Crider - McDowell Family Tree

I had little contact with Stella from the time I was 17 or 18 until her death. She saw my daughter, Rebecca Lilleston 1 time as I recall. I found out about her death when the telephone rang one night and an anonymous person said "I thought you might want to know--your Mom was killed in a bar fight." and hung up. I contacted the police department in Los Angeles, California and they confirmed she was dead. As I heard over time, my mother and her husband, Al, were managing a pool hall. There was an altercation, and someone hit her with a pool cue resulting in her death. I do not know where she is buried. Barbara (Hays) Bell-2008.

At various times my brother, Richard Lynn Hays, and I went to California to visit our Mother. The trip was exciting--we took trains like the Super Chief, and got to eat in the dining car, and got to get out on the platform at exotic places like Tucumcari, New Mexico. There the local Indian tribes would have people at the station to sell things--Indian jewelry (turquoise and silver), blankets, Indian dolls--squaw with papoose, each dressed in real rawhide outfits. Once we arrived in California, it was exciting for two midwest kids to see and play in the ocean, although not a great deal of fun when a big wave dragged you across the beach and you came up spitting salt water. It was on one of these trips that we first tasted Mexican food and Chinese (American Chinese that is) food. But the trips always turned stressful; Mother was working, usually. And she and Al both drank. Although they were never abusive nor mean, when two little kids got homesick and wanted to leave, there were some unpleasant times. Richard only remembered being there, not the fact that he cried most nights to go home. And, of course, our Mother was not used to kids and did not know us very well--and we did not know her.

One of the more successful trips was when Mother (Stella (Ellis) Scahuss) drove back from the West Coast and also took our great Aunt Stella Long back. "Aunty" was very crippled with rheumatoid arthritis, but she was game for the trip. We drove straight through--I think Mom may have pulled into a rest area to get a few hours sleep, but I think there was not enough money to allow for 4 persons in a motel. In any case, on that trip we toured Knotts Berry Farms, went to Fisherman's Wharf and of course took a couple of Hollywood tours. Since we had been cared for by Aunt Stella after Mother left, having her there kept us from being homesick. That trip must
have occurred about 1949 or 1950; I think I was about 11.

Although I do not remember which trip (or trips) the following memories belong to, I do recall that:
Mother worked as a sub contractor for a builder. She had a crew that erected cinderblock walls that enclosed or retained soil in subdivisions. Another time, she was working as a short order cook on a gambling boat that was anchored outside the 3-mile limit off the coast of California. We got to take a small boat from the pier out to the ship--I remember being aware that, if I fell overboard, I would drown in all that dark water beneath me before I ever reached the bottom. One visit, Mother was working as a "piece" worker for the May company making satin lounging robes, and she was doing some sewing of robes he wore in the wrestling ring for Georgeous George, the wrestlng star of the time. We got to go to his house with her when she delivered one. Another time she was working in a factory sanding shuffle boards--a woman of many abilities! When I was little, my Dad, Samuel Hays, talked about a mechanical school he attended to allow him to work on cars. AlthoughMother did not go to the school, he always maintained she studied
the material enough that she became a better mechanic than he was. Which remeinds me of another of her jobs--she had a side business repairing and replacing "headliners" in automobiles. At that time (mid '40's to early '50's) cars had real fabric that lined the top of the inside of the car. It would become ripped, or as the car aged, it would become saggy and loose.

Excerpt from "Register Report for Levi SUMNER" by Barbara Bell.