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My Mother's Journal, Part Two
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Elizabeth Irene Bryan-McCabe, born July 9, 1914, daughter of Charlotte Lucinda Mawrey-Bryan and William Bryan in Washington, D.C.
1934 Graduation from THEODORE ROOSEVELT HIGH SCHOOL.
My sister Ruth and I had an apartment and I tried to find work. During
the Depression and New Deal jobs where one had to have a Congressman or Senator to endorse you, it was hard to find work. Being born and living
in Washington, D.C., I had no one.
MOVE TO YWCA.
Ruth married Joseph
Murray on June 16, 1934. They took me to live with some of Joe’s sister
in-laws. I had never met them before and I soon got the feeling that I
was not exactly wanted there. It was in Arlington, Virginia and there was
not much bus service and I did not have any money to speak of. I needed
to take buses to go look for a job. I left the next morning and went to
see Mrs. May Ashton, my friend and art teacher at Roosevelt High School
where I had graduated. She took me home with her and I stayed there until
she found me a room at the YWCA.
Elevator at YWCA.
I was given the job of running the elevator up and down five floors. Mornings before the "girls" went to work and again when they came home from work until 10pm. I made $39 a month which paid for my room and two meals a day. Breakfast and dinner. No lunch.
I had never been around so many women and I became friends with some of the new girls, fresh from the small towns. Many had never been away from home before. I took them to the movies and we would all go to church on Sundays. they always wanted to go where President Roosevelt went. He went to different churches, not sticking to any one faith.
PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT AT CHURCH.
One Sunday we all went to the National Cathedral. It was being built, but
the main part was in use. President Roosevelt sat in the front, middle
section down in front. When the service was over, all was quiet and the
President was assisted up and we could hear his braces being clicked into
place. The congregation stood up and the Secret Servicemen came running
in all directions. One nearly knocked me down in his haste to get to the
President’s side.
Living at the YWCA was quite an experience.
The "Y" was an old building. There was a porch all around the first
floor. There were five floors. I lived on the fifth floor in a small room.
It was very cold. The bats flew all around and the janitor came up with
a broom and swished them out.
The Oxford Group:
Waiting for God to tell roommate what to do. My roommate was young and from the Bronx, New York. She belonged to a religious group called the Oxford Group. I believe it started in England. She would set her alarm for six a.m. It would wake me up hours before I needed to get up. She got out of bed, took a tablet and pencil and sit in the corner. She was waiting for God to tell her what to do that day. Many times the girls at the "Y" would invite
her to go to the movies. If God said "no" she would not go.
I went to New York City with her one cold weekend. We got off the train at Grand Central Station. Her parents ran the "Milk Bar" in the station. We rode the Subway and Elevated. I saw the Empire State Building. It was too cloudy to go up and see anything.
BIRTHDAYS
They come and go. And many of us would rather they never came. But time marches on and the years pile up.
Aunt Bessie had a cake baked for me on my fifth birthday. I remember it so well. It was small, but it had butter icing and lots of purple forget-me-nots all over it. It was not a real party, just Aunt Bessie, her friend, Mrs. Reese and myself. That was the only time anyone ever remembered my birthday as a child. My first birthday after my Mother died. July 9th. 1923. Aunt Bessie’s son’ birthday was on the 15th. They always said we’d celebrate his and my birthdays together. But I never got any presents then either. That is why, when I grew up, I tried to remember birthdays of all my family and friends.
THE CAPITOL DOME.
Every time I see the Capitol on television or in the newspapers, I get a warm feeling of pride. The Goddess of Freedom stands tall and symbolizes our country.
THE GODDESS OF FREEDOM
was put up there by a group of men who worked for the Bethlehem Steel Company. My grandfather was one of them. His name was William H. Mawrey. His name is unusual, having a "w" instead of the typical "u".His parents came over to the United States from England in the early 1800’s and settled in Petersburg, Virginia. He was born there in the 1830’s and married Margaret Charlotte Redmond. They had eight children.
He traveled around a lot. Several children were born in Washington, D.C. My mother was born in Wilkes Barre, Pennsylvania. Aunt Elsie was born in Charlotte, S. Carolina. My grandfather died in Washington, D.C. in 1899. My grandmother died in 1912, so I never got to know them. I was born in 1914.
Albert Philip McCabe.
I met and married Albert (Mac) November 16, 1936. We met through my best friend Aimee Arseneau, who I later named our first daughter after. We were very much in love. He was studying to be an engineer and I worked for the government in the Resettlement Administration Department. I worked there for six years putting Albert through school. We had begun to think that we could not have children. So we bought a brand new 1941 Chrysler and guess what? I became pregnant with Aimee Louise. She was born January 22, 1942.
My first airplane flight. 1945.
I flew to Seattle, Washington with three and a half children. Aimee, age
3, John, age 2 and Linda, age 10 months. I was pregnant with Michael who
would be born in Seattle October 27, 1946. Mac, my husband, had flown out
earlier. He had a terrible time finding us a place to live. Then he had
a bad reaction from a smallpox vaccination. So it was February to May before
we could go.
I sold all of our belongings. I only sent what we needed. Boeing, where he went to work, did not pay our expenses. So I had to get $334.04 to pay for our tickets. Full fare for Aimee, John and myself. Linda was free because she sat on my lap. She was 10 months old.
Mom's Journal Page 3 | Home Page | Family Ancestors Page
If you know of anyone who lived in the Washington, D.C. area during the early days, I would love to hear their stories. Consider writing your Personal History! I have begun writing mine! My children and their children will have something to read and pass on to future generations.
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