tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-198226156972513041.post7795924144502535604..comments2024-02-25T01:59:57.786-08:00Comments on LINDA ROOT - INDIE WRITER: Memoirs of My War Years PART II - THE DAY THE WAR WAS OVER AND OTHER REFLECTIONS OF A REFUGEE FROM CLEVELAND by Linda Fetterly RootLinda Fetterly Roothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05679025414115279660noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-198226156972513041.post-30766910555051149702013-10-21T03:10:42.763-07:002013-10-21T03:10:42.763-07:00looking forward to tomorrow
Janlooking forward to tomorrow<br />Jantudorcrazyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00230014756150204510noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-198226156972513041.post-11193799362757841872013-07-03T14:51:11.186-07:002013-07-03T14:51:11.186-07:00My Patterson relative was a bootlegger. He owned ...My Patterson relative was a bootlegger. He owned a company in Cleveland named Patterson Bus Sales. He would order the chassis separately from the bus bodies which came from Fischer Body (GM), but he would install the seats with a space beneath them where hid the booze, which came by ship from Toronto and was delivered to his bodyshop. He became a millionaire during Prohibition and lived in a lovely home near Shaker Square. When I was in grammar school my Dad (not related to him at all but a former next door neighbor) used to deliver school buses on weekends for extra money. Uncle GUY (not his son G.A.) and my Dad would each take a bus and sometimes my Aunt Edna (a most unpleasant, stiff-necked woman) would follow in her Lincoln. When I went along,I preferred to ride with Uncle Guy who was jolly and a joker, and who sang limericks while he sped along, and I liked it best when Aunt Edna stayed at home so we could return by train and Uncle Guy would treat us to cucumber sandwiches in the dining hall. But I always wondered why so many people lined up just to take possession of a school bus, often having a picnic celebration when we arrived. They had not forgotten prohibition, and Uncle Guy was still a celebrity. Linda Fetterly Roothttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05679025414115279660noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-198226156972513041.post-88915989616837513072013-07-03T13:11:52.535-07:002013-07-03T13:11:52.535-07:00As usual a wonderful article Linda. My father was ...As usual a wonderful article Linda. My father was from Shaker Heights Cleveland. His parents divorced when he was 12, so he returned to NYC where her parents lived. My father volunteered for the service, as he was turned down at U Penn because of the strict Jewish Quota. He used to tell a hilarious story about a certain general in the war, because he made transistor radios for the black market. One day this general couldn't get his radio to work in his jeep, and they asked my Father to fix it. He gave it a smack, and it ran beautifully. From then on he was invited to the General's house for dinner, served by butlers, accompanied by fine wine. He made tons of money in the service developing photos for the troops and other black market activities. He never saw combat, and when stateside, met his mother in Miami to play golf.<br />What a different world and experience he had. His grandfather had 5 cars and 3 chauffeurs. Like your family, they made their money in munitions between WWl and wwll. They made and reconditioned barrels (they were coopers) which the munitions were shipped in. I believe they were quite religious, which sent all the children and grandchildren straight into atheism for many generations. I too remember hiding under our desks and in our lockers for practice. The equivalence of George Bush telling everyone to get duct tape and bottled water, if we have a chemical attack from terrorist groups. Terrifying none the less. Ty for sharing this article Jantudorcrazyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00230014756150204510noreply@blogger.com