Two Frogs and a Prince, Chapter One

One day, when I was in the early years of high school, my mom & I were in our big, sunny kitchen. She was starting dinner preparations, and I was sitting in the handmade ladder-back rocking chair, staying out of her way. For her own reasons, she decided that this was a good time to share part of her life with me that I had never suspected.


A few of you have browsed through my mother's diaries (there's a link in the right column), so you may find this story of interest. Part of the joy of becoming an adult for me was the slow realization that my parents were whole and complete persons unto themselves. Before I entered the picture, they both led interesting lives before meeting each other and marrying.


"You've probably wondered how I happened to be in Virginia, working for Fred, when I met your father," she began. Actually, I hadn't; I just figured she had moved from Iowa in order to meet & marry my dad and have me. "I don't want you to think I was some idiot who just moved here on a whim. You see, I was married to another man when I first came to Norfolk."


Clunk! I was glad she made sure I was seated before she dropped this bomb. I was stunned. My mom had a secret life I had never heard about? I think I managed a thoughtful reply like "Okay," and then she told me this story.


In the early 50's she was married to a man named Jon Minor. They both lived in Iowa where she grew up, and he joined the Navy. He was stationed in Norfolk, and she followed him to Virginia after he relocated to the East Coast. She owned an old car, and drove from Iowa to Virginia by herself in the winter to be with her husband. Somewhere in Ohio, she was traveling through a town in a valley. The roads were icy, and the car would not make it up the hill leading out of town.


She went to a service station to see what was wrong with the car. The mechanic took a look and told her that her tires were as slick as glass.
"What kind of man would let his wife drive with tires like this?" the mechanic said, shaking his head in disgust. This man was an oracle as well as a garage mechanic, as time's passage would reveal. My mother bought new tires, stayed overnight in this small town, and continued her journey to Virginia.


According to my mother, Jon Minor was not a mean person. He was lively and fun-loving, and had no sense of responsibility. He spent money on sweet gestures like flowers and nice gifts, instead of food and shelter. He was Peter Pan. He continued to let the Navy house him on base or ship, and let my mother fend for herself. During and following WWII, Norfolk had a severe shortage of housing. Given these circumstances, and little money, my mother found a studio apartment in Ocean View. It was a basement apartment.


Anyone familiar with the Ocean View section of Norfolk will understand my question to my mother. "A basement apartment? In Ocean View?" This section of Norfolk borders the Chesapeake Bay, so the elevation is quite low. Basements are not common or desirable. My mom said she had to pull the furniture away from the walls because they dripped with water. I read a book, Conscripted City, a few years ago that described the housing crisis during WWII in Norfolk. This sleepy southern port city suddenly mushroomed into the largest Naval base operation in the world. Residents were pressured to rent out any available space, and desperate people would take anything they could find. Apparently, the owner of this apartment got used to the extra income, and continued to rent this unsuitable space after WWII was over.


My mom said that she had to beg Jon for money. There were days when she could not afford food. She tried to find employment, but jobs were scarce and Navy wives were not desired by employers. They moved away suddenly when their husbands were reassigned. She became an Avon Lady, but she did not have the personality to be a successful salesperson. She frequently went hungry, but was too embarrassed to ask her parents for help.


At some point, Jon's ship was deployed, and getting support from him was even more difficult when she was out of sight. His ship was temporarily reassigned to Charleston, South Carolina, and my mother drove down there. By the time she found a place she could afford, a lonely cabin court on the outskirts of town, it was after dark. When she unlocked her cabin and flipped on the lights, the walls crawled with palmetto bugs. She screamed and fled, and spent the night in her car. The next day, she found a boarding house in Charleston.


Meanwhile, Jon, on board his ship, had a bunk and all the food he could eat. He claimed he had no money to give my mom. Finally, desperation and hunger made my mother call home to her folks. My grandmother immediately took a flight to Charleston.


When my grandmother arrived at the airport, she hailed a cab. She didn't even know where my mother was staying, but she described the rooming house as an old place in town with rooms that opened onto a wrought-iron porch. The cabbie recognized this as the historic district, but in the early 50's it was a dismal and blighted area. My grandmother and her cabbie searched the boarding houses until they found my mother. The cabbie and my grandmother carried on a friendship via letters for many years afterwards.


I believe Grandma convinced my mom to go back with her to Iowa, but at some point my mother returned to Norfolk. She felt it was important to make her marriage work. The reasons for this became clearer to me later, and I think it was more than the stigma of divorce. Back in Norfolk, she beat the streets looking for a job. Once again, no one wanted to hire a Navy wife. My mother would never lie about this as many women did.


There used to be an office building in downtown Norfolk called the Flatiron Building, named for its conformance to the wedge-shaped block on which it was constructed. My mother interviewed for a job there with a tall, kindly man who ran an insurance company. He hired her on the spot. His name was Fred Dowling, and he told her later that he hired her for two reasons. One, that she didn't lie when he asked her if her husband was in the Navy ("I could spot a Navy wife from a mile away"), and also because my mother looked so pitiful. My mother worked for him for several years, eventually moving in with Fred and his wife, Catherine. They were like in-town grandparents to me growing up. The Dowlings were lifelong family friends.


He said my mother was the best secretary he ever had. She was conscientious and efficient. Once, when a hurricane was blowing in, Fred kept urging my mother to close the office so they could head home to Catherine. My mother told him that she needed to finish the payroll. Finally, he made her leave, and as soon as they got outside she found out why. What did she know about hurricanes? She was from Iowa. If he'd said "tornado" she'd have been out the door in a flash.


Downtown Norfolk was deserted, and they had to hold onto signposts, each other, and anything bolted down to get to the car. The ride home was perilous. Store windows were exploding, building signs were falling, and debris was flying everywhere. Downed trees blocked the usual routes home. When they finally pulled in the driveway, Catherine (a very nervous woman on a good day; she had to get down on the floorboards when they drove through mountains) was on the front porch hopping up & down, screaming hysterically. When my mom and Fred reached her, Catherine pointed back to the car and fainted. A tree had fallen and crushed the car as Fred and my mom were walking to the porch. Catherine had been trying to warn them, but if you've ever been in a hurricane, you know that the noise is unbelievable.


One day, while husband Jon was away on a ship, he sent roses to my mother at work. The next day he served her with papers for divorce. He had met another woman in a distant city. My mother didn't bat an eye and did not hesitate. She signed the papers, and closed that chapter in her life.


I looked at my mother with newly opened eyes. It had never occurred to me to speculate on the years between her graduation from high school and marriage to my father. I was just entering an age when I could appreciate the hard work that my mother put into making our house a gracious and welcoming home. The story of a previous marriage was very interesting to me, because no one had ever hinted of such a thing. And that was that.
Or was it?