I stayed up a bit late last night, so you can imagine how I felt when I was awakened this morning (Saturday) at 8 AM by Pepper's barking and then by someone ringing the door bell. I rose from bed and saw a tall, older man through the front door shade. I knew that he couldn't see me and I wasn't about to answer the door under such circumstances, so I went to use the bathroom and to put in my eye-drops. The door bell rang a second time and then a third. I decided that this person needed a little jarring, so I opened the window next to the front door, sat down on the blanket chest in my underwear with my bed-head and asked, "What can I do for you, sir?"
"My name's Calvin Wyatt and I grew up in this house; my father built it when I was two years old in 1928. I wanted to ask you if I could take a picture because I didn't want you to see me creeping around out here and wonder what was going on."
I told him that, of course, he was welcomed to take a picture and that I'd love to have him come in and talk for a while. I threw on some clothes, put on a pot of coffee, fed the animals, and let him in. For about two hours, we chatted and walked about the house. He remarked several times on how little had changed in the house while so much had changed in the neighbourhood. He said that his father died in 1965 and his mother moved to an assisted-living center in the early 1970s, so the house was unoccupied until his mother died in the late 1980s. Calvin and his brother, William, sold the house the next year. I picked up the story there. I knew from doing deed research that the Wyatts sold the house in 1988 to a lesbian couple, who sold it to another lesbian couple (Gloria and Melinda) in 1995, who sold it in 2001 to the womon (Ellen) from whom I bought the house in 2003. The lesbian couples who lived here took great care of the house and preserved much of its original character. (The house has its original sash-weighted windows, wood floors, wood siding, and scroll-work rafter tails. The kitchen and bathroom have been renovated, but the work was done sensitively.)
Our conversation was very enlightening. Mr Wyatt pointed out where the original, wood-fired stove was installed in the kitchen before they replaced it with a kerosene-fired stove. He described how my laundry room was once an open porch on which their ice box stood. In the basement, he pointed out to me the former locations of a wood-burning stove, water heater, washing machine, wash sink, and coal conveyor. He also remembers the basement floor being dirt until his family cemented over half of it and reminisced about the brothers' cutting trees from the woods behind the house (which I had believed was once an alley-way) and building cabins in which to camp in the basement. In the back yard, he pointed out to me where his mother had several rock gardens, as well as the location of their chicken coop, vegetable garden, apple tree, and plum tree. He described watching his grandpa build the garage (which has never had doors). He confirmed that the roof was always asphalt shingles and was never tin or slate. The most revealing tidbit was finding out that my den addition was built in 1950, not in the early 1990s as I had previously suspected.
Mr Wyatt told me about his family's roots in Wilkes County. His parents moved to Winston-Salem, where his dad, William Lundy Wyatt (1893-1965), worked for RJ Reynolds Tobacco Co at their Bailey Power Plant at the corner of Fourth St and Patterson Ave NE from the 1920s to 1960. RJR generated their own electricity for their cigarette-making operations and generated enough surplus to power more of Winston-Salem than Duke Power, our local electric utility. His mother, Etta (1901-1993) was a home-maker. The family attended Salem Baptist Church (where his dad also taught Sunday school) for many years before transferring to First Baptist Church.
Etta and William Sr had three sons, William Larkin Wyatt (1919-2002), Calvin Wyatt (born 1926), and Herbert Gray Wyatt (1928-1965). The three brothers attended the Granville School (now Granville Place retirement residence, which I can see from my back door) and RJ Reynolds High School. William Jr and Calvin attended Davidson College, while Herbert attended Salem College and was the first man to graduate from the still-"all-female" institution. All three sons were teachers. William Jr taugh Latin and History at Virginia Episcopal School (VES) in Lynchburg and eventually became its Head Master. Calvin taught sciences at VES before taking a job with GE and moving to Florida in 1957. Herbert taught music at a military school in Front Royal VA before moving to another school near the Virginia coast and passing away at an early age.
Calvin had a paper route for both the morning (Journal) and afternoon (Sentinel) newspapers; in the summers he also carried peanuts that a neighbour roasted at night and distributed them to vending stations along his route. He rose at 4 AM and walked to the Salem College Library, where his route began, traded a newspaper for a doughnut at the original Krispy Kreme on Salem Square, continued as far as Patterson Ave at the far corner of downtown, then finished his route at Fourth and Broad Sts NW. He then walked home, got his books, and walked to RJ Reynolds High School. At the end of the school day, he walked home and then walked his afternoon paper route. Those familiar with Winston-Salem will know that this is no small accomplishment and will wonder how he hadn't walked his legs down to nubs by the time he'd finished high school. (At one point, he mentioned that he'd had a knee replacement, so there you go.)
As we walked about the house and the yard, I could tell that all sorts of memories were running through Mr Wyatt's head. He didn't get emotional, but he did seem thoroughly pleased that his childhood home is still much the place that he remembered and that its current occupant and guardian enjoys and appreciates it as much as he once did. :J
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