by Mary (Lockwood) Branin
Photo: Stanley, Elsie, John, Florence, Mary, Uncle Les – June 1934
The earliest remembrance I have is an occasion when I was about 4 years old and I was a naughty girl. I was wearing coveralls with a drop seat that buttoned. After visiting our outhouse I wanted Mother to button me up. However, she was busy in the kitchen and suggested I ask Uncle Dave. (Dave Gloss owned a two-room house. My father made a deal with him to build on two more rooms and in exchange our family would move in with Uncle Dave – no relation, really). I stubbornly refused Dave’s help and was sent outside until I reconsidered.
Stanley Lockwood brought his new bride to Escondido in August of 1925. He had left his homeland, Australia, in 1921 to come to California to seek carpentry work. He planned to settle in Pasadena but on a drive with friends found Escondido so pleasing he changed his plan.
Elsie Mary Lyne McCarthy, a World War I widow, arrived August 7, 1925 in San Francisco by ship to join her fiancé, Stan. She was expecting to live in Pasadena but learned of the new plan. The newlyweds lived in the Trenton Apartments while Stan built a home on Felicita Road. This house was located in what is now the North bound lanes of Centre City Parkway. When the highway was constructed the house was moved to 950 West 9th Avenue.
At the time of my birth, October 1, 1928, there were approximately 3,000 residents within the city limits. The city limits were Grant Street on the North, Tulip Street on the West, 15th Street on the South and Ash Street on the East. We always lived just outside the City to avoid City taxes. My father, Stanley Lockwood, was 32 and my mother, Elsie Mary, 39. I joined a sister, Florence, age 2 years and l month. My father had only brothers, no sisters, so he was pleased to have girls. Later a boy, John, was born when I was 2 years and 5 months old. At a visit to a well-baby clinic it was noted that I was overweight, pot-bellied, flat-footed with enlarged tonsils. I have taken care of the tonsils.
I don’t remember the first home I had which was on the north side of Felicita Road in Escondido. Mother went to a maternity home at 250 East Sixth Avenue for my birth. She said they kept her in bed for two weeks, which left her weak from inactivity.
In 1930 our parents took their two girls to Australia by ship to visit all the relatives. Mother had been widowed during World War I and her pension continued for l year after her marriage to Dad, September 7, 1925. They saved all the pension money so they could make a trip home at the time Mother’s parents were celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. My baptism had been delayed so I could receive the rites at Blackwood Methodist Church in South Australia along with cousin, Mary Irene Lyne.
Financially strapped by the trip and the Depression Dad rented out the Felicita Road home and we moved into my second home with Dave Gloss, the scene of my stubborn behavior. It was near the northwest corner of Ash and Grant Streets. Grant is now named Mission Avenue. At this home we had a windmill at the well and an outhouse complete with expired Sears Catalogues in lieu of toilet paper. Dad made a metal bathtub which drained through a hole cut in the floor. I remember one day while using a potato hoe in the garden I drove its prongs through, or into, my foot. I doubt a tetanus shot was even considered in that day and age.
We had some family friends, Roland and Mabel Rockhoff, whom Dad had met in Pasadena before Mother’s arrival. The Rockhoffs had a vacation cabin in the outskirts of Escondido where they roughed it. We would all get in our green 1929 Model A Ford and drive out to visit. If we stayed into evening they would light kerosene lamps. They always had a tale about seeing and/or killing a rattlesnake or 2. I remember dreaming about snakes after a visit there. The drive was very steep, rutted and unsafe in my view. It ran along just below the water line to Vista and is now named Rockhoff Road.
My father was a carpenter and builder, later a contractor, but during the depression there was very little building being done, only badly needed repairs. I remember to save grocery money, Mother bought cracked wheat (chicken feed) at the feed store to cook in place of oatmeal. We got cracked turkey eggs from an Englishman friend, Ed Wright, who raised turkeys.
Dad got the job of demolishing the old Conway home and was given all the materials in exchange for his labor. With these supplies he built us a home on South San Diego Boulevard (now Escondido Boulevard) just north of Felicita Road. As near as I can judge it was the spot where an Antique Store now stands in Felicita Village.
San Diego Boulevard was part of Highway 395 that ran from San Diego to Canada. The section that passed our house was a two-lane road, marked with an El Camino Real bell. It went north to Grand Avenue, turned right for two blocks and then left onto Broadway. Traffic had to circle a flagpole that stood in the middle of the intersection of Grand and Broadway. When the highway reached Grant Street it turned left and wound through San Marcos, Vista, Fallbrook and on North through San Diego County.
When we moved to this home it was probably early 1933 and shortly before I started kindergarten with teacher, Miss Montgomery. The school was on Forth Avenue between Maple and San Diego Boulevard. I remember a kidnapping scare (probably Lindbergh’s). This was the reason my sister waited an extra hour after school so she and a neighbor girl could walk me home. “Safety in numbers.” When we had gone 11 blocks and were only a block from our house we stopped at a market and persuaded the grocer’s wife to drive us the last little bit so we wouldn’t meet any kidnappers.
Since Uncle Leslie Lockwood was the only other member of our family to come to the United States he became our favorite relative. He settled in Los Angeles, visited occasionally and always brought a box of Mrs. See’s candy. He played checkers or Snakes and Ladders with us and had a favorite expression “Oh, crumbs!” whenever he was swallowed by a snake and had to go back down the board. Modern versions of this game are called “Chutes and Ladders”. I believe being swallowed by a snake was considered too traumatic for young children. About 1939 he returned to Australia. After that we had no relatives near enough to join us for holiday dinners.
A local piano teacher, Helen Stoddard, was eager to find out how early a child could learn to play the piano. Therefore, she offered to teach my sister and me for free or a very reasonable price. I began lessons while in 1st grade and they continued to 7th grade. For the time invested I did not progress as well as one with real talent and motivation would be expected to succeed. In 1938 I was one of ten of Mrs. Stoddard’s pupils who went to the Thearle Music Company at Seventh and Broadway in San Diego to perform in a piano competition.
One day my first grade teacher, Miss Otwell, was very alarmed to notice the left side of my face was paralyzed. Her first thought was “polio” but a trip to Dr. Dotson revealed it was “Bell’s Palsy”. I believe this was the only time I was taken to a doctor as a child. A chill caused inflammation of the facial nerve cutting off motor messages. I made several trips to his office to sit by a heat lamp and eventually all the paralyses left.
I remember a day when I went downtown during the lunch break. Two classmates, Eleanor and Beverly Howell, invited me to go on this adventure. We visited the local dime store and then stopped at the Congregational Church to see Eleanor’s mother. She told us we better scoot back to class. When we got back to school the class was already in session. I don’t remember any discipline but I learned that students weren’t supposed to leave the school grounds during the day.
The year I had Mrs. Dee Conway for second grade I had two kinds of measles and the mumps. Kathryn Bell, the school nurse, would always drop by when called to diagnose the illness and tack an “Isolation” sign by the front door. I must have had to work hard that year to keep up with my classmates.
In l935 our family went to San Diego for the California Pacific International Exposition. The colony of midgets with the streets and buildings scaled down to their size made a big impression on me. I remember walking along, reaching up for Daddy’s hand and feeling shocked to discover it was a stranger, not Daddy.
In December 1935 the Women’s Aid of the Methodist Church staged a Tom Thumb Wedding. It was a formal affair with children of the town playing the parts. I was a flower girl. My brother was a trainbearer. Florence, as Lily Pons, sang “The Sweetest Story Ever Told”. Betty Jean Dixon played the part of the bride, Richard Gray was the groom and Harold Lee Jacobson acted as the minister.
Some of the most exciting times in Escondido were Grape Day Festivals held each year on September 9, California’s Admission to the Union Day. The day started with a huge parade, followed by carnival rides and shopping at many craft and food booths set up in Grape Day Park. Grape growers brought truckloads of grapes to the park to be given away free to one and all. In hopes of winning blue ribbons, the women of the valley entered homemade crafts and canned foods for judging.
The dry “out back” of Australia had taught Dad to save water and conserve energy. On the sunny south side of our house he built a slanted tray with water pipes coiled behind glass. This made a very adequate solar water heater but we also had an electric booster that could be turned on if the sun didn’t shine. We all had baths every Saturday (whether we needed them or not). When it was time to wash dishes Mother put a kettle on the stove to heat water..
Even though our house was on the main highway to San Diego I don’t remember us ever locking the doors. One night after we were all in bed mother woke to the noise of someone groaning in our living room. Thinking Dad was ill she looked in and saw a marine on the couch. She roused Dad who found the fellow was quite drunk although clear headed enough to remark, “Gee, a fellow could get shot doing this.” Dad showed him out and pointed the way to San Diego. Later Dad worried about the fellow’s safety making his way down the highway.
Sunday morning we always attended Sunday school and church at the Methodist Episcopal Church located at 4th and Kalmia Streets. Mother sang in the choir or substituted if needed as organist or choir director. For a few years she was Superintendent of the Primary Department. Dad helped usher, passed the collection plate and served on the Official Board. He also did any odd carpentry jobs and made a board to be placed on the curved front railing. This was used for communion service and was fitted with small holes to hold communion glasses. Our big meal on Sunday was soon after church followed by naps or resting on the part of the parents. Mother liked to work the Sunday crossword puzzle, a practice I later adopted. A big outing might be a drive later in the day. My brother and sister would say to me, “You ask Daddy. He won’t say ‘No’ to you.”
In the summer mother might make sandwiches after church and we would all go to the beach at Oceanside where the folks could still get their sleep under the umbrella. Sometimes they bought fresh fish at a stand out on the pier and cooked on the gas burners in a dining room under the pier. Sunday evening was church again. Youth groups met before Evening Service. My sister and I sang in a youth choir, which replaced the regular choir for evening services.
I loved Mother’s lamb stew and have never been able to make rice pudding that matched hers. If Mother wanted to fix chicken for dinner she selected a chicken from the chicken coop, placed its neck across the stump in our back yard and chopped the head off with an ax. A bucket of hot water was waiting to soak the bird before the feathers were plucked off. My favorite dinner was Meal-In-A-Dish, a hamburger, corn and tomato casserole topped with breadcrumbs. Before every meal Mother put on the kettle and made a pot of tea. Coffee was only brewed for company.
Our house on San Diego Boulevard had an icebox at first. When you saw water trickle out from underneath you knew someone had forgotten to empty the dishpan that caught the melting ice. Later we got a refrigerator. By then we had a wringer washing machine on the service porch. In one corner of this room was a built-in cooler. From floor to ceiling it was fitted with revolving shelves. The flooring in this cupboard was a screen that allowed cool air to rise from under the house to keep foods cool though not refrigerated. This porch also had a crock filter for drinking water. The water was poured into the top container, seeped through a stone to remove dirt and stored in the bottom crock. Periodically the stone had to be scrubbed to remove the accumulated dirt.
Originally the house had two bedrooms but Dad added a knotty-pine lined sleeping porch behind the back bedroom. It had windows on three sides and an outside door opening to a 4-ft drop. He never completed the deck that should have connected with the one outside the back door. The only heat for the house was a pot-bellied stove in the living room. In cold weather we came out near the fire to change clothes.
French doors were at the entry, linoleum on the floors. Just inside the front door stood our piano and on the wall above it was a mounted head of a deer. In a back corner of the living room was a large roll-top desk where Dad drew plans or figured estimates for customers. The phone was on the wall at the end of the hall. My sister and I shared the front bedroom that had a walk-in closet and bunk beds. Mother had the back bedroom. My brother and Dad shared the sleeping porch. I don’t remember my parents ever sharing a bedroom, probably because Dad liked to read in bed while smoking his pipe and Mother was a very light sleeper. “British Reserve” best describes their relationship. I noticed Dad always gave Mother a peck on the cheek when he came in from work as he placed his black lunch pail on the sink. I don’t ever remember kissing my mother or being kissed by her. Daddy used to come in and give me a goodnight kiss. Although there was not any hugging or kissing in our family there were never any yelling or serious quarrels that I knew of between my parents.
We did have pets but dogs and cats were outside pets. I remember a large golden Persian cat that came home one day with a hole in its side. We thought a coyote had bitten it and had to put the cat to sleep. For a short time we had a goat which we liked to ride. We also had a cage for white rats and enjoyed watching them with their babies. I often removed one from the cage and let it crawl around my neck or down my shirt. Mother could tell when a female was pregnant by fierce behavior.
One exciting day Florence was chasing John who flew out the front door throwing it closed behind him. Florence put her knee through one pane of glass and an arm through another. She was wrapped in towels and rushed to Dr. Adams’ office for stitches. Many years later tiny pieces of glass would work their way out of her scars. John and Florence seemed to generate sparks while I was a quiet, dull, middle child. Florence was the one requiring a doctor more than John or I. She had her tonsils out and then in 1941 she was rushed to Mercy Hospital in San Diego for an appendectomy. Her appendix had ruptured and she was saved by sulfanilamide.
I don’t remember hearing anything about “Trick or treat” for Halloween. We did ring doorbells and run before the homeowner could answer the door. Some outhouses would get tipped over and a family might find their garden gate on top of their house. Windows might get soaped but the worst was setting fire to a palm tree. When the Volunteer Fire Department responded the boys would race to the other side of town and fire up another palm.
Friday nights were “Family Night” at the local movie house. The whole family was admitted for 35 cents. The big splurge was the pack of gum conveniently containing 5 sticks. There were usually two main features, a newsreel and one or two cartoons. On Saturday nights the stores stayed open late. We were usually down town that night strolling back and forth on the three blocks of the shopping area. We met and visited with friends along the way.
When I was in fifth grade the school office had parent conference and it was decided my schoolwork was too easy for me. To keep me from becoming a lazy worker I was moved up to sixth grade. Since I was already shy and small for my age this move shoved me further back into my shell. A classmate, Anna Teresa Deggelman, was given the job of coaching me in arithmetic. Fractions were a problem for me since I was rushed through those lessons. Recess was spent playing jacks or jumping rope. Some of my best friends in grade school were Betty Jean Whetstone and Irma Jo Halstead.
I remember a Filipino man who moved in to the house next to ours. He took us to a Filipino neighborhood in Escondido
one afternoon where we watched the residents making very colorful and elaborate kites.
At home I spent a lot of time reading or playing with next door boys, Donny (Donald) and Debby (Delbert) John. We three Lockwoods plotted to go out our bedroom windows one night and rendezvous with the two John boys. After parents were asleep we made our escape but found we couldn’t wake the Johns so we all went back to bed. We also got an idea of running away from home. I started accumulating food. When the orange molded and the graham crackers crumbled we gave up on the idea. The basement of our house made a great playhouse. I remember spending a night down there on a bed made of an old sofa. During the night Debby wet the bed!
Mother preferred we leave our beds open each morning to air so we weren’t expected to make our own beds. To save laundry on wash day she removed only the bottom sheet, dropping the top sheet to the bottom and adding a clean top sheet. She did as little work as possible on Sunday, the day of rest, and even tried to avoid hanging clothes out on Saturday, as that was the Adventists’ Sabbath.
Mother liked to work with yeast dough. Sometimes she would time it just right to have a large batch of hot rolls come out of the oven just before dinnertime. We would load packages of rolls in our wagon and go around the neighborhood offering them for sale. I am sure we never came home with any leftovers.
The only regular chore expected of the children was washing the dinner dishes. We rotated the task and Florence and John often bickered over whose turn it was. I remember one such evening when my father went after them with his belt. I ran outside and hid by the passion fruit vine until the ruckus calmed down. This is the only time I remember Dad administering discipline. Usually Mother only needed a firm voice or a smack to the bottom. On this occasion my mother was sick with a really bad sore throat that was diagnosed as quinsy. This was the only time I remember her being sick.
If Dad’s work slowed down enough for him to get away on a vacation the money also slowed. When work and money were plentiful he was too busy to leave. I remember only one summer trip. In 1938 we drove in our 1934 Chevy to St. Louis to visit a cousin, John Nicolls and wife, Sabina. Along the way we called in at Carlsbad Caverns, New Mexico and Hot Springs, Arkansas. At gasoline stops we often got Dr. Pepper, a rare extravagance. I vividly remember leaning back in the car seat and letting out a good yell. I had leaned on a hornet, which took a good chunk of skin out with his bite. I had a scar to show for years afterwards. We learned to play croquet on Nicolls’ back lawn. One afternoon we had to search for John. Apparently sidewalks lured him on a walk around the block.
On the trip home we called in at Yellowstone and then went by Great Salt Lake. We didn’t go into the lake when Dad discovered they charged a fee!
We liked to go out on bike rides especially with neighbors, Frances and Roy Hanscom. I remember one day when we must have been short a bike. Roy was riding on the back fender of my sister’s bike. His heel got caught in the spokes and was badly chewed up. He tells me he stills has scars to remind him of that day.
One morning toward the end of Seventh grade I must have nearly fainted at breakfast. Mother had me put my head down between my knees. It was decided I had too much pressure in my life and I was allowed to stop piano lessons. The homemaking teacher gave me extra time to finish a project I was worrying about. In the eighth grade I joined the school band, playing the Glockenspiel (bell lyre). At band concerts it stood on a stand but in parades I had to carry it in a harness. Since I was in the percussion department I was occasionally asked to play the chimes when a piece of music required that instrument. My knowledge of the piano keyboard made these instruments easy to learn. This same year our school put on a play based on “The Wizard Of OZ”, a movie playing at the local theater. Since I was small I played the part of one of the munchkins.
This same year a lot of polio cases hit children in Escondido. A good friend and classmate, Ruth Redpath, came down with this disease. She had to leave school and soon after her family moved to San Diego to be closer to treatments. For the eighth grade banquet at the end of the year I got my first “store bought” dress from Eden’s Dress Shop.. I can vaguely remember it as white with dainty blue flowers. My flat chest blossomed soon after so I didn’t get to enjoy the dress very long. The first day of summer vacation I discovered blood in my panties and began menstruating. (This turned out to be a 40-year uncomplicated inconvenience, never missing except during five pregnancies).
I probably had many great teachers but there are a few who really stand out in my memory. I had Mrs. Dee Conway for second grade and again in fourth grade. At church I had Mrs. Louise Lyon as a Sunday school teacher. She was soft spoken and seemed to like girls. Maybe that was because her four children were all boys. She always had a ready answer for any question and was always upbeat. My typing teacher in high school was Dale Hilmer. Since I became a good typist I must give him most of the credit.
When my parents realized World War II was sure to involve the United States they applied for citizenship. They didn’t want any doubt as to where their loyalties lay. By 1943 they had their completed certificates.
I was in my freshman year at Escondido High School when World War II began for the United States. Mother and I filled a shift from 8 PM to midnight at a local aircraft-spotting tower. Florence and I visited the local USO to help entertain the service men in Escondido. (Somebody had to do it). The USO was first housed upstairs in Pilgrim Hall at the Congregational Church and later moved to the Women’s Clubhouse. Mary McDonald (later Bankhead) was director and played the piano. We joined in the singing around the piano, dancing and Ping-Pong. This is where I learned to play Black Jack or 21. The social scene in Escondido included movies, church or school activities. When a classmate, Roland Casad, was killed in a car accident I had my first opportunity of attending a funeral. I am sure I went out of curiosity and to escape class. We got around town on foot and did not expect to be driven to our activities.
Army units were stationed in Escondido and when mother invited some GIs for Sunday dinner, they accepted on the condition their shirts got back from the laundry in time. Realizing the local laundry could not handle all the army wash, Mother began a home laundry. An army jimmy (larger than a jeep) would pull up in front of our house with large bags of dirty clothes. We had to check for laundry marks and then wash and iron the load. The local laundry was glad of the assistance and helped us work out a schedule of charges. Names of a few of the service men stick in my mind. They are marine Ray Lewis, sailor Eddie Gerdes and soldier Dan Gettmann. During the summer months the city had several softball teams. My brother, John was batboy for the Five-Pointers. Mother would take us to the games at Finney Field. Daddy was never interested in any sports, partly due to the fact that he had to work so hard.
During high school I took “College Preparatory” classes with homemaking as an elective. Hindsight tells me I would have been better off to take Spanish instead of Latin, especially as we live so close to Mexico. A seventh period was added to the day. Some used it to go to work but classes were offered for personal enrichment with no grades. I chose typing which has been a very handy skill. Without this Victory class I would not have been able to fit typing into my schedule. It has turned out to be one of the things I do best. I also liked mathematics and home economics but didn’t like history or creative writing. I would rather take an extra algebra class than go to physical education but, of course, that was not allowed. My best friend in high school was Mary Anne Humphrey.
In summer of 1943 I worked for an elderly neighbor lady, Mrs. Tuttle. She had a bad heart but could tell me what to do. I remember she used bluing in her laundry. This was a new idea to me. Each morning I walked to the grocery store (1/2 block), got her supplies and then cooked lunch for both of us. Before lunch Mrs. Tuttle drank a shot of whiskey. This was also a new idea to me. Our home had no alcoholic beverages at any time. My sister got most of the jobs for baby sitting, as she was older. She saved much of her pay for a dream of visiting Australia some day.
During summer vacation, some of the radio programs we liked were Fibber McGee and Molly; Mr. Keen, Tracer Of Lost Persons; Easy Aces; Inner Sanctum; Ma Perkins: Young Dr. Malone; Pepper Young’s Family; One Man’s Family; Stella Dallas; The Romance of Helen Trent, and Henry Aldrich.
The Methodist Youth Fellowship group at church went to Green Valley Falls Campground in the Cuyamaca Mountains for a week of summer camp. We slept in tents or out in the open, cooked on camp stoves and attended study sessions on such subjects as “Boy and Girl Friendships”. At evening campfires we learned camp songs and later went on moonlight or flashlight hikes.
Florence and I both joined the church Youth Choir that sang at evening services. We also sang in a quartet with Nathan Bond and Kenneth Bartley. (Dick’s older brother) During my junior year I went steady for a few months with Gene Smith. One night after a basketball game a carload of us went to Felicita Park. Mary Anne Humphrey, Betty Jean Cope, Jack McCawley, Florence and John were with Gene and me. It seemed too early to go home so we played on the swings, yelling back and forth. The park caretaker’s son, Bob Shidner, was home alone in charge of the park. He called police who took all of us to the city police station. Even though we were well outside the city limits they explained that the park had a 10 PM curfew. Parents were called to pick us up. Betty Jean’s parents made her go home but the rest of the girls had a slumber party. When called Dad said “Let them spend the night in jail “, but Mother came to rescue us.
We used to ride our bikes to Oceanside, leaving home at first light. After a few hours at the beach we caught the train back to Escondido. We brought our bikes as baggage. Once the engine broke down and we had to while away the time till another engine was brought up. That day the train’s ride home took longer than the bike ride to the beach. Once we rode bikes to San Diego, took the bus home and shipped the bikes on Webb Brothers Trucking.
After years of wearing a truss my father had hernia repair surgery about 1943. He couldn’t easily climb around buildings so he took a job as building appraiser for San Diego County. When Florence graduated from high school Escondido offered very few job opportunities and no further education. Therefore, it was decided that we would move to San Diego. Dad bought a two-bedroom house on El Cajon Boulevard with a guesthouse on the rear of the property. We actually moved while John was away at Boys’ Scout Camp. When he got home he found a note directing him to the neighbors. They had an address and money for him to take a bus to San Diego where he found a streetcar to take him to our new location. John was a pretty smart kid at only 13 years of age.
Since I had been driving the car (without benefit of a license) to get milk at Wulff’s Dairy, around the corner, I was allowed to practice more driving as we moved things to San Diego. That ended my growing up years in Escondido. By now Escondido had a population of approximately 5500. The rest of my story will have to wait for another report.