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Whenever there was a family gathering, Uncle Bob Gruner liked to
remind me of my first visit to downtown Detroit. He may have told
it to offset his own humiliation during his early days in the big
city when the police stopped him because he had a police siren on
his red roadster, not realizing it was illegal. He didn’t get a
ticket, he said, because they could tell he was a dumb country boy
that didn’t know better. Well, country wasn’t “cool” in those days.
In the spring of 1927, my parents were still in mourning over the
loss of my brother, Virgil, Jr., who had been killed just after
Christmas the year before, and wanted to visit family in Detroit.
I was four years old at the time and it was a whole new world opening
before my eyes.
One day Uncle Bob decided to take some of us to downtown Detroit.
Dad was ready to go, but Mother stayed back with her mother and
Gerry, who was still a toddler. I was wide-eyed with all the marvels
to be seen, including streetcars and busses. Suddenly, I spotted
an omnibus, common in big cities back then. I grabbed Dad’s hand
and said excitedly,
“Daddy! Daddy, look! There is a bus on top of that other bus!”
We eventually got back to the house and I needed to go to the
bathroom. I was old enough to go by myself, but at home one of the
main fixtures in a bathroom was in a small outdoor building behind
the lilac tree. A city bathroom was something new.
The phrase, “Flushing the toilet,” was not yet in my vocabulary.
When I had finished,I came out and proudly announced to all within earshot,
“I put it in gear by myself!”
Marian (G-75-42) -Country Girl
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