Families Of Four Or More

John Bush was raised in Martinsburg and graduated from Central High in 1961. He spent most of his adult life in the Pacific Northwest. He has many memories as a boy in the 1950s that give some insight to the people and culture of Martinsburg in the 1950s. John likes to tell stories and over the years he has repeated the stories of his youth many times. His belief is that those years in Martinsburg influenced him all of his life. Some of the stories are historical in nature, some are colorful, and some are personal. He wishes that you enjoy them.

In the 1950s, many of the families in Martinsburg seemed to consist of two or three children. But looking back, I now realize there were many families that had four or sometimes five or more kids. Before I was 12, there were at least five families of four or more that lived on the same block as I did on North Market Street. There were kids everywhere. The most important family to me was the Roy Dilling family because I was a close friend of Terry Dilling, a classmate. I also interacted with Sandra, the oldest, and two younger brothers, Denny and Craig. Brenda was the youngest and I do not recall much about her growing up. My mom really liked all the Dilling kids and over the years would keep me posted on what they were doing. Though the family struggled for money growing up, they all became respectable hard working citizens. Sandra, Terry, Denny and Craig all lived a lot of their life in Martinsburg. Brenda, an RN, worked in Altoona and lived In Hollidaysburg. Denny went to work for Leidy’s and became a local icon because he was their field man for decades. Terry was in the military and spent time in Germany but later returned to Martinsburg and never left. Mrs. Dilling would be proud.

I fondly recall afternoons sitting on the Dilling front porch with Mrs. Dilling and all her kids. Once, I accidently blurted out something we had done as a group that was against the street rules. Sandra was the oldest in the group and was to be in charge when we broke into a neighbor’s old chicken coop and were playing there without permission. As I was telling the story, Mrs. Dilling looked at Sandra and laughed, then looked back at me and said “Johnnie, you just left the cat out of the bag.” I wasn’t sure what she meant but Sandra just glared at me. Mrs. Dilling always treated me with kindness.

The Dillings did not have an electric refrigerator; they had an ice box, and one of the best times during summer days was when Mr. Whetstone from Woodbury delivered ice. He seemed very old and grumpy. He had a very large hearing aid, didn’t hear well and was always telling us to get away from the back of the truck. But before he left for the next delivery, he would give us each a piece of ice that he broke off from the large blocks.

Mr. Dilling was a clever man. He made the best kites. He also had his own homemade tool for getting fishing worms. It was a long copper rod that could be electrified. When driven into the ground, the worms would come to the surface. All the kids would gather around and help chase down the worms.

Terry died in late December of 2023. Although he and I only talked with each other every so often over the years, I have many fond memories of our childhood adventures. Behind our new house on Spring Street, a spring from the farm behind us flowed strong all year long in those days. Terry and I got the idea we could dam up the water deep enough to swim. The spring fed Floyd Bush’s pond, but I was not allowed to swim in it. Using some rocks, old boards and a plant we called duck weed, a dam was constructed that raised the water nearly three feet. Mom came out to see what was going on and was horrified to see us covered with mud standing in water up to our chests. She yelled at us, saying we had been told to never go in Uncle Floyd’s dam because we could drown. My reply was that we did not go into his dam, this was our dam. Terry and I also rode our bikes to go fishing in Clover Creek many a times in the summer. Terry always seemed to talk and move slowly but he was a lot smarter than most people thought. When I was around Terry, he had a peaceful manner that I did not have as a kid.

The Hermie Michael family on North Market family consisted of four boys and one girl, Mary Ann. All of the five were older than me and called me “Bud,” because apparently I called all the boys on the street “Bud.” More than a few years back after I got off the plane at the airport and was heading for my baggage, Sandra Dilling yelled down the hallway, “Hey Bud, where you going?” I always thought it was funny to still be called “Bud.”

Somewhere in the early fifties, three of the Michael boys fell off Floyd Bush’s dump truck heading up Spring Street. In those days the street went past the airport to a farm owned by my Uncle Floyd where building materials were dumped. Terry was killed, Howard was rumored to have been mentality affected, and Vern was not hurt. Howard left as a young man for Ohio and I never heard anything about him.

Later in the early sixties, I worked with Hermie Jr., the oldest, and Vern who both worked as electricians for Uncle Floyd. They dressed and acted so different that you would have never known they were brothers. Hermie Jr. always was neatly groomed, did not smoke and didn’t smile much. Vern smoked, had long hair and his clothes, though not dirty, were unkempt. Vern had a good sense of humor and would laugh a lot showing his missing two front teeth. Both of the brothers followed after their dad and were smart electricians.

One day, I saw one of the older girls from our block smoking in the alley. She panicked and said that if I didn’t tell anyone she would let me play doctor. I was only 8 or 9 and I wasn’t sure why I would want to play doctor. I wasn’t going to tell anyways because I never wanted her to report me to my mom on any of my antics. In a small town with so many relatives and families who knew me, I had already learned to be clever about what I was doing, because it seemed like the word always got back to my mom.

Next door on North Market was my dad’s brother Leonard and his family. There were four kids, from oldest to youngest: Donnie, Bonnie, Connie and Gary. Donnie was older, and like most older kids, did not pay much attention to me that I recall. He later was a star on the high school basketball team and played for the town’s twilight baseball team. In terms of age, I was between Bonnie and Connie and we played together a lot. After graduation, Donnie became an electrician for my uncle and I worked with him on a couple of jobs. Gary played on one of the Little League teams that I managed.

While writing this story, I realized there were many classmates in my grade school that came from families of four or more. In addition to Terry Dilling, my grade school classmates Judy Hinish, Janice Fisher, Don Smeltzer, Joe Dilling (not related to Terry), Bill Reese, Ella Mae Dixon, Jane Greenleaf, Lonna Blattenberger, Mary Ann Bankert, Gerald Slagenweit and Linda Stoudnour all came from families of four or more. I think we averaged about 22 students in our grade school classes, so approximately half of them came from families of four or more. Add those kids to the almost 75 uncles, aunts and cousins of mine that either lived in Martinsburg or came to town a lot, there were few places to hide without someone seeing you. Two friends, Bob Davis and Harry Brubaker, lived outside of Martinsburg and they came from families of four and five, respectively.

When I was ten, we moved to Spring Street where, in addition to the Hinish and Slagenweit families, the Ebersole family consisted of least five kids. Their home was in a large barn which was remodeled inside and located next to Benson School. Their yard was large and filled with construction materials. Mr. Ebersole drove up and down the street in a dump truck with his small kids in the cab. At construction sites around town, they were allowed to play in the dirt piles. The Leidy family across from Benson School consisted of twin girls and at least four boys. To me, at the time while growing up, I was not aware of exactly how many kids were in the larger families and probably did not really care. After the fifties, the number of kids per family began to decrease.