Marrying Robert Fields

To others it may have seemed that Bob was sketchy about his past and his life, as if he had something to hide, but Leta believed him when he told her that his past was pretty simple. When they married on September 17, 1937, he was 43 years old and had not married anyone previously.

Robert Fields was born on November 14, 1893 in Glasgow, Montana, in the northeastern part of the state. Sometimes he would call it Eleda, because he didn’t live in town. He was born at home on a cold, snowy morning. A local midwife delivered him. His father waited behind the curtain of their small one-room home, because it was too cold to go outside.

He was the older of two boys born to Martin Fields and Ella Davis Fields. While the family had several head of cattle and a few acres of crops, his father worked for the railroad. When the opportunity arose, they moved to Butte, Montana, where Bob did most of his growing up.

At age 23, he was drafted into the Army, where he served during World War I in the Engineer Corps and Army of Occupation until 1921. After he completed his tour of duty, he secured a job at the Spicer Manufacturing Company in Plainfield, New Jersey.

“I didn’t like New Jersey much,” he confessed to Leta. “The people there were too irritable about not being in New York. It was only a few miles away, but you’d have thought it was the Garden of Eden they way folks talked about it. And they acted like they had been kicked out of the place, rather than just not living there. New Jersey just wasn’t a very friendly place overall.”

When the Spicer operation moved to Toledo, in 1926, he went with it.

“Best move I ever made in my life.”

He worked in manufacturing, helping to make automobile parts.

Robert owned a very nice automobile, a brand new Chevrolet master deluxe town sedan—red. “It’s designed for travel,” he told Leta the first time he picked her up in it. “I don’t travel much, but I like the comfort of this beauty.”

Like a lot of men, he loved his car and took great care of it. Once a week, he cleaned it from top and bottom, both outside and inside. The windshields always sparkled, and during longer bouts of poor weather, he washed it every time there was a break. He frequently checked the oil, and any little noise or uncharacteristic behavior was approached like a major project. Bob’s love of the automobile interested Leta’s son-in-law Ed, who also treated his car like a favorite pet. The men enjoyed sharing their mutual interest. This pleased Leta. Not only did it enable her to spend more time with her daughter Vivian, but it also alleviated some of the strain Ed felt toward her.

The couples would meet at church on Sunday morning, then have lunch at one or the other’s house and spend the better part of the afternoon together. Frequently, Ed’s parents, Martin and Anna, and younger sister Doris joined them. Sometimes Leta’s son (and Vivian’s brother Dale) would join them, too. After eating, the men would sip from bottles of beer while poking and prodding one of their vehicles, while the women would drink coffee or beer and discuss recipes and work. Both Leta and Vivian still held jobs, at least in the early parts of their marriages.

After the wedding, Leta officially moved into Bob’s house in the Point Place neighborhood of Toledo. She was already there much of the time. He would pick her up from the office at the end of her day, and they would proceed to his house where she made supper. After supper, they would get to talking and drinking beer—Bob loved a good beer, another quality that endeared him to Ed—until it became too late to drive her home. It was a hot summer, and they would lie side-by-side on his bed, hoping for a breeze.

Leta’s moving in just alleviated them of the burden of her furnished apartment and being separated. Once they became a couple, it was hard for them to be apart.

Shortly before their marriage, Leta moved in completely.

Bob Was Never Married, part 2

It was a blustery December day. Leta had spent the morning shopping with her newly married daughter Vivian, and was now sipping soup and reading the newspaper at Woolworth’s.  As it was later in the afternoon, the number of diners had diminished until there were only five, including herself and the gentleman who was sitting on the stool beside her. In fact, she was reading one of the sections of his discarded newspaper.

The man had been sitting there since before she arrived, and was slowly eating a piece of pie. Meanwhile, she had sat down, ordered and finished soup and toast, and drunk three cups of coffee. The afternoon was not turning out as she would have liked. It wasn’t so much that she planned to talk with anyone at the counter, although she usually did, but that she enjoyed having conversations while she was out. If she wanted to sit alone, she  could have returned to her three small rooms in the house she rented in the country. But it was Saturday, and she did not want to sit at home. She also had no easy way to get there, for she was waiting for her brother to collect her in the automobile. She still had an hour before she was to meet him.

Having finished her soup and the section of newspaper she was reading, she turned to gentleman beside her.  Over the course of 30 minutes, he had only nibbled on the piece of pie he had since before her arrival.

“How is the pie?” she asked.

‘Hmm?” he said, her question breaking his chain of thought.

“Is it any good? The pie?” she repeated, gesturing to his partially eaten piece. Now he was paying attention. “I’m thinking of having a piece.”

“Oh, it’s pretty good,” he answered.

“You’ve hardly eaten any,” Leta noted.

“Yes, well,” he stuttered a little, “I don’t like to eat while I’m reading the paper.”

With that, he put his paper down and took a large bite of the pie, and smiled at her while he chewed.

“My favorite is butterscotch,” he said as he was finishing his bite. “But this apple will do in a pinch.”

“Butterscotch?” Leta questioned. “I never heard of butterscotch pie?”

“With meringue,” he added. “My mom used to make it. I haven’t had it in years.”

“That’s too bad,” Leta sympathized.

“I have the recipe, but I’m a terrible cook.”

“Your wife doesn’t make it for you?”

“I suppose she would if I had one, but I don’t. I’ve never been married,” he shared.

 “Never?” Leta repeated. She could hardly believe what she heard.

“Never,” the man said.

“How did that happen?” she pushed. In her experience, either a man was married but separated or divorced, or he was lying about it.

“Just never met the right woman, I suppose,” he answered nonchalantly.

“Did you ever want to get married?”

“Sure, I guess. It was just never—what would you say—pressing for me. How about you, Miss, have you been married?”

“Three times,” she answered with weariness.

“Three times!?!” he exclaimed, putting his glass of water down. “How did that happen?”

“Buy me a piece of apple pie, and I’ll tell you,” she said jokingly.

“Deal.”

For the next half an hour, Leta and the gentleman talked. Although she had been married four times, it was her tendency lately to speak of her third and fourth husbands, Ora Freeman and Leech Hoose, as one. She had been with Leech such a short time that she barely counted him at all. He ordered a second piece of pie and coffee for himself along with her piece, so they had a little food to go along with it.

Finally, Leta looked at the large clock on the wall. She had barely ten minutes to meet her brother and quite a walk to get there. Aaron hated to be kept waiting. She signaled for her bill and turned to her companion.

“It looks like you’re about to leave me,” he sighed.

“Yes,” she answered with a sigh. I am meeting someone.

“Oh, I see.”

Leta felt a slight thrill and immediately clarified: “Just my brother. He’s driving me home.”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” he said with a slight lift in his voice.

He helped Leta put on her coat.

“It’s been very pleasant chatting with you…”

“…Leta,” she finished. “Leta Mohr.”

“How do you do, Ms. Mohr. I’m Robert Fields.”

Bob Was Never Married, part one

"Never?" Leta repeated. She could hardly believe what she heard.

“Never,” the man said.

“How did that happen?” she pushed. By this point in the conversation, she had lost all her inhibitions and nearly all of her sense of decorum. Her curiosity was piqued, and the gentleman seemed engaging enough. Besides, she was just making conversation after a late lunch.

She had spent the morning Christmas shopping with her daughter Vivian. Instead of dining together, Vivian had lunch and afternoon plans with her husband Ed, leaving Leta on her own in downtown Toledo. She had two options, either she could grab a quick lunch at the Woolworth’s counter or she could have a couple of drinks at Lucky’s saloon. She had arranged for her brother Aaron to pick her up in his automobile and still had nearly two hours until their pre-arranged time. It was a chilly December day and Leta was hungry, so she chose the soup, toast and endless coffee at the Woolworth’s. As it was a rather late lunch, the activity at the counter was quickly diminishing. There were two spaces available, one between a corpulent man and a woman with two fidgeting small children, and the other at the end. Leta chose the seat at the end of the counter, not because she minded the children or sitting beside a larger gentleman, but because from there she could oversee the rest of the counter. If she had gone to Lucky’s, she would have placed herself more in the middle of the customers for greater social opportunities. Perhaps, she thought as she sat down, she wasn’t very interested in conversation.

There were two seats after the counter turned, and one was occupied by a fellow who was deeply immersed in his newspaper. Leta did not see his face, but from the back, she presumed he was near her age—42, for his hair was definitely thinning. The waitress had recently brought him a piece of apple pie, which sat untouched for the moment. If he noticed that she sat down beside him, he never indicated; he shifted slightly on his stool and sighed, but Leta suspected this was more a reaction to something he had just read than her presence. She ordered her soup and toast and asked for coffee.

When her coffee arrived a few minutes later, she took off her gloves and laid them on her purse, which she had placed on the counter between herself and the man. Again, he failed to register her presence, merely turned the page and continued reading. A moment later, one hand carefully released the paper and wandered around the counter until it found a water glass. He took a sip.

Leta quickly grew tired of watching the diminishing number of people at the counter and the two waitresses bustling behind it to serve them. By the time her soup arrived, she was wishing she had chosen Lucky’s. At least there the clientele was sociable.

The soup was extremely hot, so she needed to wait a few minutes before eating. The man sitting next to her had finished one section of the newspaper and unknowingly placed it on her purse. She looked at him. He was still engrossed in his reading, but he had started on his pie—one bite, maybe two if he took small ones.

“May I?” she inquired.

“Hm?” the man said, uncertain if she was speaking to him.

“May I look at your newspaper?” she repeated. “If you’re finished.

He turned aside one half of what he was reading, just enough to look at her. She got a quick look at his blue eyes beneath heavy, graying eyebrows and eyeglasses.

“Help yourself,” he said.

“Thank you.” She reached for the newspaper, and looked at him again, but he had already turned back to his own reading. Leta felt a little disappointment. After all, the man could have at least given her more than a cursory glance. She carefully folded the newspaper, so she could eat her soup, look around, and read at the same time.

“You’re welcome,” the man said a few moments later. 


To be continued.

Vivian and Ed Get Married

Vivian Faye Chetister married Edward Roy Metzker on September 5, 1936. She was 23 years old, and he was 22. He was working as a glass cutter, and she was employed as a secretary. They had planned on a simple ceremony with the justice of the peace, and then a family dinner afterwards. Their families had other ideas. Vivian’s grandmother, the imperious Ida Chetister, who had raised the young bride since she was in high school, and Ed’s devoted Christian mother Anna, insisted that they have a formal church marriage.

“It doesn’t have to be costly,” Ida said, “but without God’s blessing the marriage is nothing more than a piece of paper.” Ida’s reaction was a surprise to both of them, for during the several months of their courtship, she had badgered Vivian regularly for having Ed spend money on her at a film or to eat. “Don’t forget there’s a Depression going on,” she’d say. “Ed could use that money to buy himself something important, like a pair of socks.”

As strict and merciless as she was with Vivian, Ida still wanted a proper marriage for her granddaughter. She pestered her son, Vivian’s father Ralph, for the funding for a wedding meal. Anna and her husband/Ed’s father William paid the church costs and for a portrait of the married couple, and Leta bought Vivian a new dress and shoes. Ida used her own secret money, which she kept in a small canvas bad at the bottom of her flour canister, to purchase the flowers. Edward bought his own new suit.

It was a simple ceremony at Ed’s family’s Lutheran church. Both of their families were in attendance, as well as a few friends. After the ceremony, many of them continued the festivities at Vivian’s grandparents’ home, where she and her younger brother Dale still lived with their father.

As mother of the bride, Leta sat in the front pew for the ceremony. Her son Dale and brother Aaron and his family sat with her, all but her niece Lucille who had eloped two years earlier, much to the dismay of her own parents. Ralph, Ida and Ida’s husband Lewis sat behind them. Leta wanted to say that she could hear Ida sniffling throughout the brief ceremony, but she was too busy with her own tears and sniffles to notice. If Leta had never felt much love for her daughter before this (although she most definitely had), all of her maternal being spent the fifteen minutes of the ceremony in deep devotion and total adoration. Ed’s parents, grandparents and younger sister Doris sat in the pew opposite.

Following the service, the guests made their way to the Chetister house a few miles away in East Toledo for the wedding meal, which Ida had prepared.

For the three weeks prior to the occasion, Leta struggled with whether or not she should attend the celebration. She had not been in her former in-laws home since before she divorced their son. She was not welcome there, When she spent time with her children, she always met them elsewhere. Even as a high school student, Vivian was comfortable boarding streetcars to meet her. She knew that she was still not welcome. After being divorced for 14 years, and even through a brief second marriage, Ralph resented her. His parents would not even look at her. Why would she? she asked herself again and again, Why would she put herself in a position where she would be treated poorly?

The answer was simple: for her daughter’s happiness. This was Vivian’s wedding celebration. She was the mother. It was proper for her to attend whether her former husband and his parents objected or not. If they did not want her in their home, then they could have had the party elsewhere. She had Dale accompany her, and she went. She kissed and hugged her beautiful daughter and shook hands with the handsome groom. They had beer and a roast and cake. She was careful to have only two bottles of beer, because she knew that everyone was watching her alcohol intake. She stayed until it was possible for her to leave.

But before she left, she took one last look at her now-married daughter and son-in-law. They stood near each other. They looked good together, even though he was so tall. They looked comfortable together. Most importantly, they looked like a married couple. Her heart was warm with the pleasure of it.