Background
information: Bernie, as she is popularly
known, is 84 years old and an active member of the community. The interview began with her young womanhood
in southern Michigan but for this purpose, will start with her coming to the
Northville area and then pick up the earlier years.
Bernie: I came to Northville from the University of
Michigan where I had been studying for a master’s degree in clinical social
work. I graduated in June 1956.
In
December of 1955 Dempsey Ebert and I were married. We had met the previous year through mutual
friends. He and his father had a funeral
home in St. John’s Michigan and I had previously lived in East Lansing so we
had mutual acquaintances.
Those
first few months of marriage were tense as I had a full schedule at the
University and my thesis on alcoholism to complete by June. Dempsey felt neglected until he took over the
task of assembling and proofreading my thesis.
The
Department of Health and the University and I cooperated in the production of
this quite new study of alcoholism. It
was used as a model for future treatment of alcoholics. There were very few treatment centers in
1956. The State typed, printed and bound
my thesis—parts were published under my name.
Strangely,
the School of Social Work had not at first approved my selection of alcoholism
for a thesis. They thought it was “no
field for a woman”. The State and I
prevailed and later the University gave me high praise for my pioneer work.
After
Dempsey’s father retired and sold the St. John’s funeral home, Dempsey and I
purchased the old Schrader Funeral Home at 404 W. Main St., Northville. We moved in for the new year of 1957. Dempsey busied himself with the business
matters and acquainting himself with Northville. I made a home of the very pleasant apartment
upstairs in this beautiful old house.
Another small apartment provided a house for Dempsey’s “helper”—usually
a lady to answer phones and doors when Dempsey and I were not there.
I
was not the usual funeral director’s wife.
I had my own career—a full time job with the Family Service of American
in Birmingham, Michigan. They hired only
master’s degree people and paid me an extra $800 a year to handle the alcohol
program.
After
five years the office was moved to Berkley, Michigan. The director left and I was not happy with
the new arrangement so quit.
For
the next two years (’62 and ’63) I was “home” doing a lot of different things;
classes at Schoolcraft, a journalism class at U. of M., where I wrote a history
of the Northville Record for a professor who had Bill Sliger in his class years
before. I also interviewed and wrote biographies
on Mike Allen from the granite quarries to Allen Monuments; and Dr. Hugh
Godfrey who was referred to me by the head of the U. of M. Dental School as the
best student he ever had. Earlier, as a
student, I did a biography of my father “J.J.-His Life”. He was born in 1874. He was 82 when he told me the story of his
life. I added a psychological analysis
of his “moves and moods” over the years.
I
was active while home those two years in several Northville clubs and
organizations: The Business and
Professional Woman’s Club, The National Farm and Garden Association, The
American Association of University Women (in Plymouth then), The First
Presbyterian Church of Northville, The Eastern Star. I was a charter member of the National
Association of Social Work, a Psi Chi member (National Honor Society in
Psychology), and had earned my certification from the Academy of Certified
Social Workers.
These
two years at home in Northville were busy and varied. I bought a darling brown poodle named Piper
and learned to train and groom him.
I
helped Dempsey at the funeral home when needed with many odd jobs never seen,
and comforted those in grief when needed.
I taught a Sunday School class at the Presbyterian Church. My parents, living in Elkhart, Indiana since
retired, were growing older. I spent
time with them to see that they were comfortable. I lost both of them in those two years.
Dempsey
was devoted to “service”, not only as a funeral director, but to civic
organizations and groups. He was a
Mason, a Knight Templar, a Shrine and an Eastern Star member. He worked endless hours at the Shrine Circus
each year for the benefit of burn victims.
He was an elder at the Presbyterian Church and taught a class of
adolescents there. Dempsey was a member
of the National and Michigan Funeral Directors Associations and was an officer
in the latter. He was president of the
Chamber of Commerce in 1964, following Betty Allen-the first year in the
Chamber’s new building. He was again
president of the Chamber in 1967. He was
also past president of the Rotary.
Dempsey
was active in most civic events: fairs,
festivals, parades, etc. He belonged to
local clubs: Optimists, Elks, Lions,
etc., and took part in their charitable activities. He was part of the polio immunization program
and was once an instructor in Cardio-Pulmonary Resuscitation. For many years he provided ambulance service
to the race track (Northville Downs) through John Carlo. This continued until his death.
The
Main Street businessmen met once a week around the big round table at The Old
Mill for a pancake breakfast. It was a
jovial fellowship meeting where they “settled the affairs of the day.” It was typical of Northville in those
days—the “village” was smaller, close-knit and friendly.
Dempsey
was able to relax and/or sleep any time, perhaps a result of often working at
night when most people were sleeping. He
never worried about getting enough sleet but was ever ready to go to a Tiger
game or a show at the Fisher.
My
two years of “full-time Northville living” ended when I was sought to be the
Clinical Social Worker in a new Alcohol Treatment Program being set up by the
State of Michigan, to be housed at Ypsilanti State Hospital, under a
grant. It was a successful and
fulfilling experience. My thesis was
“blooming”.
I
also held group therapy once a week for the Court in Ann Arbor. The Judge gave alcohol traffic violators the
choice of jail or group therapy for three months at $5 each, each week. Men and women—many recovered, got their jobs
back; broken marriages healed, and improved health. This job required a license from the State
and I obtained on in Marriage Counseling.
Word
of my activities spread and I found myself with a small private practice. I met with clients individually at the
Washtenaw Council on Alcoholism, which I helped found.
The
Alcohol Center closed after about six years for lack of funds and I transferred
to the Washtenaw County Unit under another grant to handle the Alcohol
Program. When the grant expired I retired
in 1970 and continued a small private practice for several years.
Dempsey
had increased his business and made substantial contributions to Northville,
which he loved, since we moved here in 1957.
He helped me—always a cup of “wake-up coffee”—my car always ready—snow
plowed and car warm. He never complained
about my commuting or long hours. He
made favorite dishes—chili and barbequed ribs.
Dempsey
liked people and meetings but was equally happy with his Brittany Spaniel, Jay,
tramping the North Woods with his gun which he shot to train his dog not to be
gun shy. He never killed an animal. Our cabin at Lake Mitchell was a haven for
both of us.
Dempsey
knew the best fishing holes in the lake.
The smell of the pines and the whisper of the wind through the birch
trees drew us back to our cabin, “Chipmunk Manor”, again and again.
The
last year of Dempsey’s life he was the funeral director for the Hebrew
Benevolent Society, 26640 Greenfield Road, Oak Park, Michigan. Our establishments were connected by phone
and Dempsey would go there whenever the Rabbi needed him. The services are different from those for
gentiles. Those Dempsey provided were
non-religious with the bereaved.
However, the business and legal requirements were the same.
He
found it a very congenial and professional relationship. The Rabbi and his staff liked Dempsey’s wit
and humor as well as how he treated “our people”. They recalled him as “cheerful, helpful and
cooperative.”
Dempsey
died October 8, 1972. We had been
married seventeen years. I was eleven
years older than Dempsey. This seemed to
be of no interest or concern to anyone until I suddenly found myself a widow
and a senior citizen. This was a period
of loss, grief and adjustment.
I
stayed at 404 W. Main until the estate was settled. The funeral home was out of code so could not
continue. It was sold several times as a
residence and is now owned by Al and Barbara Glover who had preserved the
beauty of this historic house. I moved
to Northville Forest Apts. and stayed there for about three years until Allen
Terrace opened. I was one of the first
tenants. That was about ten years
ago—1978.
Betty: Let’s go back to your early life.
Bernie: To start from the beginning I was born in
1904 in Elkhart, Indiana and named Pearl Berneita Killinger. I grew up on my parents’ farm in southern
Michigan ten miles northeast of Elkhart just off U.S. 12. My parents were farmers, and my father was a
New York Central railroader. My brother
and I went to a one-room country school of 20-30 pupils, age six to eighteen
years plus, as many farm children stayed home at harvest time and never
completed the eighth grade. I passed the
State of Michigan eighth grade examination at age twelve.
Following
high school at Bristol, Indiana (the closest college preparatory school) I
completed a Life Certificate at Ypsilanti State Normal School, now Eastern
Michigan University. This was followed
by teaching in Battle Creek—second grade; pupils were from the Kellogg and Post
cereal area—good bright kids and a wonderful principal. In spite of this satisfactory year, I was
lured to Detroit by increased salary.
In
September, 1928, while teaching in Detroit—at a small school in East Detroit—at
the end of the Gratiot Street car line and a mile walk down Kelly Road. Two teachers—I had the first four grades, she
the upper four. We ran the school; the
principal gave us her full approval when she visited us from her office in
another school. In February, the
pot-bellied stove overheated one night and the school burned to the
ground. I was transferred to the
Courville School—Six Mile and Dequindre—a mile or more east of Woodward. There was no transportation on Six Mile, so
we walked, except when the police occasionally came to our rescue, especially
on cold, late afternoons when the snow was deep. I frosted my feet and had chilblains for
years.
My
assignment was a split—grades second and third.
Mostly first generation from Southern European countries whose parents
had responded to Henry Ford’s offer of $500 a day. I had 72 pupils who couldn’t speak or read
English (two black children and three Norwegian children were the exception).
This
was a different assignment but having been honored in Ypsi for my teaching of
reading and high praise for the same in Battle Creek, I proceeded with my own
methods, much to the displeasure of the principal who wanted to follow the rage
of the time, “picture stories”, a method of individual progress which was
discontinued after its failure of several years.
In
September of 1928 I married Michael Timothy Doyle of St. Paul, Minnesota. We lived in an apartment in Detroit; he
worked for an investigating firm and I taught.
The following May we were visiting my parents on the farm and Michael
was driving to South Bend to visit his Notre Dame friends, when a carless
driver snuffed out his life. Michael was
returned to St. Paul for burial. The
Doyles were a founding family of St. Paul.
His father was an attorney, his older brother a psychiatrist at the Mayo
Clinic and his older sister was Mother Superior at Rosary College in a suburb
of Chicago. Michael and I were to have
returned to St. Paul in the fall so he could return to the University of
Minnesota. I was devastated.
I
did not return to Detroit but took a year’s health leave of absence. I was recovering from scarlet fever,
contracted at school. Immunization was
not available in those days and teachers were at high risk for many diseases.
I
lived at home with my parents for a time.
Then I visited my college roommate and some relatives in California for
a year. I also visited the Missions and
worked several months in San Francisco in the old Mission District where the
fog rolled in at 4:00 p.m. On my return to Michigan I lived at home or with
family friends while working as a secretary in Elkhart.
It
was there that I met my second husband, Charles G. Randall, a patent attorney
for Tim-O-Stat, an electrical switch company.
We were married in 1931. The
company was bought out by Minneapolis Honeywell and he was asked to go with
them. He wished to stay in patents in
the automotive field as this was a fast developing field.
He
obtained a job at Packard Motor in Detroit.
This was a very satisfactory job but only lasted a year or two. These were depression days and Packard
reduced staff radically before eventually closing. Charles was out of work but after some
freelance work he contracted the patent work for Reo Motor in Lansing. He opened his office with the Foster and
Cameron Law Firm. Mr. Foster was legal
counsel for Reo.
We
moved to Lansing and were there for nearly 10 years. After a couple of years renting, we bought a
house in East Lansing. We had many
friends, belonged to the country club, city club, and a cabana club at Lake
Michigan. We generally lived a carefree,
happy life as we furnished and decorated our new home, built lawns, landscaped
and made flower beds.
Charles
owned and played a beautiful concert harp which he had played during law school
days in Washington D.C. at many musical gatherings—once at the White
House. Charles was also a talented
horseman, having ridden since childhood.
When I spent too much time riding his horse he gave me a mare, Irene,
for Christmas. Charles and an old black
stable man from the horse country in Kentucky, taught me to ride. My childhood bare-backing may have
helped. Between the two of us we won a
barrel full of ribbons. I still have two
silver plates and a loving cup I won that is engraved, “Good Hands and Seat.” My horse-y friends understood.
Charles’
work for Reo was successful and lucrative.
He was known affectionately as the “fair-haired boy” for his ability to
write patents which stood up in courts.
He never lost a case. He was
young and brilliant. He patented the
first automatic transmission. General
Motors and other car companies paid royalties to use the patent. Ford refused and failed to develop their own
patent for its seventeen year life. I
drove the first test model before it was put on the market. It has “push buttons” and worked as well as
current automatic transmissions.
In
the late thirties The Reo Motor Co. was the target of a “takeover” by a group
from New York who had no intention of operating the company. They moved in, fired everyone; closed the
plan, sold machinery and some of the buildings, appointed themselves as high
paid officers. There was chaos in
Lansing as previously Reo was a closely-held company by local investors. The Security and Exchange Commission finally
stepped in. Some of the group went to
jail, there was a suicide, and some escaped to South America. Reo eventually reorganized but made only
busses. This ended Charles’ work for
Reo.
A
few months before the take-over, Charles was in a serious auto accident on the
highway on Grand River Ave. (no expressways then) near Brighton. He had skull fractures and twice broken jaw,
and other injuries. He was in the
hospital for three months. A farm family
witnessed the accident, but the driver of the car causing the accident sped
away and was never found. Charles seemed
to be recovering, but was not well.
Since Reo had closed he was out of a job and it was then that a
succession of jobs followed. He was
unable to keep up professionally. He
would not talk about his health or seek medical help, somewhat unaware of why
he was failing.
My
family and I wanted him to go to the University of Michigan Hospital, but this
was not to be accomplished until his friends at the patent law firm where he
had interned as a law student at George Washington University, and where he was
currently a non-producing employee, devised the plan with me, my parents, and
his father for Charles to go there. He
was admitted in the fall of 1944. I
stayed on in Washington D.C. in our apartment, and had a job with the
government.
Charles
diagnosis was brain damage from the accident.
He was in and out of the hospital for over two years. While there he repaired and old press and
printed a newspaper for the Psychiatric Institute. He had excellent care and showed
improvement. He was employed for a few
months by American Aviation Co. in the Fisher Building where he died of a
stroke/heart attack on December 1, 1947 at 39 years of age.
He was mourned by all who knew him. There was a certain sadness that gripped all of us. I came from Washington to bury him in the family plot in Mt. Hope Cemetery in Lansing.
I
then returned to Washington and went on with my life. I worked at many interesting federal
positions for agencies specializing in my fields of interest: Office of War Information (Personnel for
domestic and overseas placement); he U.S. State Department; the National
Institute of Mental Health, etc. Jobs
were often given or terminated on the basis of politics as civil service status
was denied all new employees (there was a fear of too many “temporary
employees” who would overload the Civil Service government employees retirement
plan). Many new employees were from
below the Mason-Dixon line as these were “Democrat Days.” Between these jobs of uncertain tenure in
U.S. Government, I sold real estate, typed masters and doctoral theses;
counseled vets at George Washington University and volunteered at Walter Reed
Hospital Psychiatric Ward. I also went
to George Washington University and completed by BA degree in Education and a
MA degree in Psychology (vocational and Educational Counseling).
There
were many interesting experiences in Washington. I was entertained at a tea by Eleanor
Roosevelt with a group in the Rose Garden at the White House. I was in Washington when President Roosevelt
died. The whole city mourned. I saw Harry Truman take his morning walk (no
security guards) as I passed on my way to work.
It
was challenging and exciting to work in Washington during those times. The city was full of uniformed military
personnel. New employees arrived daily
for this post-war world reconstruction period.
The tourists came by the bus loads.
Washington
wasn’t “home” and I heard the ever-present call to Michigan. Eisenhower was president when I returned in
September, 1954, to enter the University of Michigan and then to Northville in
1957 as previously noted.
Betty: What is life like at Allen Terrace?
Bernie: Life at Allen Terrace, Northville’s senior
apartment complex of 100 apartments, is pleasant and comfortable. I attend some of the clubs and church
mentioned in my earlier account of my life in Northville. I have added Northville Town Hall and enjoyed
the various speakers and fine luncheons at the Hilton Hotel in Plymouth.
Our
Allen Terrace director, Frances Yoakum Hopp, interested me in senior activities
and I serve with her on the board of the Senior Alliance of the Area Agency on
Aging which serves the 34 west and southwest communities of Wayne County. We are also members of the Northville Area
Senior Citizens Advisory Council, administered by the Northville Recreation
Department.
The
Senior Center at Cooke School on Taft Road is a busy place. Karl Peters is the full time director and
works closely with John Anderson of the Recreation Dept. The center offers social gatherings, cards
and games, entertainment, classes, speakers, health tests, pot lucks, holiday
parties and tele-care services, among others.
The senior bus offers twice-weekly local shopping and once a month mall
shopping; also one-day trips to many points of interest, for example, Tiger
games and the Redford Theater. Longer
trips, such as to the Smokies, New England or the Amish country in Indiana are
by commercial bus. A monthly newsletter
of all activities is provided for all seniors wanting it.
Allen
Terrace is the dining place for the congregate and home-delivered meals through
the Area Agency. This senior complex is
owned by the City of Northville and now has a waiting list for apartments. We receive privileges and advantages over
many big government-run senior housing facilities. Our apartments all have smoke alarms,
sprinkler systems, emergency pull cords and handicap features. The Fire and Police Departments are five
minutes away and are here with emergency first aid, false fire alarms or any
emergency which may arise.
It’s
interesting to look back to the early 60’s and then look at today: Phil Jerome was our paper boy and used to run
across Main St., from the high school to visit his grandma, Ruth Enright
(Dempsey’s helper); Del of Del’s shoe stores, was our milkman; Dewey Gardner
swept floors (he told me), made bouquets and drove the delivery truck at the
little flower shop; Butch Casterline was driven to school by his mother. I often wonder why he didn’t walk. After military college, he came home fir and
trim. Remember when Mary Alexander was
“the staff” at City Hall? When you could
hear the call “Culligan Man” before Detroit water came in? And when Maybury Sanitarium treated
tuberculosis patients with “fresh air and best rest”?
Remember
when the old City Hall was torn down and when East Lawn Nursing Home stood
where Allen Terrace is now?
I
could go on and on but this is already lengthy with 84 years of living—31 years
in Northville.
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