CHAPTER FOURTEEN Lemmon, South Dakota Home of Walter Kelley and family Wednesday, September 25, 1918 We had christened our new son, Jonathan Edward Kelley, a proud, strong, Catholic name. Jonathan Edward, now just called Eddie, was the center of attraction in our household. With Mary Rose, now 15, Mary Anne, 13, and Mary Helen, 8 years old, poor Eddie never had a chance. His three older sisters packed Eddie around like a doll. They changed him, fed him, bathed him, and pushed him around in his little carriage until he would finally throw up. I never once saw that boy alone. Even at night he slept in our room next to our bed for the first year. Each night as I lay awake thinking of the future with my son, I could hear his little lungs breathe in and out softly. Once in awhile he would have a little stuffy nose and I could hear a low whistle, but even when he whistled through his nose, he seemed like a true miracle to me. When he was born, I was worried. He didn’t have a hair on his head. He was as bald as a billiard ball and just as shiny. But, thank the Lord, after a few months I could see golden stubble emerge. He favored his mother, as did all our children. Each girl had long, blond tresses that hung down their back like a trophy. Each girl had green eyes, just like Katherine—beautiful green eyes that seemed to pierce into your soul. Eddie also had those green eyes and I was very happy he didn’t look like me. We were noted in town for having the "most beautiful children." And they were all the image of Katherine. Since Mark spent the day at the picnic last year consoling Rose, he had been a guest at our house daily. Mark and his dad, Michael, and mother, Marta, lived across the street from us. Mark had many opportunities to see Mary Rose, but Mary Rose, now a year later, seemed to have lost interest in a romantic relationship. In fact, when Mark was around the house, which seemed quite often, she would totally ignore him. Mary Anne was the quiet one of the family. She enjoyed reading books and spent most of her free time in the attic where she had made a little nook next to a window. Anne was very content to be by herself. Mary Helen was another story. Mary Helen was the tomboy of the family. She wore dresses and ribbons in her hair like all the other girls, but was always dusty, dirty, or muddy from playing outside with the neighbor boys. She loved baseball or just wrestling around. She loved it when Mark came over to the house to moon over Mary Rose. Helen would spend all her time trying to get him to play catch. He ignored her, of course, as he couldn’t take his eyes off Rose. But today was a special day, this was my birthday and Katherine had planned a special picnic lunch for all of us. Ilga baked a cake in honor of the occasion, a special treat as she saved up sugar from the rations for just this event. Over the years we had developed our very own picnic spot by the creek. There was one lone tree someone had thoughtfully planted many years ago and now stood majestically over the slow moving water of Flat Creek. Wild grass was abundant along the moist shores. Ernie and I constructed picnic tables that made our favorite summer gathering spot complete. We all arrived home from work early that day and were looking forward to a swim in the creek as the weather was approaching 95 degrees. The girls had on their swimsuits before I got home and were running around the house with a towel trying to catch Eddie. Apparently as they took off his clothes to get him into his swim trunks, Eddie decided he liked the freedom of being totally naked and ran laughing through the house while his sisters gave chase. That boy was a real corker. He was 16 months old and could walk; chatter like a magpie; and had a wonderful, contagious laugh. He loved to tease his sisters and they didn’t seem to mind his spirited escapades in the least, in fact they seemed to encourage him. The sounds of laughter ringing throughout the house were music to my ears. Miss Huntington and Miss Tandy came downstairs just in time to see Eddie streak by. They both squealed at the male nakedness. Then Eddie, trying to look back over his shoulder, tripped on the hall rug and rolled down the hall. That ended his race with his sisters. They grabbed him, covered him with a towel, and apologized to the spinster schoolteachers. At that point, both teachers were giggling like schoolgirls. Mary Helen took Eddie into her bedroom to continue the dressing procedure. Staring at all this from the front door, I stood stunned but not surprised. Nothing Eddie, my adorable son, could do would surprise me. I dreamed constantly what he would be like when he grew up. With his charismatic personality, the profession I envisioned for him was a traveling salesman, such as John Clarke. But he had many years to grow up and find the passion that would define his adulthood. The teachers were dressed in their swim dresses and beach robes. They had a bag to take with them, no doubt towels and such. I took their bag and piled it with the others at the front door. Ernie had volunteered the hearse to get us out to the picnic site. With a household our size, you needed a pretty big vehicle to pack them around. I heard him honk out front. I quickly went to change my clothes as Katherine and Ilga packed food to the vehicle. Ernie helped with bags and children. As he had been dating Ilga for the past 10 months, Ernie thoughtfully returned to help her cart out the food also. As I returned to the hall, Tim Horton was descending the stairs. Looking at him, I was dumbfounded and stood there with my mouth agape. Since I first met Tim, I had never seen him without a shirt, tie, and suit. But there he stood, on the middle landing of the stairs, clad only in swim trunks, and his dress shoes and socks. With the only tree in northern South Dakota being next to our Flat Creek swimming hole, there was nowhere to change our clothes at the picnic site, so we all had to change at home. "Good afternoon, Tim," I gasped. "I see you are going to join us for a cool dip." "Well, almost," he answered. "I seem to be missing a beach robe. You wouldn’t have an extra, would you?" I’m glad he said that, as I wondered what the reaction of the spinster schoolteachers would be if they saw those bear legs sitting next to them in the hearse. "I’m sure I do, my friend," I quipped. "Here, take this one and I will meet you in the car." I took off my robe and handed it to him. The ride to the picnic spot took about 20 minutes. With the flaps all rolled up, the children sat on the end gate and sides of the hearse with their legs dangling over. The adults sat on turned-over wooden crates in the remaining area. Katherine sat in front with Ernie. Eddie sat in her lap. We all hung on for dear life as the road was very rough, narrow, and full of large ruts. That was the highway. We then angled our "convertible," as I called it, off the highway on to an old cow path for another mile or two. When we finally arrived at the creek, we were all covered with dust and dirt. We no more than stopped when the whole tribe jumped into the swimming hole under our majestic tree. Ilga and Katherine quickly set the tables with food as we all washed off. We had no way of keeping the food cold, so after the initial dunk, we all scrambled up to eat. Ilga and Katherine were the only ones not in swimming attire. I know Ilga did not own a swimsuit, but I couldn’t understand why Katherine didn’t dress for the occasion. I was to learn that evening the reason. Ernie brought the children a special present and installed it while the children were engrossed in their dinner. After we had all finished eating, he called everyone over near a large branch of the tree that was growing out over the water. There, hanging from the tree limb, was a long, braided rope with a large knot on the end. Everyone cheered at the prospect of being able to swing out and jump into the creek. Mary Helen didn’t wait to ask permission or hear instructions. She ran forward, grabbed hold of the rope swing and flew out over the water. I was holding Eddie in my arms and was taken by surprise as Helen soared out over the water. My surprise was no greater than hers as she found herself suspended above the water, frozen in mid-air. At this point, she should have let go of the rope and playfully plopped into the creek below. The rope would then return harmlessly to the tree on shore, ready for the next swinger. But, because of inexperience, or terror, or both, instead of letting go of the rope, she screamed and hung on to the rope for dear life. She apparently saw the water below her and from that height just panicked. She was now, as physics would dictate, coming back to the tree hanging onto the rope with both hands. What she hadn’t figured on was her weight on the rope would carry her back and if she remained frozen on the end of the rope would slam her small, frail body against the tree trunk. The next event was so spectacular and happened so quickly none of us had a chance to move. Hearing Mary Helen’s screams, Ilga looked up from her basket. It didn’t take her long to see the danger that was ensuing on little Mary Helen. Ilga in her best Sunday dress, sprinted to the rope with such speed I couldn’t believe my eyes, jumped into the air toward the rope, snatched Helen from the jaws of certain death which caused both of them to fly forward and land unharmed into the water hole below. I was still in awe at what had just transpired when Ilga emerged from the water, her dress clinging to her immense frame, holding tightly onto my Mary Helen. Everyone rushed to them, covering them lovingly and thankfully with towels. After instructions on its proper use everyone, except Helen, got many opportunities to ride the rope. Helen sat beside Ilga until we left for home that night. And until the day Ilga died, Mary Helen was seen close to her side whenever possible. Tired and tanned, we all arrived home to our house on Elm Street after dark. The children were sound asleep in the back of the hearse spread out all over the floor. The adults carried the children into their beds and tucked them in for the night. That same night, in that soft feather bed, Katherine told me we were going to have another baby. What a great birthday that was. I had great dreams that night about the many more wonderful birthdays that were to come.   CHAPTER FIFTEEN Lemmon, South Dakota Home of Matt Johnson Thursday, September 26, 1918 Mark and I were at the construction site of the new home we were building for Matt Johnson’s family. Mark was becoming quite a good carpenter. He was 17 now, and I feared I would lose him to the war soon. I didn’t want him to go to war. I had become very fond of him. We were eating a sandwich on our lunch break when Mark asked me a question. "Mr. Kelley," he started. "You have known me for half my life. I think you like and approve of me, don’t you?" He seemed to pause waiting for a response, but before I could open my mouth, he continued. "You have probably guessed that I am very fond of Mary Rose. I am not sure, but I think she if very fond of me, too. So sir, what I wanted to ask you . . . what I needed your permission for . . ." I was getting very concerned about where this was leading, but I finished my sandwich while he stuttered out his words. "Well sir," he mumbled. "Do you think it would be all right to court your Mary Rose?" With that spit out of his mouth, he bit into his sandwich. I was guessing this was the time I was to be talking. He took a large swig of water out of the water jug and looked at me, waiting for an answer. Until that very moment I had not really looked at Mark. Oh I looked at him, but I had not really studied him, thought of him as a relative, like a son-in-law. Well I was looking at him now. Here was a young man of marrying age asking me to court my oldest daughter, Rose. I choked down my sandwich and tried to be very calm. "Mark," I finally got out. "Mark you know I think of you as my own son. We have been friends for 9 years, but to be quite honest with you I don’t think Mary Rose is very interested in you. I would hate for you to get your hopes up then dashed." Mark looked at me with his big blue eyes, eyes that I had never before notice the color of, and said with so much passion I had to smile. "Mr. Kelley, I am in love with your Mary Rose. She doesn’t know it yet, but she is in love with me, too. I just have to show her how much she does love me. Would it be all right if I come over this evening after dinner?" "Mark," I patted him on his back. "I would be more than happy if you would start your courting Mary Rose this very evening. And don’t wait until after dinner. Come over for dinner. We always have an extra chair for company. Then you can start your courtin’ in the parlor after you help with the dishes. "Mary Rose has her chores and dishes are one of many. She really hates to get her pretty hands all shriveled up in the water. You could make a big impression on her if you offered to wash. Maybe she could dry." I continued, "In the meantime, I will get the children off to their rooms, inform the boarders what is happening and clear out the parlor for you two. It will look like you are alone, but I will be in the room next door and will have the door open. I know you will be a gentleman and I hope that Mary Rose sees just what a fine young man you have become." Mark hung his head and a large puff of wind escaped his lungs. "That sound just fine, Mr. Kelley. Thank you." Our conversation abruptly ended as Ernie walked up to us. "Hello, Mark. Hello, Walt," he started. "The house looks real good. It looks like you are just about finished. You both do very good work." Ernie took off his hat and wiped the inside band with his handkerchief. "Walt," he whispered. "Can I talk to you alone?" I looked at Mark. Mark picked up his lunch scraps and said he would be inside the house if I needed him. Ernie sat down in Mark’s place. "I’ve got some bad news. Our boys are starting to return from the war. Thomas Dolan’s boys are coming home." I looked at him quizzically. So far that didn’t sound like bad news. He continued. "Only Tom’s boys are coming home in pine boxes. They were both killed and the bodies are being shipped home. They should be here next week." I covered my eyes and rubbed my face. How could this happen? How could Tom Dolan lose everything he has ever loved in his life within a period of nine months? I felt like someone just punched me in the stomach. "What can we do?" I whispered. "I stopped by your house and told Katherine. I suppose the word will already be around town. We will, of course, have a funeral and proper burial. The problem is, Walt, I have only one casket and two bodies. I know you’ve been busy building the house, but I have to ask if you will build me one more casket." "Without a doubt, Ernie," I answered quickly. "I will get started on it first thing in the morning. We are about finished up here anyway. Mark and I will be down to the shop first thing tomorrow. I won’t take any money for these caskets, Ernie. Not for Tom’s boys—never." "You’re a good man, Walter Kelley," Ernie said. "A very good friend. I will see you in the morning." That night as I sat down to read the newspaper with Mark and Rose playing songs on the piano I thought about what it would be like to lose my family. A foreboding came over me. I didn’t even want to think too much about it for fear it would come true. Then I opened the newspaper. Making larger headlines than the war these days was news about a terrible influenza that was attacking and killing our soldiers. It apparently started last spring in Kansas then spread to Europe. The newspaper carried articles concerning Spanish influenza, as it was now called. Here in the United States, however, health officials seemed to feel the worst was over for America. They sent forth propaganda with great hopes Americans could continue to gather for celebrations without fear of spreading the disease. Royal Copeland, the Health Commissioner of New York City, announced in the paper "The city is in no danger of an epidemic. No need for people to worry." We were also urged to get out of the house, get back to church, participate in the Liberty Bond sales, and get back to enjoying our life. I put down the paper with a sign of relief. It would appear that the worst was over and South Dakota was spared the sickness and death that had been taking its toll in some of the larger cities. What I didn’t know that day as I was reading the paper was that today’s old news was just old news. While I was reading this outdated news, the paper was typesetting an alert from the Massachusetts Department of Health warning that indeed an epidemic was underway. The state health department was warning that unless precautions were taken the Spanish influenza, which to date had been mostly confined to our soldiers, in all probability would spread to the civilian population of cities. The newspaper was also typesetting horrible tales of hundreds of young men in hospital wards, filling up beds, their faces cast blue, coughing up blood-stained sputum. Dead bodies stacked everywhere. The paper was also typesetting that it was not uncommon for 65 men to die from the influenza in a single day in our military hospitals.   CHAPTER SIXTEEN Lemmon, South Dakota Lemmon Railroad Station Tuesday, October 1, 1918 Mark, Ernie, and I pulled the hearse up to the railroad platform. There, as expected, lay two pine boxes draped with American Flags. We silently pulled up along side the boxes and reluctantly got out of the vehicle. This had to be the second worst day of my life—the second only to the meeting last week with Thomas Dolan after he received word of his sons’ death. I had never seen a more pitiful sight than the skeletal remains of a man now completely alone in the world, his whole family gone and soon to be buried. At the news he hung his head, as he always did. But no tears came. It didn’t seem at all strange. I thought he just had no more tears left. We carefully checked the boxes for names stenciled on the ends of the pine boxes. We were not expecting any more dead bodies that day and were pretty sure that these were our boys, but wanted to make certain, anyway. There were the names: Pvt. Edward Thomas Dolan; Pvt. Patrick Thomas Dolan, both stenciled with Lemmon, South Dakota. The boxes looked so lonely sitting on the platform. I went inside the station and looked up the stationmaster. He checked on his clipboard that we had indeed picked up the bodies. I signed my name. By the time I returned to the platform, Mark and Ernie had lifted the crates onto the hearse. I sadly said, "Let’s take them home." Thomas Dolan had requested that they spend one night together in their home. We thought that was a reasonable request and went straight to the Dolan house with the boys’ bodies. Tom was waiting for us and helped us lift the boxes into the house. Winter was predicted to arrive early that year and on that blustery October day, Tom had warmed the house before we arrived. We set the boxes in the front room and stayed awhile to make sure Tom was all right. He was not all right, we could see. He was totally void of any emotion. He sat motionless as he stared at the boxes containing his only sons. We stayed as long as we could, none of us saying a word. What words could be said? I finally rose and went to Tom. "Tom, we will pick up the boys tomorrow and prepare them for the service. We should be back about 9:00 in the morning. I’m sorry." What else could I say? I felt so badly for him and hated to leave, but we needed to get the graves dug as the ground could start freezing up any time now. There was only one cemetery in Lemmon. It was adjacent to the Catholic Church near my house. Every year as the ground froze, it got harder and then impossible to dig graves. The only tools we had were shovels and picks, which were no match for the frozen earth that could be solid ice for six feet down in mid-winter. Fortunately for us we should have no trouble laying the boys to rest in the yet-to-be-frozen ground. But the chore of digging their graves still hung heavily on our shoulders that day. That night as I lay next to Katherine, I prayed silently in thanks to God that he has given me such a wonderful family. I also prayed for all our boys in the service and especially prayed for Thomas Dolan. The next morning we arrived to find Thomas Dolan hanging dead from an electrical cord above the pine boxes of his two sons.   CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Lemmon, South Dakota Home of Katherine and Walt Kelley Friday, October 4, 1918 Glaring headlines in today’s newspaper contained a statement from Washington, DC. The head of the Health and Sanitation Section of the Emergency Fleet Corporation, Lt. Col. Philip Doane was blaming the Germans for the deadly influenza that was striking Americans. Doane was quoted as saying, "I would be quite easy for one of these German agents to turn loose Spanish influenza germs in a theater or some other place where large numbers of persons are assembled. The Germans have started epidemics in Europe, and there is no reason why they should be particularly gentle with America." Also creating news in the paper today, was a report on a Liberty Bond drive parade in Philadelphia were 635 new cases of influenza were reported in the days after the parade. Philadelphia had ordered churches, schools, and theaters closed. In the same edition of the paper, the Health Commissioner of New York was announcing that he felt the city was in no danger of an epidemic and thereby no need for the people to worry. I was confused, to say the least. John Clarke, our traveling salesman, was due in this Friday. I was planning to get the full story from him. John arrived on the 4:15 p.m. passenger train from Aberdeen. He never asked to have anyone meet him at the station, but today I was there. I had so many questions and John Clarke was the only person who could give me the answers. We talked as we walked in the brisk autumn air to my house. I told him my concerns with the news and how some feel the influenza is an epidemic and others do not. "These are learned men, John," I stated. "We rely on them to tell us the truth about what is going on. I feel we are not getting the whole story." "I will not kid you, Walt," John started. "There is death everywhere. People are dying in great numbers and bodies are stacking high in hospitals and morgues. I really want to talk to all of you at once. You all need to hear the news I bring to you." "In fact, Walt," he continued. "What are the chances I could meet with your Mayor and City Council?" "I will call Bert when we get home. So, it is really as bad as some are saying?" I questioned. "Worse, Walt. Much worse than you can imagine."