Letters from a lifetime ago offer a window to the past

BY MONA LACKORE

I have been going through the letters my great-grandparents kept over the years, typing them up so other relatives could enjoy them as well (the handwriting sometimes takes a long time to decipher!) The letters show a slice of life from a different time. I have attached portions of two of those letters below.

These particular letters were written by my grandmother to her parents.

My grandmother, Velma McCrery Lackore (whose nickname was Pink), was at this time living in Leland, Iowa, with her husband (my grandfather) Norman and her two children: Leonard (my father, born in 1933) and Peggy (my aunt, born in 1938). Norman ran the farmers’ elevator in town.

The first letter below was written during Prohibition, before either of the children was born. The letter describes a raid on their neighbor’s house.

The second letter was written on Nov. 13, 1940, describing Velma’s experience of what became known as the Armistice Day Blizzard.

I have typed the letters as they were written, with Velma’s spelling, punctuation and grammar.

This photo of Velma McCrery, provided by Mona Lackore, is believed to have been her college graduation photo from 1924.

April 28, 1930

Dearest Folks, We had so much excitement yesterday that I feel the reaction to-day.

Did I tell you about our neighbors to the back of us who were said to be boot leggers? They moved in while we were back in Illinois. They have been next to running an open saloon there for the last two weeks. A big Catalac with an Illinois license goes and comes – stays about two days and then goes again.

They have been keeping the neighbors awake at night – so they said. Norman’s and my slumbers were seldom broken – of course we are sound sleepers.

Yesterday morning we slept late. Norman helped me get breakfast. We

did dishes, put on dinner and went to church.

We came home and as it looked rainey & our car was clean, we thought we would stay home for the day. I called up Dows & asked if they were going to be home – as I wanted to see Mrs. Dow about some missionary work. While we were poking around with the work – I was doing dishes & Norman was down stairs singing lustily away on some church song.

When all of a sudden there was a pounding on our front door & it was thrown open all at once & Mrs. Orville Anderson (our neighbor east) called – “The’re having a raid. The’re having a raid – the sheriff walked right up and broke right in.”

I dashed back to the kitchen to yell down the stairs to Norman. He was thick headed & couldn’t understand it at first so I started in down stairs to tell him, and came back at such a quick pace I fell on the stairs & skinned both knees.

We opened our kitchen door – and listened in on the excitement. One of the women (I don’t think she is as old as I am) was shouting that they had no right to come into a man’s house with out a warrent. The sheriff was apparently paying no attention to her however.

Shortly before the sheriff’s arrival five men had just driven up and gone in. The sheriff & his deputy drove up & stopped their car down on the other side of Chizell’s garage one had come from the back, the other from the front – and entered the front and back doors at approximately the same time. The women screamed.

The men apparently offered little resistance.

After a while the Deputy came out – ran down to Chizell’s garage – got his car – drove up to the house – and they carried out two large paste board boxes – and a large Gunny Sack. The latter we immagined contained empty bottles.

After that they marched out the man of the house and one customer. We supposed that the latter had been caught in the act of drinking. He is a regular boarder down at the jail any way.

The deputy took them away in the car – but the sheriff stayed a while, borrowed a flash light from Carroll Senday – made further investigations in the house – and all-so dug around in the garden for a while.

Then he left – after that the woman of the house & her sister came out, locked up the house and went “down to Mammas.” They have one child a girl, about six years old – but she was not here at the time, was probably down at her grandmothers. The Cadalac car with it’s man & wife were not here at the time. I’m sorry they missed them. They are here this morning.

Oh yes when the deputy came back the second time he showed the girl the warrant and they seemed to quiet down. With in about an hour after they left five people came – as Mrs. Anderson said they had a good trade. This house is on the same lot as ours.

We do not know who swore out the warrant, but rather think it was the Andersons. We thought at first it was probably the Chizells. (They are allways looking for a good fight anyhow) But when Norman said something to Andersons about it Mrs. looked at Mr. laughed & said, “I suppose someone would have to swore out a warrant wouldn’t they Orve?” So may-be they did it. Well – any way – they are gone & I hope they move out.

Lots of Love & take & Write.

Velma

This photo, provided by Mona Lackore, shows Velma McCrery and Norman Lackore on their wedding day, June 6, 1928.

Nov. 13 - 1940

Dearest Folks –

Art & Juva were down for waffles Sab. evening and Monday. I laid off to wash up the evening before’s dishes. Just enjoy my-self and write a letter home. But as I have so often heard my mother say, “We never know what a day will bring forth.

Sat it rained. Sab it was balmy. Sab. night it rained hard. Mon. A.M. it was raining misting and the mist turning to rain – in the middle of the forenoon – the electric current went off. I didn’t think any thing of that – it is often off for an hour at a time – it

grew darker – it seemed I was groping around in the middle of the day – I started dinner, turned on more oil – Shut off the east part of the house and built a fire in the kitchen. The wind started howling – I looked out the South windows and saw a woman walking from the school house – a child following – it was Leonard – his rain coat flopping every which way – she left him at the cornor & he pushed across the street and up on the poorch. I opened the door & brought him in.

Norman came home – no one can prepare to combat the elements like he – and like Dad’s old hogs - he seems to have an uncanny instinct at knowing when we’re going to have “a bad one.” He rounded up an oil man & ordered oil put in the tank – had the gas lantern filled & bought a new mantle for it. He asked Len if they were going to have school & he said they were. So N. took Len back (walked with him) – told him under no circumstances to start home unless a grown up brot him. That he would be over after him at 3:30. Told some of the authorities that if he was running that school he’d start that bus out right now – while the driver could see.

N. came back home – and it was surprizing how many things like carrying in coal & kindling – filling the gas lantern etc – he could find to do. It was Armistice day and there was little going on at the elevator – any way none of the motors would run on account of the electricity being off.

Some of the parents from the country came in for their children – ahead of the usual hour for school to be out. N. was just starting for Len - when he came home – with Herb Idde. Herb had gone for Ronald & brought Len on the way.

We turned on the oil as far as it would go – had ½ house closed off. We were careful of the coal fire on account of the wind - & I felt for all the world like my mother - when I went up stairs to put more blankets on the beds before it got completely dark.

The school buss started out – got as far as Eddie Ambrosons – the driver couldn’t see a rod ahead of him - so he turned around and brought them all back to the school. The snow slithered thru the air & it got darker and darker. Peggy fussed because she couldn’t find her way around in the gloom. I sat back of the stove with my knee caps feeling like they were burning, chills chasing up & down my back – and goose pimples standing out on my arms.

I fixed my one candle - & set it to one side – to use when I just had to have it.

Norm went over to the store and bought up a supply of groceries - & sent word over to the School that we could keep some children over night. Then he came back - & we all just sat & stood huddled around the fire. The thermeter was plunging from spring like weather to below zero – latter we read in the paper that Winter zoomed into Iowa on a 50 mile an hour gale. Well – we knew it was doing something. N. pranced from one foot to another – wondered if he should go over to the school house him-self—then said - “There’s somebody out here now. He went to the door - and above the howling of the wind we heard a scrambling of feet on the poorch. N. threw open the door - & a lad of sixteen shouted “did you say you could take some?” Well we wern’t long getting them in – the big boy - and his 2 little half brothers both from Leonards room. Three other brothers from the same family had gone else where in town. Well I made oyster soup - by the light of the candle - & the boys played domino by the light of the gas lantern in the dining room — & how those kids could eat. I asked the middle one how many bowls of oyster soup he ate at home & he replied quite simply “we don’t have it.”

We had plenty of beds & cots – but not enough bed clothing. We moved the studio couch right out beside the stove – used the usual throw for it – (light weight Indian blanket – and I took the extra wool blanket I had laid out for Margaret & put it on the studio couch. Then I put my fur coat over Peggy. She looked so cute peeking out from under it.

And since no one could keep their front side warm with out their back side burning – or visa-versa – we got our family off to bed at 7:30. They were glad to go too – the big boy (Frank) wondered how his Dad was getting along milking the 15 cows all alone.

This photo of Leonard and Margaret Lackore, provided by Mona Lackore, was taken in 1939, not long before the Armistice Day blizzard.

Due to the lack of electricity – our stool wouldn’t work - nor we didn’t have any water - Norman brot it from the neighbors in pails & jars & we had those things sitting all over the work table

We all went to bed early – only Peg saw fit to get up between 12 & 2. I slept in my clothes and an old woolen coat dress it felt good. And the wind roared all night long. I couldn’t sleep well. I felt like it was after me.

The next morning was clear. The snow fall had not been heavy but the wind had done a good job of piling what there was of it. It was impossible to have school on account of no water to run the heating plant – on account of no electricity. But the kids that stayed with us couldn’t get home on account of a big drift about ½ mile from their home. So I had them for breakfast & dinner too. Toward evening the weather had moderated some what & N. took them out to the drift and they walked the rest of the way.

And that night - we again worked by the candle & gas lantern – dressed 3 pheasants - & I did the same thing again tonight. The electricity came on shortly after I finished.

And so that’s the storm – as it was in Leland – I suppose there have been other things happening – but I believe I don’t seem to remember much else but the weather. Lots of Love Pink