Evelyn the Good Girl

Some things that you could never tell your mother become excellent stories to tell your children – once they’re grown and old enough not to repeat the shenanigans of your youth. Evelyn has dozens. She thinks it’s safe to tell us now.

Born the sixth out of seven children, Ethel Evelyn Walker hated her first name. As soon as she had any say in the matter, no one ever called her Ethel again. The boys in town used to tease her saying, “Fill ‘er up with Ethel!” They were so mean, but not Evelyn. She was a good girl.

Raised during the hard times of the depression, Evelyn never considered herself poor. Even though her mother, Maude, sewed clothes for her children literally out of flour sacks, Evelyn admits that she was the lucky one. Evelyn liked to pick out the flour sack at the grocery store so that she could find a pattern on the fabric that was different from what she already had. Many children in her small town of Bedford, Iowa were clothed the same way. Since she was the youngest daughter, she got her sisters’ hand me downs. Better still, her eldest sister dated a guy who worked for the welfare agency. 

At the welfare agency, volunteers were given bolts of fabric to sew into quick clothing on the spot for families who showed up for aid. Families who went to the welfare agency therefore all had clothing out of the same fabric, made in the same quick fashion. Evelyn’s big sister, Gwen, had a wonderful connection with a beau at the agency. Occasionally a donor would offer smaller pieces of fabric to be used for free clothing. Since the smaller pieces were less expedient and could cause disagreements, the boyfriend would bring them to Mrs. Walker who would sew them into dresses with matching bloomers for Evelyn. No one else in the county would have clothes from that fabric. And no one knew it was welfare fabric. Actually, it was fabric used to woo her big sister, so in a way it was romantic.

In earlier years, Evelyn’s resourceful mother even used her wedding dress to create clothes for her children. Any piece of fabric could be turned into pants, shirts, dresses, socks, or underwear. Elastic was available, but not always reliable. This could cause some moments of embarrassment - especially on the stage at the State Band Finals. But some stories still can’t be told in full yet.

Evelyn’s parents sent their children to church, but did not attend themselves. One of the reasons for this was that Maude didn’t feel she had any clothes for herself that were suitable for church. Besides, her father was working as much as possible. Since he was one of the only men in town with a team of horses, he would use the weekends to plow people’s gardens. During the week he worked as a meat packer at a poultry plant. When government construction jobs were available, he spent time putting down highways or building bridges. He would also chop wood. He was a busy man with lots of mouths to feed. I’m sure he was glad to be married to a resourceful woman like Maude. I’m sure he was glad Evelyn was a good girl.

One weekend a tent was set up for a “Holy Rollers” meeting. This traveling tabernacle was a spectacle for Evelyn’s small town. The noise of the worship inside was intriguing enough for Evelyn and her buddies to dare to enter. The welcoming worshippers led the teenagers right to the front row. Their boisterous worship was indistinguishable from the wide-eyed laughter from the townies up front.

Evelyn grew up in a crowded house. Although she was sixth out of seven children, two of her brothers died in infancy. One baby boy was a “blue baby” and died shortly after birth. This wasn’t an uncommon birth defect of the circulatory system. Modern medicine has solved this problem with surgery that was not available yet for her baby brother. Her other brother was hospitalized after choking on a peanut. He died a few days later from pneumonia. Tragedy was always close by during these hard times.

Not only were there seven Walkers living in Evelyn’s childhood home, but there were seven members of the Gray family as well. The Walkers had known the Grays when they both lived outside of town. When times got tough, the Walkers had been able to move into a house in town and been able to bring their cow and chickens and pigs with them. So between the animals and Maude’s garden, the Walkers always had food, even when the bank closed and kept their money. The Grays had not been so fortunate. They were facing the grim conditions of the “poor farm.” The Walkers decided to keep that family together and out of the government camp that was horrible. They gave over their living room and master bedroom to the family of seven.

The Grays, grateful of being saved from the poor farm, did their best to make do and stay out of the Walkers hair, as much as 14 people in a three bedroom house can do. They hung a blanket over the door to the living room for the illusion of privacy. They made do with the pot-bellied stove for cooking and heat. Mrs. Gray did approach Mrs. Walker when she thought Evelyn was wasting food.

“Maude,” Mrs. Gray began. “Evelyn is wasting food. What is she doing with all those potato peels?

“Why Femmie,” Evelyn’s mother explained, “She’s just doing what I asked her to do. We’ll use the peels to feed the pigs.”

Now I don’t know if Mrs. Gray was familiar with the Bible story of the Prodigal Son, but when your children are hungry, your pride isn’t so hard to swallow. Mrs. Gray asked if she could have the peels for their supper. After that, Maude always shared some of the produce from her garden with Mrs. Gray.

The Grays weren’t the only family the Walkers assisted during these lean years. Maude bartered her garden and eggs for fish with one family who had subsisted on what they could catch in the river. This neighbor had a son who had recently been released from jail and the neighbors were uneasy about them. Maude was not going to be made to feel intimidated. Evelyn’s daughter Peggy recalls asking her mother to tell the story about how Grandma Maude was a crack shot.

One evening Maude Walker was shelling peas on the porch when one of her children pointed out a rat over by the barn. Without hesitation, Maude picked up a loaded pistol and in one shot killed the rat. The ex-convict son was walking by at that very moment. They never had any trouble from him. And no one ever thought to ask Maude why she was shelling peas with a loaded pistol. You didn’t questions Maude Walker.

Evelyn remembers that her mother would have to shut the screen door because hungry children in town would come and watch their family eating supper. There wasn’t enough to feed the town, but they hated to see so many hungry children. So Maude would pop popcorn every day to feed whatever children happened by. A boy Evelyn later dated, Toby, said he remembered that some days the Walker’s popcorn was all that he had to eat.

Maude wasn’t the only woman in town popping popcorn, but hers was the only popcorn the older children dared to eat. There was a woman who had a small house on the edge of the four block business district, not far from the courthouse, who had another source of income in the evenings. Although details were never discussed, the town knew what services were offered there after dark. In the days before television and in times when the only entertainment was what you could find to do for free, the teenagers in the town found a way to pass some of the slow summer evenings. 

There was nothing remarkable about the appearance of this business woman. She was thin and haggard looking. No one could afford or even had access to make up. She had no family in town and did not participate in the town’s community events in any official capacity. However, everyone knew her business signals. When she was open for business, she propped a broom against her porch. If a customer entered, he would turn that broom so the head faced up. It seems sometime that the signal would get crossed.

Evelyn was a good girl, so she never touched that broom. She did watch with other young teenagers a block or so away as one daring mischief maker would sneak up and turn that broom back down. Then they would watch until another customer entered. Even though everyone knew who were this woman’s patrons, no one like to be caught with their hand in the cookie jar. When the signals were crossed, two men would flee the house in opposite directions. Through their eyes squinting with laughter, Evelyn and her friends identified the various men of their town. They later found that these men were the most generous when collecting pledge money for various school fundraisers. The only prompt needed was a mention of a broom handle.

In these days in Iowa, no one talked about sex directly. Evelyn didn’t even know that her mother was pregnant until the town doctor knocked on the door one night. It seems Dr. Rimel was also feeling the pinch of the Depression’s scarcities. Knowing the Walkers to be well off even with their flour sack clothing and 13 people in the house, Dr. Rimel came to their house one evening to ask for an advance on the birthing fee for the Walker’s next addition. Mr. Walker went to Maude’s organ and took a $10 bill out of the back. It seems since the bank shut down that Evelyn’s dad found another place for the safekeeping of his cash. That $10 bought Evelyn her baby brother, Dean who now lives in Branson Missouri. Dr. Rimel’s children all went on to become doctors and surgeons.

One of the town’s school teachers, Miss Long, also encountered the pranks of the town’s restless children. The kids liked Miss Long as much for her hospitality as for her gullibility. Every year or so, the kids would leave a shocking surprise on Miss Long’s porch, like a cow skull. Then the next day they would stop by her house for a visit and hear all about her gruesome discovery while enjoying her cookies and milk. 

Miss Long was also a sucker for the occasional crank phone call. Prank phone calls were trickier in the 1940’s. Although there was no pesky caller ID to give you away, there was the switchboard operator. Phones were linked on one line. All the phones on the line rang simultaneously. Each household had a unique ring. You would only answer the phone if it was your ring. This was hardly privacy insurance. For entertainment you could simply listen on the line. So usually you didn’t say anything more than “I’m running late” or “How’s the baby?” Evelyn and her friends would call Miss Long with a seemingly innocent question, “Are you the Miss Long who cleans?” 

“No,” the old maid teacher would reply.

“You dirty woman!” the prankster would laugh before hanging up.

What fun that was for them – and whoever might have been listening on the line.

They probably stopped by the next day for cookies to hear all about the terrible phone call she had received.

Although times were simpler in Bedford, Iowa in the 1930’s, the town was still under the influence of the prevailing racism of the era. When still very young, Evelyn recalls a sign on the edge of town that announced “No Niggers Beyond This Point.” She recalls as terrifying a cross burning in Mr. Locke’s front yard. Mr. Locke was a lawyer who had defended a black man in a trial in a neighboring town. It seems that after the cross was burned in his yard, he submitted to extortion to keep himself and his wife from harm. On threat of death, he was made to give a Christmas present to every child in the county. Evelyn remembers going to his house to pick up her present. He was a wealthy man and his house was far grander than anyone’s in Bedford. One year she received a play tea set, another year a doll. Each gift was also accompanied by a bag of fruit and nuts.

By the time Evelyn reach high school the offensive sign on the edge of town had been removed. The town’s first black family was the first black people Evelyn had ever seen. They were kind and quiet, working in the town as janitors.

Nothing beat Halloween for fun. The efforts of Evelyn and her friends were doubled to find unusual mischief for their entertainment. In the 1940’s, children were given more than a piece of candy at the door when they went trick or treating. Children were invited to a table that was set with homemade cookies, divinity or fudge and hot apple cider or hot chocolate. October in Iowa could be cold and the children welcomed the chance to warm up between stops.

One year they were out strolling through the town watching the younger children trick or treat. A few houses ahead they saw a man sneak around the side of his house with the garden hose and spray the trick-or-treaters at his door. The shocked, soaked children fled the house in tears. Even a good girl like Evelyn who respected her elders could see that a deed like that was reprehensible. The teenage vigilantes considered their retribution options. They wished they had access to a truck so they could pour a load of caw manure on their front porch. Since they had neither truck nor manure not truck, they had to find a simpler option. 

The monster should not be allowed to repeat the offense. The boys in her gang of friends had pocket knives with them. So they snuck around the back of the mean man’s house and cut his hose into short lengths. If he turned on the hose without looking, he would get sprayed. At least he couldn’t repeat the offense this Halloween. Evelyn has always appreciated swift justice.

There were 49 students in Evelyn’s class at school. Mostly they had grown up together and knew each other’s family secrets, even if they never acknowledged them. Evelyn enjoyed her girlfriends, but didn’t like to hang out with just girls. Boys were more fun. The boys, however, seemed to brag a lot about their exploits. She and her girlfriends were tired of it. So one Halloween they bragged back and ended up in deep shit.

There weren’t too many outhouses left in town now that the city had run pipes throughout the town. It took a citywide outhouse ban to put an end to their usage. So the girls had to think about whose outhouse they could tip over after they bragged to the boys about their plans for Halloween. The boys were delighted to imagine their feminine counterparts shoving over a privy. They even suggested which one. The boys, experts at knocking over the latrines gave them some pointers, like push from the back where more of you can get your weight behind it. Happy for the advice and eager for the adventure, the boys and girls parted ways until dark.

At the appointed time, the girls donned their rain boots over their saddle shoes and headed for trouble. They snuck up behind the latrine, arms outstretched for the toppling push, when the earth gave way beneath them. It seems the boys took advantage of their gullible friends and moved the outhouse from its original location by about a foot. And a few feet ended up in the hole. Thank goodness the women who owned the facility had been using their indoor plumbing more since the weather cooled. It was deep, but it could have been much worse. The girls recovered their composure and went over to the boys so they could help them clean off their boots before going home. They could probably tell their mothers that they tipped an outhouse. They weren’t about to let them see their ruined boots.

The best Halloween ever came when Evelyn was about 15 years old. Her next door neighbor, a friendly mentally retarded man who went by the name of Jinx, dug graves at the local cemetery. After work he would often stop by the Walkers and visit. One Halloween he stopped in to tell about an exciting discovery. The grave he had dug that day was filled with phosphorescent soil. Since his children were still too young for much trick-or-treating, he thought the Walkers would like to take advantage of the information for Halloween. The information was in the right hands with Evelyn.

Evelyn’s gang of friends often played a game where you divided up in teams and on team left clues for the other to follow to eventually rendez-vous at a certain destination. One clue would lead you to a certain tree where the players would find another clue leading them to a friend’s outhouse, or under the rock by the courthouse and so on until the final destination was reached. Tonight, the final destination, thanks to Jinx, was going to be the cemetery.

Now the cemetery was a place the kids were already quite familiar with. It was on a hillside overlooking the town. With gas prices high and entertainment cheap, when someone took their car out, it was usually filled with eight or ten kids. They would park at the cemetery and listen to the radio for hours. Now if you were on a date you would go to the cemetery to “park and spark.” Evelyn clarified that you wouldn’t Park and Spark if you were in a packed car, but she later amended that statement with, “Well, it depends whose lap you were sitting on.”

Evelyn recalls some of her gang. Bill and Bobby, brothers, were the son of a lawyer. They also had a farm, so they always had gas. Their car was often at the cemetery. Evelyn hung out with Bobby a lot, although they never parked and sparked because Evelyn was a good girl. Corky was another boy in the gang who, decades later, would marry Bill’s ex-wife. There was Martha, and Mary Ellen, and Helen and a bunch of others.

So that Halloween, Evelyn fashioned the series of clues to lead her other friends to the graveyard. Once the clues were in place and half the gang set off in pursuit of the adventure, Evelyn pulled boots over her saddle shoes and her group high tailed it to the graveyard. It was a chilly night, but her band jacket and the adrenaline were enough to keep her warm. Although there were no outdoor lights, the moonlight was bright enough to make their way through the town burial grounds. The old cemetery had many large ornate tombstones that cast eerie shadows in their flashlight beams. When they got to the newly dug grave, they hesitated at the edge, weighing prickles of fear for jumping into an open grave against the fun of the mischief they had planned. Evelyn jumped right in, leading the way.

Once inside, the girls rubbed the glowing minerals on their hands, forearms, and faces, giving them a luminescent, ghostly pallor. The grave was deep, well over everyone’s heads. One girl was posted on someone’s shoulders as a lookout for their unsuspecting friends. When their victims arrived through the gates at the bottom of the hill, the glowing ghoulies mounted the boys shoulders and waited for them to approach the designated tombstone not far from the open grave.

The mayhem began with moaning and groaning ask they reached their hands up from the earth as if the dead clawing their way to freedom. Their peered their phosphorescent mottled faces out of the pit with such grizzly sound effects that all they saw was the backsides of their friends running back down the hill to the gate. The fleeing friends were screaming louder than the ghosties. 

Evelyn’s tomb of terrorizers collapsed into laughter before scrambling their way out of the glowing hole. Getting out proved to be more of a challenge than getting in. The last person had to be retrieved by friends lying on their stomachs and reaching in to pull him out. They had to run fast to catch up with their frightened friends. Some of them wouldn’t come back out of their houses. Some spoil sports just can’t take a joke! She hadn’t done anything wrong. Evelyn was a good girl.

* * * *

While conducting the interview that I used as the basis for this essay, several times Evelyn referred to herself as a good girl. After hearing this long list of her exploits, I had to ask her,

“Evelyn, if you were a good girl, what did the bad kids do?”

Without hesitation she explained, “The bad girls drank beer and got pregnant.” 

If those are the qualifiers for “bad,” then I’m sure there are many joining me in that category; however, I do know this much is true. When I was “good,” I was never as “good” as Evelyn Walker Bracht. This woman knows how to have fun.

Happy 75th Birthday Evelyn!