fairly close to one another, judging by their relationships in later years. But it is so difficult to judge wedding events, which are sometimes spur-of-the-moment occasions.
* * *
Their first child was Phillip Ronald Dallie. He was born 26 March, 1911, a Sunday, in Marion County. I don't know very much about Phillip. He was a handsome, blue-eyed, well-built lad with thick, silky blonde hair; well-boned, chubby-cheeked with the Aries look in his eyes. He might have grown up to dominant stature in his family.
If he'd believed in astrology, as an Aries with a moon in Aquarius, Phillip's horoscope might say he had a magnetic personality and was highly social, almost with an arrogance, It might also say he was sensitive, could be undemanding and affectionate; that he was serious minded, occasionally tending to moodiness, depression and self pity on the down side.
On the up side, a strong sense of worth, an inner drive. His horoscope might say Phillip would grow up to be a planner and a doer strong for duty and obligation; in early years somewhat timid covered by bravado.
Greatly influenced by one or both parents, he'd have a strong personality with considerable reserve and secretiveness. As a teen he'd tend to precociousness and sensationalism, one who would be tough to change his mind. Phillip might be independent to the point he'd hurt his parents, cold when he needed to be.
An aristocrat, adventurous and courageous, an extreme individualist and a reactionary capitalist who would develop a high self-esteem and little patience with lesser-minded people. He'd have a sound intellect, romantic but non-impulsive idealist; an analytic go-getter, worldly wise with sensitivity and perception, able to combine the ideal with the practical, the abstract with the concrete, could capture the imaginations of men. If Phillip had grown up, he ultimately would have found himself moving in the right circles.
It was recorded in Death Record Volume 3, page 39.
Phillip R.D. Davis died on the 14th of December, 1913. It is reported by family members that Phillip died of Pneumonia. On that Thursday when he died, Phillip was 2 years, 8 months and 18 days old.
No one got to know Phillip R.D., not even his mother, who in her lovingly elegant down home way, commemorated his passing with a poem:
Our Dear One,..............
Phillip Ronald Dallie Davis
Born March 26, 1911........
Died Dec. 14, 1913.........
Age 2 yrs. 8 mos. 18 days..
We had a little treasure once,.....
He was our joy and pride,.........
We loved him, ah! perhaps too well,
For soon he slept and died........
All is dark within our dwelling,...
Lonely are our hearts today,......
For the one we loved so dearly,....
Has forever passed away...........
Some time in 1928, as related to me by Cousin Jo, Rose had phoned Gay one day from West Virginia. During the course of their conversation she asked when Gay was going to marry Burns. Gay said they already were married. There is no record of a divorce filed against Dallie Davis in the Summit County records. And, to my knowledge, there is no record of such a divorce in either Randolph or Marion Counties. This is not to infer anything other than my own person belief that when Gay reported herself to the Akron City Directory census workers in 1935 as widowed from Dallie, she had reason to believe Dallie was dead, and had been dead for a period of time.
Gay is reported to have been laid off from Firestone in 1926, and hired in at Goodyear 'immediately.' I don't know when she was laid off, but I do know she was hired at Goodyear Tire & Rubber Company on 29 March, 1929.
During the period from 1928 to 1930 Gay was the object of another of many tragedies she had to endure in her life. Her intended, Robert Burns, was fatally injured in an auto accident.
I have no "proper" way to gage the emotion she felt at this news, but, being of her blood, I can sense it. I can sense the enormity of this burden to her, just in the pattern of dilemmas she had to endure, and the way she did endure them over her life span. The loss of Burns showed the most notable deviation from her normal recovery of trials, and the way she didn't handle this one.
Gay's way of dealing with personal tragedies was to mourn, and then to bounce back, to respond, to recover.
Gay didn't recover from her loss of Bob Burns. The Akron City Directory listed her for 1930, AFTER the accident, as:
"Mrs. Gay F. Burns wks Goodyear, 58 W. Thornton St.'
Donna L. Burns (student) 58 W. Thornton St."
In 1931 the listing was:
"Donna L. Burns 18 W. Voris St.
Mrs. Gay F. Burns 18 W. Voris St."
In 1933 the listing was:
"Mrs. Gay F. Burns 21 E. South St.
Donna L. Davis 21 E. South St."
* * *
The marriage of her daughter Donna at the young age of 15+ years, as noted in an earlier chapter, suggested to me an unusual loneliness in the girl, characterized by her reaching out for permanent companionship to replace the mother she had "lost" twice.
* * *
Indeed, in my totally unscientific layman's attempt to analyze Donna's signature on her application for marriage, and without reason for pre-judgement, I had determined that Donna's mood was gloomy, oversensitive and depressed; some indications of unhappiness, disappointment and discouragement. I did and do assign some reason for this mood to the growing lump in her brain.
But the occasion of marriage is usually celebrated by excitement, expectation, nervousness to be sure, but significant joy -- not gloominess or unhappiness.
This appeared to be the desperate act of an over-emotional teenager, angry and confused by the "rejection" of the mother who loved and protected her.
It had been some time in 1930, Cousin Jo said, that Donna had written to her. Donna was lonely, She had nothing to do. her mother worked all day, and "hit the beer gardens after work". Then Donna wrote to tell her cousin that "she met the best looking guy."
* * *
"Young Florida Gay had a robust, physical and sensuous response to emotional 'vibration'. In love she was demonstrative, affectionate and passionate. Raised to its best, she elevated physical, earthly love to a high spiritual plane; she understood the beauty of true union and the union of true beauty. She understood love deeply and accepted it with her whole being. She would cling to a love once given and received, with unbelievable tenacity...even in the face of great obstacles.
Gay was not a grasping woman...she entertained the idealist form of love. Her first experience of giving freely of herself was wholly innocent of inner motives. Surely the collapse of that romance had left her confused, almost certainly insecure, for security is the first rule of survival of a Taurean. Gay was not likely to forget the pain and loneliness of that failure.
But she believed in love, in its earthly as well as its spiritual form, and would not be content until she could find both in one person." (paraphrased from Heaven Knows What).
That person had been Robert Burns. And now he was gone.
So strongly did she feel that loss that she would never marry again, or seemingly want to marry again.
Gay had already lost her older sister, Stella in 1922. Then, Papa Philip passed away in July of 1930. Mamma and Papa both died, Stella gone; her first marriage a failure, her great true love killed in a car accident, her firstborn dead at two and a half, and now her daughter married in "rebellion".
This was Gay in 1930. She would go on, but she would be a greatly changed Gay; tougher, harder, more protective of her offspring, less giving to strangers, more stubborn than the toughest glue...and, yes, a more confirmed drinker. God knows, she had a reason!
* * *
The hard times that followed the Stock Market crash of 1929 shattered families and industries in Akron. An alphabet soup of work relief agencies came into Akron and the country, sponsored by the Roosevelt Administration -- WPA, PWA, CCC, etc., all designed to provide jobs and relief for the unemployed. Wages averaged from $55 a month for people with little or no particular skills to $94 a month for technicians and other trained workers. By 1933 Akron had 21,000 people drawing a wage on WPA, and 12,000 families getting relief payments.
The trucking industry in Akron found relief when local truckers out of work were given jobs hauling tires from the rubber industry to out-of-town markets, picking up return loads on the way back. Even so, the tire industry fell off, losing sales in the first three years of $50 million per year. By 1933 eight out of 11 banks were out of business. Of the multitude of rubber entrepreneurs in Akron who built up the industry, only Goodyear, Goodrich, Firestone, General, Seiberling and Mohawk Rubber Companies survived to the end of the Depression in Akron.
The National Industry Recovery Act was legislated to insure a fair price for manufactured goods, with the intent to prevent wages being cut, lowering the country's purchasing power. The workers got the same income, but there were fewer workers, as payrolls were cut. Unemployment increased. The National Industry Recovery Act was replaced by the Wagner Act and the National Labor Relations Act which, in effect, promoted unionism. The sit-down strike became routine in Akron's shops since Akron's imaginative business leaders were a hard-headed lot, fighting for national and world markets.
The unionism which grew out of this was compounded by a distress and fear psychology between shrewd politicians, economic amateurs seeking to remake a world they didn't understand, and radical union speakers pouring into Akron shouting to workers to stand up and be counted. Men stood all through the night in front of plants, pounding on steel poles with hammers. Unemployed men, men up from the coal mines, in the coldest winter Akron had seen in years. WPA workers dropped their shovels and took part, telling their foremen to go to hell, defying law, tearing down court injunctions, overwhelming judges, police and sheriffs, setting up picket shanties on the streets. And, in the background, Communist agitators pouring oil on the flames of discontent, hoping to stir up some sort of revolution, and making pawns out of well-meaning people. It was a psychological phenomenon such as neither Akron nor the nation had seen and in a dramatic fashion it hit Akron first. Industrial warfare followed the strikes in just a few months with Toledo and Chicago "hatchet" men roaming the Akron shops, compelling men to join up. Outlaw strikes broke out, lasting a few hours or several days, playing havoc with production schedules and sending work out of town. Crusading unionists carried the battle to industries and merchants all over town, with platoons of pickets sent to Youngstown steel plants and rubber workers picketing Akron's major printing firms. It was months before things quieted down. Curiously, one thing that came out of this period was the six-hour work day in the rubber shops, which had started with the employers during the Depression to "spread the work around" and became a union article of demand for all Akron's industry. However, it stuck only in the rubber shops, and only in Akron.
The Thirties also brought to Akron the marathon dance craze, and packing-crate hobo camps where community "residents" cooked in discarded cans over open fires and hung their clothes from tree limbs. Called Hoovervilles, they sprang up on empty land. Akron also saw the never-ending unemployment lines, soup lines, and bread lines, as people waited in line to sign up for relief.
Once-grand stage theaters in Akron, such as the Grand Theater on North Main, turned into third-rate burlesque houses. On Main Street pedestrians milled back and forth along the shops, as the occasional shabbily-dressed man was seen selling apples or bus tickets.
The fierce competition of the Depression days created a favorable atmosphere for the growth of long-distance truck lines, many of them born in Akron. All States Freight was created in 1931 by two Chevrolet dealers, Darby Thornton and Louis Cahrvoz, with seven repossessed trucks. The company merged with Pacific Intermountain Express in 1965. Scripps-Howard's Times Press merged with Knight's Beacon Journal since the town couldn't support two newspapers. WPA men built 40 miles of streets in Akron between 1936 and 1939, and canning surplus food became another WPA industry, this one for the ladies. Townsend Clubs sprang up to distribute $200 monthly to the elderly on the provision they spent it within a month to keep the money in circulation. In spite of its tribulations, Akron produced some notable sports figures, including Gene Woodling of Goodyear, who went on to the New York Yankees, and William "Gorilla" Jones, who won the NBA world middleweight championship in 1931, defeating "Tiger" Thomas in ten rounds.
* * *
During the Thirties Gay's trials continued and her 'mettle' was tested again and again.
Although Donna was only fifteen when she and Osborne (or Oscar as he liked to be called) married in 1930, her age had been given as eighteen, the age of consent. The marriage was like a roller coaster, up and down, in and out.
By 1933 Donna was living with Gay at 21 East South Street and Osborne was staying some place at 206 South College Street. These residences are long since demolished so there is no ready way to know whether they were homes, apartments, rooming houses, or what; but in Osborne's case, very likely a rooming house.
Since Donna was still a minor and wanted a divorce from Osborne, Gay had to file for Donna as a "friend of the complainant". Or perhaps the divorce was Gay's idea, and she simply influenced her daughter. Gay still distrusted men, knew her daughter was still inexperienced, and still had her maternal urge to protect her offspring. And Donna's tumor was very possibly manifesting itself in Donna's behavior. Gay would not have had any notion of that. How could she? In any case, the petition was filed, and Donna was back with Gay, if she'd ever left for any length of time.
* * *
...this man was also impulsive. He liked his independence, and could be rebellious. A candid man, he had a frank and blunt way of relating to people. And he had a love of ease and comfort in his home. Environment played largely in his outlook...
Donna's divorce from him was just a few months old. Gay was concerned that her grandchild have a name, a father. She asked Osborne to stay to give the child a 'name', "make him legitimate." Gay allegedly pleaded with Osborne. He finally said he would if she would let him stay there. She always felt Osborne was lazy and wouldn't work, but agreed. She bought his food, some clothes and cigarettes. Osborne went to bed with Donna that night." (Jo Meadows)
If this allegation was true, it would have been a bitter pill for Gay to swallow, another reason to have a strong distaste for the "higher attributes" of men. But her child and her grandchild were of first importance and consideration. In any case, she would do what she found necessary to do.
In 1934, 1935, Gay lived at 932 May Court off South Street in Akron with Donna and Osborne. Osborne was working at the American Hard Rubber Company on McKinley.
* * *
In June of 1936 Gay's daughter was sitting in an operating room at Cleveland Clinic waiting for a major neurological procedure to begin. Gay didn't understand all the doctor talk, but she knew it was serious, perhaps fatal. She was facing the real possibility of losing her only other child, her Donna. Another crisis. Another hard coat of protective shell.
Donna survived. The crisis was over, although it left her daughter marked, both physically and, inexplicably, mentally. Donna wasn't quite the same person she had been before.
* * *
Gay moved to 12 East Voris Street, renting from her old landlord, Charlie Godar. Donna went along with her. Whether at the urging of Gay, or because of the petition Osborne had filed for divorce just a few months after they had remarried in 1933. They had remarried in August of that year, but the November following Donna's surgery in 1936, Osborne filed for divorce from Donna, alleging misconduct. In any case, Donna was in no condition for this legal nonsense.
Gay and Donna stayed together through 1938 and the birth of Donna's second son -- this time no legitimacy. But Donna loved her baby all the same. All Gay cared about was that there was some contentment in her household. There had been some visits from sister Rose, now divorced herself, and from Rose's daughter, Josephine, now married and always close friends with her cousin Donna in Akron. Occasionally, Jo's father, John Slaughter, would accompany Jo on a visit to Gay's in Akron. Once in a while Stella's boy, Roscoe and his family would show up. Life was settling down into something of a routine.
Sadness continued to dog Gay through the Thirties. Her second oldest sister, Cora, died in 1934. Cora had died young, at the age of 47. Stella had only been 47 when she died in 1922.
* * *
In July of 1939, Donna married Elmer Corbin. They took an apartment in the upstairs rear of 89 West Crosier Street, a large white house set up on a small hill away from the street, behind a retaining wall. It was another one of those places that I had passed for the many years I had gone to school in the area after her death. Gay continued living at 12 East Voris Street, renting from old Charlie Godar, his son, Charles and daughter, Ardell still living there at home. Gay had several friends whom I'm sure visited here, or who she would drop in on, although I never knew Gay to be one who visited, except on rare occasions. Those rare occasions included her friend Rachel and husband, Perry. Another ex-landlord and old friend, Pat Patterson, had a place on South Main Street, between Voris and South Streets. He used to love to fish, and my simple memory of that gentleman was that he was the neighborhood angler. A pleasant sort, of comfortable stature, a little rotund, a smooth and smiling face, and a pleasant voice. Contrast to Rachel, who was a little raspy and screechy, especially when husband Perry let her run out of beer. Gay was friends with the Warings, Earl and Dorothy, and Earl's parents.
She was also visited from time to time by one of Bob Burn's chums, Dave Tillet, for whom she allegedly developed a friendly fondness. He was supposed to be "sweet" on Gay. But she was a "one-man" woman, even if he wasn't around anymore. Some of her buddies were drinking cronies, like Joe Bradley and his woman, Lulu. They used to get together at Rosie's Bar near Main and South; or the Carrioca Bar around the corner on South Street, between Main and High. Gay knew most of the bar owners on Main Street, from Thornton south to Miller Avenue. Not that she was a tippler; these bars were simply where she could expect to find a crowd of gossip chums. Gay was a sociable lady, even though she had her moments when she craved solitude. She was also lonely and only the camaraderie of her drinking buddies would keep away her blues. After all, her life was basically 'go to work, go home, visit the bars'. Not much of a life, but it was all she had. When Donna wasn't around. Gay doted on Donna. She stepped into the breech whenever there was trouble or strife. Her door was always open to her daughter, regardless of the occasion. It was as if Donna had two homes...one with whomever she was trying to establish a family and a life; and one with her protector, Gay.
Gay continued to live on Voris Street into the war years. She used to take the Crosstown bus to work from the Main/South Street neighborhood. The run was there especially for people who lived in the neighborhood and worked at the rubber plants 'across town'. She had been laid off January 24, 1938, just a couple of months before her second grandson was born, but she was called back April 29th of that year. She was again laid off March 31, 1939, and rehired back over four months later on August 7th. Gay had begun using her original married name in 1934 and 1935, listing herself in the Akron City Directory as the widow of Dallie Davis. This was about the time she would have gone home to West Virginia for the funeral of her sister, Cora. Perhaps she learned of Dallie's death from a relative or acquaintance. Perhaps, as Ron suggested, Gay would have acknowledged Dallie as dead in her life by referring to herself as his widow. But she continued to use her former married name, Davis, until 1943, when she was listed in the directory as Fay Ramsey, her maiden name. She still lived on Voris Street, while Donna and her family moved around, finding themselves at 881 South Main Street, close by Gay's place. Elmer had gotten a job at Minnesota Mining & Manufacturing in Akron. I'm not sure what he did.
* * *
During the years of World War II I know nothing of Gay's life, except I'm certain that in some fashion or other Donna was a major part of it. Her grandchildren surely floated through her life as Donna and Elmer moved from one home to another, looking for a better life. Gay always provided that sense of stability in a time of conflict and turmoil. And Gay had her friends she could visit on a Sunday afternoon as surely as she was to call on Rachel and Perry in later years, or would have George Rye over for a Sunday afternoon chicken dinner and an afternoon of conversation.
* * *
There is some minor controversy over how much, if anything, Gay had to do with chastising Elmer, and consequently Donna's winding up in county jail over the child neglect charge, or even whether Donna had fled Gay's criticism in late 1945. However, it is shown that Gay had finally moved from 12 East Voris Street to an apartment on Wrigley Avenue off East Market Street near the Goodyear Plant 2 and 4. This would have been in November. The following January Gay took the place on Perkins Street, and at the end of that fateful month her daughter suffered a seizure, convulsing from a cerebral hemorrhage while staying there with her. The episode was short lived as Donna died just a few days after her seizure.
* * *
Some time probably in 1947 Gay took an apartment in the home of friends Charles and Bess at 871 Yale Avenue and managed to gain the release of her grandson, Ron, from the Children's Home. My turn came centuries later, some time between September 3rd and October 27th of that year. It would be many, many years before I would realize and understand the significance of the sacrifice Gay made to keep her grandchildren together. Our Lives, Ron's and mine, were quite comfortable. He and I ate like horses. We were warm in the winter, clean, and in good health. Each Christmas, while the quantity of toys was sparse, we had at least one brand new toy to play with under our pine green Christmas tree, and candy enough to enjoy with our Christmas fruit. I wouldn't know until years later that Gay had what amounted to a lifetime contract with the Dial Finance Company. As soon as a loan was paid off, she'd have to take out another. Gay saw to her boys.
In 1948 I registered with Lincoln School on September 8th as residing at 940 South Main Street, where Gay had a single large room on the second floor, she occupying a bed in one corner, Ron and I sharing one in the opposite corner. We shared a kitchen with the landlady, a grizzled old gal named Marie, and her retired help, an old Italian gentleman named Atlee. He barely spoke English.
* * *
I also learned many years later that Gay had tried to get her granddaughters, Patty and Jackie, out of the Children's Home, but had the problem of a baby sitter, because Jackie was so young. We lived at 940 from between February and September of 1948, and January to September of 1950, and it was some time in this period that Elmer had paid Gay a visit. Again, I learned later that during that call Gay had tried to get Elmer to somehow come in with her to get the girls out of the home. I don't know the nature of the conversation, but it didn't succeed. The girls were placed before Gay could find a way. She never talked about it to me, but I know it broke her heart.
By September 1950 we were living at 1009-1/2 South Main Street and Gay's life was marked by her struggles in bring up two now-teenaged boys. Gay went on sick leave from her job from April 16 to May 7, 1951. She was 63 years old by this time. Ron and I were all over South Akron. For a time he ran with a bunch called the Amboy Dukes, which mostly hung out in a bowling alley near the Goodrich Tire plant on Main Street. Then he met a young teen lady by the name of Patty Kipp.
I was a loner who would take up with a kid from school named Ray Hall, and he and I managed to give Gay much grief, landing in the detention home on a purse snatching and breaking and entering charge. Because Gay was drinking fairly heavily by this time in her life, she was considered by the 'bleeding hearts' to be a risk for my future, and I was given to live with my now-married brother. Gay was again alone.
* * *
Gay suffered two strokes, the second of which precipitated her retirement from Goodyear, after giving that company 26 years and five months of service.
Her career at Goodyear included her work as a Finish Operator in Department 156E, Test Tanks in Department 156C, Mop and Scrub in Department 191A, Laundry Room in Department 191C. She also worked the Clicking Machine in 166E, moving to Inspector and Quality Checker, and Trim Dry Auto. Certainly some of her job moves came about when she had to 'bump' other employees through her use of seniority to avoid layoff. She could earn as much as $60 a week.
Gay's illness caused her to initiate retirement from Goodyear effective April 1, 1956, on the advice of her physician, Earl W. Wharton. His offices were at 1257 North Main Street. She would have one of her 'boys', Ron, take her across town to see him for appointments.
While Gay knew many people, she lived a solitary life, spending her final years puttering about her three-room apartment, watching some TV. (Although I don't think she approved of the gadget, there weren't many things for her to preoccupy her time, even though she read and crocheted.) She couldn't walk up the street to the grocery like she once used to. The doctor wanted her to keep her blood pressure down. Her stroke had left her somewhat incapacitated, although nothing incapacitated her to any great degree.
On my final visit to her home, while moving between Air Force assignments from Long Island, New York to the gray grassy wastes of Ozona, Texas, she lay in bed one sunny afternoon, fully clothed, as was her occasional custom, resting. She was sad. I've been witness to many of Gay's moods in the past without ever recognizing them, but I recognized her sadness.
I used to 'prowl', as she called it, around her apartment, my home --- as it always was --- fingering her jewelry, her pictures, bric-a-brac, looking for some new acquirement, more a habit of nervous energy than curiosity.
I don't recall the topic of our conversation. As with most visits, our conversations rambled from topic to topic, her interest always in my welfare, my future betterment. Our topic switched to my next visit with her in passing through town. She was crying as she was telling me she'd never see me again. I'd never seen Grandma cry in my entire life. She said she had been feeling so poorly of late, she didn't think she'd be around to see me get my discharge in two years. Texas was a long way off, and I'd not be back to Ohio for months.
Being the typical know-it-all, have-all-the-answers grandson, I assured her she'd see me again, many times, and I tried to console her in her depression. Her crying disturbed me greatly, She had seen me through some really mean times. I just didn't have enough to give back to her, and I was emotionally too stingy to give her all I had. She was just Grandma, who wasn't feeling up to par today.
At 11:45 P.M. on June 20, 1959, Grandma succumbed. She was pronounced dead of a cerebral hemorrhage, the result of hypertensive cardiovascular disease. D.O.A. at City Hospital. She died in the same hospital in the same way as her daughter whom she loved so much.
She had expired while giving one last time for her grandchildren, in the company of her great grandchildren. She was babysitting her great grandchild, Patricia Lynn Bosley, while the parents were attending a function. Gay would have wanted to go no other way, but to be with one of her children.
* * * was also impulsive. He liked his independence, and could be rebellious. A candid man, he had a frank and blunt way of relating to people. And he had a love of ease and comfort in his home. Environment played largely in his outlook.
Donna's divorce from him was just a few months old. Gay was concerned that her grandchild have a name, a father. She asked Osborne to stay to give the child a 'name', "make him legitimate." Gay allegedly pleaded with Osborne. He finally said he would if she would let him stay there. She always felt Osborne was lazy and wouldn't work, but agreed. She bought his food, some clothes and cigarettes. Osborne went to bed with Donna that night." (Jo Meadows)
If this allegation was true, it would have been a bitter pill for Gay to swallow, another reason to have a strong distaste for the "higher attributes" of men. But her child and her grandchild were of first importance and consideration. In any case, she would do what she found necessary to do.
In 1934, 1935, Gay lived at 932 May Court off South Street in Akron with Donna and Osborne. Osborne was working at the American Hard Rubber Company on McKinley.
* * *
In June of 1936 Gay's daughter was sitting in an operating room at Cleveland Clinic waiting for a major neurological procedure to begin. Gay didn't understand all the doctor talk, but she knew it was serious, perhaps fatal. She was facing the real possibility of losing her only other child, her Donna. Another crisis. Another hard coat of protective shell.
Donna survived. The crisis was over, although it left her daughter marked, both physically and, inexplicably, mentally. Donna wasn't quite the same person she had been before.
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Gay moved to 12 East Voris Street, renting from her old landlord, Charlie Godar. Donna went along with her. Whether at the urging of Gay, or because of the petition Osborne had filed for divorce just a few months after they had remarried in 1933. They had remarried in August of that year, but the November following Donna's surgery in 1936, Osborne filed for divorce from Donna, alleging misconduct. In any case, Donna was in no condition for this legal nonsense.
Gay and Donna stayed together through 1938 and the birth of Donna's second son -- this time no legitimacy. But Donna loved her baby all the same. All Gay cared about was that there was some contentment in her household. There had been some visits from sister Rose, now divorced herself, and from Rose's daughter, Josephine, now married and always close friends with her cousin Donna in Akron. Occasionally, Jo's father, John Slaughter, would accompany Jo on a visit to Gay's in Akron. Once in a while Stella's boy, Roscoe and his family would show up. Life was settling down into something of a routine.
Sadness continued to dog Gay through the Thirties. Her second oldest sister, Cora, died in 1934. Cora had died young, at the age of 47. Stella had only been 47 when she died in 1922.
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In July of 1939, Donna married Elmer Corbin. They took an apartment in the upstairs rear of 89 West Crosier Street, a large white house set up on a small hill away from the street, behind a retaining wall. It was another one of those places that I had passed for the many years I had gone to school in the area after her death. Gay continued living at 12 East Voris Street, renting from old Charlie Godar, his son, Charles and daughter, Ardell still living there at home. Gay had several friends whom I'm sure visited here, or who she would drop in on, although I never knew Gay to be one who visited, except on rare occasions. Those rare occasions included her friend Rachel and husband, Perry. Another ex-landlord and old friend, Pat Patterson, had a place on South Main Street, between Voris and South Streets. He used to love to fish, and my simple memory of that gentleman was that he was the neighborhood angler. A pleasant sort, of comfortable stature, a little rotund, a smooth and smiling face, and a pleasant voice. Contrast to Rachel, who was a little raspy and screechy, especially when husband Perry let her run out of beer. Gay was friends with the Warings, Earl and Dorothy, and Earl's parents.
She was also visited from time to time by one of Bob Burn's chums, Dave Tillet, for whom she allegedly developed a friendly fondness. He was supposed to be "sweet" on Gay. But she was a "one-man" woman, even if he wasn't around anymore. Some of her buddies were drinking cronies, like Joe Bradley and his woman, Lulu. They used to get together at Rosie's Bar near Main and South; or the Carrioca Bar around the corner on South Street, between Main and High. Gay knew most of the bar owners on Main Street, from Thornton south to Miller Avenue. Not that she was a tippler; these bars were simply where she could expect to find a crowd of gossip chums. Gay was a sociable lady, even though she had her moments when she craved solitude. She was also lonely and only the camaraderie of her drinking buddies would keep away her blues. After all, her life was basically 'go to work, go home, visit the bars'. Not much of a life, but it was all she had. When Donna wasn't around. Gay doted on Donna. She stepped into the breech whenever there was trouble or strife. Her door was always open to her daughter, regardless of the occasion. It was as if Donna had two homes...one with whomever she was trying to establish a family and a life; and one with her protector, Gay.
Gay continued to live on Voris Street into the war years. She used to take the Crosstown bus to work from the Main/South Street neighborhood. The run was there especially for people who lived in the neighborhood and worked at the rubber plants 'across town'. She had been laid off January 24, 1938, just a couple of months before her second grandson was born, but she was called back April 29th of that year. She was again laid off March 31, 1939, and rehired back over four months later on August 7th. Gay had begun using her original married name in 1934 and 1935, listing herself in the Akron City Directory as the widow of Dallie Davis. This was about the time she would have gone home to West Virginia for the funeral of her sister, Cora. Perhaps she learned of Dallie's death from a relative or acquaintance. Perhaps, as Ron suggested, Gay would have acknowledged Dallie as dead in her life by referring to herself as his widow. But she continued to use her former married name, Davis, until 1943, when she was listed in the directory as Fay Ramsey, her maiden name. She still lived on Voris Street, while Donna and her family moved around, finding themselves at 881 South Main Street, close by Gay's place. Elmer had gotten a job at Minnesota Mining & Manufacturing in Akron. I'm not sure what he did.
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During the years of World War II I know nothing of Gay's life, except I'm certain that in some fashion or other Donna was a major part of it. Her grandchildren surely floated through her life as Donna and Elmer moved from one home to another, looking for a better life. Gay always provided that sense of stability in a time of conflict and turmoil. And Gay had her friends she could visit on a Sunday afternoon as surely as she was to call on Rachel and Perry in later years, or would have George Rye over for a Sunday afternoon chicken dinner and an afternoon of conversation.
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There is some minor controversy over how much, if anything, Gay had to do with chastising Elmer, and consequently Donna's winding up in county jail over the child neglect charge, or even whether Donna had fled Gay's criticism in late 1945. However, it is shown that Gay had finally moved from 12 East Voris Street to an apartment on Wrigley Avenue off East Market Street near the Goodyear Plant 2 and 4. This would have been in November. The following January Gay took the place on Perkins Street, and at the end of that fateful month her daughter suffered a seizure, convulsing from a cerebral hemorrhage while staying there with her. The episode was short lived as Donna died just a few days after her seizure.
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Some time probably in 1947 Gay took an apartment in the home of friends Charles and Bess at 871 Yale Avenue and managed to gain the release of her grandson, Ron, from the Children's Home. My turn came centuries later, some time between September 3rd and October 27th of that year. It would be many, many years before I would realize and understand the significance of the sacrifice Gay made to keep her grandchildren together. Our Lives, Ron's and mine, were quite comfortable. He and I ate like horses. We were warm in the winter, clean, and in good health. Each Christmas, while the quantity of toys was sparse, we had at least one brand new toy to play with under our pine green Christmas tree, and candy enough to enjoy with our Christmas fruit. I wouldn't know until years later that Gay had what amounted to a lifetime contract with the Dial Finance Company. As soon as a loan was paid off, she'd have to take out another. Gay saw to her boys.
In 1948 I registered with Lincoln School on September 8th as residing at 940 South Main Street, where Gay had a single large room on the second floor, she occupying a bed in one corner, Ron and I sharing one in the opposite corner. We shared a kitchen with the landlady, a grizzled old gal named Marie, and her retired help, an old Italian gentleman named Atlee. He barely spoke English.
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I also learned many years later that Gay had tried to get her granddaughters, Patty and Jackie, out of the Children's Home, but had the problem of a baby sitter, because Jackie was so young. We lived at 940 from between February and September of 1948, and January to September of 1950, and it was some time in this period that Elmer had paid Gay a visit. Again, I learned later that during that call Gay had tried to get Elmer to somehow come in with her to get the girls out of the home. I don't know the nature of the conversation, but it didn't succeed. The girls were placed before Gay could find a way. She never talked about it to me, but I know it broke her heart.
By September 1950 we were living at 1009-1/2 South Main Street and Gay's life was marked by her struggles in bring up two now-teenaged boys. Gay went on sick leave from her job from April 16 to May 7, 1951. She was 63 years old by this time. Ron and I were all over South Akron. For a time he ran with a bunch called the Amboy Dukes, which mostly hung out in a bowling alley near the Goodrich Tire plant on Main Street. Then he met a young teen lady by the name of Patty Kipp.
I was a loner who would take up with a kid from school named Ray Hall, and he and I managed to give Gay much grief, landing in the detention home on a purse snatching and breaking and entering charge. Because Gay was drinking fairly heavily by this time in her life, she was considered by the 'bleeding hearts' to be a risk for my future, and I was given to live with my now-married brother. Gay was again alone.
* * *
Gay suffered two strokes, the second of which precipitated her retirement from Goodyear, after giving that company 26 years and five months of service.
Her career at Goodyear included her work as a Finish Operator in Department 156E, Test Tanks in Department 156C, Mop and Scrub in Department 191A, Laundry Room in Department 191C. She also worked the Clicking Machine in 166E, moving to Inspector and Quality Checker, and Trim Dry Auto. Certainly some of her job moves came about when she had to 'bump' other employees through her use of seniority to avoid layoff. She could earn as much as $60 a week.
Gay's illness caused her to initiate retirement from Goodyear effective April 1, 1956, on the advice of her physician, Earl W. Wharton. His offices were at 1257 North Main Street. She would have one of her 'boys', Ron, take her across town to see him for appointments.
While Gay knew many people, she lived a solitary life, spending her final years puttering about her three-room apartment, watching some TV. (Although I don't think she approved of the gadget, there weren't many things for her to preoccupy her time, even though she read and crocheted.) She couldn't walk up the street to the grocery like she once used to. The doctor wanted her to keep her blood pressure down. Her stroke had left her somewhat incapacitated, although nothing incapacitated her to any great degree.
On my final visit to her home, while moving between Air Force assignments from Long Island, New York to the gray grassy wastes of Ozona, Texas, she lay in bed one sunny afternoon, fully clothed, as was her occasional custom, resting. She was sad. I've been witness to many of Gay's moods in the past without ever recognizing them, but I recognized her sadness.
I used to 'prowl', as she called it, around her apartment, my home --- as it always was --- fingering her jewelry, her pictures, bric-a-brac, looking for some new acquirement, more a habit of nervous energy than curiosity.
I don't recall the topic of our conversation. As with most visits, our conversations rambled from topic to topic, her interest always in my welfare, my future betterment. Our topic switched to my next visit with her in passing through town. She was crying as she was telling me she'd never see me again. I'd never seen Grandma cry in my entire life. She said she had been feeling so poorly of late, she didn't think she'd be around to see me get my discharge in two years. Texas was a long way off, and I'd not be back to Ohio for months.
Being the typical know-it-all, have-all-the-answers grandson, I assured her she'd see me again, many times, and I tried to console her in her depression. Her crying disturbed me greatly, She had seen me through some really mean times. I just didn't have enough to give back to her, and I was emotionally too stingy to give her all I had. She was just Grandma, who wasn't feeling up to par today.
At 11:45 P.M. on June 20, 1959, Grandma succumbed. She was pronounced dead of a cerebral hemorrhage, the result of hypertensive cardiovascular disease. D.O.A. at City Hospital. She died in the same hospital in the same way as her daughter whom she loved so much.
She had expired while giving one last time for her grandchildren, in the company of her great grandchildren. She was babysitting her great grandchild, Patricia Lynn Bosley, while the parents were attending a function. Gay would have wanted to go no other way, but to be with one of her children.
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