In a former memo reciting the nomadic travels of the Brown family between 1914 and 1916, and expressing my gratitude to my grandmother, Diana McGranahan, for a concern for our family which undoubtedly altered our lives tremendously, I recited that the extreme difficulties experienced by the Brown family were due to the love of my father for "coca cola."  This reference to our difficulties resulting from our father's desire for "coca cola" might leave an erroneous impression of my father, Harry J. Brown, and it is my desire in this little memo to correct any misimpression that I might have left by remarks in the former discussion.

This is not to say that the difficulties of the Brown family between 1914 and 1916 were unfounded, and that the difficulties did not result from a weakness of my father, Harry J. Brown.  Obviously this weakness did cause my grandmother, Diana McGranahan, some serious concern as it caused her to provide a home for us, something that she knew we did not have and that she could provide at her death.

It is to be made very clear that the recollections I now have, and report herein, are recollections after 1916 when we occupied grandmother McGranahan's home in Augusta, Ohio.  They are recollections that are concrete because of my age in growing up in the Augusta residence.

To begin with, let me say that I would not desire any other father than Harry J. Brown.  True, he never had money to lavish on us, his children.  In fact I do not recall of ever receiving even as much as one dollar from my dad.  I did not ask for it, nor complain about it, as I knew that he had little money to share with anyone.

The reason for his inability to share funds with his children came, as I see it, from his desire to operate his own business in working with wood.  His was a desire to make from raw wood, handles of various kinds: hammer handles, sledge handles, ax handles, and other handles of various sizes and kinds.  He could take his drawing knife and work with raw wood to make it into a finished handle of various sizes.

Not only could he make the handles with a simple drawing knife, and with a simple contraption to hold the wood in place as he maneuvered with the knife to create a finished product, but he also converted the small barn on the back of the home in Augusta to a factory for making handles of various sizes and descriptions.  This factory was powered by a gasoline motor of perhaps six horsepower which drove a line shaft that created power for a lathe, a sanding machine, and other machinery needed to create a finished product. So for much of my young life, I grew up hearing the engine puffing away in the barn below our residence, knowing that my dad was making handles.  With this machinery he could make handles in greater quantity than the slow method of using a drawing knife to methodically carve out the wood by hand.  But he loved this kind of work, and either way, he could convert raw wood into the finished product.

When he made the handles, he also had to sell them. To do this, he would go to factories in Salem, and other places that had a demand for them.  As I see it, the problem he had was the changing times in which we lived.  Other types of handles, made and delivered to factories, were supplied with the hammer, the ax, the sledge, as they were put together for sale as a finished product.  Hence, he was left to supply handles when a need arose, such as when the handle broke, or was in some manner inefficient for its purpose.  So his selling job was much more difficult than it might otherwise have been.  Not only did he get the raw wood needed for his business, but he had considerable difficulty in disposing of his finished product.  It was a manufacturing process he loved that was not timely and there was not much money to be made in this occupation.  But he loved it.

So much for the reason for the lack of lavishness in our home.  Money was hard to come by, and in addition to this handle business, he supplemented his income by operating a little restaurant, including a pool hall (one table only) in the village of Augusta.  The operation was conducted in a portion of the Augusta property adjacent to the home.

This is where I learned to play the game of pool as customers often came to our little restaurant and desired to play pool.  Hence I, even at a very young age, had to accommodate the customers.  Each game cost 10 cents, and if the customer won, he had to pay nothing.  So it was important, insofar as I was concerned, to see that he didn't win too many games, as the only payment we got were for the games I won.

Sometimes, when I had a customer with considerable time, we would play for hours, and at the end of some days I had accumulated as much as $1.00 for the firm.  This was, in my eyes, a stupendous amount and I was able to help my dad in his business in this manner.  So with the handle factory, selling hot dogs, and operating the pool room, we scraped by.

The experiences I recited above occurred between 1916 and 1925.  We were busy, but not in counting our money.  To supplement my income (all of which I was allowed to keep and use for my own purposes), I worked at various tasks, principally with farmers in the area.  One of those tasks I recall vividly, was working for a farmer in East Township.  Among the various things I had to do was hoe corn, a task that I heartily hated.  But I earned $1.00 per day which was a princely sum at that time.

I also spent some time with Royal Manfull, helping him with the harvest and other tasks such as plowing with the old hand plow, cultivating corn, digging post holes (which was hated work), and many other farming tasks that Royal helped me to learn about, and to learn how efficiently.  There are other tasks, principally with other farmers, which were occasionally available to enable me to earn some funds.

One of the things I recall about my father, as I said above, I was able to keep my own money.  He never asked me to share any of it with him.  In return I used the funds to buy my clothing, school supplies, and other incidentals.  In fact I learned early how to help to support myself.  In 1923, with the help of Royal Manfull, I obtained the janitor's job at the Augusta schools (two buildings).  This task paid me $16.00 per month and helped me maintain myself through high school.  At that time I had the job of mowing the cemetery at Augusta and was janitor of the Augusta Christian Church.  During all of this period, as I stated above, my father never requested that I share the money I earned with him, although I now realize that he needed it so badly.  I will always appreciate the fact that my parents did not expect me to help keep them, as I recall early having to supply my own needs.  This, although I didn't early realize it, was a very important part of my early education.

Now to get back to the early possibility of misconception, insofar as my father is concerned with his drinking of "coca cola" and the abominable conditions of our living between 1914 and 1916, let me say as follows:

I always have appreciated my father, Harry J. Brown.  Although he may have had a love for "coca cola," as I recited before, I never saw him drink any, nor did I ever see a bottle of such stuff in our home at Augusta.  In fact, I have never seen him under the influence of intoxicants.  If this occurred, and I presume it did, it was at some other location, not at our home.  And I am under the impression that the attitude of my mother toward "coca cola" had much to do with the fact that our home never housed such drinks.

This is not to "whitewash" Harry J. Brown, as I understood that he did imbibe, and at times other members of our family, for example, my brother Harley, had to help him in his distress.  But this was a rare occasion.  For example: When he had some extra money (which was not often), and when he was away where "coca cola" was readily obtainable.  But as I said above, I never, personally, saw him under the influence at or around our home.

Since he never had much money, he never owned a motor vehicle.  In the period I mention, 1916 to 1925, there were motor vehicles, including motorcycles, around our home in Augusta, but they were the property of my brothers and me.  He was perfectly willing to share a ride with us, but he never had a desire to operate a motor vehicle.

One thing my dad was a master at, maintaining a garden.  His garden, in our back yard, was excellent and during the summer season it produced much of the food we required.  One other thing I must say for my dad, he never requested us to work in his garden.  It was "his thing" and he took care of it, including the rhubarb patch along the side of the garden.  My mother was not a gardener either, and dad had full control, and as I said above, dad had full care of the garden.

The main purpose of this memo is this: To make it clear that dad, with his weakness for "coca cola," did not bring it into our home during the time I can recall anything about it.  We never had much money because he never made much money.  He was competent in many areas.  For example, he could build a chimney, laying the brick in very nice fashion.  He could maintain his factory, and all the equipment in it.  But he had a love for wood in his occupation, and together with his weakness, made him monetarily poor.  But even so, I never had any thought of trading him for any other father I knew of.  He allowed us to grow up and develop for ourselves.  And with a father, with his limitations, and with a mother that was without any such limitations who loved her boys, I can now feel satisfied that I have left no unfair impressions in my memo in which I outlined my great appreciation of my grandmother, Diana McGranahan.  To her, and from all of us, including my father, Harry J. Brown, we say, so belatedly, we now understand your goodness and thoughtfulness to us.