The Daisy Chain is a three-part book. Part one is the story of Daisy Petty McIntyre, a courageous mother of four children. Widowed in 1912 in her early 30s, she was forced by circumstances to leave her cozy home in the Ozark Hills of Northwestern Arkansas, where she was surrounded by family and friends to wrest out a living in a large city where she knew few people. She soon learned that the many skills that served her well in the Ozarks had little financial value in earning a living for herself and her children in Kansas City. Daisy faced hardships and destitution, but she did it with great heart and fortitude, never letting her children see the fears and desolation she felt on an almost daily basis. Part two is the author's experiences growing up in the Great Depression years. Part three is a family genealogy.

The Daisy Chain

By Muril Hart

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2009 Muril Hart
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4490-3681-2

Contents

Acknowledgements........................................................................xiPart 1 They Called Her Daisy............................................................1Prologue: Dazerine (rhymes with Jazz) they called her Daisy or Daz......................3Part Two Growing Up In The Great Depression.............................................89Introduction: A few words about changing times..........................................91Part Three The Ancestors................................................................177This Book Part 3: The Ancestors*........................................................179

Chapter One

They Called Her DAISY

Prologue: Dazerine (rhymes with Jazz) they called her Daisy or Daz.

Daisy McIntyre was rarely called by her full given name, Louisa Dazerine. Her friends called her Daisy or Daz, depending on who was speaking.

Daisy was my maternal grandmother, born March 17, 1880, a courageous widow, she raised her children under adverse conditions, sacrificing her own comfort and well being to the needs of her family and she did so with great heart. She died before I was born but through the stories of her second daughter, my mother, Lillian, Daisy lived more vibrantly for her grandchildren than the paternal grandmother who was alive but absent for the most part of our lives.

Daisy was a charismatic woman, but like most strong people, a complex personality, both highly moralistic and naughty at the same time. Loyalty to family was high on her priority list as well as commonly good manners. The term, "commonly", is used to describe down to earth courtesy, not the fine manners of high society.

Daisy's husband, Jay, died when she was 32, leaving her with four young children to raise, alone. As a young widowed mother, Daisy's life was one hardship after another but her children never saw the fears or the doubts she felt, because she put forth an air of assurance that the bad times would be dealt with, and everything would be all right.

The olden days

"I was born in 1905 in Arkansas on a farm called the old Ethican place," she began. It was my mother, Lillian McIntyre Knight speaking. She was about to tell my sister, Jean and me, a story about the "olden days." She wanted to share with us the life she had known as a child but more than that, she wanted us to know her mother, Dazerine Petty McIntyre and the family history.

Jean and I loved to hear the stories and we would sit quietly listening to her family tales even though we had heard them many times before.

"My mother said I was the ugliest baby she ever saw," Lillian continued. "She said I had long black hair that lay on my shoulders and I cried all the time for several days. She said no wonder that I cried so much with that face. My father was Elijah Jackson McIntyre but everyone called him Jay. He had wanted another boy to help with the work. He said girls just ain't much help with farm work. My brother, Ira, was nearly 3 years-old when I was born and my sister, Eva was almost 10. My brother Clell, the baby of our family, was born after me in January 1911" Lillian said.

"I didn't have much in common with Eva. She was a grown-up to me, more like a mother than a sister. She took care of Ira and me a lot when Mama was out working. Ira and I thought Eva could do no wrong. She was so good to us kids. She didn't hit me or even get cross with me, but she was sometimes a bossy kid. Ira teased her a lot and that caused trouble sometimes.

I remember when Papa sent away for some little cherry trees. Papa had just bought the Tillery place and we moved there. He put everything he had into it. He bought the two cherry trees and put them in the side yard. Money was always so scarce that it was a burden for him to buy the trees. They were growing real good and Papa was proud of his trees.

Mama had left us with Eva that day and Ira got one of his bad teasing spells. He was really aggravating Eva, and Eva finally got mad. She went out, and broke off one of the cherry trees and whipped Ira real good with it. When Papa got home and found out about his tree, he hit the ceiling. He was so mad, he cussed and reared and stomped. He even threatened to whip Eva but instead he just blew off and cussed more than anything. Mama wouldn't let him whip Eva. She just kept saying 'now Jay, now Jay' she would say, 'she's just a kid.' I can remember just standing there waiting for something to happen, he was terrible mad but he didn't hit Eva. Mama wouldn't have let him.

The Story Begins

It was a cold day early in 1912 and there was no heat in the house when the authorities showed up at the door of the two-room, tarpaper shack that was Daisy's new home in northeast Kansas City, Missouri.

This dreary house was far different from the modest but cozy home she had left in Arkansas after her husband Elijah Jackson "Jay" McIntyre died. Daisy, a young widow of only a few months, was at home alone with her children. Laid off from her job at the meat packing plant, living far away from family and friends in Arkansas, she was desperate with worry about where the family's next meal was coming from.

Work at the meat packing plant was grueling hard, meager pay, and deplorable working conditions. There were labor unions at that time but they were in their infancy and "sweatshop" labor prevailed. An employee might give his employer a good steady, seven days of work a week for months, but have one sick day off and be fired, no matter how well they worked or how dependably they performed in the past. Employers didn't worry about replacing an employee because times were hard and other workers waited in line to take the low-paying jobs.

As a grown woman, Daisy's daughter, Lillian, described to her children, events that occurred during that time.

"Mama was working in the meat packing house and Eva kept house and took care of us kids, and she also went out to look for a job," said Lillian.

"Ira and I always walked to the streetcar line to meet Mama when she got off work. I know now that Mama was sick herself that night ... that evening", she corrected herself.

"We went to meet her," Lillian said. "It was nearly dark and Mama hadn't come. We waited at the streetcar line quite a long time, long past the time she should have been there. So, we decided to look for her.

We walked up one street and down another. We went back home to see if we had missed her but she wasn't home so we went back to the carline. She wasn't there so we started looking everywhere but we kept coming back to where she should get off the streetcar.

We had decided to go back to the carline when we saw her. She was real sick. She didn't know where she was. But, when we found her she said, 'what in the world are you children doing out in the streets so late?'

She was hugging us, and half crying. I guess she was so sick and worn out she just had a lapse of memory, but I guess she felt like she had to keep going," said Lillian.

Eventually, the long hours and heavy work took its toll on Daisy and she lost her job. She managed to get work housecleaning here and there or temporary work of some sort but it was not enough and hunger became an everyday companion to the family.

Finding work that paid living wages was difficult enough for a man in 1912 and almost impossible...