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.

Sentimental Sunday: Popping the Question

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

A postcard of the Ivanhoe, a popular medieval-style
Chicago restaurant, where my parents feted my mother's
26th birthday and their engagement on July 3, 1954.

My father, Gilbert Huesca, could hardly contain the love he felt for my mother, Joan Schiavon. His workdays at Lakeshore Printing flew by as he waited for five o'clock to come so he could see her again.  When he was not with my mother, he was talking about her to his younger brother, Carlos Huesca, who had recently arrived in Chicago from Mexico City, or to his friends, Louis and Theresa Algarin and Frank and Fern Waples, or writing home to his mother, Catalina (Perrotin) Huesca, in Mexico City.  

By late June, it had been only two months since he had met her at the end of April, 1954, but he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. One evening, over a game of chess with Frank Waples, my father was less focused than usual. Fern sensed his mind was on something else, and she asked him if everything was all right between him and Joan.  

"Oh, yes," he said. "It couldn't be better. But Fern, she is very special. There are other fellows who are very interested in her.  They're very rich and powerful."   

"And is she interested in any of them?" Fern asked, always quick to cut to the heart of the matter.  

"No. The way she looks into my eyes, I know she loves me."

"So what are you waiting for?  Go ask her to marry you, Gil!"  

"But how can I ask her so soon?  We've only been seeing each other for a little while."  

Fern Waples was not a woman to listen to excuses.  "Well, Gil, I told you before that she was too much girl for you.  I guess you'll either just have to ask her or let her go."  She turned around and left the room.

That was all my father needed to hear.  Like the expert chess player he was, he began strategizing for the most important move of his life.

Before he could ask my mother to marry him, he knew he would have to approach her father for his permission.   Some men would have paled at this and thought it old-fashioned, but my father had come from a very traditional Mexican family and understood the importance of showing respect for the father of one's intended.

On July 2, 1954, two days before my mother's birthday, my father went to see my grandfather, Ralph Schiavon, to ask for her hand in marriage.

My grandfather had seen a proposal coming, but not this soon.  He hesitated at the thought of his only daughter marrying someone who was not Italian, though he himself had married an Irish-American.  He looked at my father sternly.

"Do you have any insanity in your family?" he asked.

My father had anticipated that my grandfather would be tough on him, but he did not expect this question.   He smiled.  "No," he said confidently. "Is there any in yours?"

Ralph Schiavon had to laugh at my father's quick comeback.  He shook his head and knew he had met his match.  He gave my father his permission, albeit reluctantly.

The next evening, my father arrived at the Schiavon home to take my mother out for an early birthday dinner celebration.  My grandmother, Alice (McGinnis) Schiavon, who had heard of my father's intentions from my grandfather, met him at the door and showed him to the living room. My mother soon appeared in a lovely red lace dress, and my grandparents disappeared, leaving the sweethearts alone.

My father could not believe how beautiful she looked and almost forgot to give her the small gift-wrapped package he had in his hands.  Inside was a diary with a deep red cover, "the color of my heart," my father said.  

My mother loved it.  "I'm going to fill it with all my love for you," she said as she hugged him.

But that was not all my father had for her.  He took another small box from his pocket and got down on one knee.  My mother's eyes grew wide as his trembling fingers opened the box to reveal a white gold diamond solitaire ring.

"Darling, how would you like to have a honeymoon in Acapulco?" he asked, his voice filled with passion.

My mother didn't hesitate for a moment in her reply.  "Oh, Gil, I'd just love it!" she said breathlessly.

My grandparents soon returned to the living room and congratulated the newly engaged couple.  After a short celebration, my parents left to meet Frank and Fern Waples at the Ivanhoe, a famous medieval-style restaurant at Clark and Wellington Streets in Chicago.  

It was a Saturday evening, and the good people of the City of Chicago had already begun their festivities for Independence Day, just hours away. Fireworks celebrating the American holiday were going off all over the city, but for two people who had just promised their undying love to each other, they seemed to be heralding the start of a beautiful life together.

 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

Those Places Thursday: North to Chicago

Gilbert Cayetano Huesca (1915 - 2009)

My father, Gilbert Huesca, on one of his business trips,
climbing up a Pemex Mexican Petroleum oil tank,
Coatzacoalcos, Veracruz, Mexico

In 1947, Gilbert Huesca was a 32- year-old commercial artist from Mexico City who was eager to see the world and meet new people. 

Before venturing into graphic arts, he had traveled throughout 29 of the 31 Mexican states as a salesman, first for the Huesca family's hotels and casino and later for the family's embroidery business, Sábanas y Manteles Huesca (Huesca Linens and Tablecloths).  

Known at this time as "Cayetano*" to family and friends, he had learned a lot from his entrepreneur father, Jose Alberto Gil Cayetano Huesca, and from his own experiences of working in the family businesses. He felt he was ready to make his own mark on the world when his cousin, Charles Huesca, who was a few years older, invited him to visit his relatives in Chicago.

Encouraged by his family to accept Charles' invitation, Gilbert kissed his widowed mother, Catalina (Perrotin) Huesca and his brothers and sisters goodbye and set out on the long journey north to Chicago.

Charles, his parents, and his sister had moved from eastern Mexico to Chicago in the early 1900s and already had lived there for most of their lives, but they visited their home country often and kept in close contact with their many relatives south of the border, so the reunion between the cousins was an emotional one. 

My grandmother, Catalina Huesca, surrounded by five of
her six sons.  Left to right:  Edilberto, Eduardo, Gilbert,
Mario and Enrique Huesca.  Circa 1946, at my grandmother's
home at 145 Carpio Street, Mexico City

Charles and his family made their cousin feel at home and introduced him to a number of friends, including Louis and Theresa (Mireles) Algarin, who in time would come to consider my father as part of their own family.  He became a frequent guest in their home.

Gilbert fell in love with Chicago - its vibrant sense of progress, its scenic lakefront, and its friendly people. He felt comfortable there and began to consider petitioning for residency, with a view to calling the city his new home.   As his visa allowed him to stay and work in the U.S. for up to 1o months, he decided to stay, and Charles found him a position as a designer for the Metalcraft Corporation on New Orleans Street.  

My father, Gilbert Cayetano Huesca, had this

portrait taken with his mother,  Catalina

 (Perrotin) Huesca, just before he left Mexico 

City  for the United  States in 1948.  He was 

the fourth of her 11 children. 

Just before his visa expired in April 1948, Gilbert returned to Mexico City.  He had several conversations with his mother, whom he respected deeply, about his stay in Chicago and his desire to move there permanently.  Catalina saw the look in his eyes and knew she could not say no to her son.  She reluctantly gave him her blessing and promised to pray for him daily.

Gilbert was elated and began preparing for his return to the States. Shortly before leaving Mexico City, he took Catalina to the Tinoco Photography Studio for a mother and son portrait. Both he and Catalina would treasure their copies for the rest of their lives.  

His new visa arrived fairly quickly, and Gilbert returned to the United States on July 14, 1948, barely two months after he had left Chicago.  

___________________

*  Note:  I refer here to my father by his given name and the name by which I knew him: Gilbert Huesca, though at this time he was known as Cayetano Huesca.  To learn the story behind his name, click here.

Copyright ©  2012  Linda Huesca Tully

Did you know Gilbert Huesca or his family, the Algarins?  Are you a member of the Huesca, Perrotin, or Algarin families?  If so, share your stories and comments below.