Treasure Chest Thursday: We Were Married Today

Gilbert Cayetano Huesca  (1915 - 2009)
Joan Joyce (Schiavon) Huesca (1928 - 1987)

My mother pasted this card into her
scrapbook.  For the first time, she was
addressed as "Mrs. Huesca" there.  "I was so
proud!" she wrote.

Once my parents were declared husband and wife by Justice of the Peace Miles E. Cunat on August 19, 1954, they went home to pack their clothes for the next few nights.  

They first stopped at the Schiavon home on Saint Lawrence Avenue, then to the apartment my father had rented just a month earlier. Calling his print shop, Lakeshore Printing, he told the  employee who answered the phone that he would not be in until the following Monday.  Then he called his mother, Catalina (Perrotin) Huesca, in Mexico City, his brother Carlos, who was living in Chicago by then, and last but not least, his close friends Luis and Theresa Algarin and Frank and Fern Waples, with the good news.

My parents most likely headed down to the Loop after that, where they checked into the Hotel Sherman, located at the time on Randolph at Clark and LaSalle Streets.  The receipt below shows that they checked in at 8:44 on that evening and stayed for two nights, paying $11.45 per night for their room.  Shortly after arriving in the room, a bellman brought the newlyweds a basket of fruit from the management.

Room receipt from the Hotel Sherman in Chicago.
The hotel, which was located on Randolph at Clark
 and LaSalle Streets in the Loop, closed in 1973.

My mother sat down at the desk and penned a telegram to send her parents, Ralph and Alice (McGinnis) Schiavon, who were vacationing in Miami, Florida.  The draft, which she composed on a piece of hotel stationery, shows her pride in becoming Mrs. Gilbert Huesca:

Dearest Mother and Dad:

We were married today- 

We hope and pray that we have

your love and your blessings.

We are staying at the Sherman

Hotel.

With love always, 

Gilbert and Joan 

  Huesca

Some time after midnight, the phone rang.  

My father answered it.  Fern Waples was calling.  In a cheery voice, she asked, "Hi, Gil!  What are you two doing right now?'

My father shook his head, slightly taken aback.  He grinned at my mother.  "We're playing chess, Fern," he answered.

"Oh.  Great.  Well, have a good time, Gil."  Mrs. Waples said, satisfied, and hung up.

Copyright ©  2012  Linda Huesca Tully

Did you know Gilbert or Joan (Schiavon) Huesca, the Huesca or Schiavon families, or any of the people mentioned in this story?   Are you a member of one of these families?  Share your memories and comments below.

Wedding Wednesday: Gilbert and Joan (Schiavon) Huesca

Gilbert Cayetano Huesca (1915 - 2009)
Joan Joyce (Schiavon) Huesca (1928 - 1987)

My parents were married civilly in downtown Chicago
on Thursday, August 19, 1954, by Justice of the Peace
Miles E. Cunat.  Apparently, Cook County did not require
a waiting period between obtaining a marriage license
and the ceremony itself.  The marriage license was signed
by Richard J. Daley, the County Clerk at that time, who
went on to become Mayor of Chicago for several decades.
Their marriage was solemnized a year later by Father
Thomas J. McKugo, the 64 year old pastor of Chicago's
(now closed) Saint Francis de Paula Catholic Church.

The weeks that followed my parents' engagement were quite full, both for the happy couple and my maternal grandparents, Ralph and Alice (McGinnis) Schiavon.  My father moved into a new apartment, and he and my mother began furnishing it with guidance from my grandmother and Mrs. Fern Waples, my father's former landlady and friend.

My grandfather, who had always loved parties and entertaining, began floating the idea of giving my parents a large wedding reception at the Swedish Club, a social club to which he belonged on Chicago's North Side.   He and my grandmother took my parents there one evening for dinner to discuss it further and go over a guest list.

My mother, who preferred a simple and small, intimate wedding, objected to this idea.  She feared that most of the guests would be business associates of my grandfather's.  She wanted instead to share her day with close friends and family only.

It also turned out that she was afraid that her father might quash the wedding plans altogether.  An old-fashioned Italian father, he had expected that his only daughter would stay home and care for her parents through their old age and not even consider marrying until after they died. Further, he had hoped that when my mother eventually did marry, it would be to an Italian. 

Now, it is hard to know whether or not my grandfather changed his mind about this over time.  We do know, however, that my mother saw things differently.  She was of a younger generation and though not rebellious by nature, she definitely differed with her father on this subject.  My mother was deeply in love, and she resolved that she would marry my father, no matter what obstacles stood in her way.

My father continued to visit my mother whenever he could.  On Thursday, August 19, 1954, he went to Chatham Galleries, the Schiavon family's antiques shop, to spend his lunch hour with my mother, who was minding the store while her parents were on vacation in Miami, Florida.

My mother locked the door to the shop so they could take a walk.  When it was time for my father to go back to work, he leaned in to kiss her goodbye and saw tears streaming down her cheeks.  When he asked her what was the matter, my mother plopped down on the curb and buried her face in her hands.

"I don't want you to go.  I want to get married right now," she sobbed.

My father sat down beside her and took her hand as she told him she could not wait a moment longer.

"My parents are away," she went on.  "If we wait until they get back, we won't be able to do this the way we want to.  Maybe we won't be able to get married at all."  She continued to cry as my father attempted to comfort her.

My father, who was a stickler for doing things properly, knew my grandfather would never approve of an elopement.  As he and my mother talked some more, he realized that not only was my mother was serious about not waiting, but he, too yearned to be with her all the time.  She was more precious to him than life itself, and the thought of spending the rest of his life with her beginning today seemed completely right. 

He looked down at his lunchpail.  "I'll call work and tell them I'm not coming back today," he said.

He and my mother got up from the curb and made their way downtown to the Justice of the Peace.

Copyright ©  2012  Linda Huesca Tully

Amanuensis Monday: "When We Two are One"

Joan Joyce (Schiavon) Huesca (1928 - 1987)
Gilbert Cayetano Huesca (1915 - 2009)

"To my Darling," reads my father's inscription
  in the diary he gave my  mother on the day he
asked her to marry him.  She later wrote their
names underneath, adding what must have
been their nickname: "Mr. & Mrs. Zippo."
 

[Note:  Amanuensis is an ancient word meaning one who performs the function of writing down or transcribing the words of another.  Derived from the Latin root manu-  , meaning manual or hand, the word also has been used as a synonym for secretary or scribe.]

My parents became engaged on July 3, 1954, the eve of my mother's 26th birthday.  Besides a solitaire engagement ring, my father, Gilbert Huesca, gave my mother, Joan Schiavon, a small diary. She dedicated it to him and began recording the first weeks of their engagement. What follows are her entries for those first seven days.

 JULY  Three (1954)

"My Secret Love" - "When we two are one"

The most wonderful day of my life.  Gil gave me an engagement ring this evening at home before we left with Mr. and Mrs. Waples to go to the Ivanhoe.  We had dinner, danced, had our fortunes told and went down thru (sic) the "Catacombs."  Then, my darling Gil had some singers come to sing "Happy Birthday" to me.  This evening will live in my heart forever as my love for Gil is for all my life.

I love him as I have never loved anyone before.  For you, Gil dearest are in my every thought, action, and breath.  May you always be as proud of me, as I am of you.

My mother's first diary entry, July 3, 1954
"My Secret Love," she wrote at the top,
When we two are one"

JULY  Four  (This was my mother's 26th birthday)

How happy and proud I was to show everyone at Downer's Grove my engagement ring, because I love you, my darling, with all my heart.  It was wonderful meeting your brother Carlos*.  He is very sweet.  I do hope he will like me.  

Mrs. Waples was so darling to make such a beautiful cake for my birthday.  I was so thrilled and happy today.  But, I know that I shall always be happy as long as you are with me.

JULY  Five

My thoughts were with you all morning, as they shall be every moment of my life.  I was so sorry that Carlos was unable to spend more time with us.  But, selfishly, I was very happy to have you all to myself for the afternoon.  We had such a lovely time at the home of your friends, they were so sweet and kind to us.

What a beautiful home 457 was, and what happy memories you must have of the times you spent there.  My dearest wish is that our life together will be a happy one for you.

JULY  Six

Today I went shopping with you for the first time.  I hope that in later years you will always take me with you, as such little things when shared together should keep us very close to one another.

We got caught in the rain and put your raincoat over our heads!  I even enjoy the rain with you, my darling.  I was so afraid you wouldn't get a chance to kiss me goodnight when Dad and Mother took you home.  But we did kiss and now I am happy.

JULY  Seven

Being with you tonight was wonderful, but Darling, you really gave me a scare when you said you had something to show me.  You didn't tell me it was your heart until after you unbuttoned your shirt.  Then, I felt so silly because you told me I was blushing.

Mrs. Waples was so sweet to make that jar of cookies for me.  Dearest, I am so proud to love you.  I really am very fortunate to have you to love.  

Your Mother was very sweet in her letter.  I hope I will make a good wife to her son.

JULY  Eight

Dearest:  you are the sweetest most wonderful man in all this world. I'm writing this tonight with your fountain pen.  You were so dear to let me use it.  You read this diary tonight, and I only wish that I could express all the love that I have for you in my heart.

It was so nice of you to take Mother, Margaret**, and I for coffee tonight.  I wish that you were here now so I could give you a big kiss. 

I wonder what you will think ten years from now when you read this?

JULY  Nine

I just finished talking to you on the telephone.  The roses that you brought me this evening are beautiful.  I have them here in my room so that I can look at them as I go to sleep and think of you and how much I love you, my Darling.

I hope you will get a nice rest tonight - you sounded so tired on the phone tonight.   I'm getting sleepy, now dear, so goodnight for now.  I love you.

JULY  Ten

What a lovely evening we've had tonight! It's just a week now that we've been engaged.  I'm so proud of my ring and of you.

Has any girl ever been as happy as I am.  And darling you are what makes this little package of oatmeal so happy.  It was so nice dancing at the "Sociedad Española."  (Is my Spanish improving?)

To be with you is always wonderful.  I was very sorry that the Algarins did not come.  But you were with me.  That's enough for me!

*   Carlos Huesca, my father's younger brother.

** Margaret Lesueur, a friend of my grandparents.

Copyright ©  2012  Linda Huesca Tully

Life with the Waples Family

Gilbert Cayetano Huesca (1915 - 2009)

Frank Waples  (1901 - 1993)
Fern (Lawton) Waples (1899 - 1961)

My darling father, Gilbert Huesca, at
the home of Frank and Fern Waples,
Chicago, Illinois.  Circa 1952 - 1954.

Some time around 1950, my father, Gilbert Cayetano Huesca, set out to find a new room to rent in Chicago.  He had lived for several years with his good friends, Louis and Theresa Algarin, since arriving in the United States, and he had started his own business, Lakeshore Printing, on Lakeshore Drive in Chicago. 

We don't know why he decided to move.  Did the large Algarin family need the space for other children or grandchildren? Or did my father want to be closer to work?  At that time, he did not have a car and had to rely on public transportation, so this would have been a good reason to move.   In any case, the Algarins were sad to see him go, but my father's friendship with them remained strong and endured through two generations.  

When he saw a sign in a two story home on Chicago's South Side advertising a room for rent, my father called the number on the sign and arranged with the lady of the house, Fern (Lawton) Waples, to view the room.   When he arrived, he was impressed by the meticulous  cleanliness of the room and the rest of the house, which was quite large.  

Frank and Fern Waples, dear friends of my father's, at
their home in Downer's Grove, Illinois, Memorial Day, 1957

Being fastidiously clean, my father minced no words but asked Mrs. Waples whether her house was always this tidy or had she cleaned up because she knew he was coming?   She was not put off by the remark but proved herself equally picky when it came to renters.  "Young man," she said, "I should be insulted, but instead I can see that we think alike.  The room is yours if you want it."

Frank and Fern Waples were about fifteen years older than my father, but they treated him like a son, much as the Algarins had.  

Frank had worked in various positions, from land appraiser to railway worker to insurance agent.  He was an affable man who seemed happiest when he was surrounded by family and friends. He and my father spent hours talking about everything under the sun.  He loved nothing better than hosting a large circle of family and friends at the Waples home for summer picnics and celebrations.  It was Frank who taught my father the art of the barbecue.

Gilbert Huesca, age 36, Chicago Illinois, January 20, 1952

Fern was a private school teacher.  She was charming and direct.  She noticed how much my father missed his family and friends in Mexico and took him under her wing, helping him with his English and coaching him on American culture and customs. She was always encouraging him to meet new people and experience new things.  My father recalled that Fern was a stylish dresser who rarely went anywhere without her trademark pearl necklace and earrings. She loved a good sale and was the person you went to when you wanted to know where to find that "something special."  This special knack of hers would one day change my father's life.

From what he told us, the big house was usually bustling with young people - the grown-up Waples children and their friends.  The family's relaxed nature and constant activity made him feel right at home.  When he wasn't playing chess with Frank or testing Fern's baking, he was taking one of their daughters to the museum or the movies. 

I was only 6 years old when my father told me that Mrs. Waples, as we knew her, died.  It was the first time I knew someone who had passed away.  I recall my parents driving with my two sisters and me to the funeral home for the wake.   (I couldn't figure out why they called it that when we knew she would never wake up.)

The sky was overcast, and a light rain was falling.  My father parked a short distance away from the funeral home. He and my mother took turns watching us while the other went inside to pay respects. They were very quiet all the way home.

Frank retired some time after that.  He moved to San Marcos in Southern California and marred a second time to a lovely lady named Katie.  They later moved to Arizona, where he died in 1993.

Still, the memories of those happy times with the Waples family would remain with my father all of his life, always sure to bring a smile to his face and a story to his lips.  

Copyright ©  2012  Linda Huesca Tully