Uncle Frank

My parents moved to Niles, California in 1937 to open a business when I was one year old. My brother, Ray, was two. My sister, Louise, was born in 1938 after we had moved to Niles. I don't remember the move to Niles, nor do I recall my sister's birth, but I began remembering names and places by the time I was three years old.Our business, The Maples, included a restaurant, a service station ,two rental cabins and a small campground. The food served was most frequently coffee and sandwiches, sometimes homemade pie and doughnuts. Full breakfasts of bacon and eggs, toast, hotcakes and cereal was available as was a full lunch and dinner menu.

This hub is about a hobo who became part of our family when we lived in Niles.

Two tramps (the term I recall in use at the time) had stopped by the Maples on afternoon in late fall. They were cold and hungry and had no place to sleep. I don't believe my mother ever turned away anyone who asked for food ;in this case, she fed both men after which one or both did some minor yardwork in repayment. The men, who carried their own bedrolls, were given housing in a shed on the property. As I recall, they were provided wooden army type cots. Many would have called them winos and bums (the term "homeless" was not in vogue in 1939). .

I recall Ray coming to me the following morning to tell me that one of the tramps was going to stay with us. It seems he was a Spanish War veteran with a small retirement income The problem was that this bit of money went for wine (or anything else with a proof) as soon as he received it each month. Mom had agreed to let him stay in one of our rental units in exchange for doing odd jobs and paying a small rent. Since it was verboten in those days for children to call adults by their first names, it was decided that we would call him Uncle Frank.

His name was Frank Walsh. He had a birthday that was the same as mine, January 1. However, Uncle Frank was nearly seventy when he arrived at the Maples whereas I was barely four. He either had no living relatives or those he had didn't claim him. But my mother saw something good in him and decided he could be salvaged.

For a while he did his odd jobs and paid his rent; then he received a check and disappeared for several days. He showed up a few days later, hungry, cold and penniless. Needless to say, there was no money for rent; yet my mother let him stay with a promise that he would give her the next check he received and she would apportion it out to him. This didn't work the first time because he cashed the next check he received and was gone again. When he came back a few days later, he was disheveled and bloody and his left thumb was nearly severed. He was in great pain in addition to being hungry, penniless and without shelter. This time my mother was not in a conciliatory mood. She brought him in, cleaned him up and took him for medical attention. Then she laid the law down. He was to give her each and every check upon receipt; he would get no money except maybe a little for pipe and cigarette tobacco; this he better do if he knew what was good for him. My mother had a way of making her point clear. Uncle Frank didn't drink for quite a while after that, but--------.

We all loved Uncle Frank. He took Ray and me on hikes into the nearby hill (sister, Louise was only about a year a half old at the time Uncle Frank arrived). He showed us how to make little figures out of pipe cleaners and he entertained us with little rhymes and sayings; for example, he would often say "You go; I go to San Diego". He would say "sufficiency suffanciful" (meaning he had enough to eat). I'm sure as I read this over, I will recall others.

As I have mentioned earlier, Uncle Frank became a part of the family after my mother rescued him from the life of a hobo when we lived in Niles. When we moved to Coloma in early 1941, she helped him get his own apartment. He remained there after we moved again, this time to an abandoned farm/ranch north of  Placerville, California. He hadn't gotten over his penchant for the bottle, however, and periodically went on drinking binges. I'm not sure but that my mother continued to control his small Spanish war veterans pension But he still managed to find money for drink.

We had been at the ranch for a month or two when my mother drove out to Coloma to check on Uncle Frank. Upon arriving at the small cabin where he had been living, it became apparent that all was not right. The front door was open and all kinds of furniture and Debris were scattered over the front yard. One of the items that I recall was a radio in a large wood cabinet that my parents had let him use; We had no use for it since we had no electricity. We found the landlord who explained that Uncle Frank had gotten very drunk, then became very angry at something he heard on the radio. He proceeded to throw the radio out into the yard (it was totally destroyed), then followed it up with more furniture from the house.

Uncle Frank was nowhere to be found. The landlord stated that he had headed off down the road with a bundle on his back. My mother got into our pickup and started down the road. It wasn't long before we came across Uncle Frank. Mom stopped the pickup and commanded Uncle Frank, "get in this car you old fool. We're going home" Uncle Frank knew better than to argue with this woman and he got into the back of the truck. After cleaning up the yard at his house, we took him home to the ranch. Whether by mutual consent with the landlord or otherwise, Uncle Frank did not return to the house in Coloma.

I don't recall how long Uncle Frank stayed with us at the ranch. But in recalling the circumstances, I believe it was my mother's intent to keep him there and” dry him out" from his alcoholic binge; then she would find him a new place to live. I believe it was only a day or two after he arrived that friends, George and Alice Wulzen, came to visit. While they were there, Alice treated Frank for some kind of a skin cut or abrasion (possibly to the Coloma episode)and was applying rubbing alcohol to his wound. She stepped away for a few moments and when she turned around, Uncle Frank had the bottle of rubbing alcohol up to his mouth and was drinking. Alice was not one to mince words; she snatched the bottle and gave him a lecture that he probably recalled to his dying day.

We were quite isolated at the ranch and at that time had no alcoholic beverages of any kind on the premises. However, Uncle Frank proceeded to find some and to go on another binge within a few days. I suspect he bought and concealed a bottle when my mother and dad took him into town to cash his pension check. In any event, he got very drunk one day and decided he was going to walk down to the American River and pan for gold. He asked me if I would like to go with him and I readily agreed. Since I was only five years old and he was an adult, I saw no reason to ask my parents, so off we went.

Uncle Frank carried a shovel and a pick; I carried the gold pan. The river was three to five miles away and, as I mentioned, Uncle Frank was very drunk. It seemed that we walked about a quarter mile at a time. Uncle Frank kept sitting down or falling down, then singing in his drunken stupor. Eventually we reached the American River, but we couldn't get down to the water because of rocks and the abrupt drop-off. Uncle Frank threw the pick, shovel and goldpan down the embankment and proceeded to look for a path to the water. We couldn't find one and sun was starting to go down, so he finally gave up and we left the equipment at the bottom of the embankment.

It had been several hours and Uncle Frank was starting to sober up. I think it finally occurred to him that nightfall was approaching and we had a long walk ahead of us up the canyon through trees and brush. I recall to this day how scared I was after it became pitch dark and I didn't know where I was. Eventually, Uncle Frank sobered up pretty well and seemed able to plot out our direction using the stars. After what seemed like an eternity, I heard the voices of my dad and mother in the distance. I guess it was a panicky situation for everyone, but I don't recall any anger or scolding following this trip. For many years until his death, Uncle Frank and I would reminisce about this trip to the American River. Shortly after this episode, my parents took Uncle Frank into town (Placerville) and helped him find a small cottage to live in.

The cabin my parents found for Uncle Frank was on Clay Street north of main near Hangtown Creek in Placerville, California. The cabin is now gone, having been razed to make way for the current highway 50 freeway through the area. As I recall, it was no more than one room plus a small bathroom. But it seemed adequate for one person with few possessions.

We didn't see much of Uncle Frank for awhile since our trips into town were limited. We may have visited a time or two and I believe he came out to the ranch a time or two. But the startling news came by mail one day. Uncle Frank had gotten married. I don't know that any of us knew he was seeing anyone or even that he was staying sober. If so we were wrong on both counts. He had been seeing a woman named Arabella who rented a cabin next to his; but he had not stopped drinking. It seems he went on a binge and was thrown in the Placerville jail. Arabella, who had become quite attached to him, found he was in jail and bailed him out. I suppose Arabella believed she could reform him; after all, he had so many good qualities.

So, they decided to get married. Arabella was introduced to the family and it was decided that we children would call her Aunt Belle. I believe Aunt Belle was about seventy years old, roughly the same age as Uncle Frank. The two seemed suited for each other. He seemed to enjoy her constant bantering and fussing over him. Years later Aunt Belle would acknowledge that Uncle Frank had told her when they got married that he could not quit drinking and would always drink. She thought at the time she could live with this; after all others lived with mates who drank.

After a couple of months and a few binges, Uncle Frank proceeded to break some furniture and do some other damage and Aunt Belle reached the end of her rope. She told him that she had been wrong and that she actually could not cope with his drinking. Uncle Frank thought about this for awhile, then stated he would quit drinking and for the next fifteen years he drank not another drop.

Uncle Frank and Aunt abelle had several good years together. He died around 1955 at age 86.

Aunt Belle was a very likable person, but she had a number of idiosyncrasies that we found amusing. For example, she constantly talked about her ill health and about the foods she "dare'nt" eat. As far as we could tell, she was never sick (and she live to be over 95). Regarding the food she "dare'nt" eat, she would sometimes eat a little bit of the food my mother prepared then ask if she could take some home. (for Frank, of course).

We maintained contact with Aunt Belle until she died in the mid 1960's