Italene Gaddis | Interview 1 | December 28, 2015

DUNHAM: So this is David Dunham with Italene Gaddis on Monday, December 28, 2015, here for the Rosie the Riveter/World War II Home Front Oral History Project. And we always start at the beginning, so can you say your full name and date of birth?

GADDIS: Italene Sanders—that was my maiden name—Gaddis. And I’m born April 6, 1925. I’m the sixth child Mother had, on the sixth day of different months. [laughing] Unusual.

DUNHAM: Yeah, indeed! Wow. And is there a story behind your name?

GADDIS: Mother did not like nicknames. She was raised in the South and her name was Sarah Elizabeth—sounds like a queen. Well, they called her Lizzie. So she tried to name her children to where they wouldn’t be able to be nicknamed, so mine was made up!

DUNHAM: Oh wow, okay. And what were your siblings’ names?

GADDIS: Of course we had to have a James. That had been on both sides for generations. My brother Ira was twelve years older than me, and my brother James was eight years older than me. My sister in the middle was ten years older than me, and her name was Ruby. She thought she had a common name, but I loved it.

DUNHAM: Indeed.

GADDIS: So I was spoiled, yes. And she had twins. They didn’t live, but that made six. That’s been my lucky number.

DUNHAM: Excellent. I’m going to pause for just a second. [interruption in recording] We’re back. And where were you born?

GADDIS: I was born in Sioux City, Iowa and I lived there till I was two. My father left my mother with four children when I was two. So we went back to live in Arkansas on a thirty-acre farm with Grandmother and Grandfather. I was taught I didn’t have an earthly father, but I had a heavenly one and he’d be with me every moment of my life. So I’ve never felt alone—never! I’m never alone. And yes, in some ways, if you look back, you think maybe that was negative that I didn’t have a father. But it turned out it wasn’t negative at all—actually it may have been a blessing compared to some.

DUNHAM: Well, can you tell me about your mom then and what life was like for her?

GADDIS: Well, she was very devoted to me. She wouldn’t go anywhere without me. [laughing] So indeed I was spoiled. But my mother—I loved her and to me she was an angel because of the things she taught me, and it made my life easier. She said you may not like everything people do but you can still love them. And it made a difference, so there’s—it’s all—positive is what she taught me.

DUNHAM: And so you said you lived on your grandmother’s—both of them.

GADDIS: Grandmother and Grandfather’s thirty-acre farm.

DUNHAM: Oh wow, okay. So what was life like for your grandparents, and did you know them well?

GADDIS: Yes. My grandfather, of course, had an enormous garden and then he raised cotton on the rest of the lands.

DUNHAM: And do you know when your family first came to the United States on either side?

GADDIS: Well, you know—I’ve never really got any dates, I guess you could say. But on my father’s side, my great-grandfather came from Germany. My great-grandmother came from France. And on Mother’s side, my great-grandfather came from France and he came to America and married a full-blooded Cherokee Indian. So I’m a typical American.

DUNHAM: Yeah. And did you grow up aware of and/or celebrating any of your Cherokee ancestry?

GADDIS: No, no, not really. Of course my great-grandfather was half Cherokee, and that made my grandfather one-fourth. And I know a lot of the stories that were told. My mother said that my grandfather that was half Cherokee Indian came by to see us and he said, “I received a letter last week from the government and they offered to give me a piece of land in Oklahoma.” And she said he laid the letter on the table and he said, “But you know, I don’t want people telling me where to live.” And I always admired that statement.

DUNHAM: Yeah, indeed. Well, what was it like growing up on the farm in Arkansas?

GADDIS: Oh, it was wonderful. I loved it and I roamed all over. I was given a little dog by the time that they could allow me out by myself. And I would go to the—we called it a branch. It’s a little stream that ran through his land and they—the dog and I had a lot of, and him, we had a lot of conversations. [laughing]

DUNHAM: How nice.

GADDIS: So I never—I never knew that I was alone.

DUNHAM: And where exactly were you in Arkansas?

GADDIS: Batesville, Arkansas, out in the country. A little town called Charlotte, yes. And when I went to school I walked about a mile from the farm to the school and that was—really, it was a one-room schoolhouse. I come from way back! [laughter]

DUNHAM: Yeah, yeah. And what are your earliest memories of school?

GADDIS: Well, that’s a story in itself, but real quickly, I went, until the first grade—Grandfather believed in education. Grandmother could not read or write but she was brilliant. Don’t get me wrong. She knew about life. She took care of me when the rest of them were in the fields working. But actually, the first day they put me in first grade, but I had already read that book. I did so well, the second day they put me in the second grade, and the third day the third grade. Well, when they put me in the—I thought everybody did that. How did I know? And then they put me in the fourth grade and they realized I had not had geography. So the next day they put me back in the third. See, now I thought it was awful! [laughing] Yes, indeed. But that’s—I look back and I think my goodness. Then I had a problem when we went to Chicago, because I was going in the fifth grade.

DUNHAM: How old were you when you moved to Chicago?

GADDIS: Nine, nine. And they were going to put me back in the third, and Mother said, “Give her a test.” They said it wouldn’t matter if she could pass to go to college, the nine-year-olds are in third grade. So that’s the way things go. So I kind of learned that other people had a say-so in what you do in this world.

DUNHAM: Well, what else about your—so what led to your moving to Chicago?

GADDIS: Well, actually—my mother felt that she could do better [than] if she was just working on the farm. So that, I guess, got a little old for her. So she got a job for the head doctor of the Marine Hospital in Chicago. And she worked there, the first job. Yes.

DUNHAM: And what did she do there?

GADDIS: She took care of the doctor’s home, and often I would go when I wasn’t in school and they had a daughter my same age.

DUNHAM: How nice.

GADDIS: So it was really quite a change from a country to—

DUNHAM: Yeah, so tell us more about that transition from Arkansas to Chicago.

GADDIS: Oh, I mean—it was—well, you have everything within a few blocks. You go off to the left and you have a theater, to the right you have a—down the road, you know. And it’s all walking, so you—or you get on a street car if you miss a bus or a street car, ten minutes later there’s another one. So even if you had a car, and my brother did eventually, but you don’t use them because the transportation is there. And a lot of times, as a child, Riverview Park it was called, it was about six/eight blocks away from where I lived, near Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago. And I would be given money to ride the street car or the bus, but I saved it to spend at Riverview Park.

DUNHAM: Now, this is in the mid-thirties.

GADDIS: Yes.

DUNHAM: So it is the heart of the Depression, so times are tough. So what was the makeup of your neighborhood and how did you guys do?

GADDIS: Well, we were very blessed, because as time went on my mother actually—a couple from England owned a three—I think it was three-stories high apartment building. And so Mother took care of the apartment building, which paid our rent. And really, Mother, when she worked for the doctor, gave money to my sister and her husband when they could no longer get a job during the Depression. So really, I didn’t—I never felt that anything was wrong, because we had—we were one of the fortunate ones. And yes, looking back I think it’s amazing indeed.

DUNHAM: And what was—so your siblings were all older. So how many of them were still living with you in Chicago?

GADDIS: Well, my brother James went when my mother and I went, and he was eight years older than me. And then my older brother was married and he came later to Chicago. Yeah, so yes—when I worked, you know I was never, like I said, numbers, they don’t fascinate me at all. [laughing] And I look at life I guess a little bit differently because of the way Mother taught me to be grateful for what I had. Don’t think of what you don’t have. Be grateful for what you have! And so I don’t remember what I made when I went to work, but I know that I paid—my mother was not working. And I paid for a one-bedroom apartment for Mother and I, and that paid for everything we needed—the groceries, our clothes, and so forth.

DUNHAM: Yeah, well yeah—and this, you’re talking about when you worked in the spring factory?

GADDIS: That’s right.

DUNHAM: Well, before we get there I wanted to talk a little bit more about your earlier years in Chicago, because I’m just curious about that transition and what it was like there in the mid- to late thirties. So school, they put you back into the third grade.

GADDIS: Yes.

DUNHAM: But what was the rest of the school like? Was it more diverse than it had been in Arkansas or was it all-white class?

GADDIS: You know there, again, I was blessed because I went to school with all nationalities, with all different religions, and my mother’s philosophy was all roads lead to Him. And we’re all God’s children. And I think that came from the Cherokee that was taught. Yes.

DUNHAM: Did you grow up with a specific religion?

GADDIS: In the Church of Christ. But I was thankful and it didn’t—and looking back—that I didn’t stay any longer than nine. Because in the South, if you’re there very long, you become aware that you’re either right or you’re wrong, and my mother’s philosophy was not that at all. She said he gave us the job of loving. He didn’t give us the job of judging. And that was the philosophy—and what a blessing, because when I went to school with children, when they went home they talked another language, different—Italian—oh, I loved their spaghetti. But I was made welcome in everybody’s home.

DUNHAM: Did you grow up speaking languages other than English?

GADDIS: No, no. And they always asked me to talk because they said I talked funny. [laughing] Well, I didn’t know. But they liked me so that’s all that matters. And actually, looking back, I was not aware of any prejudice at all, because I went to school with the black children and one of them was my best friend. I knew that they had more money than I did. I didn’t feel poor. But if she’d say, “I don’t want to eat the school lunch,”—and you could buy stuff on the street. Hot dogs or junk food. And I would—a dime, ten cents would buy you a good lunch. Yes, think of that! And consequently, she would say, “I’ll pay for it.” 00:15:00 And then when I went to high school they did something I thought was a little strange—I just lived life. I didn’t ask too many questions. We had a paper to take home—would you object to having—a black family is going to be moving in the district where I was going to—Waller High—would there be any objection? And of course we put of course not. And so again, you see, and when I married my husband—yes. I found out when I went to Kentucky it wasn’t at all like what I had been raised.

DUNHAM: Well, speaking of that, I was wondering, aside from the economic change for your mom, opportunity in Chicago, your mentioning how it might have been if you’d stayed in the church longer down there. Do you think there was a cultural reason that she also wanted to leave Arkansas? Did she have any challenges or conflicts, if you will, with maybe—

GADDIS: Well, Mother knew, like she said, some people believe differently. But you still don’t judge them, because they have to find their way in this world and you just accept what you can and let the rest go. And so—which was easy, especially where I lived. And that made it easy, yes.

DUNHAM: You mentioned knowing that your black friend’s family was a little better off than you. Were there—aside from being able to buy the extra food were there other indications of that? Do you know what her family did?

GADDIS: I have no idea, because children don’t really ask too many questions. Yes. I recall in school—there’s a story—that we had a substitute that came and they, when they would look—they called the roll. You had to say, “Present.” Well, I always knew that when they came to my name they would stop because they didn’t know how to say it. And this teacher just omitted my first name and said, “I see we have sisters in the room. Would the two Sanders sisters please stand up?” I did, and so did a little black girl. Now, that got a laugh. [laughter] But we thought it was kind of cute.

DUNHAM: Yeah, yeah. Do you remember her first name?

GADDIS: I don’t. No.

DUNHAM: That’s okay. I’m just curious.

GADDIS: With a name like Italene—the only reason I remembered your name was because if I’d have had a third son it would have been David.

DUNHAM: Why is that?

GADDIS: Well, it’s a nice name, easy name. I have Carl and Steven.

DUNHAM: Yeah, very nice.

GADDIS: Yes, I didn’t want to complicate their lives, because usually when I say my name is Italene, they say what?

DUNHAM: Yeah, well what did you do for fun as a child in Chicago?

GADDIS: You know, that’s—Mother said I was never a child and I guess maybe she was right. When she sent me out to play, to find other children, I thought they were very boring and I’d go and I’d find this one lady down the street from us. She was a grandmother, and she would tell me stories and show me pictures of when she used to be little and things. So now that, because I was used to listening to just adults. And I enjoyed them at school, but I never brought anyone home.

DUNHAM: Yeah. Well, did you listen to the radio or read a newspaper? How did you get news at that time or for fun?

GADDIS: Absolute—I was just wishing that I had a copy—my son has one. I was written up in—I think it was called the Herald-American. You know, it’s hard to remember all of those. But they offered a free Shirley Temple doll when I was about nine and a half, approaching ten in April. If you sold twenty-five subscriptions to their paper they’d give you a free Shirley Temple doll. And I did that as a child. [laughing] So I began selling early.

DUNHAM: Yeah, I guess so.

GADDIS: But it was fun and people were very sweet.

DUNHAM: And were you following news of the war in Europe and abroad or did you have a sense of impending—

GADDIS: Yes, I—my first boyfriend, actually, lost his life in World War II, and he was from Tennessee. A lot of people from the South were in Chicago. Yeah.

DUNHAM: So what—how did the rest of school go for you during those years? High school, how was high school?

GADDIS: I enjoyed school. I wasn’t, I didn’t—I was a—I had a lot of thoughts. Mother said, “Be careful what you say. You can’t take it back.” But a lot of thoughts went through my head. I didn’t agree with some of what the teachers did, because they would say that some report was due tomorrow or two days, or whatever. And then when they would ask how many people had it ready I raised my—I’d stay up till midnight till I had mine ready, if I had to. There would be enough that hadn’t finished that then the teacher would say, “Well, I’ll give you a few more days.” And that was very disappointing. And I expressed that opinion.

DUNHAM: To the teacher?

GADDIS: Yes.

DUNHAM: How was that met?

GADDIS: Most of them didn’t reply. [laughter]

DUNHAM: Wow yeah—well, that’s interesting. Were there other examples of how you conflicted with—

GADDIS: I was—I didn’t think about it at the time, but like I said, because of other people having—the first time I knew I didn’t have a daddy was when I went to school the first day and some of the children—I had a brother, two brothers. I had a grandfather, I had a great uncle, but I didn’t know what a daddy was. And I asked my mother and she explained. “Well, that was my husband. That was your daddy. But he met a beautiful lady and decided he wanted to be with her.” Mother never went to any lengthy—just brief, like that. So that way I seemed to communicate a lot better with adults. They made more sense. So I enjoyed them at school, but I never took anybody home. It changes your life you know, yes. To say it doesn’t, that’s not true. It does.

DUNHAM: Yeah, did kids tease you?

GADDIS: Oh no, no. No. I only had one confrontation and that was with a girl that was—well, I didn’t ever hear the word bully, but she was always making trouble you know. Of course she was—it was sad. Mother would have said, “Well, she must be very unhappy.” I never discussed it with Mother. She never knew about it. But she was going to—I think I was in seventh grade and she was going to—she said she was going to beat me up, whatever that meant. [A cat is meowing in the room.] Well, my friend, the black girl, whenever we got outside the school district, she stepped in front of me and said, “You’ll hit me before you hit her.” And that was the end of it.

DUNHAM: Well, that was a good friend to have.

GADDIS: Yes, isn’t that the truth. Yes.

DUNHAM: But you guys didn’t go to each other’s homes, as you said.

GADDIS: No.

DUNHAM: You just—at school. Yeah, well, you mentioned when we talked on the phone that your older brother sometimes would take you around and show you things and places. Can you share any of those memories? Is that when you were a young girl in Chicago?

GADDIS: Well, sometimes—when I was younger you could go to a double feature movie for $ 0.10. And they gave you—they gave you a gift for going.

DUNHAM: What kind of gifts?

GADDIS: Well, I think my sister finally got a full set of dishes. They’d give you a dinner plate or they’d give you a saucer and a cup and every—to entice you to go. Yes.

DUNHAM: And they had the news reels?

GADDIS: Yes, oh yes, and then of course Mickey Mouse.

DUNHAM: The cartoons, yeah.

GADDIS: Yes, it was—

DUNHAM: What theaters? Do you remember the name of a theater you went to. It was a big old theater?

GADDIS: I was trying, the other day, to think about that. My—the theaters that were downtown, like I said—names, I’m bad with names. I can remember all the details but don’t ask me a name. We all have a—

DUNHAM: Can you describe the theater a little bit for us?

GADDIS: Oh, they were wonderful! And as a matter of fact, I look back and I think you know, the way things were presented back then were amazing! Because as a teenager you could go and they had shows that nobody even hears about now, where they would have beautiful ladies, maybe with long hair, but it was—and I went once to one and I didn’t, it wasn’t anything—you know you’ve seen something once I just—I don’t go back. You know how come people go to the fairs? I’ve been there and done that. [laughing] But they would pose in different poses and then the curtain would come over and then it was closed. And you know, as—I’ve never been to anything like that except in Chicago. Of course Roy Rogers would come in person and some of the singers.

DUNHAM: Do you remember when you first heard of the attack on Pearl Harbor?

GADDIS: Yes, everybody was disturbed. It changed our world. I couldn’t imagine something like that. And I grew up, my mother’s statement was once, our posterity was the way she put it—we’re Republicans. But I grew up under Roosevelt, and so I’m a Democrat. But I still love Republicans. Yes, indeed.

DUNHAM: When you were growing up did you ever listen to FDR’s fireside chats?

GADDIS: Absolutely.

DUNHAM: Yeah, what do you remember about listening to those?

GADDIS: I thought he was great. My favorite was, and I’m speaking of presidents to read about, was Lincoln, because of the things I read about him that impressed me.

DUNHAM: So after Pearl Harbor, you were in high school at that time. And so how did things change in school and in the broader community for you?

GADDIS: Well, in Chicago we didn’t know the difference, but I’ve had people that lived here during that and they had a lot of blackouts. And so it—we weren’t that affected actually, just daily life, you know. However, when I worked at the factory, they would talk to us during the ten-minute breaks that we’d have that day or during lunch and say, “If someone asks you what you do, you just simply say, ‘I do a lot of different things.’” So I don’t know what else went on.

DUNHAM: For security reasons they—

GADDIS: It wasn’t my business. Mother said, “You have plenty to take care of your own.”

DUNHAM: Well, before you got your job and were still in high school were you aware of victory gardens or rationing or—and how did—

GADDIS: Oh, definitely, yes!

DUNHAM: What did you know of those things or how did they affect you?

GADDIS: Yes, oh my goodness yes! I was married early and consequently went to live in Iowa, Waterloo, Iowa. My husband was on the radio when we went there. That was rather strange because you had to have, to get butter, to get meat and things. So you were very much aware.

DUNHAM: So you met and married before the war was over?

GADDIS: Ended, right, yes.

DUNHAM: Okay, but after you had your jobs during the war?

GADDIS: Right, after, after, yes.

DUNHAM: Okay, and did you work before you finished high school or after?

GADDIS: When I finished.

DUNHAM: Okay, so what year did you graduate?

GADDIS: Oh geez.

DUNHAM: Sorry.

GADDIS: Well, I was eighteen.

DUNHAM: Okay, so probably ’43, ’43?

GADDIS: Right.

DUNHAM: Okay, and so how did you find out, when did you get your first job?

GADDIS: Actually, I started in the summer just after I turned eighteen. Yes.

DUNHAM: And do you remember how you heard about the job and applying for it?

GADDIS: You know, it went through my mind. My older brother was more like a daddy, I guess, because he was twelve years older than me. And so I said, that summer, I said I’d like to get a job. And he said, “If you’re serious, I’ll help you.” I said okay, so he took me around to different places. And that’s where I got a job. The young women that I worked with, all of them had graduated through college, most of them.

DUNHAM: Oh really?

GADDIS: Yeah, you had to make a certain amount of those springs that had to be tested, and three days, if you missed three days and didn’t make the count, you didn’t have a job.

DUNHAM: Oh wow, so were you—can you tell us—do you remember your first day on the job? Did you get specific training?

GADDIS: Oh my goodness, I didn’t know that I could do it! That’s the first thing that hit me and wouldn’t have ever thought of. But I surprised myself.

DUNHAM: What exactly were you doing?

GADDIS: The springs that would come, there was a little, a thing that passed in front of you and you picked the spring up and you put it on this particular thing and then you put another thing on. It had to come to a certain level, otherwise you threw the spring away and the other one you passed it on down. Yes, and boy it got boring. [laughter]

DUNHAM: So how many did you—do you remember how many you had to do in a day? But it was a lot?

GADDIS: No, you know in thinking back again, numbers have—

DUNHAM: Yeah, sure. But did you ever feel like you weren’t going to make it? Was it that—

GADDIS: Well, the first few days I was sure I wouldn’t, and I was surprised to know that I had. Because again, I didn’t keep count of them. I just did what I could do.

DUNHAM: And so where were most of your other—I know you said they had mostly graduated from college. Were they mostly local, your workmates? Or did they come from other parts of the country?

GADDIS: No, they lived in Chicago. Some of them, like me really, took a street car. Yeah.

DUNHAM: And so did you get to know any of your workmates?

GADDIS: Yes, one of them, as a matter of fact, was born on the same day I was and looked a little bit like me. It was amazing that—yes, I found that quite interesting.

DUNHAM: So did you enjoy the work?

GADDIS: I thought it—I did. Yeah, I have to say I did.

DUNHAM: Was it a day shift?

GADDIS: Yes, but the next job that I got—I’m not a morning person, and I went to work at Chicago Molded. That I did remember, working with plastics. Well—

DUNHAM: What led to your leaving the spring factory for Chicago Molded?

GADDIS: Well, actually—I met my husband. And I had been engaged three times, would you believe?

DUNHAM: Well, no, I had no idea! Can you tell us anything about those before we go on to your husband? [laughter]

GADDIS: They always got serious and would give me a ring, and I didn’t want to say no, but I didn’t love them. And I asked my mother how will I know when I’m in love? She said, “When you don’t ask me that question.” [laughter]

DUNHAM: That’s a good answer.

GADDIS: She was right. I met my husband and married him in six weeks.

DUNHAM: So these first three suitors, were these during high school or all after?

GADDIS: They all went to war, and my husband was sent home and I met him in Chicago when he went to work for WLS radio station, National Barn Dance.

DUNHAM: Oh yeah, wow. So how did you meet your husband in—

GADDIS: Well, you know, back then they didn’t—you could go to a tavern or a bar and you could go to listen to the music. And I always looked older than my age and I had no problem. The young lady I said was the same—

DUNHAM: Right, the same birthday.

GADDIS: —birthday, same age, and so we didn’t plan on going, but Ike Everly and the Everly brothers, okay?—I knew them when they were children.

DUNHAM: Oh, how did you know them?

GADDIS: Well, they lived in our neighborhood in Chicago.

DUNHAM: Oh, really, oh really?

GADDIS: And he played in the taverns. We missed the bus downtown to go that night to a theater, my friend and I. So we didn’t know what to do, because you know, we had to do something. So we went and listened to the music. And my husband and his brother came in, and a gentleman that was sitting at the table next, he said that’s Curly McDonald, that sings on WLS and WBBM, and of course I was introduced to him and that was it. I didn’t have to ask Mama.

DUNHAM: Had you been a fan of music growing up?

GADDIS: Oh yes—

DUNHAM: What kinds of music did you most like growing up?

GADDIS: I preferred the country music. I liked the big bands—oh, I went to all of them in Chicago in person, any of them that you could name.

DUNHAM: Who were some of your favorites that you saw?

GADDIS: There again—Glenn Miller. I did the jitterbug and all of that. Sure.

DUNHAM: Did you go to USO dances?

GADDIS: No, I didn’t. However, I did my part to help entertain the young men that wore a uniform.

DUNHAM: How did you do that?

GADDIS: Well, Mother bought me a guitar when I was thirteen and I started playing music for parties when I was fourteen. And so if—I remember a handsome young man was on the street car and I had my guitar, and he asked me where I was going. And I said, “I’m going to party. Would you like to go?” [laughter]

DUNHAM: Well, no wonder you had so many suitors! [laughter]

GADDIS: And so—yes, and so he went and that was—yeah. I enjoy it, I enjoy it. They liked to hear me sing and so I enjoyed it. I wrote my first song when I was fourteen and I didn’t record it till I was sixty-two.

DUNHAM: But what—you told me also about winning a contest though, a radio contest. What was that?

GADDIS: Yes, that was amazing. I look back and I think wow, it’s a wonder I hadn’t. refused to go. If they had any kind of contest in Chicago, when I was young, why my brother-in-law would go with me and I would enter it. I won it, and the prize was they would put you on the radio.

DUNHAM: What was the contest? How did you win?

GADDIS: It was just different people that played different things. Some of them were just musicians, like played a violin.

DUNHAM: Okay, so you played a song? Your song?

GADDIS: And I sang a song.

DUNHAM: An original song?

GADDIS: Well, no. Actually the song I sang that I won that one with—I hadn’t written that many—I think only to or maybe three. But at the time it was “I Had But Fifty Cents.” It’s a story about a young man who took a lady out and it tells all that she drank and all that she ate, but he had but $ 0.50. And it was a funny song. So consequently, when they asked me my name before I did a song on the radio, and when I told them it was Italene they said you can’t use that. I didn’t understand—I said why? They said because it refers to Italy. “We don’t want to make any problems on here.” So I picked out Scarlett O’Hara as my name. There was a comic strip about her, Scarlett, and I had a friend named Scarlett. I thought it was a pretty name and she could make herself invisible. [laughing] And when I came home my mother was quite upset with me when they asked me my name. “Why did you say your name—that’s not your name.” I said, “Well, I couldn’t because they said they couldn’t do that.” “Oh.”

DUNHAM: Did you sing on the radio?

GADDIS: I did.

DUNHAM: You sang that song? Like live on the radio?

GADDIS: Probably. You know what, that was so long that I forgot, you know, but I may have.

DUNHAM: So how did you get these gigs performing at parties and such, as a teenager?

GADDIS: Well, it was just someone that I would know that would—and I never—the one where I picked up the young man and took him, I never saw him again but he stayed for a while. I think he stayed till after I played. 00:41:00 But now there’s a story and maybe it set the pattern of my life. I didn’t drink any soft drinks. My friends would drink Pepsi or Coke or something, and back then they were beginning to smoke cigarettes. Even as a teenager I could buy cigarettes for my sister. It wasn’t against the law, but I thought they were terrible. I didn’t want anything to do with them. And I don’t like anything with bubbles. I never have, and so I didn’t drink soft drinks. But this friend of mine, she said to me, “Don’t you want something to drink?” And I stayed for two or three hours at the party and sang, and I hadn’t planned on staying that long, but she brought me some liqueur. It’s very sweet and very good and very strong! And whoo! I sat in that chair and I didn’t dare get up. I knew I better not. I never told Mama that story, but that’s okay because she brought me a little tiny thing full and I said, “You can bring me a glass of that!” [laughter] So I thought if that’s what this stuff does, I don’t need any of it, because I knew that something wasn’t right. [laughter] Yeah, see—so I learned, and so I’ve never cared for—I need more brains instead of less. [laughing]

DUNHAM: Oh okay, so you don’t drink alcohol either.

GADDIS: No, no. Not at all, no.

DUNHAM: So were these house parties that you would play?

GADDIS: Yes! Innocent, and things that—it was a wonderful city to grow up—as a child I ran through Lincoln Park Zoo by myself. And I understand that it wouldn’t be a good idea today. I don’t know. I haven’t been back.

DUNHAM: I don’t know either. Did you play gigs ever at clubs?

GADDIS: No, no.

DUNHAM: Going back to your name Italene and how strongly the radio station reacted, did you ever encounter that other times during the war?

GADDIS: Well, people—if they look at my name they don’t know how to say it. If I say it they don’t know how to spell it. I just noticed today on a Christmas card a friend gave me, and I’ve known her for twenty years—and she misspelled my name. And so it’s just—

DUNHAM: Did people assume you were Italian?

GADDIS: That’s the first question, “Are you Italian?” No, I’m not—but probably back there somewhere we’re all related. See, I don’t understand the discord between people, because really, I’ve always felt that I was akin to everybody.

DUNHAM: But especially during the war there was sometimes prejudice towards Italian Americans, German Americans, and Japanese Americans.

GADDIS: There you go.

DUNHAM: Due to the war. Did you notice—did you see any of that in Chicago?

GADDIS: No. I was so blessed, because I didn’t. I really didn’t.

DUNHAM: So tell me, how did your first job at the spring factory end and you went to the second one—remind me.

GADDIS: Well, I don’t—it was not that I didn’t like the job, but I think I probably got more money at the next one. That would enter into it.

DUNHAM: Yeah, I would think so. And remind me what you did at the second one. It was—

GADDIS: Well, it was a—

DUNHAM: Chicago Moulding? Is that—

GADDIS: Yes. It was a big machine and the machine—it made different parts. I don’t know what some of the parts were to, but they were either Bakelite or plastic.

DUNHAM: Okay, what’s the first thing?

GADDIS: Bakelite.

DUNHAM: Bakelite, okay.

GADDIS: Yeah, it’s a different process. But this, what I worked with, was a molding machine that—whatever the thing they were making on each side, it would come together and then it would apply through a nozzle, hot plastic into a cold mold. And then when it came out, then you had to take whatever it was that it made out of the machine. And they told me if I failed to take a piece out and it went back, it would break the mold. And they said $10,000 is what the mold costs. If you break it you’ve lost your job, if you leave a piece in. That was a little harder, but I didn’t mind it because it was twelve o’clock at night till eight in the morning.

DUNHAM: Oh, graveyard shift.

GADDIS: I didn’t have to get up early! [laughter]

DUNHAM: You had to stay up till early.

GADDIS: There you go.

DUNHAM: When would you sleep when you were doing graveyard shift?

GADDIS: Well, I wasn’t too good at that. I’d come home and I’d bring my sister—well, she had two children. At that time she wasn’t working and I’d buy them a coffee cake about so big and we’d sit down and have coffee and milk—I never liked coffee—and she had coffee. And that was enjoyable. But then if I didn’t watch out I’d still be awake when my two nieces would come home from school, and so getting enough sleep—I remember sleeping through a birthday party that they gave me because I hadn’t been to bed.

DUNHAM: So what was it like working the graveyard shift? Who else was on your crew?

GADDIS: Oh, they were young men and young women, yes.

DUNHAM: How were the—sometimes I’ve heard that the men weren’t always that welcoming to the women in doing that type of work, with tools and all.

GADDIS: I tell you, I was—I look back and I think how did I get away with what I did? Because the boss at that particular place—they wouldn’t let you sit down, and I had worked for my brother-in-law. That’s how I got that job, because he was the supervisor of a night shift at another factory, the same thing.

DUNHAM: Oh okay, where you worked for him also?

GADDIS: I did work for him, and so I knew a little about—that’s why I got that job.

DUNHAM: So that was in between the spring factory and this one?

GADDIS: Yes, a short time. And so my brother-in-law was a gambler, and so he showed me what to do so he could go bet on the horses.

DUNHAM: Oh, you were actually doing his job, like in his name?

GADDIS: Yeah, well—I knew what to do in case they broke down, see. And so the first—I said to myself—everybody has to stand. This is ridiculous. Why would you have to stand? So I shut the machine off and I went and got me a stool, and I was sitting on the stool when the man that was in charge, he come by, and he said, “Who got you that stool?” I said, “I did.” “You couldn’t have,” he said, “because you’d have had to stop the machine.” I said, “Yes, but I know how to start them so I didn’t need you to do it.” And then he looked at me—he just couldn’t believe, but there the machine was going and nothing had happened. And there was a space and I said, “It don’t matter if I’m sitting or standing as long as the machine runs, right?” He just turned and walked away. And I think, you know, he could have fired me, but I was a good worker.

DUNHAM: So he didn’t bother you again about—

GADDIS: No, no. See, so I was pretty gritty when I was young.

DUNHAM: Okay. Well, I want to go back for a minute to understand when you were filling in for your brother-in-law while he was betting the horses? [laughter]

GADDIS: Yes.

DUNHAM: So was it—so what about the boss there? Was there a boss that would come check on him or you?

GADDIS: No, no.

DUNHAM: Because it was a small operation?

GADDIS: Right.

DUNHAM: Okay, so just had to get the work—

GADDIS: Yeah, there were only three machines, where the other one had a whole floor of machines.

DUNHAM: Okay, and your brother-in-law was—

GADDIS: The head of it.

DUNHAM: Oh, okay. So all right. So did you get paid whether or not he won or lost?

GADDIS: Well, he was pretty good. [laughing] I wouldn’t advise people to do it. You never turn out to be the winner.

DUNHAM: Yeah, that would be my concern.

GADDIS: I wrote a song about Las Vegas, so—

DUNHAM: Well, so you worked there—so why not continue at your brother-in-law’s place? Why did you go to the other job?

GADDIS: Well, it was more money. Now, see—I know when that figure is up there. I got the union in when I was quite young at one place, because they said, “Italene, they’ll listen to you.” I said, “Okay.”

DUNHAM: What do you mean you got the—you mean you were a leader in the union?

GADDIS: Well, they didn’t have a union, and yeah, I helped them and then they got more money.

DUNHAM: At Chicago Moulding—or no, at this later—

GADDIS: No, I don’t remember when that place—the gentleman, he wanted me to go to college and he was very, very kind and very—he thought that I needed to go to college. But I figured—when you’re young you make a lot of wrong decisions. Of course, having put two boys through college, when someone says, “How many degrees do you have?” I say, “I have two.” [laughter] I put them through college, and I’ve learned from my youngest son. I’m still learning. You never get through learning.

DUNHAM: Yeah, indeed. Well, I wanted to ask—it’s okay if you don’t remember all of the details of it, but I’d like to know more—I was just about to ask you about if you’d have joined a union for any of these jobs. So can you tell me whatever you remember about that interaction with a union and helping people get more money?

GADDIS: Well, I spoke with the fellow that wanted them to be a union and I forget what the wages was, but I do remember that they would get more money if the union came in. Of course now see back then I didn’t realize, but there’s always a good and a bad point to everything. So what you do is you weigh that and see which way you want to go. I lost my job when I went to Las Vegas because I was in the union.

DUNHAM: This is years later?

GADDIS: Oh yeah.

DUNHAM: We could talk about that later. So this, this experience, did you have to talk with your coworkers and get them all signed up essentially?

GADDIS: Oh yes, absolutely.

DUNHAM: So what was that like, did some—I know you’re a good salesperson, but was there resistance or was everyone enthusiastic?

GADDIS: Well, in the beginning they weren’t sure. But I just said, “You know, they’re offering you more money, so you may as well go ahead and join the union.”

DUNHAM: Did you ever have to strike or threaten a work stoppage or something like that?

GADDIS: Oh no, no. No, nothing, no.

DUNHAM: Because sometimes it comes to that, right? Okay.

GADDIS: Then when I got married, why then things changed.

DUNHAM: Yeah. And so you had at least those three jobs it sounds like. Did you have any other wartime jobs?

GADDIS: No, that was it.

DUNHAM: Okay, and so about—so you graduated summer of ’43, we think, and so did you work all through the war? Or you got married before the end of the war?

GADDIS: Oh yes, before.

DUNHAM: Okay, when did you get married? In ’44 or ’45?

GADDIS: 1943. See, my husband had been to war. They sent him back in a body cast and said he’d never walk, but that wasn’t true. He played music, so he was fortunate. He didn’t have to—it wasn’t strenuous. And then the reason we went to Iowa, and that was after—right after the war. Right after.

DUNHAM: So did you work up until the end of the war? Or do you recall?

GADDIS: Yes. I did.

DUNHAM: At the Chicago Moulding is where you finished?

GADDIS: Yeah, right.

DUNHAM: And do you remember the end of the war, V-E Day, V-J Day?

GADDIS: Oh my goodness, yeah, oh my goodness, yes! And it was shortly, very shortly thereafter that I knew someone that, one of the young men that had been with the young man that was my first boyfriend, a very sweet person from Tennessee, that he had lost his life. Yeah. And there were so many that that was true. My husband lived through it and they sent him back, but—

DUNHAM: When you met him he was already out of the body cast?

GADDIS: Right, he was, yes, bless his heart. He was very determined and very blessed. Yes.

DUNHAM: How had he been injured?

GADDIS: He had—actually fell and they, had broken—well, it’s something to do with his back. I’m not a, you know, right—

DUNHAM: But he made a significant recovery.

GADDIS: He did indeed. But he did go to school after he got out of the service. You could go to college if you had been in the war. But that was the only benefit that he had, because you couldn’t—I forget how many years you had before you could even file a claim that you’d been hurt. But that’s technical and I’m not sure how that went. But like he said, he didn’t expect anything. He volunteered. So he didn’t expect anything and he never pursued it.

DUNHAM: So he didn’t use the GI Bill?

GADDIS: Other than to go into college.

DUNHAM: Okay, he did. Yeah, okay, good. You’ve talked about—I know you were very strong-minded, talented, creative, been encouraged to go to college—did you have visions or dreams of what you wanted to be when you were a girl or young person, or what you wanted to do with your life in particular?

GADDIS: I just wanted to be a wife and mother. That’s—and that’s where I’d have been as long as I lived, but that wasn’t what came along.

DUNHAM: Well, so what did happen? You got married at the end of the war and what happened from there?

GADDIS: Well, my husband went to work in Iowa at a radio station, and Ike Everly also. They came from Chicago and went to work there, and I enjoyed it there. Of course I was home, because back then most men preferred their wife to be at home. I’d have been there forever!

DUNHAM: Were you still playing music?

GADDIS: Oh, no, I just played guitar and I never—I left the singing up to my husband.

DUNHAM: Okay, okay, so you didn’t have an ambition at that time to do it.

GADDIS: No, he didn’t encourage it, and that was fine with me.

DUNHAM: It was fine with you.

GADDIS: Yeah.

DUNHAM: Okay. And so when did you have your first child?

GADDIS: Nineteen forty-seven.

DUNHAM: Okay, soon thereafter—and you were in Iowa?

GADDIS: No, no, as a matter of fact, he was born in Kentucky, just outside of Owensboro, Kentucky.

DUNHAM: So that’s right, so you had a big transition moving to Kentucky. When did you—

GADDIS: There, oh my goodness, yes!

DUNHAM: So ’46 or ’47 you arrived there?

GADDIS: Yes, yes, yes.

DUNHAM: So what was that like?

GADDIS: Well, when I went to meet his people in Kentucky, Louisville, we were on our way down from Chicago. We had a car, a Ford, and a car drove up to get gas next to us and they were driving a Cadillac. When we started on our way I said, “Boy, they were lucky.” My husband said, “Why would you say that?” I said, “Well, they’re driving a Cadillac and we have a Ford.” You know, I mean—in other words, just a statement. I figured they were lucky. And he said, “No, honey, they weren’t lucky at all.” And that didn’t make sense. And I said, “Well, what do you mean?” And he said—they were black. And he said, “They couldn’t use the restroom.” What’s this about? I didn’t understand. I soon found out.

DUNHAM: So was that challenging, to be in that environment?

GADDIS: That was, to me that was—I didn’t understand. That made no sense at all, because my grandfather used to say—and when I was little I learned that, he would say, “No one is better than anyone else. We are all God’s children. And it’s not right for one man to step off the sidewalk to let another man go by.” And I listened to the adults, and so I didn’t—it was just foreign.

DUNHAM: So did you run into challenges in Kentucky or have any concerns about raising your children there?

GADDIS: No, as a matter of fact my older son Carl just recently said to a friend of his, my mother—“There was no prejudice in our house. There was no hatred toward anyone else. I knew what was expected of me and did it, but I didn’t judge other people.” In Kentucky they wanted volunteers to clean a black graveyard and Carl raised his hand and I went with him to help do that. I marched against the war in Vietnam. It’s a wonder—some states put people in prison that did what I did. I marched right up front. I led them, and they interviewed me and said, “When should we be out of Vietnam.” My statement was, “We should have been out yesterday.”

DUNHAM: And so when and where was this?

GADDIS: In Kentucky.

DUNHAM: So you were in Kentucky all those years your kids were—

GADDIS: Absolutely. I think if you believe in something you need to stand up for it.

DUNHAM: So given that you have those convictions, did you not run into other challenges around racial tensions or divides?

GADDIS: Yes, but you soon learn in the South, to keep your mouth shut. When they came—I’m jumping ahead a little.

DUNHAM: Sure, no problem.

GADDIS: When they came—when Martin Luther King was leading the march, and I was in Mississippi and they—I was in the sheriff’s home with what I sold, and they had a new baby and that’s who I visited. And he said I hope—he said, “They’re going to be marching down here this next week.” And he knew I was from Arkansas—we lived in Arkansas then. And he said, “I hope you have a gun.” And I looked him in the eye and I said, “Yes, sir. I own a gun and it’s in my glove compartment.” But it was the hardest thing I ever had to do, to not finish the statement. I wanted to say, “But I won’t have to use it on the blacks.” Because I knew of the prejudice and I knew of the hatred. I knew of it and that was not—I wanted none of that.

DUNHAM: So you had moved back to Arkansas from Kentucky at that time?

GADDIS: Right, right.

DUNHAM: Okay, so what led you back to Arkansas?

GADDIS: My husband became ill because of World War II.

DUNHAM: I’m sorry.

GADDIS: And he could no longer make the living. I didn’t have—now, there’s where, see, I wished I had had an education, because I couldn’t even get a job—I had never been to work—as a waitress. That’s about as—to me, not that I—we wouldn’t have our food if we didn’t have waitresses. Mother said everybody is needed in this world, so nobody’s better and don’t you ever talk up to anybody and don’t you ever talk down to anybody. You talk to people, and so that was the attitude. But phew—wow.

DUNHAM: The communities you lived in in Kentucky and Arkansas then, were they all-white communities? Or were there—

GADDIS: Yes, the majority were white, right.

DUNHAM: But there were blacks that lived nearby?

GADDIS: But you know—yes!

DUNHAM: Yeah, again I’m just—I’m not trying to belabor it, I’m just trying to, given again those strong convictions that you believed in and grew up with, how you dealt with the intolerance around you.

GADDIS: Right, right. Well, it’s—there are certain things that you have no control over and then that’s other people. Like Mother said, you just let it go.

DUNHAM: Well, when you protested the Vietnam War, what led to your convictions around that and did you face any backlash around it?

GADDIS: If every mother would have been like me, we would not have sent one person—I am sorry anyone had to go. We now know that was a mistake. Well, I would have took my boys to Canada before I would have allowed them—I knew young men—they’d come home and committed suicide afterwards. So this is—no. And there’s where someone said united we stand, divided we fall. And if every mother would have not allowed her son to go, there would have been another decision made—see what I mean?

DUNHAM: Yeah. Your boys were both of draft age?

GADDIS: Absolutely. I had to send my son Carl—he was seventeen years old. That’s too young to send—he was a brilliant young man, and that’s too young to send to college. I would have had him wait a couple of years, but if I had, they would have took him to Vietnam.

DUNHAM: So you sent him early in order to—

GADDIS: I did, I did.

DUNHAM: And your other son was younger or older?

GADDIS: Four years younger, and they would have took him too. But he needed an operation and they wouldn’t accept him, and I couldn’t have it done because that kept me from having to take him and leave.

DUNHAM: Did your convictions around the Vietnam War, did they relate at all to your husband’s injury and death in World War II? Or was it the specifics of the other war?

GADDIS: No, it was all me. I can’t blame him. [laughing]

DUNHAM: No, no, I just meant how you felt about—even that. Because there were conscientious objectors even in World War II.

GADDIS: Right, true.

DUNHAM: And so I’m just—

GADDIS: But he volunteered.

DUNHAM: Yeah. I’m just wondering if your feelings were about all war, or the specifics of that war.

GADDIS: Yeah, I believe if you—you can settle things in a different way, it seems like. But this day and time I question.

DUNHAM: Again, my presuming that Kentucky was a relatively conservative community in that regard, did you have any backlash for speaking out against the war at that time? Did anyone bother you?

GADDIS: No, no. But I know that some of the other states, if somebody spoke out they were put in jail. I didn’t think of that, because I felt that I was right.

DUNHAM: Yeah. And aside from marching and doing what needed to done to protect your sons, were there other things you did around that?

GADDIS: No. There wasn’t anything else that I knew to do.

DUNHAM: Well, that’s very powerful. Are there other causes that you’ve had to similarly stand up for, fight for through the years, that stand out for you?

GADDIS: Well, not really. I haven’t. But there’s several things that if it came around to march against, that I would be there if it was something I felt that I, if any way I could help. But again, nowadays, when it makes no sense to me if you’re marching against something, well, then it seems what you’re doing ends up as doing as bad as what was done, because of the destruction that occurs. You know, when you’re trying to make a point don’t do that. [voices in the background]

DUNHAM: Oh, yeah—go ahead. I’ll pause for a second and we’ll start again.

GADDIS: Mother said, and her statement was, you can do anything in this world you want to do as long as it didn’t hurt you or anyone else, and I live by that.

DUNHAM: Yeah, well it’s very wise. You were mentioning about that you did play the guitar for—you were invited to for a gay/lesbian parade?

GADDIS: Right, absolutely. Yes.

DUNHAM: What was that experience like?

GADDIS: Well, there again, I guess you’d say I was a loner. Everybody enjoyed the music and yes—

DUNHAM: Was that here in the Seattle area?

GADDIS: It was here in Seattle, absol[utely].

DUNHAM: How did that come about that you were invited to do that?

GADDIS: Well, it started with, actually, actually some—I met a young lady that her apartment was paid for and she was limit[ed]—she could not work and was taken care of. And I’m not a water person. I’ve never cared to go on an ocean cruise. It’s fine if that’s what—you want to do that. But it seems rather silly for me. So I had to be on a boat, but I could see land. I’m okay if I can see land. I just don’t want to be where I can’t see anything but water. But I’m settled with that. It was something from my childhood that I don’t care for. But as long as I can see land, and they asked me to go and it would help—and that was to help the people like her that needed help to pay for an apartment and food, and so forth. It has a specific name, but there again, I’m not good with names.

DUNHAM: Okay, no problem.

GADDIS: But that’s how it started and I did that and then they asked me if I would, as they marched, would I play my guitar and sing and I said definitely, definitely, because I love everyone and so it makes my life easy.

DUNHAM: So on the cruise you performed as well?

GADDIS: On a boat.

DUNHAM: Yeah, on a boat, sorry. On a boat, not a whole cruise.

GADDIS: I just rode. [laughter] I was there to show that I was for them.

DUNHAM: Yeah, well in speaking of that, I know obviously people were not nearly as open as most are able to be in many places today, but during the war years did you know of any gays or lesbians?

GADDIS: I was raised with them. I sat behind them. I never had a problem. I never had a problem if I sat by a black person. But I found that if—this is a little blunt.

DUNHAM: Okay, no problem.

GADDIS: And it may be you won’t want to put—I didn’t dare go in and sit down by an old white man. Let’s put it that way. I observed how people treated me, and I found no fault if somebody, if somebody—love is what it’s all about! And they don’t hurt anybody, but you don’t hurt people in any way.

DUNHAM: Well, that’s what again, I wonder about in those times, in those years in the South when you were living there, when there were a lot of—

GADDIS: Being as young as I did, I had more of the other—the tolerance. It wasn’t my business. It didn’t interfere with me. I’m a very gentle person unless you mess with my family. [laughing] And that’s what I call a real woman—gentle but strong. And that’s what I call a real man. Gentle but strong. Nobody should dominate anybody else, and I don’t.

DUNHAM: How old were your sons when your husband passed, about?

GADDIS: Now, see there again—numbers.

DUNHAM: It was before they were grown up?

GADDIS: Oh no, no, no.

DUNHAM: No? Oh, it was after they were grown.

GADDIS: I was married forty years.

DUNHAM: Oh, I apologize, I apologize. Okay.

GADDIS: The first ten years he gave me everything I asked him for, including two boys. I told him I wanted two boys. He said, “I’d like a couple of girls.” I said, “Perfect. I’ll have the boys and you can have the girls.” [laughter] I got my boys. I had to wait four years for the first one and four years for the second one.

DUNHAM: But he didn’t get his girls.

GADDIS: No, no. He told me when he heard about surrogate mothers, he said—I was fifty years old. He said to me, “I may get my girls yet.” I said, “If you do, you’ll raise them.” [laughter]

DUNHAM: So I was confused that he was living—so how did he feel about the Vietnam War and the draft?

GADDIS: Oh, when he said to me, when it first began and he said to me, “Our sons may have to go.” And I looked him in the eye and I said, “Our sons will not go.” [A cat meows] And so anyway—

DUNHAM: So he was in solidarity with you.

GADDIS: I’ve read about history, and there’s been times in history that the females gathered together and they got their way.

DUNHAM: Most definitely.

GADDIS: See what I mean?

DUNHAM: Yes, yes, yes. But he did not object to your stance. He was supportive.

GADDIS: Oh no, he—I’m like my mother. If I make a statement it’s chiseled in stone. [laughing]

DUNHAM: Well, going back to the war years a little bit, did you have a sense of patriotism through those years and working those jobs? Or was it more need or a mix—

GADDIS: Well yes, of course! Because once it happens and you know that you can’t—you’re either going to have to do something to stop it, which we did. And that was very sad because we had to hurt a lot of people. And that’s terrible, because I’ve met people from all over the world and every one of them that I talk to, they want peace and happiness and love.

DUNHAM: Yeah, speaking of the Vietnam War—but I was thinking now back to during World War II and the feeling of the time when you were working those different jobs, which—was there, and what was going on around you—was there a sense of patriotism then, or what do you remember about those times?

GADDIS: Absolutely, absolutely. And I loved all the young men that had to go. But yes, and Roosevelt had, he had an awful lot of hard decisions to make to end it. That would be—I wouldn’t want to be president! Yeah, that’s definite. You’re going to have a whole bunch of people that’s going to not like you, even though you have some that like you. So I wouldn’t volunteer for that job.

DUNHAM: When you did have to work, later in life, I know you said you didn’t have a lot of work experience but you had some during the war years. Was that a source of strength at all for—

GADDIS: No, no, no.

DUNHAM: Okay, so how did you—

GADDIS: I was in—we were in Louisville, Kentucky at the time, when my husband could no longer work, and I read an ad in the newspaper that they needed salespeople for Parents Institute. They’re located in New Jersey. They publish Parents magazine, Humpty Dumpty magazine, Children’s Digest magazine, and Young Miss. And they’ve supplied the hospitals with something—material on raising children. I went to work for them and they sold a book—or they really didn’t. They gave it away. If you would subscribe to Parents magazine they will give you this medical book that’ll help you when you go to the doctor, you can come home and read about what it is. That was the front half of the big book. And the back side of the book was what to expect from different age groups from crib to college. And they would, if you subscribed to their magazine—and they explained it very thoroughly, that they way they make their money is by selling magazines to more people. The more people they sell, the more they get for a one-page color ad. When I went to work for them they got $10,000 for a one-page ad in their magazine. That’s the way they made their money. 01:18:0001:17:00 They sent me with an older lady. They said that she was a fine sales lady if they could just keep her sober. [laughter] Well, I went with her and I come home and I said, “I can’t do this.” And my husband’s in the bed. I mean, we were getting down to where we—what are we going to have to eat? And he started crying. And I said, “I can’t do this. This is wrong. It’s not right.” They gave me a sheet of paper. I was supposed to say, “Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones,” every time I said a sentence—Mrs. Jones. I said if somebody called my name the second time, I would probably order them out of my house because I couldn’t trust them. And so I said, “This is not for me. I’ll do it my way.” 01:19:00 I learned that book backwards and forwards, turned it around to where I couldn’t see it. The person I was selling—Eisenhower was in office, okay? It was hard times. I got to—a down payment, I think it was $3 or $4 down payment if they wanted to subscribe. They would get a free magazine for their little child—I could only visit under twelve, twelve and under. And that was used in the school. That was a good selling point, see? Humpty Dumpty dumpty. Children’s Digest they could get if they had an older child. And I would leave the book with them. It was theirs free. And so I began and I collected enough to where it kept us from going under. And that was in Kentucky, and they offered to give me Texas, a town in Texas, down on the Gulf—see, there again, my names!

DUNHAM: Yeah, did you move?

GADDIS: Galveston.

DUNHAM: Galveston, oh sure.

GADDIS: See, it comes eventually. But I’ve always been bad with names. So they gave me Galveston as my territory. So I went there and worked for that man for—gosh, twelve—

DUNHAM: Did your whole family move?

GADDIS: Yes. They paid—because by then I was a pretty good salesman.

DUNHAM: Did you have to deal with the woman who couldn’t stay sober long?

GADDIS: No, I just—no, because I couldn’t do it. The way she was doing it I didn’t feel like she was telling them what they were going to get, and when I got through—I didn’t know what I was doing. But thanks to Father in heaven, he knew what I needed to do and what worked is what I continued to do. And I did negative selling. I know what I did now. When I finished I would say, “You can pay for it this way or this way, or you can pay for the whole thing.” And that turns out to be if you pay it this way, it’s $ 0.50 a day or whatever. I don’t remember. I was number one in Texas, and I was number one in the United States and Canada for nineteen of the twenty years I worked for them, because I believed in what I was selling. And when I finished I said, “If you don’t think you can afford this, don’t buy it.” That sold it, right there, yeah.

DUNHAM: Right, okay. Wow.

GADDIS: Because I helped a lot of people! I believe I’m here to help people, and that’s what I did.

DUNHAM: Yeah, well when did your musical career rejuvenate or take off?

GADDIS: Whoo, well, when I came to this part of the country.

DUNHAM: And what led you here?

GADDIS: My son went on his honeymoon and decided this is where he’d like to live. And when my husband passed away my youngest son and I moved up here. And then—the youngest one had told me I needed to do something with my songs and poems, since he was about ten. “You’ve got to copyright them, Mother. And, “You’ve got to share them!” Well, he said something different. And I like to give advice to people when they do the same thing over and over and it isn’t working—Do Something Different! Well, he was making his resolutions after we came up here and he looked at me. I walked in, he had his paper there. He said to me, “You’re going to die never having done anything with your songs and poems, aren’t you?” I said, “I promise I’ll do something this year.” I told him he tricked me. [laughter] A contest came along, I entered it and won it. “I’m not a singer, I’m a writer,” I said to the man. He said, “Neither is Willie Nelson, but you won a recording contract, so sing girl.” [laughing] So I tell people—listen to my words!

DUNHAM: Indeed. So did you write and sign all along in the family kind of—just at home?

GADDIS: Well, I wrote how I felt. Words, to me, are feelings. So they were just in them, written down.

DUNHAM: Well, what does it mean to you to have your wartime home front efforts recognized at this late date?

GADDIS: It is just fascinating, because see, the older I get, the better life is! And now who would want to quit when you’re doing so well? [laughing] But understand, I go forward. I don’t look back. You can’t change a thing, so you don’t worry about what’s gone, it’s what’s tomorrow. I wrote a song, I don’t think it’s on yet, on Facebook, but it’s called “Don’t Take Me Back in Time.” That’s what a country singer does, take you back in time, make you think of a lost love and you cry—tearjerkers. I like to give people something to think about tomorrow.

DUNHAM: So despite your love of country music you have an opposite approach?

GADDIS: Absolutely, because it’s too sad. We need more positive and encouragement.

DUNHAM: Well, not to take you back, but one last question about World War II. What are some of the things that you hope this generation or future generations take from your and others’ experiences during that time?

GADDIS: Well, you see you hope that they, the young people, would not have to go through a war. Today I read something in the paper and yes, peace is what we need. Everybody needs peace in their lives, not destruction. I can’t—where is the winner? There isn’t any, and that’s—whew, that’s terrible.

DUNHAM: Well, you’ve shared a lot of insights and wisdom today. Is there anything else you’d like to add today before we close?

GADDIS: Well, other than that I hope my songs and poems encourage others to never quit trying. Mother said, “Don’t ever say, ‘I can’t,’ say ‘I’ll try.’” And it is amazing what happens when you try. I know because I have lived that life. And if I hadn’t entered the contest I wouldn’t have shared any of my music or any of my poems. So my philosophy—I hope it helps others.

DUNHAM: Well, before we close today would you like to share one of your poems or songs on the record? It’s fine if not, I’m just offering if you’d—

GADDIS: Well, you know, I don’t have my autoharp out, and they can go to my website I think. However, the words to one that I wrote after entertaining a young group of people, and they were asking a lot of questions. And on my way home I wrote: There are things I do not know, where I come from, where I go. It’s here and now that matters though, the only way to live. Questions running through my mind, answers I may never find. Still I know that being kind is the only way to live. Reaching out a helping hand, spreading love through all the land. This I know and understand, the only way to live. These are words I had to say, so I wrote this song today. Join with me and don’t delay, the only way to live.

DUNHAM: That’s very nice, very nice. Well, with that I think we’ll close. I just want to thank you today. It has been a real honor to hear your experiences.

GADDIS: Bless you, and you help people every day. See, if everybody could say that at the end of the day, wouldn’t we have a wonderful world?

DUNHAM: Indeed, indeed. Thank you. Let me—