The Flat Iron

During the time in the 1930s that my great-grandmother Leta lived mostly with her brother Aaron, they both frequented a local drinking establishment—the Flat Iron. The bar was named for its triangular shape, which from above made it look like an iron. This shape was determined by its location—on a boulevard where three streets imperfectly intersected. The bar probably was the only local drinking establishment in their farming community and only very recently opened as a legal purveyor of alcohol after the repeal of prohibition in December 1933.

 

As it was located on a state highway that ran east to west along the northern border of Ohio, it most likely served both locals and men traveling across or through the state. Thus, its clientele would be both regulars and out-of-towners.

While both Leta and Aaron were regulars, I find it highly improbable that they would go together. Although Aaron seems not to have chastised or made life miserable for his baby sister for her sexual proclivities, I cannot imagine that he would have supported her in them. If they were in the bar together, I imagine she behaved in a much different manner than when she was on her own. It was only a mile or two from their house, so she could walk, and more often than not, I suspect, she was driven home by one of the men she had met or knew there.

Leta, of course, would socialize with the other drinkers, mostly men, at the bar. As a trained poker dealer who had spent some time in Reno, Nevada, Aaron would host a secret backroom card game. Gambling then, as now, would have been illegal.

These goings on must have created some tension in the household. After all, Aaron had two teenaged daughters at home and his wife Florence was a fundamentalist Christian tea-totaler. In those days, women did give their men license to have a drink here and there or even regularly, but dealing cards and drinking seems to push her capability of acceptance. And even though she enjoyed her times at the bar, Leta was very supportive of Florence and her needs.

One evening there was an incident. Against his wife’s wishes, Aaron was at the Flat Iron, dealing cards in the backroom. She and Leta were home. Both daughters were observing their mother’s distress, and Leta was growing angry at her brother’s insensitivity toward his wife. Perhaps from her mother’s experience, perhaps from her own (she had been married four times so far), Leta once again sought to right her sister-in-law’s wrong. (According to family lore, she frequently chastised her brother for incidences of neglectful behavior toward his wife.)

On a mission for her sister-in-law, Leta interrupted Aaron’s backroom poker game with the message that his wife required his presence at home immediately. He refused and continued at the poker table. Leta reminded him of his responsibility to return; Aaron rejected her claims. And they began to argue. Neither was easily dissuaded. When she realized that she couldn’t convince her brother to come home with reason, volume, anger or threats, Leta took drastic action by jumping onto the poker table and commencing a vulgar strip tease. This behavior at last was successful, although not entirely without its own pitfalls.

Aaron was so embarrassed and furious that he literally dragged his sister back home with a serious threat of bodily harm and disassociation if she ever attempted to interrupt him in such a manner again. According to his daughters, she never did, but in this instance, Leta fulfilled her mission to retrieve her brother from his poker game and return him to his distressed wife.

The Flat Iron building still exists, but its days as a bar have long passed. Its most recent use was as an office of some kind. This I could tell by looking its two front windows. It’s available for rent, if you’re interested.