1959 to 1964 Bicoastal Ownership
Child Theft, Salvation or Pawn (continued)
For example, I remember when we use to drive and we'd go to the coast, but I believe mostly it was just to drive and get away from Maysville, and while it wouldn't have been new, top forty turnover probably wasn't what it is today either, I remember and fell in love with Gogi Grant's "Wayward Wind" and I remember Topper pretty vividly, and while it might have been reruns, this all had to have occurred between 1952 and 1954, then I lived with my grandpartents until the house was built and the major horror story unfolded, and it was such as nice house. I recently found some pitctures of the inside, I was thrilled since I didn't believe there to be any.
Now, the new version, which all seems to jive, is that we were actually coming to try and meet up with my other half brother James Lee, who lived somewhere, I'm believe it was Sacramento. But for some reason that didn't pan out and so around Bakersfield, my poor mother, now 40 years old almost, was so tired of driving. She told me she wouldn't let David drive because she was afraid he couldn't control the trailer, being 15 years old and the roads. It is unlikely that whatever the car was, it probably didn't have power steering either.
And, in 1959, there weren't freeways like now. She said we came via Texas and at Bakersfield, she just needed to get somewhere and at that point it was when David actually picked out a small town near the coast of about 12,000 to 15,000 population and San Luis Obispo, oh it wouldn't know for years yet, how lucky of a place it was going to be by having us blow into town. It was her who insisted that we live near the coast, of which we knew nothing about and the State, probably wasn't quite as expensive comparative speaking then as now, especially along the central coast, still quite small and back waters like by comparison.
Even then I was suspect the whole of the county wasn't more than 50,000 people and a county in California, is nearly the size of a small state in the east, where a County probably is not much bigger than San Francisco, which being only about seven by 12 miles is a very small County for the State of California.
Thus, just in time for some sort of summer school, I land, so to speak, in this new place called San Luis Obispo and while I may know that my father doesn't know where we are. That works for me. It was only recently that it struck me how weird this must have been in Kentucky at the time. Of course they knew my mother's parents would know but would never tell. And, boy I bet there was hell to pay from someone and those who might not have known where we were, but had helped were probably enjoying the thrill of getting even for my Mom. Unfortunately, there's really no one left to ask now. I suppose I should see if the local paper has back issues online or have the one last remaining person I know to ask, to go see if there are news items from the era. Got the dates.
Now, that's what I'm talking about, suddenly I'll realize, oh my God, we might have been in the paper, where it has really never occurred to me prior to this moment. I mean this was a new thing, a woman leaving an abusive husband whose parents were rich at that. But, my Mother felt that had she filed for divorce, she wouldn't have ever gotten custody, since my grandfather could have used money to do whatever was needed. And in the days when a million dollars meant something, he was worth it and then some, owning half the downtown, as well as signature property, Simon Kenton's homestead, the originally settler of Kentucky, which was a dairy farm, and had sued the utility company that had erected utility lines across our farm, and won big bucks, I remember that talk from my family.
However, it would lead to a situation where my father would ultimately win, and that's where upon find me and then going to court, they won a 10 month two month situation, where I would visit my Mom for two months during the summer and spend the rest of the time in Kentucky. I don't know how the judge made this or came to this decision, and didn't care at the time since I was didn't want to go back to Kentucky and couldn't understand why a judge would send me there against my will. In part that was bescause they lied saying they would buy me anything I want etc. Of course, even I would have told them that was a lie and they would do no such thing, but at the time and perhaps today it is the same, but they did not listen to a seven year old then and probably not now. So, in 1959, I had to go back to Kentucky leaving my mommy, but riding a propeller plane. The next year I would ride a jet, since in 1960 we entered the jet age from the stand point of commercial aircraft. I don't know where this poster came from and scanning it in was difficult and here I have eliminated the bottom comment regarding the jet age terminal at Los Angeles International.
It probably did look that nice in 1960, today, probably not. But at my former home in Kentucky there an historical marker marking the landmark property now, and a picture of it in the 1990s section you can see, which I'll link when this is more fully developed, that I took the last time I was there, which was the first time in upwards of 25 years.
Although not necessarily my biggest heartbreaker, but up there in the top five is not having my grand parent's house, where the saying 'My old Kentucky home' has some real meaning, but that's another story we will save yet for another day.
