Jo's Part Time Work

Diana Deering Cosmetics: What might be called the Mary Kay of the era was Mom’s business opportunity that became a regular nightly activity for her. If Diana Deering Cosmetics were to have had the system Mary Kay has today, Mom'd probably have two pink Cadillacs!! Doing this part-time business was probably a good opportunity to augment the family income. Demand for her assistance at Wentland's 2nd Avenue Grocery was not so great. And she could do this business part-time holding cosmetic parties on only occasional evenings.

I think we were all guinea pigs for a few of the demonstrations of some of the products she sold!

As a result of her success in the company, in January, 1952, she flew (or was flown) to the company offices in Rochester, NY via American Airlines. As the souvenir flight report indicates, it was her first plane trip. Can we imagine such a cordial message from captain and crew on flights today? And she told of her regional manager trying to make a pass at her while she was there! His efforts were unsuccessful.

SOCIAL LIFE OF STAN AND JO

The Moose Club

In 1938, Mom and Dad joined Loyal Order of the Moose Lodge #173 located at 102 W. Mulberry Street, behind the former Register Republic Building on Wyman Street, and across from the Rockford Public Library in Rockford. Mom told me in later life, their main motive for joining was to secure the benefits for members' children at Mooseheart in case of parents' death—assurance that we boys would be cared for if they were to die unexpectedly. For our part, the three of us sons knew nothing of that long term reason for joining the club. We only knew that we could make ourselves part of the Club’s scene, many times on the scene where we were not meant to be. Had it not been for Mom holding the title of Graduate Regent and Dad being Governor, Charlie Patterson and "Lars" Larson would probably have bounced us out of there. And I know that the walls of Lodge 173—were they still standing—would still echo the fame (or would it be infamy?) of the Wentland boys.

The Moose Club, Movies--Keeping Us Boys Nearby and Busy

One of the benefits to our parents of membership in the Moose was their having us nearby, which also benefitted us because we were able to go to the movies at the nearby downtown theaters, coming back to the club afterwards or taking part in youth activities at the club so they’d know where we were.

Downtown movie theaters served us well, Mom and Dad liked having the entertainment for us so close to the club. There were four movie theaters within a few blocks of the Moose Club. While Mom and Dad were at the club, these would occupy us for a goodly number of hours on a weekend afternoon before we’d return to the club after the show. Meanwhile they had their time to unwind, Mom playing gin rummy or pitch with her friends, Dad enjoying being sociable at the bar.

While we were at the show, one of the forms of entertainment they enjoyed was the slot machines before they were declared illegal. And after they were, they were kept operating so their profits could help with club expenses and would be hidden away when the police came “visiting” the club. Dad, as governor of the club, must have some responsibility with this. We know that when the machines had to be moved from the club, some of them ended up down in the basement of our home on Ridge Avenue.

Of course there were those times when the club members would be a bother to us. Tom remembers “the drunken old ladies who insisted on hugging me, smelling of dime store perfume and booze breath, all seemingly having memorized an incantation, "That's Tommy, Jo's boy, isn't he cute!"

One of the other benefits was the activities the Moose Club held for young people. Tom remembers the teen dance that inaugurated the new parquet floor installed around 1944—as it was thought WWII was winding down. The picture above, taken in 1945—his 8^th Grade year—shows Stan and John Siep, both looking pretty bored, and with Peggy VanCura and a girl whose last name is Buckley seeming to enjoy themselves.

Graduate Regent of the Women of the Moose

[WOTM], Rockford, Lodge 173

Standing at the sink on Ridge Avenue, Mom would memorize her speech to the women being installed in the WOTM. Once when I was about 7 years old, I remember being in the balcony of the upstairs hall. The music of “Glow Worm” and “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” was used in the ceremony to accompany the ritual of installation. Mom’s role as Regent was to lead the ceremony, everyone decked out in formal dresses. In the photo at the right Jo is in the front row, right, as depicted in the LIFE Magazine article, September 12, 1949 issue.

The Bump on Dad’s Head

Dad and Mom valued their social life at the Moose Club as an outlet after working all week. They knew that it was “kid-friendly” so that us boys could be there while they took part in their favorite activities, for Mom playing Pitch or 500 Rummy, and for Dad, hanging out at bar with friends. One night I that made an impression on my young memory. We were leaving the club after Dad had had too many friends buy him drinks, or maybe the pressures of the week at the new employment at Kroger had him slugging down one too many “boilermakers.” It was clear Mom was concerned that night as she and friends helped Dad down the front stairs, some twenty of them, of the Club, his legs a bit wobbly and his speech a little slurred. Getting out the front door and to the final four concrete steps outside was the last hurdle before getting to the car. Dad, confident he could navigate these last steps, resisted help. But even though those helping him insisted, he missed a step and fell, cutting his head on the hard concrete. Once a towel was brought to stop the bleeding and we were all in the car, the ride home was quiet as Mom, though she never showed her chagrin in front of us boys, seethed within. I can only imagine the lecture Mom delivered the next day after he had sobered up and they were alone. Dad never again overindulged to that point in public.

Christmas and Lars

No collection of anecdotes about the Moose Club would be complete without the story of the doorkeeper, Lars, at the Moose, who had begun celebrating Christmas Eve a bit early.

From about 1943 to 1947, Dad was Governor of the Moose Lodge No. 173 in Rockford. As such he, no doubt, felt a responsibility for those who worked there. In addition to that, he was a considerate man and concerned for people in distress.

“Lars” Larson served as doorkeeper of the Moose Lodge at the time. The role of doorkeeper was strategic in a private lodge. He would sit in a small room at the top of a 20-step flight of stairs rising from the lower end of Mulberry Street just before it met the Rock River. Looking down through a small window from that room he could see who was ringing the doorbell on the other side of the multi-paned windows of the front entrance. From his room he would then “buzz in” the recognized member.

On the Christmas Eve of 1944, the club was closing early. Mom along with Stan, Tom, and Jack were ready to go, and we boys were especially excited to get home to see what presents Santa had brought. Stan and Tom being 9 and 11 were beyond the “Santa” age but were still excited to see what would be waiting for them under the tree.

As we prepared to leave, Dad noticed that Lars, who was just leaving, was a bit tipsy. Good fellow that he was, he offered to help Lars get home. Buses were not running, and waiting for a taxi would take too long at this evening hour. Added to that, it had begun snowing heavily. Offering a ride seemed the right thing to do. So Dad and Mom helped Lars get in our 1941 Chevy. One difficulty, though, was that Lars, too deeply into his pre-Christmas imbibing, could not formulate the words of his address very clearly. He’d respond to the repeated question, “where do you live, Lars?’ with something like “Furrrr Schtreeet.” That sound could be interpreted as First Street or Pearl Street, both of which were known streets in Rockford. It was probably around 6:00 PM when we left the Moose Club, though to us kids, raring to get to our Christmas presents, it seemed much later. After searching in vain through Lars’ wallet for an address and driving in the rapidly-accumulating snow, first to one location and then to the other of the streets we interpreted as the ones Lars was saying, Dad finally decided that Lars was not going to be able to tell us his address. He and Mom concluded that a taxi driver, knowing Rockford streets better and probably having some experience with getting over-indulgers to their homes, would be a better able to get Lars to his home. Dad was able to hail a cab, get Lars up and out of our car and into the cab, pressing a $20 bill into the cabbies’ hand with a promise to offer more if the mission proved more demanding.

Much to the delight and relief of the three of us boys, we were on our way by 9:00 PM to the warmth of our home at 1303 Ridge Avenue and the opening of our Christmas presents.

And sure enough, the next morning, Christmas Day, Dad was able to verify that Lars had, indeed, made it home all right.

As I look back so many years ago, despite the lack of fulfilling the mission as planned and the delay in our getting home to our presents, that effort by Mom and Dad to get a lonely pensioner to his home on Christmas Eve was probably the best gift our parents could have offered us about what Christmas is all about.