EMILIE CRAMER		Born: 1847-01-31	Died: 1926-11-17
Father: Unspecified		Mother: Unspecified
Children: VALENTINA LIGDA, MARY LIGDA, ELIZABETH LIGDA, SIMEON LIGDA, ALEXANDER LIGDA, PIERRE LIGDA , PAUL VICTOROVITCH LIGDA, OLGA VICTOROVNA LIGDA, VLADIMIR LIGDA
Siblings: none

Emilie was one of five children born to Gottlieb and Elizabet Cramer.  She had two brothers: Karl and Julius; and two sisters: Wilhelmina and Henrietta. There is no record or account of her childhood.  Her son, Alec, says she married Victor when she was 15 (1862?), but the 1900 census lists the marriage as one of 33 years which would put it in 1867 – the same year as the birth and death of her first child, Elizabeth.  Her daughter, Val, says her parents had two ceremonies, one in Germany, ¹ where they met, and a second in Russia where they made their first home.  Alec recalls that his mother’s family considered Victor a tyrant because he forbade Emilie from seeing her family after the marriage and move to Russia.

Val says the family was well off.  They had servants, a home in Moscow, and a summer home in Niskhi Novgorod.  Victor & Emilie had nine children, the first of which, Elizabeth, died in infancy in 1867.  The first child to survive infancy was Simeon, born in 1867.  A second daughter, Mary, also died in infancy in 1869.  The second child to survive infancy was Olga, born November 14, 1870 and their second son, Paul, was born on September 1, 1872.  Alec and Val both say Simeon was sickly and that the family wanted to move to a milder climate for the benefit of his health.  Surely, after the death of two children, Simeon’s health was a serious consideration.  The family did leave Russia for Italy on August 26, 1874.  Emilie was then 27.  She had three children: 7, 3, and 2 and was pregnant with Alec, who would be born in Italy on February 21, 1875.

Val says the family moved to a villa near Naples where her father had some unofficial diplomatic status.  Alec says his father refused to toast the Czar at a diplomatic gathering and was ordered to return to Russia.  Instead, the family moved to Paris, probably in early 1879.  Their last three children: Pierre, Vladimir, and Valentina, were born in Paris.

By all accounts, the family prospered in Paris, but Alec says French law imposed very heavy taxes on aliens.  By becoming French citizens, the family would have avoided the greater taxes, but the boys would have been subject to military service during a period of unrest between France and Germany.  Emilie, who was from Germany and had family there, would hardly have wanted her sons in the French Military.  The family considered another move.

In 1887, when he was 20, Simeon was sent to the Western Hemisphere to see if it would be a good place to live.  His reports were unimpressive.  The Family was considering moving to Greece when word arrived that Simeon, while in California, had became ill and died.  Emilie took her son’s death very hard.  According to Val, she insisted the family go to California to see where Simeon was buried.  Those wishes were what motivated the family to immigrate to the United States.  They arrived in New York, as visitors, on June 17, 1889 with California as their listed destination.  Because the entire family came, it is likely they intended the more to be permanent.

Val says Simeon’s grave was in San Francisco at a Russian Cemetery on Geary Street and that Emilie and Olga visited the site frequently until, while they were away, Val accidentally set a fire to their home.  Thereafter, Emilie stayed at home.  Other family accounts are that the grave could never be located because Church officials misplaced the burial records.

According to Edith, her daughter in law, Emilie never spoke English well.  She was more comfortable with German, Russian, French, and Italian in all of which she was fluent.  Sometimes she used words from several languages expressing a single thought.  Ted, her grandson, claims Emilie spoke English well.

In the years the family lived in San Francisco, Olga, their eldest daughter, married Ephrim Alexin, a Greek Orthodox Priest.  Emilie’s first grandchild, Olga, was born on February 14, 1892.   Paul had his 20th birthday, while Alec and Pierre were in their late teens and Vladimir and Val would become school age.

In 1895, Victor and Emilie moved their family to Oakland.  Their first home was at 229 Harlan Street where they were living at the time of the 1900 census.  Victor died in 1902 when Emilie was 55 and was still raising one minor child, Val, then 16.   Her husband’s will provided her with a sixth of his estate and an income of $100/month until Val became 21.  Val recalls that her mother bought two houses in the Watts Tract of Oakland: 673 & 675 33rd Street.  Emilie moved to 675 33rd St. where she is shown as living in the 1905 thru 1911 Oakland directories.

During most of the early years after Victor’s death, one or more of Emilie’s children lived with her. ²  In 1906, Victor moved to Arizona and Paul, who was in Nevada, married.  As the wedding was in Las Vegas, Emilie was not present to see the first marriage of one of her sons.

In 1907, when Val became 21, Victor’s estate was distributed.  Olga, then living in Alaska, came to California to receive her share.  Emilie had not seen her oldest daughter in over 10 years.  Although her husband’s will provided that Emilie and each of the children were to receive equal shares, there was a dispute over the distribution which remained unresolved when Olga returned to Paris in November.  Emilie would never see Olga again.  The dispute marred Victor’s generosity in giving his share to his mother.

Emilie’s second grandchild, Victor, was born September 17, 1907.  Her third grandchild, Barbara, was born August 12, 1909.   In 1910, Pete (who was then 32) married.  On December 11, 1911, her fourth grandchild, Agnes, was born; and on January 18, 1912, her fifth grandchild, Ted, was born.

In 1912, when Emilie was 65, Val, who had been courted by two suitors, married Phil Heuer, a young insurance salesman, and rejected Dr. Hillegass, who was the principal financial backer of the family business in which her sons were engaged.   After her marriage, Dr. Hillegass withdrew his financial support and the brothers’ business collapsed.   In an attempt to help her sons keep the business afloat, Emilie may have sold her house.  She moved to 691 33rd Street, Oakland where she is listed in the 1913 & 1916 directories with Alec (then 39) and Victor (then 36), both single.  1912 was also the year Pete left his wife and daughter, moved from the Bay Area to Southern California where, after a few months, he disappeared and was not heard from again.  These setbacks were followed, in 1913, with the death of Olga, who she had not seen in six years; and in 1914 with the death of her first great-grandchild, Vladimir.  That same year, Victor left the Bay Area to take a job in Los Angeles.  Except for Alec, who continued to live at her home, Emilie was alone.  She felt increasingly lonely.  On March 22, 1915, her granddaughter, Ollie Donsky, had a daughter, Olga, Emilie’s second great-grandchild.  Both Mother and Daughter were unable to leave Russia and presumably died during the Revolution.  The anguish of unsuccessful family efforts to save them added to Emilie’s unhappiness.

On January 13, 1920, Emilie’s last grandchild, Herb, was born.  Later directories show her address as 693 33rd Street, but this was probably a change of number on the same house.  In her later years, after a stroke, she suffered from loss of use of parts of her body and needed nursing care.  In a letter of March 13, 1921, Edith wrote that Emilie was: “getting along pretty well,” and had: “almost entirely recovered use of her right arm and leg.”  But she continued to need nursing help and was bedridden on July 16, 1922 when Alec married Fannie Cohen, Emilie’s nurse.  Some of the family felt Alec married to insure his mother would have a nurse.  The marriage lasted less than a year.

In 1922, Edith was less charitable in an observation that Emilie: “sits around and mopes and studies grievances, mostly imaginary.”  On November 17, 1926, at age 79, Emilie died intestate of chronic endocorditis.  Like her husband, she was cremated.  Her remains are at the Oakland Crematorium.

Emilie’s house on 33rd Street was her only asset.  On 11/2/28, Edith observed:

“The family is having a great deal of trouble over Grandma Ligda’s estate (the house on 33rd).  She made a will and also a deed of trust at different times leaving it to Vic & Alec.  It is worth about $4,500 and has been sold recently.  The money is in Paul’s hands as executor and administrator appointed by the Court, but neither will nor deed is valid, and now the heirs cannot agree on the division, so it will have to go to Court, and, of course nobody at all will get enough to do any good.”

Emilie survived her husband by 24 years.  She lived to know of the birth of all her grandchildren and two great grandchildren, yet her life was marred by the deaths and other tragedies of so many of those near her.  One of her sons, three of her daughters, two of her grandchildren, and both of her great grandchildren, neither of whom she ever saw, died during her lifetime.  None of the family which returned to Russia survived her.  Her son, Alec, suffered permanent brain damage from a beating and required care all of his life.  Her son, Pete, disappeared.  She did not see Victor after he moved to Hawaii in 1921.  Two other children, Paul and Val, were on opposite sides of the family rift resulting from the failure of the family business.  Emilie had to be very strong to endure all the emotional upheaval these events left in their wake.

EKATERINA		Born:
Father: Unspecified		Mother: Unspecified
Children: VICTOR NICHOLAS LIGDA, VLADIMIR LIGDA
Siblings: none

Nothing is known except the name and that is not documented

SIMEON LIGDA		Born: 1867	Died: 1888-12-13
Father: VICTOR NICHOLAS LIGDA		Mother: EMILIE CRAMER
Children: none
Siblings: VALENTINA LIGDA, MARY LIGDA, ELIZABETH LIGDA, ALEXANDER LIGDA, PIERRE LIGDA , PAUL VICTOROVITCH LIGDA, OLGA VICTOROVNA LIGDA, VLADIMIR LIGDA

Simeon was the first son born to Victor and Emilie Ligda.  He was not a robust child.  His poor health was an important consideration in his parents’ decision to move the family to the milder climate of Italy in 1874 when Simeon was 7.  He probably began his formal education while living in Italy.  He would have been 11 when the family moved to France in 1879.  Almost certainly, he went to school in France which had compulsory public education for all children 6 – 13 at that time.

His brother, Alec, recalled Simeon as upright and studious; he: ” . . . always had his nose in a book.”  Alec says Simeon was apprenticed to a microscope maker in Paris and actually made a microscope for his own use.  He also recalls that in 1885 or 86, Simeon took his brother, Paul, on a three week walking tour thru Normandy.  Each boy carried a knapsack.

When Simeon was 20 and military age, his father sent him to the America to determine if there were places the family might move.  There is a record of his arrival in New York on October 17, 1887 aboard the SS La Champagne which sailed from La Harve.  On arrival, he gave his occupation as a farmer and claimed French citizenship.  Edith Ligda recalls family accounts that Simeon first visited the Midwest and wrote that he did not like the area.  He moved on to Portland, Oregon where he caught a terrible cold.  While still suffering, he traveled down the coast to San Francisco where his condition worsened into consumption (pulmonary tuberculosis).  Simeon was cared for in the Russian Community and by Dr. Russell Sizelofsky, a family friend from Paris.  He wrote his parents that San Francisco was a good place to live.

Despite the care he was given, Simeon died on December 13, 1888 while a patient in the City and County Hospital. ¹  He was buried in a cemetery belonging to the Greek Orthodox Church on Geary Street in San Francisco.  By some family accounts, the family was never able to locate Simeon’s grave because the records kept by the Church were inaccurate.  The cemetery has since been closed and the graves moved to make way for commercial development.

ALEXANDER LIGDA		Born: 1875-02-21	Died: 1945-05-15
Father: VICTOR NICHOLAS LIGDA		Mother: EMILIE CRAMER
Children: none
Siblings: VALENTINA LIGDA, MARY LIGDA, ELIZABETH LIGDA, SIMEON LIGDA, PIERRE LIGDA , PAUL VICTOROVITCH LIGDA, OLGA VICTOROVNA LIGDA, VLADIMIR LIGDA

Alec was the fourth surviving child born to Victor and Emilie.  He said he was born on Feb. 21, 1875 in Naples, Italy.  That date is confirmed by U. S. immigration records, his voter registration in 1898 ¹, and his registration for the draft in 1918.  However other records cast some doubt, e.g., the 1900 census lists his age as 23 (born 1877); his 1922 marriage license lists his age as 48 (born 1874); his 1945 death certificate shows his age as 71 (born 1874).

When Alec dictated his family memoirs in 1932, he omitted references to his own life.  He probably had some formal education while he was school age and the family lived in France (1879-89) as French law provided for compulsory education.  He is listed as 14 when the family arrived in New York in June, 1889.  There is no record of formal education in the United States.  What little we know of his life after the family settled in San Francisco is gleaned from directory listings of 1892, 1893,  and 1895 listing him as a jeweler living with his father.  In 1896, he is shown in the Oakland Directory as a molder living with the family at 233 Harlan St.  In 1898, he is again listed as a jeweler.

We know, from family accounts, that Alec was attacked and beaten with a club near 24th and Adeline Streets in Oakland.  In 1907, his Brother Paul recalled the attack as taking place, “about 10 years ago.”  His Sister Val said the attackers were caught and tried.  After his recovery, Alec was never quite the same.  For the remainder of his life, he was subject to violent seizures.  This condition limited his ability to work.  He is listed as unemployed in the 1900 census.

At the time of his father’s death in 1902, Alec was living in Belkofski, Alaska.  Val said he went there with his older sister, Olga, and Fr. Alexine, her husband, (probably in late 1900 or 1901) and that he remained in Alaska with his brother-in-law when his sister left for Paris.  We have nothing to indicate how he supported himself.  By 1905, he was back in Oakland living with his mother.  He may have returned at Paul’s request.  Before leaving for Las Vegas in 1906, Paul trained Alec as his replacement at California Engineers Supply, the family compound business.  Alec is listed in the 1907 Oakland Directory as “moved to San Rafael,” which was the site of the business.

There is frequent mention of Alec’s involvement in the family business in Paul and Edith’s correspondence and in some of Pete’s letters.  On 11/22/06, Pete wrote Paul: “Well, the Russian [a work foreman who was not getting the crews to cut enough leaves] got fired by Alec and I think Alec has profited by the lesson . . .” At the time, Pete was handling sales of the company product, a broiler compound.  Alec was responsible for the supervising the manufacturing process.  Eucalyptus leaves were one of the ingredients.  He was still working in the business a year later.  On 11/10/07, Paul wrote his wife:    “How’s Alec getting along?  Has he got many barrels?  How do the men behave?  Explain to him that I have very little time and tell him to write to me.”  Edith replied:

“Gave Alec your message about writing.  He says the men are not doing well this week.  Louis is sick or laid off.  Ponce hurt himself yesterday and is off for a day or two and Castro was drunk Monday . . .”

About this time, Alec had a seizure.  Edith wrote about it:

“Alec is all right again.  I stayed up to the hospital till Pete . . . came at 10:30 last night.  Alec was much better then.  They stayed with him all night.  This morning they unstrapped him and gave him a bath – he must have fallen in some compound . . .

“Pete came . . . here for breakfast.  Then I went back up to be there when the doctor came.  He said Alec was all right and could leave as soon as he felt able.  Then Pete came and he and I went to the hospital . . .   We paid the bills and brought Alec home . . .

“I shall put him in the front room.  He is well enough to be up in the day time and Pete says he’ll be working in a day or two.  Alec has a dreadful looking eye.  It is all swollen and bloody.  He has lots of cuts and bruises all over his body . . . He must have had one of those spasms Pete says he was formally subject to.  I think I’ll have him stay here nights right along after this if he will . . .

“We are not going to let your mother know about it of course.”

Paul replied:

“He is subject to epileptic fits caused by a blow to the head which cracked his skull about 10 years ago.  I saw three of these fits myself, one of them happened while at work at the Judson I ran when he was perfectly sober.  Of course, the fact he had been drinking made people think it was the D. T., but it isn’t.  He doesn’t drink enough for that . . . Those fits are a terrible thing to see . . . Luckily they happen at long intervals and you need not worry about their recurrence . . .”

His brother, Pete, was among those who attributed the attacks to Alec’s drinking.  He wrote Paul praising Edith for the care she had provided Alec after taking him in.  He remarked that all the Ligdas thought more of Edith for attending to Alec:  “when he was delirious,” and commented it: ”  . . . was the only good thing that resulted from Alec’s D.T.”  He added:

“Edith has come much closer to Mama’s heart . . . . as Mama greatly appreciates the way she attended to Alec when he was delirious.  Ask Edith to fix a price for Alec’s room & board . . . . I will keep it out of Alec’s wages . . .”

Edith’s decision to board Alec while caring for her two month old son, Victor, was not entirely voluntary.  On 11/22/07, she wrote:

“Valentine [then 21] was up here yesterday and said the family wanted me to keep Alec here, not just till he gets over this, which I have already offered to do, but all the time.  I am appointed his guardian until you come back . . . I assented of course; there was nothing else to do.  But the question is this – am I your wife or am I Alec’s?

“Alec feels pretty blue . . . he consented meekly enough when Valentine told him what he was to do.  Of  course, he is naturally depressed after such an attack  . . . he has not slept to amount to anything, and he is very weak and nervous . . . His eye is in such a dreadful condition that he cannot very well read or write.  He wanted to go home yesterday, but Valentine vetoed the idea . . .”

On 11/25/07, Edith wrote:  “When you come back, I think we would better try to find a little roomier quarters since we are to have Alec with us all the time.”  Paul replied: ”  . . . remember that when you take care of Alec, you take care of my interests . . .”

Within two weeks, Alec was back at the factory.  On 12/4/07, Edith wrote Paul: “Alec is getting pretty anxious for you.  He finds it hard to run the factory and the cutting . . .”

The 1908 Oakland Directory lists Alec as living with his mother and sister, Val, at 675 33^rd Street in Oakland.  In 1909, Paul and Edith left San Rafael and Paul wrote: “Alec will take my place here.”  It is not certain Alec did so.  He continued to be listed in the Oakland Directories through 1911 at his mother’s home.  His occupation is shown as foreman.

The Ligda business folded in 1912.  Thereafter Alec’s seizures limited him to occasional employment.  He continued to live with or near his mother until her death in 1926.  In 1913, he was listed as living at 691 33^rd Street in Oakland.  In 1916, he was living at 697 33^rd Street, Oakland and was listed as an engineer.  In 1918, he was back at 691 33^rd Street and employed as a driller at Moore Shipyard.  The 1920 census lists him as living with his mother at 693 33^rd Street and working as a laborer in a shipyard.  While at the shipyard where he suffered a seizure so violent he had to be put in a strait jacket.

Alec’s mother, Emilie, suffered a stroke in 1920 or 21 and was never well thereafter.  Alec was unable to care for her without nursing help family members could not provide.  Alec hired Fannie A. Cohen, an acquaintance who lived nearby at 711 33^rd Street.  Miss. Cohen served as a nurse three hours daily.  Miss. Cohen was a 48 year old widow with no occupation.  According to her, Alec proposed to her at his mother’s bedside.  She accepted and they were married on July 26, 1922.  After the marriage, she moved into Emilie’s house.

There were immediate problems in the marriage.  On October 24, 1922, Edith wrote:

“They are having trouble over there [Grandma Ligda’s home where Fannie and Alec were living] with Alec’s wife.  It is a disgusting business.  Evidently Alec married with the idea of getting a free housekeeper and nurse for his mother, while Fannie had the notion that she was going to get all of Grandma’s property immediately.  She has been hounding the old lady sick to sign over her property to Alec, but we thought that Grandma had sense enough to hold on to her house.  She said she had.  Sunday Alec had a fit and Fannie was frightened to death.  She claims she was never told that Alec was subject to such attacks and they are having a frightful row.  I understand she is planning lawsuits against Grandma, Alec, and Valentine.  I don’t know just what for, but she is certainly in a temper.”

The seizure Edith mentioned was so violent that Alec’s Brother Paul had to come to calm him.  His wife was probably terrified.  In fact, she filed for an annulment on Nov. 29, 1922. ² Her grounds were that Alec was unable to earn a living because he was subject to epileptic seizures.  In her testimony, she said they expected Grandma Ligda to die shortly.  This lends some credence to Edith’s analysis.  Fannie also complained that Alec said he would get a job after he fixed up the house.  Alec did not contest the action.  The marriage was annulled on Jan. 16, 1923.

Alec continued living with his mother at 693 33^rd Street in Oakland after the annulment.  He is shown there in the 1923 directory as a contractor; in the 1924 directory as a floor layer; and in the 1925 and 26 directories as an iron worker.  He was there when his mother died on Nov. 17, 1926.  The house was sold to settle her estate.  Alec moved to 828 Magnolia Street where he is listed in the 1927 directory as a plate worker with GE & DD Co.

The settlement of Emilie’s estate was protracted and apparently bitter.  On 7/26/28, Edith wrote Paul:

“I’m sorry about the law business and sorry you got mixed up in it though of course you thought you had to look out for Alec.  You will be misunderstood all around, even by Alec, but, of course, that is not a reason for not helping him.”

On 8/3/28, Paul wrote that he went to Val’s house to demand some of the property Alec had been given.  Alec had moved to San Francisco to work as a janitor at 1048 Union Street, but returned to Oakland before 1930 when he was living at 764 Kingston Ave. and working as a laborer.  On Nov. 25, 1930, his mother’s estate was finally settled.  Alec had a half interest in her house valued at $4,750.  After expenses Alec and his brother, Vic, each received $983.17.

His nephew, Ted, recalls that Alec, in his later years, worked as a janitor in a fashionable apartment building in North Beach, San Francisco.  He is listed in the 1935 directory as living at 1725 Pine Street and in the 1937 and 1940 directories as a janitor at 2555 Larkin Street.  The 1940 census lists him as a janitor and a lodger living at 764 Kingston Avenue in Oakland.  Ted says Alec, who spoke Italian, had many friends in North Beach, an Italian section of San Francisco.  Many of his relatives avoided him, however, because of his seizures and low station in life.

Alec was living at the Laguna Honda Home in San Francisco when he died on May 15, 1945.  He was cremated.  His remains were placed at the Woodlawn Cemetery in Colma, San Mateo County.

PIERRE LIGDA		Born: 1897-10-17	Died: 1912
Father: VICTOR NICHOLAS LIGDA		Mother: EMILIE CRAMER
Children: AGNES CHRISTINE LIGDA
Siblings: VALENTINA LIGDA, MARY LIGDA, ELIZABETH LIGDA, SIMEON LIGDA, ALEXANDER LIGDA, PAUL VICTOROVITCH LIGDA, OLGA VICTOROVNA LIGDA, VLADIMIR LIGDA

Pete was born October 17, 1879 in Paris at his family’s home on Rue Lecourse between Rue Peolet & Rue de L’Amiral.  We have no record of his early years.  He probably had some formal education in France before coming to the United States with his family in 1889 when he was 9 years old.

After his family settled in San Francisco, Pete was probably apprenticed to a printer.  The 1894 directory (when he was 14) lists him as a compositor living at 1139 Howard Street (which was not his parents’ address).  The 1895 directory lists his as a printer.  Directories for 1896 thru 1899, after the family moved to Oakland, list Pete as living at home while working as a printer for E. R. Ormsby & Co. in San Francisco thru 1897, Riordan & Co. of San Francisco in 1898, and Red Seal Printing & Publishing Co. in San Francisco in 1899.  So as a teenager, Pete lived with his parents and commuted by ferry to and from work across the bay.

According to Val, his younger sister, Pete did not attend the public schools.  There is no record of him as a student in the Oakland schools.  Val says he attended Healds Business College.  He is listed in the 1900 and 1901 directories as a student.  Val says Pete left Healds when he was hired by an English company and sent abroad. Pete spoke French and Russian.  He was friendly and outgoing.  He would have made a good representative despite his youth.    He applied for a passport that was issued on February 28, 1901 ¹.  We know he returned from Pt. Arthur aboard the SS Peru sailing from Kobe on September 8, 1902, stopping in Honolulu on September 30, 1902, en route to San Francisco.  We do not know the exact nature of his work, but he listed his occupation as a clerk on his passport application and on the ship’s manifest and listed his mailing address as 308 California Street in San Francisco.

After his father’s death in November, Pete lived with his mother at 675 33rd Street in Oakland where he is listed in the Oakland directories from thru 1910 as a boarder.  He is shown as President of Smithson Development Co., a company for which his older brother Paul worked as Manager.  This Company went out of business.  It was probably the initial family enterprise organized to manufacture and sell the broiler compound for which Paul  had the formula.

Pete was significantly involved in sales of broiler compound for California Engineers Supply, the family business.  Because the business did not produce enough income to support all of the brothers, Paul and Victor took other work leaving the business in the hands of Pete and Alec.  Alec supervised the manufacturing.  Pete sold the compound.  We have a good idea of the success of the operation from letters between Pete and Paul.  On 9/22/06, Pete wrote:

“I expect that in about a month or two, we will be quite independent of anybody as we are almost able now to get along without owing anybody, or running any bills.

“I shipped 3 bbls to H Hackfeld & Co., Honolulu, and expect in about a month or two to ship them a carload.

“The compound is working fine with the North Shore & the Scofield Construction Co. ordered 3 more barrels and things look fine for the near future.”

On 11/10/06, he wrote:

“Compound going to beat the band.  We will pass the 100 bbl mark this month by a large margin.  The C & R Dept. have put in a requisition for 12 bbl, the Steam Engine Dept. for 25 bbl – maybe 30.  The “Saturn” for 50 cases, the “Boston” will get a 6 month supply, etc.

“I am as busy as an owl and I will be well pleased when you get back.  I just waste 4 hours per day every I go to San Rafael . . .”

On 11/22/06, he wrote:

“Up to the 21, the sales amounted to over $1,350 and we expect any day now a requisition for 12 bbl for the Construction Dept., 50 cases for the U. S. Cruiser “Saturn” and maybe 100 cases for the “Charleston.”  This is not speculation either.

“I expect to make another contract for the sale of the compound with Pacific Distributing Co. (Alexander & Baldwin) of Honolulu.  They to sell “Noscale” Boiler Compound for 8 cents per lb., Grossmayer gets $5 per bbl commission & we the rest, a little over $21 per bbl.  Will let you know how things will come out in a few days.  However, I can tell you in advance there are no free samples.  These people expect to sell one car load per month & they can do it for they control 5 plantations.

“Just got another order from the North Shore for two bbl for the Steamer “Tamalpais” and expect orders from other steamers as well.  We have them all right now, and all the engineers are tickled with the stuff.  Grossmayer is now after the locomotives.

“We now have 2 or 3 choppers who understand how to cut trees on top & who are experienced in that line.  We have a new foreman to whom we pay $2.50 per day & he is the best one I think we’ve ever had.  He used to be a section foreman for the Railroad & understands just how to the men to work.  He is an extremely powerful man & all the fellows around here are afraid of him.  Where the Russian would cut enough leaves for 3 or 4 boilers per day, this new man with the same force cuts enough leaves for 8 or 9 boilers.  We have no oil on hand, just as soon as it is manufactured it is shipped and sold.  This helps quite a little itself.”

On 6/7/07, Pete opined: “if we get the S. F. Gas and Electric there will be lots of work in San Rafael and we need not worry about the future.”

Pete’s optimism lured Paul back to the business in June from Las Vegas, where he had been working.  By October, it was clear the business was still not successful enough to support all three brothers.  Paul returned to his work in Las Vegas in October.  His letters reflect a hope things would improve.  On 11/7/07, he wrote: “Pete . . . wrote a hard luck story abt. money.  The compound business would have trouble to support me now.”

Shortly thereafter, things seemed to improve.  On 11/13/07, Paul wrote:

“Pete writes that the compound business is very good, and is satisfied with the amount of work done at the shop, besides the reduction in expenses caused by my absence.”

Things looked better three days later:

“Pete writes that everything is ok.  The compound has worked marvelously at the S. F. Gas & Electric & we are sure to get all their business, a little matter of 40-50 barrels per month for which we get net about $27 per barrel.  This alone would pay dividends.  He says that we sold about $1,000 worth since the 1st.”

Pete did get the S. F. Gas & Electric account.  Edith wrote about it on 12/4/07, saying: “Pete went over to the city at once and made sure that it was so.”  Business improved.  By 1909, the brothers decided to sell stock.  They assigned all their rights to the process by which their compound was made to California Engineers Supply Company.  For that process, they took back controlling stock in the company and sold the rest.  Paul wrote about the sale of some stock in December, 1909.  Pete continued selling the compound.  He sent post cards from Coalinga and Taft where he obtained orders for the compound.

On December 14, 1910, Pete married Agnes C. Magneson. ²  He was then 32; she 22.  Both were residents of Oakland.  His Sister Val, and her fiancee, Dr. George W. Hillegass, were witnesses to the ceremony.  The couple took a honeymoon to Southern California (post cards from Taft and Los Angeles).  Their first home was at 2712 College Avenue in Berkeley, property in which her mother had an interest.  In 1911 Directory, they moved to 588 Apgar.  Their only child, Agnes Christine Ligda, was born December 11, 1911.

Toward the end of 1911, the business suffered some reverses.  A contributing cause was the steady conversion of ships from coal energy to oil burning, the first of which was done in 1908 on the U.S.S. Wyoming at Mare Island Naval Shipyard.  Oil burning ships didn’t use the broiler compound the business was producing.  To help raise needed capital, Pete and Paul put their 5,000 shares of company stock into a voting trust with a George E. Bennett, who held 2,200 shares.  The trustee, H. P. Jacobson, had to vote as directed by the majority, i.e., any two of the three shareholders.  On January 15, 1912, Pete and Paul removed Jacobson and substituted Paul as trustee.

Pete’s marriage was deteriorating with the business.  According to Agnes, he was gambling, spending what money he was making from the business on himself, and coming home under the influence of alcohol almost daily.  It is perhaps ironic that Olga, Pete’s older sister, wrote from Russia on May 9, 1912: “How are Pete and Agnes?  I suppose she is a happy mother at this time.”

On May 10, 1912, Pete left for Los Angeles.  Val says he left after a fight with Agnes in which she threw a plate at him after he came home a little drunk.  Val says Pete was spending the business into bankruptcy.  His nephew, Ted, says he had oversold the stock in the company.

Agnes says she heard from Pete for 4 or 5 months during which he sent her about $50 in support.  His attitude was reflected somewhat in a letter of 10/20/12 from his brother, Paul, to his wife:

“After the way Agnes treated him and wrote to him he is not likely to deprive himself just for the sake of supporting her especially when she’s being supported by her mother . . . I don’t approve of Pete’s way of handling whatever money he gets ahold of but I can read between the lines.  When & if I get to L. A., I will make him send her some money.”

Pete’s niece, Barbara, said it was well known that Pete simply deserted his wife and five month old daughter. ³  Edith Ligda felt so strongly about Pete’s desertion of his family that his name was simply not mentioned in her presence.  Agnes last heard from Pete toward the end of 1912.  He is last mentioned in a letter from Paul of 11/26/12 in which he says that he: ” . . . received a letter from Pete which was nothing but a sample of their new stock with no writing enclosed.”  On 12/5/12, Paul wrote:

“I have not received any telegram from Pete nor do I expect any for quite awhile.  I think that he will find it harder than he thinks to raise money by proxy.   I wrote to him to that effect & told him to depend more on his own exertions and less on promises from strangers . . .”

Agnes filed for divorce in 1916.  In her pleadings, she said his brother told her Pete was in Salt Lake City. ⁴  In 1926, at the time of his mother’s death, he is listed as “whereabouts unknown.”  On 11/2/28, Edith wrote: “Peter Ligda has not been heard from for 16 years.”

Pete’s nephew, Ted, says there was regular correspondence between Peter and Paul right up to Paul’s death in 1932, but the letters were sent to Paul’s school address because of the strong feelings Edith had after Pete abandoned his wife and child.  Ted claims he found the letters in a drawer of his father’s desk at McClymonds High School and destroyed them to prevent his mother from knowing Paul had corresponded with Pete all those years.  He says the last correspondence from Pete was from Seattle.  His sister, Val, says Pete died in New York.  I was unable to find a listing for Pete in the Directories for Oakland, Los Angeles or Seattle for 1912 thru 1914; or the Salt Lake City Directories for 1913 or 1917.  I was also unable to locate a death certificate in New York or Seattle or in the National Archives.

RICHARD WORTHINGTON LIGDA		Born: 1947-01-22
Father: MYRON GEORGE HERBERT LIGDA		Mother: EVELYN DALKE
Children: none
Siblings: VALORIE JEAN LIGDA

Richard was the only son and first child born to Herb and Evelyn Ligda.  He recalls fondly his first home in Lincoln, Massachusetts near Sandy Pond in the woods.  He enjoyed walks outdoors in a setting he described as “intensely beautiful,” particularly in the autumn when the leaves turned.  In 1954, his family moved to College Station, Texas, their home for the next four years.  Richard recalls that he enjoyed swimming and playing in the woods and that he had lots of friends.

In 1958, the family moved to Los Altos, California.  Richard attended Awalt High School in Mt. View.  He was a serious student and particularly gifted in mathematics. ¹  While in school, with his father’s help, he assembled a preamplifier for a phonograph-stereo system.  He developed a strong interest in chess and studied the Russian chess masters.  He became a tournament player against visiting chess clubs.  Richard graduated from high school on June 17, 1965.

In 1966, after qualifying for radar repair tech school, Richard joined the Air Force.  He was in the service when his father died in 1967.  He served in Thailand during the Viet Nam War.  He was later stationed in Kansas.  In 1969, while still on active duty, Richard enrolled at Wichita State University, commuting 120 miles a week on a motorcycle to complete a half-time academic load.  After his honorable discharge in 1970, he continued as a full time student, majoring in mathematics and minoring in physics.  He earned his Bachelor of Science Degree in 1973.

Richard returned to California in 1974.  He lived at home with his mother in Los Altos.  He worked a few months, then returned to school, taking solid-state electronic courses at Foothill College and a correspondence course in communications electronics from Cleveland Institute of Electronics.  He earned a certificate of completion from C. I. E. in 1976.  He continued his education at Foothill College until 1984 when he earned his Associate of Science degree in electronics technology.  He finished two Heathkit electronics microprocessor courses by 1987.

In 1976, Richard began work as a production electronics technician for small startup companies.  He moved out of his mother’s home and began: “renting expensive apartments in Sunnyvale and Milpitas,”  coming home regularly to visit his mother and his sister Val’s family.  He is listed in the 1980 City Directory as living and working in Sunnyvale, California.  In 1988, he was living at 284 Corning Avenue in Milpitas.  In 1991, he moved to 181 Weddell Drive, Apt. 41, in Sunnyvale.  In 1997, he moved to 515 South Main Street, Apt. 10, in Milpitas.

By 1994, Richard had been working six years at Digital Link Corporation in Sunnyvale, California.  But the job he held became obsolete as microprocessors became more complex and the defense needs were reduced with the end of the Cold War.  In April, he was released.  He went to work for Denron, Inc. in San Jose in 1995 doing cable assembly work.  After eight months, he was promoted to Cable Inspector, a job he held until June, 1997 when his job was eliminated during a business slowdown.  In October, 1997, he went to work with Pantronix Corporation in Fremont as an integrated circuit test operator.  In working with many Mexican and Asian immigrants, Richard observed that he learned to understand about half of what is said in Spanish and Vietnamese.

Richard describes himself as a “dedicated bachelor since 1980.”  In a letter in 1997, he commented: “Marriage should be a result of prosperity, enabled by profit from struggles.  I have realized neither enough profit for nor a desire for marriage, not to mention children.  Still, I see a need for nonmarriage family relations.  They offer emotional support.”  He is active in computer and tournament chess, earning a “B” rating in 1994.  He is active in Heathkit electronics and computer courses, and enjoys crossword puzzles, having completed over 100 New York Times Sunday Puzzles.

MYRON GEORGE HERBERT LIGDA		Born: 1920-01-10	Died: 1967-10-22
Father: PAUL VICTOROVITCH LIGDA		Mother: EDITH F. LIGDA
Children: VALORIE JEAN LIGDA, RICHARD WORTHINGTON LIGDA
Siblings: THEODORE PAUL LIGDA, MARY BARBARA LIGDA, VICTOR WORTHINGTON LIGDA

Herb was the last of Paul (then 47) and Edith (then 36) Ligda’s four children.  At his birth, his brothers, Vic and Ted, were 12 and 8; his sister, Barbara, was 10.  The family was living at 467 Fairmount Avenue in Oakland.  His mother was hoping for another daughter, but expressed no disappointment with her third son:

“Little Herbert is a dear.  I love him most to pieces.  He is ugly, but not so much as some of the others were, so I guess he’ll turn out presentable.  He is not fat, but very large, with big hands and feet especially, not very much hair and I guess he’ll be about the same complexion as Victor, medium light.”

Herb’s brothers and sister were fond of him.  Barbara liked to play Mother and feed him.  Ted liked playing with him.  As a preschooler, he liked to wander, so his mother pinned a note to his back with his name and address  in the event he escaped her view.  He attended Kindergarten at Peralta School, later attending Claremont and Chabot Grade Schools in Oakland.  In 1928, his mother took him for a visit to her Family in Worthington, Ohio.  They visited her brother’s farm.  Herb wrote how much he enjoyed helping stack hay and riding on a hay wagon.  He was also taken on a day trip to Cleveland and treated to a baseball game between the Yankees and the Indians in which Babe Ruth played.

He was very bright.  At 7, his I.Q. measured 137 and he was taking French lessons from a neighborhood teacher.  By 9, he was proficient on the typewriter.  He was an accomplished swimmer and diver at 10.

Herb joined Boy Scout Troop SSS 103 of Oakland when he was 12 – a few months before his father’s untimely death.  On his death bed, his father urged him to be a good Boy Scout and earn lots of merit badges like his brother, Victor.  In the years following his father’s death when his mother’s depression prevented her from being too active in his life, Herb found direction and purpose in scouting.  He became absorbed by all the program offered.  He became a Sea Scout and, despite once sinking a scout boat in the Oakland estuary, developed a life long love for boating.   Herb went on to become an Eagle Scout ¹  in 1936 and earned his bronze palm in 1938..

He attended University High School ² in Oakland.  He played the school orchestra where he met Evelyn Dalke, his wife to be.  Both played the French horn.  As a student, he built a “hot rod” car with parts he salvaged from abandoned cars and scrap yards.  The car served him well until June of 1938 when he reported it, “ . . . out of commission . . . I’m going to tear it apart and it will probably take quite a while for me to save enough money to fix it . . . I can buy another engine for four dollars and fix that up.”

After his graduation in 1936, Herb enlisted in the Marines. ³  He was assigned to a camp at Mare Island Naval Shipyard in Vallejo, California where he was in the band, a job he described as, “ . . . the best job yet.  We sit in the barracks in the afternoon when the sun is hot and watch the infantry drill and dig trenches.  Or else I go for a swim.”  His Marine career did not last.  He was eventually rejected for sea duty as his eyesight was not up to standards.  His failure to qualify remained a disappointment throughout his life.

After leaving the Marines, Herb returned to Oakland to a variety of jobs and projects.  In the summer of 1937, he was a camp counselor.  That same year he was granted an amateur radio license by the Federal Communications Commission.  He made a diving helmet with a communication system which allowed conversation between diver and the tenders.  He and some friends used the helmet in salvage work from sunken ships in the Bay and to do underwater boat repairs.  He also worked for a period with his brother, Ted, in a Linotype shop.

In 1938, at Evelyn’s urging, ⁴ Herb applied for admission to the University of California.  He spent the summer taking required subjects he had neglected in high school and was admitted in the fall.  He enjoyed the academic environment: “I really like [college life].  The variety, way you can study, schedules, etc., etc., all fit my ideas of enjoyment.”  He did not pass his physicals in time to qualify for crew, but he was a diver on the swimming team, once mentioning that he tried a two-and-a-half off the ten foot board that turned out to be a two-and-a-quarter and put him in the infirmary.  He also played French horn in the Marching Band.  He worked when he could to help pay for his education ⁵ and that probably preventing his achieving top grades. ⁶  He graduated in 1942 with an B.S., having majored in astronomy and minoring in physics.

In December, 1941, prior to his graduation, Herb took a job with the U. S. Weather Bureau as an Assistant Observer at the Oakland Airport Station at a salary of $1,620/year.  After his graduation, he was selected for special radiosonde training with the Bureau at National Airport in Washington with a salary of $240 a month.  He was given a draft deferment to complete this training.  Herb marveled that the Government would spend over $1,000 to teach him.  In June, he flew to Washington and rented what he described as a, “hole in the wall,” at 431 East Nelson Street in Alexandria.  He threw himself into the training.  In his spare time, he explored the capitol with its many sights and monuments.  He visited Mt. Vernon.  He managed weekend trips to Boston, New York, and Baltimore.  One day, when leaving the Smithsonian Museum, he witnessed a Presidential Motorcade with President Roosevelt in an open convertible.  Despite the fullness of his days, he missed Evelyn and felt it would be so much more fulfilling if she were with him.  On June 26, Herb wrote: “How’s about dropping everything and coming back here and getting married?”

Evelyn initially accepted, but then declined.  She discussed her feelings with her mother and Herb’s mother.  Both assured her they would support the marriage if she decided to go.  Yet she worried that their future was so uncertain.  She knew Herb would be drafted when his training was over.  There was no assurance that training would keep him out of a war zone where he might be killed or wounded.  Even if he wasn’t sent near a battle, there was no assurance she could join him at any other station.  She felt they should wait.  On July 7, she wrote to explain: “My heart and mind fought a bloody battle . . . I hope that my decision will bring us happiness in time to come but it really isn’t making me happy now.”  Herb phoned in an attempt to persuade her to change her decision.  She declined.  Herb was terribly disappointed.  On July 27, he wrote that he could see no reasons for her refusal except: “ . . . you apparently felt that you owed the hospital too much to leave and that my salary wouldn’t cover expenses.”  He added that he didn’t see: “ . . . how you expect me to dodge my duty to my country and be available for the duration,” and that he meant it when: “ . . . I said I wouldn’t ask you again until after the war is over and it will be up to you to talk me into it if you want to get married before then.”

On completing his training, Herb returned to Oakland and confronted Evelyn.  She later recalled that they were at the Leamington Hotel one evening.  He grabbed her and said: “I’m not asking you anymore.  I’m telling you.  You’ve got to marry me.”  Evelyn ⁷ set aside her misgivings and accepted.  They were married in Reno on August 22, 1942.  They honeymooned at Lake Tahoe which Herb recalled as: “ . . . an idle week getting acquainted – both learning things about living that we never knew before – long hours lying on the beach – tennis – bicycling – a hike up the river, a boat ride, and long hours of dreamy bliss in the quilt of our little room we liked so well.”

Herb was inducted into the Army in Oakland on August 30, 1942 and sent to the Presidio in Monterey where, after a short orientation, he was assigned to Keesler Field near Biloxi, Mississippi for basic training.   Herb scored very high on his classification examinations.  He was classified as a weather observer specialist.  He was encouraged to apply for Officer Candidate School.  On completing his basic training, Herb was promoted to corporal and assigned as a Student Forecaster to the 4th Weather Squadron at Craig Field near Selma, Alabama.  Evelyn joined him there in November.  She rented a room in Selma and, as she was unlicensed as a nurse in Alabama, took work as a waitress at the Officer’s Club.

Within weeks of Evelyn’s arrival in Alabama, Herb accepted an assignment for special advanced weather training at New York University which, if completed, would result in a commission.  By year’s end, he was in New York to begin the course.  During the initial part of that training, Herb was required to stay in quarters at the University.  When Evelyn followed a few weeks later, she stayed with friends and took work as a nurse.  She found the pay inadequate and the night hours unpleasant.  She did not want to pay $10 to take the examination for a New York nursing license.  She resigned and took work as a sales lady in a department store.

When Herb completed his initial training, he was allowed to leave the University quarters.  He and Evelyn rented what Herb described as a: “seventh heaven walkup — cold in the winter and hot in the summer, but hers and mine,” at 35 West 177th Street on Manhattan.  They enjoyed their time together exploring New York’s many attractions.  Herb completed the Program in September.  He was discharged as an enlisted man “for the convenience of the service,” and sworn in as an officer the next day.

Herb’s initial assignment as an officer was to a base at Thermal near Indio, California.  He and Evelyn joined another couple for the cross country drive.  They visited family in the Bay Area before reporting for duty in October, 1943.  Evelyn found a house in Indio which they shared with another army couple.  Within a month, Herb was told he was one of a few officers selected for special training at Ft. Monmouth, New Jersey.  When he left for his new post, Evelyn returned to Berkeley to stay with her parents.

While training at Ft. Monmouth, Herb was selected as one of a very few candidates for study: “ . . . on equipment of a nature that I can’t disclose.”  Those who completed the training were to be stationed to Army weather zones around the world.  Herb was one of those who completed that training.  After a short leave, allowing him a brief visit with Evelyn in California, Herb was assigned to the Army’s Sixth Weather Squadron in Panama.  He left Miami for that post on February 8, 1944 and reported the next day after an overnight stay in Jamaica.

Herb’s assignment required the installation of radar equipment for use in detecting storms.  Herb loved his work and the responsibility it involved in coordinating jobs with his subordinates and with others.  The number of men under his command grew from single enlisted man on his arrival to 14 enlisted men by the end of his first year.  On August 8, 1944, he was promoted to the rank of 1st Lieutenant.  His work also provided opportunity to see much of the region.  In 1944, he flew to Florida for training with stops in Curacao, Trinidad, St. Lucia, Antigua, Puerto Rico, and Cuba.  In 1945, he went on an inspection tour which took him to Peru, Equador, and Colombia.  Later that year, he went on another tour which took him to Guatemala, Costa Rica, and Nicaragua. ⁸  He was to receive commendations for his work from his Commanding Officer and from Headquarters.

Herb liked the tropics.  He described his environment as a: “ . . . clean, beautiful post, a great job with all the comforts of home except that which makes it one – a wife.”  He once wrote that he felt: “ . . . slightly guilty at times when I know there are plenty of guys going through hell while I have it easy.”  He dearly missed Evelyn.  It was seven months before he could arrange a short trip to visit her in California after which he returned to Panama for eleven more months of duty before she was allowed to join him in August of 1945.  They shared a small home Herb was assigned near Balboa.  They took classes in the evening.  Both took Spanish and Herb took shorthand while Evelyn took typing.

While in Panama, Herb applied for membership in the Masons.  He described the experience as: “getting religion,” and told Evelyn he felt his membership would make him: “ a better man, father, and husband.”  He commented that:  “ . . . the thing about it that catches my imagination most is its worldwide organization.  The thought of visiting a Chinese, Hindu, English, Russian, or some other country’s Masonic Lodge, giving the symbols and being accepted as a brother really thrills me – it seems so manly, sensible – the way people ought to live with each other!”

At the War’s end, Herb and Evelyn remained in Panama awaiting his discharge.  His superiors urged him to reenlist and remain with the Army’s weather program.  He considered continuing a military career, but he was offered a position with the Meteorology Department at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology working on a “Weather Radar” project which he felt offered more opportunity.  He accepted that offer and asked that his discharge be processed.  On December 7, 1945, he was promoted to the rank of Captain. ⁹  In May of 1946, he was transferred to New York were he and Evelyn rented a room for $60 a month while awaiting his discharge which finally came on October 14, 1946.

Herb’s work at M. I. T. paid a salary of $250 a month.  That was reduced when he was accepted into the Masters Program.  He and Evelyn rented a three room apartment in a home owned by one of his coworkers at 26 Florence Avenue in Arlington Heights, Massachusetts.  They were living there on January 22, 1947 when their first child, Richard Worthington, was born.

Herb loved his work.  In 1947, with savings from his years in the Army, he joined a group of his fellow workers in the purchase of a few acres of land in Middlesex County between Lexington and Concord.  They subdivided the land into one acre lots where they worked together to build their own homes – three five room houses in all.   Herb’s house had two bedrooms and one bath.  He reveled in the experience.  The work, he said, went, “slowly, but pretty well . . . the stump pulling and ditch digging has put me in fine shape . . . Our wives and children come out on Sundays and it’s like a picnic.”   He completed work on the exterior before the cold weather; the family moved in with the idea that the interior work could be completed over the winter.  That work lagged.  In 1949, Herb commented: “The house continues along.  I am working on interior finish work which is pleasant, but keeps me broke . . . I am making better than $5,000 per year now [and] almost all of it goes into finishing the house, insurance, and food, so I don’t see much cash anymore.”  In 1950, he wrote: “The house is fairly near the stage of completion and something in the vicinity of $1,000 should do the job (floors, wallpaper, some sort of garage, trim, etc.).”  In 1952, Evelyn wrote: “We are still decorating the inside of the house.  Two weeks ago Herb papered the bedroom and hall.  This weekend he hopes to do some odds and ends and then the following weekend we hope he can put down an asphalt tile floor in the bedroom.  That will complete all the major work in the house.  It’s hard to believe that small amounts of work over the years can add up to a house.”

In 1948, Herb earned his Masters Degree in Meteorology and continued his work with the Meteorology Department at M. I. T.  He was asked to deliver a paper at a meeting in Berkeley and used the opportunity to take the family to California and show off Richard.  During his visit, Barbara and Harold invited all the Ligdas to a reunion at their home in Campbell.  On the return trip, Herb stopped in Worthington to visit his Mother’s Family as he had done twenty years earlier.  Herb and Evelyn had their second child, Carol Louise, on September 10, 1949.

In 1950, He started teaching and working on his Sci.D., majoring in meteorology at M.I.T. and minoring in astronomy at Harvard.  In 1952, Evelyn took the children to California to visit her parents and in-laws leaving Herb at home to complete his thesis. ¹⁰ Herb completed his oral examination in November of that year and was awarded his Sci.D. in February of 1953.

In June of 1953, he was retained as a consultant by the Air Force Geophysical Directorate to go to Korea to establish a storm reporting network for the combat zone.  His assignment involved work in Tokyo and Seoul.  Herb was very impressed with Japan and wrote Evelyn that he hoped one day they could visit the country together.  He described Seoul as: “a mess . . . it will be many years before the last scars of war are gone.”  His work took him to within 20 miles of the front, to a ceremony with South Korean President Sigmund Rhee, and a dinner with General Clark.  Herb noted an advantage to having his doctorate was that others seemed to take his advice seriously.  His daughter, Carol, recalls the thrill of watching her parents open the exotic smelling excelsior-filled wooden crates her father shipped from the Orient during this tour of duty.  They contained a hand painted set of china for twelve, silk scarves and kimonos, fans and toys.

In 1954, Herb accepted a teaching position with the Department of Oceanography at Texas A & M.  They sold their house in Lincoln and moved to rented quarters at 707 Cross Street in College Station while they had a new home built at 1212 Orr Street which they occupied in 1955.  Herb described it as: “ . . . more expensive than originally planned . . . but a very comfortable place in which to live.”   Their third child, Valorie Jean, was born on  March 18, 1956.

Herb’s contract with the University allowed him to continue the development of radar systems to detect storms.  On April 5, 1956, the systems under Herb’s immediate control detected a tornado moving toward Byron, Texas in enough time to allow him to broadcast a public warning credited with, “ . . . probably saving at least several lives . . .”   Carol recalls the greenish, yellowish brown of the cloud-covered sky and the high winds.  The family stayed in Richard’s bedroom until the storm was over.  Several buildings were totally destroyed, “ . . .but there was no loss of life and no serious injury to persons.”  Herb, however, returned home with a gash in his forehead sustained from his comings and goings to the rooftop laboratory while documenting the storm.  The success of the warning was reported in Life Magazine of April 12, 1956.

Herb advanced to become head of the Meteorology Department.  He was developing an international reputation for his work.  In December, 1954, he said: “Perhaps the thing which has given me the most personal satisfaction in connection with all this is that I am getting inquiries from people who have heard about my work and want to come and work for me.”  He was frequently asked to speak at professional gatherings.  Those occasions took him to all parts of the country and, in 1956, to an international weather convention in Ciudad Trujillo in the Dominican Republic where he spoke.  While he traveled, he frequently visited radar stations which were part of the national storm detection system.

Despite his satisfaction with the work, Herb disliked living in Texas: “The heat, insects, lack of availability of metropolitan life, and rather narrow circle of acquaintances all bother me somewhat.”  He was also disturbed by the practice of racial segregation in the South.  In 1958 Herb accepted an offer to manage the aerophysics laboratory at Stanford Research Institute in Menlo Park.  The family moved to Los Altos, California where they bought a home at 23744 Arbor Avenue (later renumbered 1450 Arbor Avenue) in Los Altos near his brother, Ted.  Over the next few years, the two families joined for many trips to the beach, sailing, fishing, and dinners at each other’s houses.

Herb threw himself into his new work.  He called himself an “Applied Scientist.”  He was published extensively in technical and scientific journals and contributed to a number of textbooks. ¹¹  He continued in considerable demand as a lecturer.  He enjoyed traveling to give technical addresses.  Interestingly, his mother was critical of his public speaking.  She attended one of his addresses and was shocked that he read his material without regard for audience reaction.  His daughter, Carol, disagreed:

“My grandmother probably forgot that it is common for speakers on technical subjects in developing areas to read their papers.  I remember being so proud when my father came to my 5th grade class one day to be a guest speaker about the weather.  Mom said it was one of the most difficult speeches he ever had to prepare.”

Those he worked with considered him an excellent leader – able to bring out their best.  His son, Richard, said he led by setting examples:

“He would be the first to get out and push the boat out of the mud.  He’d be the first one up in the morning to chop wood, or to “get the show on the road,” when leaving a motel.  If he thought labor prices were too high, he would fix the house or car himself.   Instead of being a “born leader,” he was more like a leader from the time of his birth.”

Dr. Ligda, as he was known professionally, was one of the developers of the first operational weather observation system to use a laser beam.  With the device he could view the weather 35 miles above the earth’s surface.  He called it “Lidar.”

Herb had many other interests.  He was an avid reader and book collector.  He had coin and stamp collections to which he added during his foreign travels.  He was an enthusiastic musician.  He organized a musical quintet of fellow workers at S.R.I. ¹²  He and his brother, Ted, were members of the “Family Club,” where each played the French horn.  From time to time, he also played in local symphony orchestras.  He owned one of the first Chevrolet Corvettes which he sometimes drove a little too fast on the local roads. ¹³  He was a member of the Palo Alto Yacht Club where he berthed his teakwood sailboat – a beautiful boat into which he poured many loving hours of upkeep.  He enjoyed sailing on the Bay at night when the sky was clear and it was quiet.  Both of his daughters enjoyed sailing with him.  He collected wines.   He enjoyed gourmet cooking and hosting dinner parties.  In 1956, on his 36th birthday, a friend gave him a cook book with the inscription:

“Stuffed with oysters, wild rice, quail,
Steaks and lobsters by the pail,
Drenched with Scotch and rare old wine,
With smooth Drambuie by the stein,
All mixed well, but don’t disturb,
Don’t you see?  This is old Herb.”

 His daughter, Carol, recalls:

“He often brought home live lobsters from his business trips to New England.  Oysters Rockefeller was a favorite dish that he liked to prepare for company, and he liked to barbecue steaks.  He let me help him make cheese cakes and fruit cakes and pulverize fresh mint leaves from our yard to make sauce for roast leg of lamb.”

In 1967, Herb felt he was losing energy.  He initially attached no particular significance to the feeling, but when it lingered, he sought medical advice and was diagnosed with cancer of the colon already beyond control.  He fought the disease bravely.  His daughter, Carol, commented:

“My father chose to be optimistic in his heroic battle against cancer, purchasing a new Jaguar to replace his Corvette within days of his death.  My mom was outraged that he refused to help her by getting his life in order.  Altho as a healthy person he disliked and distrusted doctors, I believe he was basically cooperative with their efforts to prolong his life.  Dad even consented to be the model for a medical lecture on cancer.  The strong drugs that were administered to my dad for his cancer altered his personality.  He had no strength and was frequently disoriented.  He often seemed unable to focus on the outside world or even his family as he struggled to save his life.  I last saw him about 16 hours before he died.  He recognized me, but our last conversation had none of the meaning or significance that I longed for.”

His son, Richard, said: “He made considerable effort to stay alive for me.  This was while I flew in from Kansas hours before he died.  He still greeted me that night, and impressed me as having suffered in my behalf.”

Herb Ligda died on October 22, 1967.  He was cremated and his remains buried in Golden Gate National Cemetery in San Bruno, California (Sec. 2, Grave 5102). ¹⁴  He left his financial affairs in good order.  Richard commented that the family was able to, “live well for decades after his death.”    Evelyn never remarried and continued living in the family home at 1450 Arbor Avenue in Los Altos until her death on July 6, 1998.  She also was interred in Golden Gate National Cemetery.  The estate was divided among the children.

VICTOR NICHOLAS LIGDA		Born: 1832-01-31	Died: 1902-11-06
Father: Nicholai LIGDA		Mother: EKATERINA
Children: VALENTINA LIGDA, MARY LIGDA, ELIZABETH LIGDA, SIMEON LIGDA, ALEXANDER LIGDA, PIERRE LIGDA , PAUL VICTOROVITCH LIGDA, OLGA VICTOROVNA LIGDA, VLADIMIR LIGDA
Siblings: VLADIMIR LIGDA

By all family accounts, Victor was the second and last child born to Nicholas and Ekatrina Ligda.  His date of birth is well documented and, although his death certificate shows Greece as his place of birth, there is little doubt he was born in Moscow. ¹

The only accounts of Victor’s life in Russia are from Alec and Val, two of his children who were born after the family left Russia.  Both say their father was wealthy.  Alec says he worked for the Czar, traveling from city to city collecting money due the government for vodka concessions.  If so, he was in a position to demand payoffs from those in his district licensed to sell alcohol. ²  Alec says his father’s room at an inn was burglarized while he was sleeping.  The burglars entered his room and took some money, but failed to find 30,000 rubles Victor had under his pillow.  Val says her father was trained exclusively by private tutors, but this is unlikely as there were few private teachers in Russia at the time and he would have needed a diploma from the Gymnasia to become a civil servant.

Alec says his father traveled frequently.  He mentioned trips to Switzerland, Italy, and Germany.  About 1862, while on a trip to Saxony, Victor met Emilie Kramer, then 15.  They were married, first in Saxony and later in Russia.[The 1900 census shows Victor and Emilie married 33 years which would date the marriage in 1867 – probably the second ceremony in Russia.[/ref]

Victor and Emilie lived in Russia about 12 years.  In that period they had five children.  Two daughters, Elizabeth born in 1867 and Mary born in 1869, died in infancy  Olga, born in 1870, and two sons, Sismeon, born in 1867 and Paul, born in 1872, survived.  The family lived near Moscow.  Val says they also had a summer home in Niskhi Novgorod, a city on the Oka River near the junction with the Volga, they seldom used because it was so remote and Victor’s travels would have left Emilie and the children to deal with potential intruders.  Val says her father was called upon to do diplomatic errands for the government without official status.  His son, Paul, says he spent the bulk of his time managing his estate.

All family accounts, Victor wanted to leave Russia, either because of his growing dissatisfaction with the government ³  or his concern over the health of Simeon who was a frail and sickly child, or both.

Victor obtained a passport in Moscow on August 14, 1874.  He is listed as a “Candidate of Commerce,” a title of uncertain meaning.  The fact he was approved for foreign travel indicates he was recogized as a member of the Dvoriane Class – landless servants who administered the Czar’s land or property.  Perhaps the estate Paul believed his father owned was one he was actually managing for the Czar.  The family left for Italy on August 24th.  At the time Simeon would have been seven; Olga would have been three; Paul would have been two.

Both Val and Alec say that the family lived in a villa near Naples.  At the time, Italy was united and politically stable as a constitutional monarchy under the rule of Victor Emmanuel II.  The Pope was Pius IX.  Victor and Emilie’s third son, Alexander, was born in Naples on February 21, 1875.

Both Val and Alec indicate there was a diplomatic gathering in Naples at which their father refused to toast the Czar.  Alec says that, as a consequence, Victor was ordered to return to Russia and his passport was revoked. ⁴ and that any citizen who returned after a longer period faced penalties.  Five years would have elapsed in August of 1879.  His passport contains a single six month extension issued in paris on October 23, 1879.  It seems Victor remained in France without Russian approval after April 23, 1880.

While in Paris, Victor and Emilie had three more children: Pierre born October 17, 1879; Vladimir born October 11, 1881 (when the family was living a 4 Rue Halle (1st Dist.); and Valentine born July 31, 1886 (when the family was living at 20 Rue Arbalet (5th Dist.).  Paris was a cosmopolitan city – home to Degas, Monet, Caillebotte, Pissarro, and Gaugin and the Impressionist art movement.  Construction began on the Eiffel Tower.  In 1886, French children began donations to build the Statue of Liberty.  The Ligda children may well have been among those contributors.

It was also a period of lingering tension between France and Germany from the fallout of the Franco-Prussian War that ended in 1871 with a Prussian victory.  In 1887, the Germans arrested M. Schnaebele, a French official.  Russia, a French ally, moved troops to the German border.  In the Reichstag, Bismark threatened, if attacked, to: ” . . . make France incapable of attacking us for 30 years.”  The crisis passed with the release of Schnaebele. ⁵  Emilie could not have been comfortable with the possible outbreak of a war in which her sons could be conscripted to fight against her country of birth where she still had family. ⁶  Both Alec and Paul said their father did not want his sons in the military.  To evade their possible conscription, Victor felt the family had to leave France.  In 1887, Victor and Emilie sent Simeon, then twenty, to America to assess the possibility of the family relocating there.  During that trip, Simeon became ill and died in San Francisco, California,

In 1888, tensions between Germany and France again increased when General Boulanger, French Minister of War, advocated a policy ol revenge against Germany.  Emilie, who also wanted to see where Simeon was buried, insisted the family go to California.  Victor agreed.  The Ligdas left from La Harve on the La Normandie, traveling second class, thus avoiding the crowded steerage conditions typical of the period of mass immigration from Europe to the United States.  They arrived in New York at Castle Clinton ⁷ on June 17, 1889. ⁸.

The contrast between the settled cultures of Europe and the turbulence of a young nation still filling its borders must have shocked the Ligdas.  It is not clear they intended to stay.  The record of their entry states their intention was travel to California as visitors rather than immigrants and both Paul and Olga had expressed misgivings about leaving France.  Val says her parents came to San Francisco ⁹  because that was where Simeon died  Victor rented a house at 722 Bay Street.  They joined the small Russian community that worshipped at the Greek Orthodox Church despite the strained feelings towards the church officials who had misplaced the records of Simeon’s grave site.  It was through the Church that Olga met and married Ephrim Alexin in 1890.  There is a picture of Paul as a member of the church choir in 1891.

Paul bought a four volume English dictionary which he used daily to help everyone in the family learn English.  He preferred speaking Russian, but Val recalls family conversations in Greek, German, Italian, and French as well.  Victor did not work.  He is listed as a capitalist in the city directory of 1891.  Val says he enjoyed watching ships enter the Golden Gate with a telescope he had in his library.  The library, according to Val, contained over 2,000 volumes.  After Val accidentally started a fire that destroyed part of the Bay Street house, the family moved to 2109 Jones Street.  City directories show later addresses of 910 1/2 Vallejo Street (1892) and 614 Lombard Street (1893).  The sons lived at home and worked in the trades.  Paul became a carpenter.  Alec was a jeweler.  Pete was a printer.  All contributed to the household expenses.

On February 14, 1892, Olga Alexin, the first grandchild, was born.  This was certainly an event of considerable joy.  The next grandchild would not be born until 1907, long after Victor’s death.

Victor became a naturalized citizen on July 25, 1894, taking the oath of allegiance in San Francisco before Superior Court Judge Charles Slack. ¹⁰  He registered to vote on October 9th ¹¹.

The family moved to Oakland in 1895.  Victor’s investments included a loan secured by property at 233 Harlan Street in Oakland. ¹²  When the borrower defaulted, Victor foreclosed on the property and moved his family into the house.  Emilie liked the house, so they stayed.  Victor then purchased the ajacent property at 229 Harlan for his sons.  The 1898 Oakland Directory shows his address as 233 Harlan with Alec, Paul, Pete, and Vladimir living at 229 Harlan.

Little is know of Victor’s life in Oakland.  He continued to be listed as a capitalist in the city directories.  He is shown as the head of the family in the 1900 census with all members in the household.  He prepared his will leaving his estate in trust to be divided equally between his wife and six children when Valentine, the youngest, became twenty one; meanwhile allowing $100/month to support the family.

Victor died in Oakland on November 6, 1902.  His resentment of the Church for misplacing the records of Simeon’s burial led to his insistence that his body be cremated despite church opposition to the practice.  He did not want the Church to have the opportunity of misplacing the records of his burial too.  The family honored his wishes.  Funeral services were held at a German Lutheran Church.  His body was then cremated as he instructed. ¹³

ALAN SCOTT LIGDA		Born: 1942-06-04	Died: 2008-01-09
Father: THEODORE PAUL LIGDA		Mother: MILDRED SCOTT
Children: none
Siblings: none

Alan was Ted Ligda’s only child, born of his marriage to Mildred.  His youth was marked by frequent family moves as his parents drived much of their income from the purchase of homes in need of repair, fixing them, and selling at a profit.  After his parents divorced, Alan lived with his mother who speculated in real estate, often moving into houses she purchased.  By age seventeen, Alan recalled living in seventeen different homes including a year spent living with his Grandmother Ligda at 2132 Haste Street in Berkeley.  He claimed never to attend the same school for two years in succession although he did attend a few more than once.  His last complete school year was in 1957-58 at Carlmont High in Belmont.  He was then living with his father at 1662 Laurel Street in San Carlos.  When he moved back with his mother in Palo Alto, he enrolled at Palo Alto High for his sophomore year, but dropped out after a few weeks.  Alansays he is “justifiably modest” about his early academic career.

Alan enlisted in the Marine Corps on his 17th birthday in 1959 and served four years leaving with the rank of Lance Corporal.  His military service took him to MCAS, El Toto, California, the American Embassy in Oslo, Norway, Marine Corps School, Quantico, Virginia, the USS Long Beach (CG(N)-9), the USS Wasp (CVS-18), and into the Second Marine Division at Camp Lejune, North Carolina.  During his service, he qualified as a rifle expert.

In February of 1966, Alan went to Copenhagen, Denmark to study.  There he met Inge Jansen ¹ and fell in love.  They were married on April 6, 1968 in Strandmarkskirk, Hvidovre and made their first home in Denmark, but moved to Los Altos, California later in the year.  They returned to Denmark in 1970.  The decision to relocate was based on a number of things, among them United States involvement in the Viet Nam War.  Neither he nor Inge wanted to raise a family if their sons would be subject to conscription.  Both felt Danish society was more peaceful, predictable, orderly, and safer than what existed in the United States at the time.  Before leaving, they purchased a house sight unseen at Blegivij 65 in Odder.  After settling in, Inge took a job at a home furnishings store in Asrhus; Alan became manager of a record store doing work similar to work he had done in California.  He was later hired to work at a larger store in Randers, a 35 mile commute from Odder. ²

In 1972, the Ligdas sold their house in Odder and bought a larger home in Randers.  During the few weeks the former owners needed to vacate, Alan and Inge came to California to visit his mother.  On arrival, they learned she was suffering from cancer in the terminal stages – a condition she had kept from them.  On sensing her needs, they returned to Denmark, cancelled the purchase contract, gave notice to their prospective employers, and shipped their possessions to California.  On August 15, 1972, they left Denmark for New York and took the train to Philadelphia where they picked up a car for delivery to California.  Alan described the cross country trip as memorable.  The car lacked air conditioning and a radio.  Alan had a portable tape player and a single tape – the Beatles Golden Oldies  with songs both had committed to memory long before the journey’s end.

Alan and Inge bought his mother’s house at 146 Hawthorne Avenue in Los Altos and assumed responsibility of caring for her until her death on August 15, 1973.  Alan also used the time to pursue his education, enrolling at Foothill College where he studied history, drama, commercial art, geology, and music.  He made the Dean’s List.  He became quite adept at hand composition and letterpress printing, skills he later put to use commercially to help support the family.

Alan assumed management of Hermes Publications, a company his mother owned.  He described it as: ” . . . probably the smallest publishing company in the State, if not the Nation.”  He published a successful hard cover reprint edition of Earth Abides by George R. Stewart, Fundamentals of Book Collecting by Maurice Dunbar, one of Alan’s professors at Foothill College, and a limited edition of In Search of Steinbeck ³  He had considerable faminiarity with films, many of which he watched repeatedly.  Additionally he always read and sometimes memorized the names in the film credits.  He said this gave him: ” . . . the ability to project a knowledge of motion pictures I didn’t actually have.”  The Seattle Times of May 18, 1986 named City Lights, ” . . . the best stocked video store in the Seattle area.”

On April 11, 1983, Jeffrey Scott Ligda, their second son was born..  Despite the demands of parenthood, Inge made the time to work part time at the store.  Kenny helped.  By 1985, Inge was working full time and, by 1987, the store had again outgrown its location.  Alan got new quarters with 6,000 square feet at 82 Front Street South.  City Lights had become one of the largest video stores in the Pacific Northwest.

Despite his success, Alan was uncertain the demand for video rentals would continue.  He was quoted in the Seattle Times of July 23, 1991 as visualizing a system where movies would be distributed to homes by satellite forcing outlet stores to concentrate primarily on specialty videos.  City Lights began its decline when the City of issaquah converted Front Street from two way to a single arterial street that became choiked with bumper to bumper traffic twice daily.  Regular customers fround it difficult to get the the store.  It was difficult to attract new customers.  Alan’s lease did not allow him to move the business.  This impediment, coupled with his own concerns for future growth, led him to the decision to close the business.  On September 1, 1995, City Lights held a sale of its stock of nearly 13,000 films.  When Alan opened the doors at 7 a.m., he found a line of customers stretching more than two blocks.  Some had come from as far as Los Angeles.  Some had waited all night.

Afte closing the business, Alan went to work as the video buyer for Movieola Video in Redmond, Washington.  When Anne, Brandy, Duke, and I visited him in January of 2000, he considered himself semi retired, taking part time openings that interested him.  He had one experience at a hardware store where his employer put him out on the floor without any training.  He resigned, confessing he knew less about home repairs than most of the customers and, in attempting to answer their questions, probably did them more harm than good.  At that time, Inge was working at the Bright Horizons Preschool.  While she was at work, Alan took a day to show us the surrounding area and some of his favorite haunts in Seattle which included the Mighty Mouse Toy Store, the Northwest Gallery of Fine Woodwork, and the Elliot Bookstore.

I never saw Alan again.  We traded emails from time to time as well as cards at Christmas.  His diabetes worsened to the point his feet had to be amputated.  I spoke with him by phone after the operation.  He was in good spirits, seemed to be adjusting to his condition without complaint, and even managed to joke about it a bit.  His 2007 Christmas contained a note that he and Inge were expecting to become grandparents, “December 30 or so.”  Rosalind arrived a day ahead of schedule in Palo Alto.  Alan came to California to see and hold her.  He died on January 9, 2008, shortly after returning home.

PAUL VICTOROVITCH LIGDA		Born: 1872-09-01	Died: 1932-08-06
Father: VICTOR NICHOLAS LIGDA		Mother: EMILIE CRAMER
Children: THEODORE PAUL LIGDA, MYRON GEORGE HERBERT LIGDA, MARY BARBARA LIGDA, VICTOR WORTHINGTON LIGDA
Siblings: VALENTINA LIGDA, MARY LIGDA, ELIZABETH LIGDA, SIMEON LIGDA, ALEXANDER LIGDA, PIERRE LIGDA , OLGA VICTOROVNA LIGDA, VLADIMIR LIGDA

Paul was the third child to survive childhood born to Victor and Emilie. He was two when his family moved to Italy and seven when they moved to France. Paul did not attend school in France. Instead he was apprenticed, at age 12, to Jules Benarre, a cabinet maker with a small shop in Paris. Paul enjoyed carpentry and became quite skilled and established by the time he was 16. In 1889, as his family prepared to leave France for the United States, Paul, like his older sister, Olga, planned to remain in Paris. He changed his mind at the last minute, perhaps because Olga changed her mind and perhaps because he felt a special responsibility to his parents as their oldest son.

His family first settled in San Francisco where Paul found work in various places as a house carpenter, a cabinet maker, and a mill worker. ¹ He lived with his family while he learned English. On July 25, 1894, he registered to become a naturalized citizen.

In 1895, Paul moved with his family to Oakland. He continued supporting himself and contributing to the family by work as a carpenter. ² He completed the naturalization process on August 4, 1898 before the Hon. Charles W. Slack; and had his naturalization registered in Alameda County on August 10, 1907. ³

In 1900 Paul’s younger brother, Vladimir, graduated from high school with plans to enroll in college. Paul decided he wanted to go to college too. With no formal education, he had to take special entrance examinations covering an entire high school course. To prepare for those examinations, with Vladimir’s help, he studied for six months; and then, in two weeks, took the exams and passed with grades of 1 and 2 (1 being highly credible; 2 being pass). The brothers (27 year old Paul and 18 year old Vladimir) entered the University of California, Berkeley together.

Both continued living at home. Paul was an excellent student. His best grades were in mathematics and French. His weakest grades were in drawing. He did considerable tutoring in mathematics and physics. As an older student, he was remembered in other ways. The 1908 Blue & Gold contained this recollection:

“ . . . there we   re two brothers in college. One Ligda was a track man; the other was simply a Russian. At one of our field days, Victor Ligda was a close second near the finish of a race. Brother Paul jumped up on the bleachers and called: “Run Victor, run. Maybe he will fall down and den you will beat him.” From that day on, Ligda was known about North Hall as Abodie ’04, or any of the other men who really made records.”

While in college, both Victor and Paul were active in theater. There is a picture of each of them in their costumes for performances of “The Student Prince.”

During his college years, Paul met and courted Pauline Hulse, who was to sue him for breach of promise when the relationship ended. Her suit was the subject of a poem in the 1905 Blue & Gold indicating that Paul lost that suit, but a newspaper account indicated otherwise.

In March of 1904, Paul met Edith Griswold, a second year student at the University who was living next door to the Ligdas at 673 33rd Street. Edith made a note of their going out on April 8. Over the remainder of the school year, they rode to and from school together on the street car. Paul also tutored her in mathematics.

Paul graduated from the University on May 17, 1904 and celebrated with an all night party (which Edith reported to her diary). Edith left shortly thereafter to spend the summer with relatives in Walla Walla, Washington. They began a remarkable correspondence: ⁴

***

5/21/04- Dear Miss Griswold:

I am missingyou sadly . . . I climbed up Grizzly peak Wednesday . . . alone. Isat down for a couple of hours. What will the future bring me?

Yoursferociously, Paul Ligda

***

5/28/04- Dear Mr. Ligda:

You neednot call me Miss Griswold unless you prefer . . . I am curious whatinduced you to sit in that windy place for two whole hours . . . canit be that you were looking at the wild onions? I saw so many of themon my trip up here, and each one reminded me of you . . .

I am debatingvery seriously whether I shall come back to college . . . if I giveup college, I hardly suppose that I shall come back to Oakland . .. or see my college friends again soon.

Yours(as usual?) Edith Griswold

***

6/10/04- Dear Mr. Ligda,

I am havingquite a struggle to decide what I am going to do next year . . . Ihave a letter from Mama urging me by no means to give up college.I am glad that you have made the discovery that girls are somethingbeside playthings. But – actions speak louder than words, and – threeon the string, sounds rather like jumping jacks or some other plaything,now doesn’t it?

Sincerelyyours, Edith Griswold

***

6/19/04- Dear Miss …. Griswold:

I am veryglad your mother forces you, an unwilling victim, to return to school.I will have some fun drumming more math into that dull head of yours. . . The only work I like to see a girl do is housework. Then sheappears more womanly to me. I think that women, having proved conclusivelythat they can work, should return to their old occupation of mothersand adored and petted inferiors rather than to be disliked and despisedcompetitors of men . . . About the three girls that I have on a string. . . I should really have said on a thread for the connection isso frail that it broke . . .

Your’ssincerely, Paul Ligda

***

6/29/04- Dear Mr. Ligda: –

I feelthat it would be altogether too audacious for a humble Freshie toaddress a “grave and reverend Senior” by his first name.I think I’ll accept your offer to coach me . . . next term. Iam not coming down till the fall term opens.

Yoursas usual, Edith

***

7/4/04- Dear Edith:

I havebeen waiting for an answer to my last letter. I had been imagininga lot of things. Maybe you were dead or sick or some of the nice lieutshad proved irresistible, or else you had made up your mind not toreturn . . . I was already making overtures to my three girls witha view of making up . . . This is positively the last time that Iwill accept a letter headed “Mr. Ligda”. I shall first lookat the heading of your next letter, and if it is not properly headedwill not read the rest . . . You wonder how I pass the time away?I am testing machines at the University. This and my quartet workkeeps me pretty busy . . .

your’ssincerely, Paul Ligda

***

undated- Dear Mr. Ligda,

I am sorryyou are not going to read this letter, because it is going to be veryinteresting . . . If one of the first lieutenants “proved irresistible”I would write and tell you . . Now will you be good? Don’t delaymaking your choice of “the three” on my account. I am nota candidate for the honor – as long as there are three on your string,anyway!

Goodbye,E.

***

8/4/04- Dear Mr. Ligda,

Shallbe glad to get back to California . . . I leave here on the 13th,leave Portland by steamer Costa Rica at 8 pm Sunday, and reach SanFrancisco some time on the 16th . . . If I don’t see you on 33rdStreet (I want to see you on the 16th or 17th about my study list)perhaps you cold come out to the University.

Sincerelyyours, Edith Griswold

***

Edith did not return to the house next door to the Ligdas, but found quarters at 2226 Chapel Street in Berkeley. Paul resumed his meetings with her. Edith made notes of their get togethers from August of 1904 until January 17, 1905 when she wrote: “Farewell, and if forever ——–!” The entry was probably prompted by news from Paul that he would be moving to San Rafael to run a shop as a civil engineer. He later took a job as Manager of the Smithson Development Company, 438 Crossley Building, 315 California Street, San Francisco. He installed their manufacturing plant and ran it until the company went out of business. ⁵

Paul’s move indicates he did not then feel his relationship with Edith was serious enough to require that he stay in Oakland. In May, 1905, when the school year ended, Edith returned to her family in Worthington, Ohio, and, later in the summer visited relatives in Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas. Paul wrote on May 12:

“I hope that you have arrived safe and sound in Ohio, that you have been received with open arms by your family that they have killed a fat calf in honor of your arrival, etc., etc., ———– and that at last that you have forgotten your big tormentor, who wishes you a long and joyous summer season and forgetting of the past.”

Edith replied on May 30:

“Oh, how I long for California and freedom! I have slipped back into my old, almost forgotten, saintlike character. I part my hair smoothly, I mind “Mama”, I go to church and teach in the Sunday School. I use no slang, and I do not flirt.”

Paul wrote, while traveling on business, on July 25:

“You go away for months at a time and leave me alone to my temptations. Bessie nearly had me to the proposing point . . . I am going home to supper and then will meet another of my flames. If she catches me in a dark corner it will be all up. Don’t you pity me. I have made love to so many girls, and been on intimate terms with them. Doesn’t this sound conceited?”

Yoursunfaithfully, Paul

At this time, Paul and his three brothers were in the process of incorporating California Engineers Supply Company, a family business which produced a broiler compound. The company was headquartered at 315 California Street in San Francisco (same building as Smithson Development Company), with it’s works in San Rafael. Paul’s business cards show his title as Superintendent of Laboratory and Works. He probably worked in San Rafael. He wrote Edith from there as early as October 4, 1905 into June of 1906 when Edith returned to California to begin her junior year. She lived at the Hathotli Club, 2245 Piedmont Avenue, Berkeley. Paul saw her as frequently as his work and her studies permitted.

Paul left no account of the great earthquake and fire of April 18, 1906. He was issued a pass into the city: “to provide for family.” As he had no family living in San Francisco, presumably he needed the pass to salvage whatever business records or supplies were at the California Street address. If the Company suffered as a result of the disaster, Paul did not mention it in his correspondence.

At the close of the 1905-06 school year, Edith left California for Ft. Leavenworth to spend the summer with relatives. Paul continued working with his brothers to turn the mildly profitable business into one which could support them all. There was considerable tension. Victor, apparently with some ill feeling toward Paul, quit to take a teaching position in Arizona. Even without Victor’s salary, profits did not support the remaining three. Paul decided to turn the business over to Alec and Pete in the hope that they could increase sales to the point profits would support them all. He retained 3,500 of the 21,000 shares in the enterprise and left to accept a job offer from Dr. Hillegass, his sister Valentine’s fiancee. On May 9, he wrote Edith:

“I accepted a job as Superintendent of a mine near Las Vegas, Nevada and will be there in three weeks or so . . . I am working day and night to finish my work here and to break in my brother, who is to take my place . . . It will be awful lonesome so you better sharpen your pen . . .”

Correspondence between Paul and his brother, Pete, reflects a continued optimism that business would increase to the point that Paul could return and resume his position within the buisness. For example, on September 4, 1906, he wrote:
“My brother Alec is working in my place at San Rafael . . . The little business which took so much of my time and care for a couple of years; which nearly died once or twice; which is now a strong and sturdy little affair even well rated in Dunn & Bradstreet, other hands and brains run it. True I am still the President and General Manager but I take no part in its management. It makes me feel sad.

“However my job is still waiting for me. My brother writes that “very soon we will be making enough money to support you with a good salary.” The trouble, which they understand very well, is that they lack an executive man. No business can last very long without one. The rest of the Company is composed of people accustomed to receive orders and directions and not to give them. However they did well in my absence . . . If we keep up at that rate . . . I will be soon wealthy.”

Paul described the place he was working as:“a camp about 9 miles east of town at the foot of a small range of hills. It consists of one 2 room wooden building, three tents, and a stable. The room is the kitchen, the other combination office, parlor, sleeping room, etc.” His working day stretched from 4 a.m. to 9 p.m. with breaks to escape the heat which Paul described as: “something terrible – 120 degrees is not uncommon . . . It was still 100 degrees at 11 last night.”

For the next six months, Paul and Edith wrote each other – a correspondence leading to his proposal, her acceptance, and their marriage. ⁶ This story unfolds:

***

5/18/06- Dear Edith:

”. . . I will always treasure in a more or less dusty corner of mymemory a recollection of a nice little girl. She did not know theways of the world and had been brought up in a rather puritanicalway, but nevertheless was a very agreeable companion . . . A girlmore experienced in the wicked ways of the world would know that afellow can obtain all the amusement he wants for about a tenth ofthe trouble that I had with you . . . But the fact that I am writingto you now, when I never expect to see you again, shows clearly thatit was not amusement alone that made me seek your company. You sayyou are going to settle in the backwoods of Ohio . . . Is it a palace,a hut, or only a school house? You have also forgotten to tell methe truth about that ring you sported, and which was such a cold blanketfor me . . .”

Yourssincerely, Paul Ligda

***

5/30/06- Dear Paul,

”. . . I always try to speak the truth and so my lies are generallyfalse impressions, things I’ve made you believe without actuallysaying them. I never out and out told you I was engaged. I merelyrefused to say where I got my ring. I was not engaged when I returnedto California last fall nor am I now . . . As for my purpose in tellingthese fibs, you will have to decide for yourself whether I had anyother than pure deviltry and if I did, what it was . . . In spiteof the childlike ignorance with which you credit me, I was never greedenough to suppose you were the kind of man to have only one girl ona string, and sureness of this fact is what prevented my falling inlove with you. Not being in love with you, I was not jealous of you. . . what is my impression of you? It varies, but just now I woulddescribe you to my most intimate friend something like this:

“PaulLigda is a tall, splendidly built man and very strong. His face hasa great deal of character some of which is good and some isn’t.He wears one of those horrid stubby little mustaches but looks a lotbetter without it. If he had come to America while he was very younghe might have learned to be more chivalrous but as it is he has lotsof odious foreign ideas about women, and he’ll never make a goodAmerican husband unless he gets rid of them. He is a “man ofthe world” and therefore more to be trusted in some ways thana young and inexperienced kidling. I’d hate to marry a boy inhis early twenties and have to watch him sow his wild oats. I preferhim later, say at thirty fire or forty – since men are all alike andall sow wild oats sooner or later, so Paul informs me!

“Ido like Paul – I like him very much. I think it’s because heis so much of a man. Women are prone to forgive much – perhaps toomuch – in a man if he is strong and manly and strong in character. . . And so I have forgiven Paul much that I could not forgive inanother, and still prize his friendship, although I have had senseenough not to fall in love with him – much as I have wanted to sometimes,and easily as I could have done so.

“Andthe queerest part of it all is that I do not know whether he evercared for me. He made love to me, it is true, but almost any man willflirt with almost any girl – so that proves nothing. He was too thorougha man of the world to commit himself – and yet, if a man really caresfor a girl why should he hesitate to say so? If he thought that Imight take advantage of the fact that he had so committed himself,why then, he thought me vulgar he failed to appreciate quality, andthat is unforgivable.

“Whenall is said – he was a good comrade and playfellow, he was more -a good friend, but for the rest I can only say “Oh, I don’tknow, I can’t tell!” How I wish I could!

“Thereare lots of other things I might say of you – music, talents, ambitions,ability to order a good dinner, economy, lack of truthfulness, conceit,tender feelings, uncomplimentouness, etcetera, but really I have writtenyou too long a letter already. I am quite sure that you would neverspend so much time and thought on a description of me. Hereafter Iam going to write you no longer letters than you write to me. I amsorry if I have said anything to hurt your feelings again. But youmust remember that . . . you are at liberty to refute any statementI have made.”

Yoursas ever, E. G.

***

6/12/06- Dear Edith:

“Ishould have said “truthfully” “I only flirting withyou. I could not marry you if I would and would not if I could”or else “I love you but cannot marry you” I couldn’tdo the first because 1) it was not true 2) it may be truthful to sayit, but utterly impossible for a gentleman to say even to the lowestgirl, let alone, a lady. I could not do the second because it wouldhave been a direct insult, unless accompanied by expressions of futureand possible disintanglements.

“HoweverI lost your respect on that point. The one cheering thought is thatI could have lost it still more (if possible) if I had proposed, amusedmyself under false pretenses for a while, then “shaken you”,that is if you had accepted me. (If I am getting old my conceit couldnot prevent me from seeing a possible refusal). But the trouble isthat I am a “non-chivalrous” man with “odious Europeanideas about women”. If I had been an American bred, I would probablyhave followed the above plan, which is very popular here. Now willyou be good? In my long and checkered career, I learned one greatlaw: If you “folly” a woman you can do anything you wantwith her, principles or no principles. That is you can win a womanby soft words, compliments etc. Did I ever try to do it in your case?I will confess that I did in “a few” other cases. Some othertime I will speak more fully on my motives for not doing so.”

Yours,P-

***

6/19/06- Ma chere Edith: –

“Atlast I have time to answer your letter in the way you want it —a mile long . . . Let us examine . . . your “description”of me.

“Aboutthe only thing that I find is this. Paul has horrid European ideasabout women —- is not chivalrous and will never make a good Americanhusband.

“Itake off my coat, pick up my shirt sleeves, spit in my hands and takea better hold of my big sword, I mean my fountain pen, which is mightierthan a sword anyhow. I have to deliver a few blows to a few more ofyour prejudices.

“Thetrouble with you is that you have been raised in certain conditionsof life, surrounded by certain class of people, and have formed ideas,not from reflection founded on observation and reading, but by suggestionfrom your surroundings and friends. As some of those ideas are toyour advantage you are still more loath to get rid of them.

“Oneof them is this. A man should be chivalrous to a woman. American menare, European are not.

“Whatis the definition of chivalrous? The way most girls understand itis that a man should obey every whim of a girl and get nothing butthanks and smiles for it; sometimes. He should treat them very politely,never speak evil of them, pay them delicate compliments, etc…. Howdoes it work in practice. Your American chivalrous man does act likethis to one girl at the time and that only before marriage. I wantyou to notice that a high bred man does not in general take off hishat to his chamber-maid, nor compliment his waitress, nor executeevery order of his stenographer, nor help a drunken old woman in distress.No his supply of chivalry is not sufficient for all womankind it isreserved to a few young and pretty girls, and only to those from whomhe expects something. What is the use of having this kind of chivalry?

“Wouldyou swear that every, or even a majority of the American married mentreat their wives in the same chivalrous way as before marriage?

“Iwant to whisper a little secret. It is a well known fact among menthat the only way to get anything out of a woman is by jollying heralong. So your “chivalrous” man pretends that he considersyou an exalted being, superior in every way to himself and – to others.That is very agreeable bait and the American girl raises readily toit. But when she gets old, loses her beauty, etc., unless she is rich,who pays any attention to her? If you want to knock the ideas thatsome of your men friends are chivalrous, just watch how they comportthemselves toward middle aged, or old women that have nothing. Besideswhy should we men be chivalrous, full of respect, and hence considerwomen our superior. Because their face is pretty?. But little girlsare still prettier. Because they are superior mentally? You know thatthey are not. because they are weaker physically? That would createkindness and not respect and admiration. Why then?

“Thewhole thing is founded on the law of supply and demand. Years agowomen were scarce in this country and hence their value was increasedin the eyes of men. They are still scarce in the rural districts andhence are better treated than in the cities where they exceed themen in number. That’s all the poetical origin of chivalry.

“Nowa few words on my position and my “odious” European ideas.I do not consider women my superior in any respect hence see no reasonfor treating them as such. Nor do I consider them as my inferior,and think of them only with contempt, or the idea that they are onlythe plaything of man. I consider them as my equal, and treat themas such. You know by experience that I can be a pretty good comrade,chum, speaking to a girl as I would to a man. My actions towards herare naturally influenced by the difference in sex, but that does notaffect my thoughts. Some girls, accustomed to be treated “chivalrously”think that I am a boor. Those are not bothered very long by my friendship.Some are sensible enough to realize the position that they reallyoccupy in society and take me for what I am worth. To my friend, mychum only will I pay such delicate attentions and compliments, thatwill cause her to feel contented. But she understands all the timethat I do it for her sake and not because I consider her my superior.

“Hopingto soon receive your views . . . I remain

Yourssincerely – Paul

***

6/24/06- My dear Paul: –

“Ihave received and enjoyed two letters from you . . . I am going toanswer promptly so as to keep you amused out there in the desert.I do hope you won’t be too lonely. Lonesomeness is a horriblesensation and one that I have experienced painfully often. SometimesI feel millions of years old, Paul. The terrible experiences I havegone through within the past year no one wholly knows. What I havetold you were the smallest parts. The most I have had to fight outalone and even now I cannot see the outcome of it all. So you mustnot blame me always when I seem pessimistic and disagreeable. I supposeI am only loading your broad shoulders with the blame I may not expressfor the real object of my vituperation – to express it strongly!

“Ireally like you quite well, would like you better if you would onlybe more honest with me. When I spoke of chivalry I did not mean convention.You should be the last to accuse me of attention to meaningless conventionality.I meant what you speak of, the kindness and tenderness shown to aweaker and mare fallible sex. I have heard it said that a Frenchman’spoliteness consists in lifting his hat to the lady he has just crowdedoff the sidewalk when she steps back out of the gutter. It is truethat he American gentleman does not tip his hat to his chamber-maid,but neither does he crowd her off the sidewalk. See what I mean? Notthat I mean to say that you are capable of such a thing as that, butthat you are indulging in sophistry when you say you spared me insultin not declaring your intentions. It is an insult to carry one’sattentions beyond a certain point without declaring one’s intentionof marrying. I am not a fool – altogether -, Paul, and there are certainscenes that stick in my memory in spite of my wish to forget them.Do you think I did not understand? That is why I say that I have forgivenyou more than I could have forgiven most men, because I appreciateyour different standard. I could never have forgiven an American -as I have proved, twice. And yet you call me narrow and prejudiced!I can but smile.

“Don’tyou think we’d better let this discussion drop? I’m so afraidit will degenerate into a quarrel, and I want to be friends. I likeyou, as I have remarked before. Defend yourself against the aboveassertions if you want to, then retaliate by attacking me. I promisenot to lose my temper – unless you call me prejudiced again!

“Whatsort of place is your Las Vegas? What kind of mine is it you are superintending,and how many beautiful senoritas are there in the place? I confessthat I am curious to know how you get along in solitude. Do be good,and let me know how much company you have. You are still such an enigmato me in some ways, that I cannot be quite sure just what you woulddo under such circumstances.”

Yoursas ever, Edith

***

7/3/06- Dear Edith: –

“Youask questions that would take 100 pages to answer, so I will try tocondense.

“LasVegas . . . is a brand new town of 1,000 or so. Half the people livein tents, but we boast of 4 story houses. The native (?) pass theirtime in drinking, chewing and telling lies about their mines, whichare all enormously rich, but which do not seem to prevent them fromtrying to extract money from the tenderfoot. The Senoritas are conspicuousby their absence, the only girls I have seen were Indians. I haven’tspoken to a woman since I arrived. Now will you be good?

“Youwould not recognize me if you met me. My herculean arms bare to theshoulder khaki pants laced boots and a high straw hat are what I wear.My mustache is growing again and quite often a week’s beard.My face and hands are of the color of brick and my weight is downto 187 from 205 three months ago. I feel very strong and healthy though,far better than I did in the city.

“Iheard from two entirely different sources that My Heart’s Desire(?) was keeping company with another man and had publicly announcedthat she was tired of me and it is even rumored that she is engaged.Of course my heart is broken but my appetite is still good so I havehopes of getting over it. If you are interested in my romance I willkeep you posted on further development of the same.

“Myposition in this dreary world is steadily improving. If I keep onI will be able to get married in a year or so. I will send circularswhen I am ready. Shall I send you one?”

Yourssincerely, Paul

***

7/6/06- Ma chere Edith: –

“Ilive with a crowd of Frenchmen and hardly speak any English. Wouldn’tit be fine practice for you if you were here?

“Thislast thought made me stop writing for a few minutes and muse overthe situation. The following is the general trend of my thoughts:My lot here is hard and I am deprived almost entirely of what peoplecall luxuries and lack quite a few necessities. Suppose that I shouldwork that way for a while, save some money and get married. Wouldit be right for a girl to expect to share my hard earned savings whenshe did not share in the work? I do not mean that she has to do asimilar amount of work, but that a wife should have had her shareof the burden, and not simply come in when all the work is done, asmost American girls do. You speak of chivalry to a weaker sex, butdo you think that it is right for a man to bear the brunt of the work,than lay it at the feet of his lady love? Does she realize what itcost him? No in 99 cases out of 100. She only sees a certain numberof dollars which is perhaps not so great as she sees in the possessionof some of her friends, hence they mean nothing to her. She shouldhave helped in the earning not by her own similar work necessarilybut by her presence, advice, sympathy and encouragement. Don’tyou think so?

“Wespoke quite often and I am ashamed to confess that I could hardlyrepeat the subject of most our talks, but one of your sentences stickslike glue to my memory; it struck so hard. “I have been poorall my life and a few years more don’t make any difference.”This was when we spoke on a similar subject. Very few girls wouldsay that and to tell the truth I have set it as a standard. I willnever marry a girl who will not be willing to help me out in my struggles.This is one of the reasons why I stopped caring for Miss H. She wantedto marry someone with money, that is she was too lazy to do her share.I hope she gets what she was looking for. I haven’t heard fromher yet . . . so my hopes are getting strong of not hearing from heragain. Should I write to her? I would like your advice on the subject.

“Hopingthat you are still in good health and that everything is O.K. withyou, I remain”

Yourssincerely, Paul Ligda

***

7/10/06- My dear Paul: –

“Yoursof the 3rd duly received and noted . . . a satisfactory account .. . and interesting. I am sorry there are so many discomforts andyet for some inexplicable reason I like to think that you are undergoingthem. I suppose it is that I like to think of you as a strong man,doing a strong man’s work and “roughing it.” I canimagine that you use a lot of swear words nowadays. Do you? Now thatmy mind is for the present relieved as far as the senoritas are concerned,I must ask if you also join in the whiskey drinking and card playing?Not that I object to your amusing yourself as you please, I merelyask for information.

“Itmust be a very nice feeling to be getting as rich as you are . . .and I shall be very glad to see your circulars when you get them outa year from now. Not, of course you understand, with any idea of applyingfor the situation! Since you told me so frankly of how I missed mychance of catching you, I have felt too “squelched” to dareto think of such a thing any longer. But as I am still fraternallyinterested in you, I should like to see the circular, and trust Imay be honored with your confidence when the happy lady is selected.Of course after that I shall have to stop writing to you, for thoughthe lady would, I am sure, not dare to object to any of her lord andmaster’s pastimes, you yourself will be too absorbed in yournew “playmate(!)” to remember the old one. At any rate,I am glad to hear that “Heart’s Desire” has gone, oris going, back on you. I never did like that girl. “Bessie”is much more to my taste. Well, be sure to let me know how she decidesit.. Well, I must stop.”

Writesoon, Edith

***

7/19/06- Edith dear: –

“Yoursof the 10th received and contents digested. I am sorry that you showthe depth of your depravation in enjoying my misery and discomforts.“Roughing it” sounds very nicely and has kind of an attractiveview in dreams and from a distance . . . but long continued and withouthope of a near relief it is rather disagreeable.

“Inote your question as to my swearing. I am very sorry to disappointyou in that particular point. I don’t swear, not because I wouldnot like to but because the miners here are all French, and hardlyspeak English. Unfortunately my French education was neglected onthe swearing chapter, hence I am deprived of the pleasure of ventilatingmy opinion in good, full mouthed oaths. Only one more discomfort addedto the list!

“Iam also sorry to disappoint you on another point: my favorite pastime.I don’t drink whiskey, as this nectar is not allowed in camp,and I would not drink it if it were as I never liked it anyhow. Asto playing cards, why, I haven’t seen one since I arrived, hencehaven’t played. I live a model life absolutely . . . I wish youto understand however that my goodness is entirely involuntary; Isimply can’t help behaving.

“Butjust the same I have plans for the future. When I am through withthis job I am going to take a goodly part of my enforced savings,and paint the town (S. F. or Los Angeles) the proper kind of a color.I hope you will be around just then. We can have a nice time.

“Butenough on this. You forget to mention . . . what your plans for thefuture are. You are not acting fairly with me. You ask what mine areand don’t tell yours. Why you don’t even tell me of yourlove affairs! This has to stop or else I will write only about theweather or the earthquake, two inexhaustible subjects.

“Heart’sDesire has written at last. I treasure the letter at present, seekingall I can find in it to answer in that unusual caustic style of mine.she won’t forget my answer which is still cooking. In short herletter runs as follows. She found or met a fellow who touched herheart as I never did (probably wealthier is the proper translation)passed sleepless nights worrying about my future without her, thenmade up her mind to shake me. Isn’t that nice? The only nicething in her missive is the part in which she announces that she won’twrite to me anymore and asks for her letters. I am heart broken andam losing flesh rapidly my waist being down to the sylph-like measureof 33 inches! I do not believe that I will ever recover . . . If youdo not answer very promptly your letter will only find a corpse.

“Hopingthe above is satisfactory I remain as usual . . .”

Yourssincerely, Paul Ligda

***

7/22/06- Dear Paul: –

“Yourletter is hard to answer . . . at first it sounds as though it weregoing to be a real sure enough proposal, but alas, I turn the pageand find that it is merely a philosophical discussion of whether awoman is in duty bound to marry a man while he is still poor. I recovermy breath after the comedown, reread to see if you want my view ofthe subject, conclude that you do even if you don’t say so, andbegin:

“No,I do not think it is her duty to help bear the brunt of the struggle.It is instead her privilege, and should be her pleasure. Why, that’sall life is for, to struggle, and when one has won out, or given upin despair, the zest of living is over, and that isn’t the timefor joining hands and standing together. If I loved a man I shouldnot thank him for waiting till he felt able to marry before he toldme that he loved me. A woman’s part, keeping still till she isasked, is pretty hard anyway, and that makes it harder.

“Ibelieve you asked my advice as to writing to Miss H. I suppose youhave forgotten what I told you once – that I thought a man who wasengaged to a girl he didn’t care for ought to tell her so andthen stand for the consequences. Why don’t you write and askher to marry you immediately? Then if she won’t you will havean excellent reason for breaking the engagement altogether. If shewill, that will prove that she isn’t a mercenary wretch afterall, and you can acknowledge your mistake to yourself and take her.And if you’ll take my advice, in the future you won’t mixwith the kind of people who descend to sue for breach of promise.I class them with trash myself, and hope that you misjudge Miss H.

“Ican’t keep my eyes open a minute longer. Try to answer, thisa little sooner, please.”

Edith

***

7/27/06- My dear Paul: –

“Whichlove affair of mine do you want to know about? I should hate to tellyou anything you would fail to appreciate. You will have to ask somedefinite questions and then I’ll tell you what you want to know,if I happen to want to.

“Shallbe very glad to help you paint S. F. red if I am only there. You donot suspect how efficient I can be at that sort of thing.”

***

7/28/06- Dear Edith –

“Yoursof the 22nd received yesterday . . . On rereading your letter I don’tsee anything to answer as you put up no questions.”

Yourssincerely, Paul Ligda

***

8/10/06- Dear Paul: –

”. . . it is simply awful here [Worthington, Ohio] and I feel as thoughI were fifty thousand miles from a friend. You must write to me justas often as you possibly can if my happiness is of the slightest momentto you. Because unless you or someone else keeps me in touch with“God’s Country” which is the West, I shall die of homesickness.There!

“Nowabout your letter . . . I think a man has no business burdening himselfwith a wife if he is going to have to trust to good luck to supporther – and the babies. But if he has a business or profession whichin the ordinary course of events should enable him to support them,if he isn’t burdened with debts or with others dependent on him,and if he knows the right girl – why he ought to marry her ever ifshe will have to do her own housework, and wear clothes when theyare out of fashion. If she is the right girl she will say yea.

“Mycuriosity is aroused, Paul. Who is the girl who started this discussion?There must be some one who is setting you to thinking. You told memy case was settled, and of course it wasn’t Miss H., so it mustbe “Bessie.” Unless you concealed the truth from me, whichisn’t likely. You were always perfectly frank about your “othergirls” which was nice of you. So it must be Bessie. Well, ifyou are convinced that she is the right girl, and your obligationsto your home people aren’t taxing all your resources, go aheadand ask her, and here’s a wish for good luck from

Yoursas usual, Edith

P.S. Ofcourse I don’t mean that really. If you went and engaged yourselfto Bessie I should have to quit corresponding with you, and that wouldn’tbe nice.”

***

8/13/06- Dear Edith: –

“Whichof your love affairs do I want you to tell me about? Why the firstone you were interested in yourself. The ones in which the man onlywas interested have no bearing on the subject and cannot be properlydescribed by you. Now turn her loose.

“Isuppose . . . gentlemen callers have to see you in the refrigeratingpresence of your sister and mother. I don’t think I will go therefor a while . . . I am getting a little homesick or rather, tiredof this pesky place. I know absolutely nothing of what happened inthe world during the last two months. Without joking Chicago may beutterly destroyed, there may be a war somewhere and I would have absolutelyno chance of hearing about it. I receive no paper and the ignorantFrenchmen here don’t receive any letters containing general information.You and brother Pete are my only steady correspondents. My sweetheartshave basically deserted my banner, so I have the feeling of Robinsonin his island.

“Ihave been looking over my old letters reading them over and livingmy old life over. Do you ever do that? Without any intention of flatteringyou, I must grudgingly admit that yours are about the most interestingand contain the largest percentage of thought per words and the smallestpercentage of platitudes. Some of them I intend to keep as long asI live and read the proper extracts for the edification of my children.

“Hopingthat your heart is still warm for the lonesome orphan in the Desert,I remain yours . . .

Sincerely,Paul Ligda

***

8/16/06- Poor homesick girl: –

“Howcan a person . . . be homesick at Home? Hence I stop pitying you onthe spot. Again you say that you will die if I or some one else doesn’tkeep you up with “God’s Country.” Thanks. I hardlythink that you would call this place God’s Country . . . to seeevery day only a few ignorant Frenchmen, with whom conversation isutterly impossible . . . once a week to “town” where I meetonly a few merchants anxious for my money . . . Now be good and don’tcomplain of your hard lot.

“Inotice that your curiosity is aroused about my thoughts of “assuredliving” etc. Your wonder if it is Bessie. I will describe Bessie,then you can form your own opinion. She is middle sized, rather slender,graceful in her movements . . . She is an “undecided blonde”. . . Beautiful eyes with a very kind expression. Now for the mentalpart. High school education which shows only in her perfect spelling.Very few thoughts, and absolutely no original ones. Letters and conversationmostly composed of small talk with the usual hyperbolas: “awfulnice,” “grand time,” “just simply lovely,”etc. I can stand the conversation, owing to her personality, but canhardly read the letters. Serious conversation makes her yawn (figuratively)or frightens her. Considers her education perfect and has no ambitionto learn any more. Reads newspapers and novels. Has a cunning drawlin her voice, which will degenerate probably into a “nagging”voice. Thinks mostly of “good times” and ought to be insociety. Has numberless admirers but prefers (?) — or seems to preferme . . . Now what do you think of my opinion of Bessie?

“Afterwriting the above, I fell in a “reverie.” Many and diverswere my thoughts. Same old subject: What kind of a wife should I have.I suppose by the time I make up my mind I will be white haired.

“Can’twrite any more if I want to save your life and send this.”

Yoursas usual, Paul

***

8/17/06- Dear Paul: –

“Iam afraid that I have rather bothered you with asking you to writewhen you are so busy, but if you knew how pleased I am whenever Iget one of your letters you would feel in some degree repaid. I shouldbe ashamed to ask any other man I know to write as I ask you, butwe have had so many plain talks that it never occurs to me to standon ceremony with you any more! Anyway, I am not worrying about yourmisunderstanding me now. And it is dreadfully lonesome and homesickishfor me now. The old “Long Table Crowd” as we used to callit, is broken up. They are all married or dead or moved away. AndI feel so changed myself. So it is no wonder that I turn to Californiafor comfort.

“Idon’t think you are wise to let a little antipathy to the desertkeep you from holding such a good position. Surely as the town growsyou will not suffer so many discomforts and inconveniences, and anywayI still harbor a little secret conviction that “roughing it”is good for you. Aren’t you glad that you are thinner?! And enforcedabstinence from the dissipations of San Francisco may yet “reform”you. Remember how I used to urge you to reform, and how you used topromise to do so – and never did?

“Bythe way, Paul dear, didn’t you once charge me with inconsistency?How about these two “quotations from two letters of yours, “nowthat I never expect to see you again, etc.,” and “Besides,never to see Edith again! Forget it,” How do you reconcile thetwo? Or rather since they are declarations of two irreconcilable intentions,which is sincere? But no, let me remain in ignorance. “Whereignorance is bliss, ’tis folly to be wise,” says the poet.

“Thisis enough nonsense for one dose. Good bye.”

Yourssincerely, Edith Griswold

P.S. “Iwant your opinion and advice. I don’t wear that engagement ringany more, but I still have it. Ought I to return it? Let me know promptly.

***

8/21/06- Dear Paul: –

“Iam answering your surprisingly long letter at once because I haveonly one stamp left, and someone may borrow it unless I use it first.This is the last letter I can write you before the middle of Octoberor possibly at all, so make the most of it. You see, I am totallybankrupt, and shall not have any money to buy stamps until I get myfirst month’s salary for teaching, and the schools here do notopen till the middle of September. Of course if I do not get a positionI never can buy any more stamps. However as long as you are in receiptof a good salary, there is nothing to hinder your writing to me, sothat the correspondence need not be totally interrupted!

“Iam going down to Cincinnati Friday to meet a Superintendent of Schoolsand a Board of Education. They want to look at me before they decideto give me a position. Remembering your verdict, “not good lookingand not especially bad looking,” I am not cherishing any greathopes. Oh joy, a thought strikes me! Perhaps they want a plain teacherwho will not (presumably) be frivolous, and who will be sufficientlysevere with the children. There is hope after all.

“Aboutmy love affairs, Paul. I am afraid I can’t write about the onlyone in which I was especially interested, since you limit me to that.I have practically recovered from my infatuation. I ought to, forI had my eyes very effectually opened. But I still feel sore aboutthe way the man acted, and don’t like to talk about it. Whenyou come to “the backwoods” to visit my school I may tellyou. Of course there have been other affairs, but none of them especiallyserious – for me!

“Itold you that I was not engaged, even before you fulfilled the conditionI set for asking me. At the present moment I am heartwhole and fairlyfancy-free. I have no admirers here in the backwoods, and nothingdisturbs the even tenor of my progress toward old maidism. Alas! Itis 2 much.

“Iam sorry you are homesick, but don’t see how I can help you,especially since I must cease writing to you. Unless, indeed you canfind solace in that remark of some great man, I forget his name, whosaid that when he was alone he was never lonely, because he was ingood company.”

Goodbyetill October. Edith

***

8/28/06- Miss Griswold: –

“Iwish to inform you that I am not in the habit of associating myselfwith paupers, especially self acknowledged. That a person could notraise the price of even one postage stamp during the space of twomonths in this wealthy country is incomprehensible to the dullestmind. Out of sheer pity for such an object poverty I send you allthe stamps I have at present. If you are able to return them later,I will have a high opinion of your honesty. If not I will simply classifythis with other innumerable deeds of charity that I have performedin my virtuous life.

“Idon’t see why you are in such a hurry to see me married to Bessieor someone else. I am not engaged nor entangled in any love affairat the present time and rather enjoy the novelty of the thing. I amsure that I won’t get married while I am in the desert as thisis positively no place for a woman, especially without occupation.There is no housework to be done here as I must be around the mineall day, she must either follow me around or see me only for a fewminutes before going to bed or getting up. Isn’t that nice? Ifshe lived in Las Vegas, she would enjoy my company one hour or soonce a week. It takes a pretty strong love to do either. Any girlwho wants the job can have it. Now here is a chance! Instead of livingpenniless you would have money in your pocket all the time, but nochance to spend it. Would you like that better?

“Ofcourse this state of affairs won’t continue forever. It is onlya matter of a few months more before I will be in clover in “God’sown country.” I am accumulating money at a fearful rate. I amsending $130 to $140 every month to Oakland. Doesn’t that speakwell for me? The balance I blow in working clothes, tobacco and liquor.You can readily perceive that I am intoxicated all the time with beerat 12 1/2 cents a glass or whiskey at $2 per bottle, and undrinkableat that.

“EnclosedI send you some view of the placeandpeople. Please note the hungry look on my face, and how thin I am(180 lbs). The dirt and oil caked on my trousers can’t be seenvery clearly on the photograph, but with a little imagination youcan see all the details.

“Nowabout the engagement ring. If you have not returned it at the timewhen the engagement was broken off, and if the man did not ask forit after a few months, I think you should keep it as a souvenir. Ifyou should offer to return it, the man may think that you wish torenew the acquaintance etc. Some girls get engaged and break off justfor the sake of collecting rings, and derive quite a little pleasurebesides.

“Hopingto hear soon of you, I remain,”

Yourshopefully, Paul Ligda

***

9/3/06- Dear Paul: –

“Iam returning as many of the pictures as I can spare. I would liketo have the others, but of course if you want them yourself thereis nothing to be said. Oh, what bliss it would be to be your wife!Stingy!

“Iwill also return the stamps. I will send them on the installment plan.You will find the first installment on the envelope of this letter.The others will follow in due time. When I have written you 11 moreletters my debt to you will be paid and you may send me a receipt.

“Don’tworry about me at present. My people supply me with funds. I onlywrote the way I did because I am economizing. I feel that I oughtto earn my own living and not increase my obligations to the familyany more than I can help. They haven’t any too much ready moneyand have done their share for me, and more too. I haven’t sofar succeeded in getting a position. The Cincinnati people electedsomeone else without waiting to have me come down.

“Thefamily are not especially anxious to have me go to work this winter.They think I am too delicate (!) to teach school and want me to stayhome and wash dishes instead!

“Whatgave you the idea that I would like to see you married to Bessie orsomeone else? I never said so. I have been strictly noncommittal onthe subject. As for marrying you in order to have money in my pocket,no, thank you. Marrying for money is treating yourself – and someoneelse – to a free ticket to the infernal regions. If I ever marry aman it will be because we each like the other better than anyone else.I would like a real genuine case of “love,” the kind youread about, but I realize that the genuine thing is not often foundin real life, so I don’t insist on it. I should tho insist onhis being someone I could respect. I couldn’t respect a man whowasn’t his own boss, and kept himself in pretty good order physically,mentally, and morally. I should want him to be my superior mentallyand my equal socially. Etcetera, etcetera. Every girl has her ideason this subject, and pays not the slightest attention to them whenhe pops the question. I blush for the fallibilities of my sisters.I don’t share the one you mention, a weakness for collectingengagement rings. I do hope I am more honest than that. I merely asked,to see what your ideas on the subject are, and am repaid with a vastdeal of sarcasm.

“Knowthen, my dear Paul, that the diamond ring which adorned my fingerwhen you last saw me is in fact an engagement ring, and also my ring,but not my engagement ring. Can you make head or tail of that incoherenttangle of words? I have often told you what my opinion of flirtingis, and I am happy to say that my conscience is clear on that point.I once let a man fall in love with me because I was too young andgreen to know, till it came to the crucial point, that I did not carefor him enough to marry him, and I have suffered enough remorse forit to keep me from ever doing such a thin again willfully. When aflirtation seems to be getting too serious, I speak right out in meeting,and then what happens after that is not my lookout, as we childrenused to say. All the remnants of my engagement in my possession area few letters, perhaps three, and a copy of my answer to one of them.I intend to burn the lot of them sometime.

“Well,it’s time to go and wash more dishes. Let me hear from you soon.”

Yoursas ever, Edith

***

9/4/06- Freshie dear: –

“Receivedyour breezy letter of the 3rd. After reading it, I could have huggedyou from delight. Oh joy, oh bliss, oh heaven – subject enough fora dozen fat letters . . . withering her under the fire of my sarcasm.Well now I will digest your letter sentence by sentence, no word byword . . .

“Iam sorry that I have been refused on account of my wealth, or ratherthat my wealth was not an attraction. Oh very well I will have totry some other way when I have time. You are certainly consistent,as, in another part of this remarkable missive, you say that you wishto marry socially your equal. At the present state of your financesit means a pauper. Well I will wait until I am broke before proposing.

“Iconsider you one of the brightest girls I have met, otherwise I wouldnot write to you. I also consider you intellectually superior to mostmen, although inferior to me (isn’t that nice? Hence —————draw your own conclusions.

Yourssarcastically, Paul

***

9/11/06- Dear Edith: –

“Onesentence struck me in your last letter, “Genuine love is notoften met in real life, we only find it in books.” I am wonderingwhether you are right or not.

“Iwould say there are two kinds of love, the kind we read about andthe kind that really exists and is not scarce at all. When we readof love in books, we overlook too often the fact that books describein full details the few moments and thoughts when the person in loveindulges in the pastime and the writer slides smoothly over the periodsseparating such moments. That is even the book does not pretend toimply that all the thoughts of the person in love are about the beloved,etc. We form that conclusion very erroneously ourselves and alwaysfeel dissatisfied with the real article which we could find at ourfeet. Then again the book for obvious reasons, hardly ever describesthe material part of love, which is the more important of the two.Poo, Poo, at the books.

“Whenyou say “I wish I had a case of genuine love” you mean:“I wish I could like a person so much that I could give my thoughts,my work, my person, my life to him. And I would do it if he lovedme.” If the loved me means simply if he were ready to do thesame for me as I do for him. Simply an exchange of compliments.

“Nowif you knew a man and he did something for you nice and unselfish,you would feel grateful toward him and would feel like doing the sameto him. Multiply these acts by 1000, cube it and deal of purely physicalattraction. Now comes the critical point. Marry him and remove thephysical attraction by satiety, etc. Does love remain? No!

“Butthis is getting disgraceful. I am writing too much to you lately.”

Yoursscientifically, Paul Ligda

***

Edith could not respond while she was away in Columbus for the Ohio State Fair. She did mail Paul a note on September 9 saying she hadn’t heard from him in a week, but was looking forward to reading his letters when she returned to Worthington the next day. The letter she found waiting was Paul’s of September 4 in which he had written: “here I better stop or I will be proposing to you next. I wonder . . . ” Edith responded indirectly:

9/14/06- Dear Paul: –

“Iam glad to hear that you are intending to be rich some day. In viewof this fact, why do you tantalize me with a suggestion that thereis still hope for me? Didn’t you yourself solemnly assure methat I had lost my chance?

“Supposinghowever that you really want to know what I would say if you proposedto me, I shall answer it seriously. There are several reasons whyI cannot tell you what I would say. Have you ever read “An OldFashioned Girl?” In this book one scene greatly impressed me- The critical moment arrives, and Tom says, “Oh, Polly, do youlove me?” and Polly, dear girl, replies, “Suppose I saidthat I did, Tom, and you should say you were sorry you could not reciprocate.How awkward I should feel!” Suppose I should say, “Yes Pauldear, I shall be very glad to accept you if you will only ask me.”and then you should say, “Well really, I’m awfully sorryfor you, but I haven’t the slightest intention of ever askingyou!” How awkward I should feel

“Mysecond reason for not telling you is that I am not quite sure thatI wouldn’t change my mind when it came to the point of sayingyes or no. I had an experience of that kind once, you remember mytelling you recently.

“Mythird reason for not telling you is that I have already told you severaltimes, not in so many words, it is true, but still in pretty intelligiblelanguage. I shall not tell you any more plainly until you put thequestion plainly. It is up to you. If you really want to know, youknow how to find out!

“Writesoon. I am awaiting that proposal with much eagerness. If ever I getit I will tell you a joke on myself.”

Yoursas before, Edith Griswold

In her note of September 12, Edith had mentioned that her brother, Ted, was to be married. She added, “Interested?”

9/18/06- Dear Edith: –

“Youask if I am interested in Ted’s marriage. Why should I be interestedin any marriage in the Griswold family excepting your own and evenon that one if I were not the victim? I haven’t the honor ofknowing Ted or the family unless Ted is the Oakland brother. Afteryou went away he would not recognize me on the street so I would retaliateby not being interested in his marriage. Boom!

“Nomatter who Ted is he is a lucky fellow. He found a girl who was willingto share his lot. So I envy him. I wish I could find a girl to sharemy present lot. By the way maybe you would be willing. If you are,please tell me, and I will propose in the most exquisite way . . .I know it would captivate your, then you could take the next trainto Las Vegas and I will have the minister – blacksmith – justice ofthe peace ready, then go for a honeymoon in the Desert. Wouldn’tthat be nice?

“Imust say the Desert is not so bad as it was in summer. The days arestill warm but not oppressive. The mornings and evenings are simplydelightful. We are a little more comfortable now than we used to be.I have a big room to myself with a floor, two windows and even a stove.The roof does not leak. I also have a couple of pretty fast horsesto drive to town, ad money at libitum. Now doesn’t all this fascinateyou? Of course, I will throw in as much love as you want, since youinsist on the obsolete article, but this I will reserve for my formalproposal and after marriage.

“Hopingthat I will very soon get an answer, I remain –

Yoursimpatiently, Paul

Paul mailed his indirect proposal on the 18th. The next day he wrote:

“I have no fortune to offer, no brilliant future, but my wife would never want so long as I had strength to move around. She would also be happy so long as she desired and it were in my power to make her. I do not promise to be her slave and obey all her whims, nor do I intend to be her master in all actions and thoughts. I offer a position of equality. All problems arising in our lives would be discussed and the more competent person would take charge of the solution. I shall have indulgence for her foibles and expect her to return the compliment. In short I will honor love and cherish her so long as she deserves it.

“Suchis the future I would offer you Edith . . . I have always liked youvery much – I believe you are just suited to me. You once said thatyou liked me very much and would have liked me more if I had shownyou more respect. I am now giving you the greatest proof of my respectin my power; I ask you to be my wife.”

Paul did not mail his formal proposal, but kept it awaiting a response to his indirect proposal of the 18th. It took about five days for delivery of a letter between Ohio and Nevada. Edith wrote a letter on September 21, the contents of which made it clear she had not yet received the proposal. As he waited, Paul wrote again.

9/22/06 – Dear Edith: –

“Idon’t dare to change the above yet, as I haven’t an answerto my last letter. I really ought to wait for it before writing toyou but decided to write for two reasons. The first is that, if theanswer is favorable, you would not mind getting news from me, if unfavorable,it won’t make any difference . . .

“Sincewriting the last letter life took a new aspect. I am spending my sparetime thinking of the beautiful future, what we would say and do if_____________ It took me a long time to make up my mind to do it chieflyon account of my unsettled finances, but you could see the thoughtstrotting through my head, if you read my letters carefully.

“Buthere another thought comes up . . . If she should refuse!!! What wouldI do then? I have been buffeted so much in this world that I havelearned to always make two plans, one in case of success in my venture,and the other in case of defeat. In the later case I first would tryto resign myself philosophically to my fate and mechanically try todivert my thoughts into other channels. I would leave this positionwhere I have too much time for thinking and would plunge into activelife. Mexico, Panama, or South Africa would probably be honored bymy presence, as I can get a position in either place. My little compoundbusiness can take care of itself by what my brother writes, and thereis too much leisure for me. Would I try to get acquainted with girlsagain? I doubt it, as I would have lost all faith in women. I wouldprobably become a hardened old bachelor. Maybe I would retire fromthe world into a University where mental work, for which I alwayshad a fondness, would prevent me from thinking and remembering.

“WouldI plunge into dissipation not being restrained by any good influence?Hardly. I have sown my wild oats pretty well and harvested the usualcrop. I had so many “good times” that they are not goodany more. Well this letter is turning out pretty gloomy. I think andhope that your answer will be such that I won’t have to indulgeany more in such thoughts. I remain

Yoursexpectantly, Paul Ligda

Before mailing this letter, Paul received Edith’s letters of the 14th and 18th. He responded along with his letter of the 22nd.

9/24/06 – Dear Edith: –

“Receivedyour double letter of the 14th & 18th inst. Must commend you on yourthrifty and saving habits. Said letter is kind of encouraging andmakes me hope for a favorable answer . . .

“NowEdith dear I am surprised that you have such a small opinion of meas to insinuate that I would ever answer “I am sorry but I don’tlove you.” I don’t indulge in such pleasant catches, andif I had been a hypocrite looking merely for amusement at the timeI saw you would have professed my undying love, etc. You would probablyhave been satisfied as women like to believe words of mouth.

“Hopingto hear soon off you, I remain yours

Lovingly,Paul

Edith apparently received Paul’s proposal on September 27. The wording left her still somewhat in doubt. Her response was brief.

9/27/06- Dear Paul: –

“CivilService exam tomorrow and I am too busy to write at length. But sinceyou are waiting “impatiently” for an answer – stupid, astho I hadn’t told you on an average of once a month for say twoyears now – the idea of a honeymoon in the desert appeals to me. Isn’tthat nice?

“Willwrite Saturday more fully,

Yours,Edith

P.S.When it comes, I shall say, “Oh, this is so sudden!”

On September 29, she added: “I have yet to gain the consent of my loving family. I haven’t said anything to them yet . . .”

Edith was, perhaps, still uncertain of her status. On October 1, she wrote:

“It seems as though I must be engaged to you, yet how can I be engaged to a man who doesn’t know I have decided to marry him; and, as a matter of fact, hasn’t even proposed?”

Meanwhile, on October 2, Paul felt certain enough to make a direct commitment to marry Edith:

“I wonder if you will come to Las Vegas and get married. Come to think of it, I have to propose first. Here goes . . .
“Dear, dear Edith . . . will you be my wife?”

On October 10, with Edith’s acceptance virtually assured, Paul mailed the proposal he had written on September 19. In fact, Edith had written on October 8:

“I suppose now that I can consider myself really and truly engaged to you, can’t I? How queer it feels, pleasant, but sort of “shivery, too.”

Paul responded:

“You say that you are happy to have a “shivery” feeling. Over what: I don’t bite. I certainly intend to do the best I can for you and will try to make you happy.”

He was anxious to set the date:

“I think a winter in the desert will do you more good than a winter in Ohio. How soon do you intend to come to Las Vegas? I positively won’t wait over two weeks.”

On October 13, Edith, after checking the fares, found there was an excursion rate until October 31 and asked: “Do you want me that soon?” But she also advised that she had yet to tell her family. When she finally told her mother, her mother said: ” . . it didn’t seem right to her . . . for me to go to Las Vegas . . . permissible, but hardly desirable.” Edith added that she couldn’t ask for money for the trip: ” . . . so if you want me, you’ll have to finance the enterprise. I should much prefer waiting till I earned some money myself. It is rather humiliating to accept your money before I am married.”

Paul jumped at Edith’s offer. On October 20, he wrote:
“So I have to finance the enterprise. So much the better . . . I have absolutely no use for money here . . . I do not want to wait until you earn money yourself . . . I will send you the $65 fare and $10 for a sleeper. Now will you be good and come quick? My conscious is troubling me about an engagement ring, but I can’t do anything here as there are no jewelry stores. Would you consider it humiliating if you had to buy one with money I sent you? The same applies to wedding rings . . . I hope to receive a telegram in a week announcing your arrival.”

As it turned out, the fare was greater and Edith felt November 24 (her 23rd birthday) a better date for the marriage. “That would sort of condense anniversaries in the family and be a nice start on my 24th year.”

Paul was dismayed. On October 29, he chided:

“I have received the sorrowful information that you don’t want to be married until the 24th of November. Four more weeks of single blessedness. All right. I will get a pound of morphine tomorrow and sleep the time away.”

Edith was unable to complete her plans. On November 11, she wrote: “I am beginning to despair of ever getting ready to come.” Then, when she actually had the ticket, her family stepped in.

11/14/06 – Dearest: –

“Iwrote you a few days ago . . . telling when I would start. but I didnot send it, for yesterday the family held a council of war, and -they will not let me go. I have been crying all night and I can hardlysee to write. If you say anything unkind to me it will break my heart.It is cruel to disappoint you so at the last minute. It is cruel tome, too. They might at least have told me in the first place, insteadof waiting till the day before I had planned to start . . . They sayit is my duty to stay home and help Mama. And they put it in sucha way that I cannot refuse. As you know, I am indebted to the familyfor my college education, and I have never done anything especialto help at home, and I am the only one left here . . . So all I cando is to beg your pardon for raising false hopes – remember they weremy hopes too – and to tell you that you are, if you wish, releasedfrom you engagement to me. Oh, Paul.”

Ever yourslovingly, Edith

Luckily Paul didn’t receive this letter until after Edith was able to convince her family to allow the marriage. On November 16, she wired: “Disregard Wednesday letter. Leaving immediately . . .” En route, she stopped to accept the best wishes of relatives in Ft. Leavenworth and in Denver. She did not arrive in Las Vegas until December 4. Paul and Edith were married the same day in the parlor of the Palace Hotel.

Paul liked being married. His work seemed easier. He was involved in digging a tunnel to a ledge where the investors, primarily Dr. Hillegass, believed they would find gold at about 1,240 feet. Progress on the tunnel varied – usually 5 to 7 feet/day. He hoped to strike gold before work would have to be delayed because of the intense summer heat. Edith was pregnant. In May, as the days began getting hotter, they decided it would be better if she stayed with Paul’s mother in Oakland while Paul finished the job. Sharing the home were Pete, her 27 year old brother-in law, and Valentine, her 20 year old sister-in-law. She wrote: “Mrs. Ligda is very good to me. So are the others for that matter. They gave me a set of table silver . . . a deferred wedding present.”

This was to be the first of many separations their marriage would endure. Paul wrote frequently announcing his progress with the drilling. As he neared 1,240 feet, Dr. Hillegass came to the camp to supervise the work, but with temperatures of 130 degrees in the engine room, and with frequent resignations from the crew, the work had to be stopped. After being away from home over a year, Paul returned to Oakland promising Dr. Hillegass he would complete the drilling in the fall.

Paul resumed working in the family business. He and Edith moved to San Rafael to be near the works. Their first son, Victor Worthington, was born there on September 17, 1907. Paul was delighted to be a father. He had the company of his son for the first six weeks before returning to Las Vegas to honor his commitment to Dr. Hillegass. He lamented: “Why is it my fate to be always separated from my friends and from good things?”

Paul was back in Las Vegas on November 2. He noticed the town had changed: “At least 4 new buildings have been erected; half a dozen tents are gone, and a few buildings have been painted. But money seems to be pretty scarce, and everybody wants to do business with me.” The work did not go well. He first expected to reach the ledge in: “3 weeks or so.” They did not. On November 13, he reported: “We are in at 1285 feet. The rock looks the same as ever, and the only gold in sight is what the Doc spends.” The drilling continued to 1,360 feet. Dr. Hillegass decided to go to 1,400 feet. There was still no strike. On December 2, Dr. Hillegass came to the mine. After watching the progress of the drilling and consulting with his surveyor, he felt they would be more likely to find gold by cross cutting. The drilling continued, so Paul and Edith celebrated their first anniversary apart. He wrote it had been a year of happiness:

” . . . I did not think possible. Toward you I have nothing but the best feelings . . . I wish you were here now. I believe that I would tell you all the nice things that lovers are supposed to deliver to their flames . . . I will try . . . you are the nicest little girl I ever knew, and I am mighty glad that you belong to me . . . After a year of your company I would gladly pledge myself again to love, honor and cherish you . . .”

Edith shared his feelings:

“If all the rest of our married life is as happy as this first year has been, I shall be satisfied . . . I am longing to have you home again . . . I miss my best friend more than I do my lover, to have someone to talk to of all the little things that are too intimate to tell an outsider and too trivial to write . . . someone to comfort me when I am tired or lonely, someone to do the dear kind things you used to do for me, someone to be patient with me when I do wrong . . . there isn’t a minute of the day when I am not missing you.”

Cross cutting didn’t result in a strike. On December 10, further efforts were abandoned. Paul was home in San Rafael for Christmas, 1907.

With the mining venture behind, Paul resumed his position as President of the family business. Sales increased as did repeat orders. Profits were adequate to support all three brothers. On September 27, 1909, the Ligda Brothers assigned the rights to the process by which the broiler compound was made to the corporation. The corporation then issued additional stock, much of which was purchased by Dr. Hillegass, who came into a position of control in the business. After the reorganization, there were plans to expand and to move the works out of Marin County where the supply of eucalyptus trees was thinning. The leaves of the tree were an essential ingredient in the production of the compound.

On August 12, 1909, Paul and Edith had their second child, Barbara. With the business doing well, Edith was able to take the children to visit her family in Ohio over the holidays. Paul stayed behind to help in looking for a place to move the company works and to find new housing for his growing family. He first rented a furnished room for $5/week on Clay Street in San Francisco near the company

office in the Santa Marina Building at 112 Market Street. With plenty of idle time, he renewed the acting career he had begun in college. He had a role in “Colly’s Widow,” which played a week at the Alcazar Theatre. He then joined the Alcazar Quartet, which appeared nightly in “Blue Jeans” and in other performances. Paul had a wonderful singing voice and sought opportunities to perform throughout his life. He is mentioned as a soloist in a program at the Central Theatre in San Francisco on December 2, 1910.

Despite the excitement of his theatre appearances, Paul wrote that he “felt lost” in San Francisco. He concentrated his house hunting in Oakland where he felt rental prices were more reasonable, e.g., ” . . . for about $20 we can get a cottage or bungalow of about 4-5 rooms with gas and electricity.” He actually did a little better renting 563 E. 24th Street, a two bedroom cottage with water, gas, and electricity for $18/month. Edith returned from Ohio to their new home in January, 1910.

Paul remained as President of California Manufacturers Supply Company after the reorganization. On November 22, 1911, Pete and Paul put their stock in the new company in a voting trust of 7,200 shares with George E. Bennett who held 2,200 shares. Under terms of the trust, H. P. Jacobson, the trustee had to vote all shares as directed by the majority, i.e., any two of the three shareholders. By this device, the Paul and Pete exercised greater control. Nonetheless, according to family accounts, controlling interest had passed to Dr. Hillegass who was expected to become a member of the family after his marriage to Valentina Ligda to whom he was then engaged.

The marriage did not take place. Val fell in love with Phil Heuer and, despite pleas from others in the family who saw the marriage to Hillegass as providing financial security, married Heuer on January 10, 1912. Dr. Hillegass, crushed by Val’s rejection and perhaps feeling Paul or Pete were in some way responsible, withdrew his support for the business. On January 15, Pete and Paul removed Mr. Jacobson as trustee of their voting trust, but by May 26, the business collapsed. Pete abandoned his family and moved to Southern California where he tried to start another compound business. Paul, nearing his 40th birthday, with a wife and three children (Theodore having been born on January 28, 1912), was out of work. His relationship with his sister, Val, remained strained for years.

Paul looked for work near home as a manager in some form of construction or manufacturing. He was not successful. The early months of 1912 became what he described as a period of “worry and unrest” as family savings dwindled. With few options, he took work as a foreman wherever a job would take him: first to a ranch near Belmont; then back to Las Vegas. He returned to Oakland to escape the summer heat, but still could find no work near home. On August 21, 1912, he again left to take a job with Stone & Webster Construction Company blasting tunnels in the Sierras near Auberry in Fresno County. He wrote:

“Why couldn’t the world be a little more gentle to us? To you specially? . . . I hate to have you stand such sorrows . . . During the night I often thought of you and the kidlets and how nice life has been so far with us. I also thought of how lucky it was that I kept in good condition for hard work. It will always deep us alive . . . until better times and other chances come. I am still full of good intentions and am thinking of more.”

Despite the discouragement of being unable to find a management job near his home and of having to take a job as a laborer in a work crew among 2,000 men working 12 hour shifts over a 6 mile area, Paul was hopeful:

“The more I see the conditions here, the more I realize that there is a good chance here to climb up to a good position. The first thing to do is to give satisfaction to my particular boss. Once this is done and he feels well disposed toward me I will explain to him that I need the money, and he will recommend me to any other boss a a good steady man. repeating the process several times will land me near the top of the pile. There are lots of good jobs here and changes are very frequent . . . I am going to get up again, I must and I will.”

With savings almost exhausted, the Ligda financial situation was serious. Paul sent the bulk of his $3/day wages home with frequent apologies there was not more, but always with assurances:

“I am doing my best for my dear little family now and will continue to fight as long as I live. You know me well enough by this time, and I hope that you are sure that as long as I am able to do so I will work for you and do it with pleasure because I love you all and you my wife better than myself.”

To help, Paul cut his own expenses, e.g., “As soon as I run out of tobacco, I will stop smoking as we cannot afford the 10 cents per day that it costs.” His attempt was unsuccessful, but he did report that he cut down. He also reported: “I have not had a drink since I left . . . and have no desire for one.” He wrote of his frustration of paying $1 for working gloves which would wear out in a few days – a problem he solved by making gloves out of old shoes. Still, he saw the need for some frivolous spending. After selling his meershaum pipe and one of his curves for $2.75, he sent the money to Edith with this instruction:

“I wish that you would use the $2.75 as follows: $2.00 strictly for yourself and 25 cents for each child. It is not money earned hence should be applied to luxuries.”

Paul missed his family deeply:

“I am mighty sorry that I cannot help you except by the money that I earn and my best wishes. You are a great help to me even when you are far away, for whenever anything disagreeable happens . . . I think of you and . . . the thought encourages me to do my best. However I miss you a lot. I also miss the babies. I would like to be present when Victor masters his letters, Barbara learns some new accomplishment, or Teddy begins to crawl . . .”

Paul’s work and attitude earned modest advancement. After two months he was off the crews and assigned to solving engineering problems involved in the project. As winter approached and the weather cooled, the work was scaled back. He feared he would be reassigned to the field.

During the entire period, Paul worked on the tunnel project, Pete was writing from Los Angeles with assurances the new compound business was doing well and that he would soon send the money that would allow Paul to move his family to Los Angeles. Although Paul had little confidence in Pete’s promises, he was homesick. He allowed himself enough hope that he resigned his position to go home and resume the search for work within commuting distance. He was not completely successful. He took a job as a carpenter in Bay Point near Concord in Contra Costa County. To get the job, he had to leave home on November 20, 1912 (four days before Edith’s 29th birthday). His work was close enough to Berkeley to allow an occasional trip home when he could afford the $2 expense. He was away on December 4, his 6th anniversary. He wrote:

“You have made a better man of me . . . The process is sometimes painful to both, but thank you just the same dearest. I hope that you will succeed . . . Thank you for the happy years that I enjoyed in your company. Thanks for the nice, lovable children that you bore to me, and thanks for the loyal, loving help that you always gave me. We have both made mistakes and are bound to make some more, but let us forget them and remember only the best that happened to both and that both did. And let us continue to help each other through many more anniversaries . . . having no presents to send you I will only send you a larger amount of love, and will think of you more (if possible).”

The job in Bay Point was completed quickly. Paul was home in Berkeley for Christmas. There was still no money from Pete and still no work near home. In February, 1913, with money low, Paul signed on as a carpenter in a railroad crew which worked on bridges. The crew was sent to Solidad and then to Pajaro. Paul was soon appointed foreman at a salary of $3.50/day and board. The raise came none too soon. Edith was struggling to pay the bills. Paul had written:

“So you are down to $31 and the rent to pay. But you must not sell your ring. When you get short of money, pawn my watch for $30. this will keep you going till pay day in April. Besides you can sell my dress suit and tuxedo. I will never need those again.”

The appointment as foreman pleased him. He wrote that he was “driving slaves instead of being driven,” and: “My rank as foreman in the bridge and building department of the So. Pacific is nothing to be ashamed of to our friends as I am in charge of about 25 men.” His pay was increased to $4/day. He saw good times on the horizon:

“Every day our little pile grows and this thought makes me feel better. Pretty soon we will have enough to pay all our bills and outfit ourselves.”

His elation lasted nine days:

“I am reduced to the ranks again. The gang has been cut down and I am lucky to be retained at all as some of the men that have been here longer were let out . . . It is pretty hard on me, and I first considered quitting but after I had cooled down and thought of you and the babies, I decided to give it at least a trial. Times are not good enough yet and I have not earned enough money to entitle me to a rest . . . How I wish that I had you around here to comfort me. I had hoped so much from my raise . . . but now I have to start all over . . . Somebody stole my hammer and I have to buy a new one. So if you have money to spare send me $2 . . . I have $4 and want to keep that much in case I get fired or quit.”

Fear of being fired was common among crew workers who looking for permanent work. Each week Paul would search the Sunday want ads looking for a job near home or a permanent position anywhere his family could .join him. He followed up on anything which looked promising. Nothing developed. But, when his boss quit, Paul was appointed to his position. The promotion relieved him of what he called “wheelbarrow work.” He was now building door and window frames with used lumber. He suspected he was given the job because no one else knew how, but the steady work was welcome. On April 14, 1913, he reported:

“The blow is falling. The official news is that there is work only for a week . . . I don’t know just what to do . . . I don’t want to wait till I am laid off because I am bound to lose tools and things in the turmoil when a big crowd is going . . . I am not worrying at all about finding another job as carpenters wages are advancing right now. Several concerns are paying $3.75 and $3.50 jobs are plentiful, but of course it is out of town . . . I am mighty glad of the prospect of seeing you again . . . This is not much of a job and I am sure I can do better.”

Paul was right. On May 1, he was hired as an Engineer in charge of constructing new warehouses for U. S. Steel in San Francisco. This job lasted 14 months and allowed Paul to get his family on a sound financial basis. Months of unsteady work followed. Edith helped by taking in washing. Paul tried to reassure her: “I am not resigned to my fate and still struggle to get nearer the top of the pile.” He described the winter of 1914 as: “a hard winter . . . [that] brought us closer together than ever and showed us what we could do in an emergency.”

In January, 1915, Paul again left to take a $4/day job with L. E. Hale, Electrician in Stockton. He moved in with Howard Griswold, his brother-in-law, whose wife, Cora, was visiting in the East. It had been nearly three years after the collapse of his business and Paul was still without a permanent position. To Edith, he wrote:

“I thought of how much you stood lately . . . It brought a great wave of tenderness in my heart toward you. Other women that we know have so much and you have so little. I felt really mad at myself for providing so little and for having brought you into my hornet’s nest. I hope to do better later. The little I send you makes me really ashamed of myself when I think of our many and crying needs. And besides I am really more comfortable than you are and have more leisure time and better food. The irony of it!

”. . . Outside circumstances are constantly interfering with our plans,spoiling things most of the time, and improving them once in a while.We don’t seem to be of much account in our own lives, but simplythe puppets of some blind destiny which drives us noone knows where. . . One of the reasons for my good humor is that I know from longexperience that I cannot help in a lot of the things that happen tome and cannot help in the results, so why worry? . . . Nothing existsbut our minds which is the spectator of a series of events duringa period of time we call life. Life is an exaggerated moving pictureshow. We watch pictures passing in front of us. During the show wemay be satisfied and happy or dissatisfied, unhappy or uncomfortableas we choose.”

After Cora returned, she and Howard sold their home. Paul moved to a furnished room in a neighborhood he described as full of “Dagoes.” He joined a local church so he could sing in the choir and break the monotony of his day off. It would have cost him $2.70 – over half a day’s wages – to make the trip home. It was a luxury they could not afford. Paul wrote Edith:

“I don’t miss you so much on weekdays as I have something to do every moment of the day, but Sunday is awful . . . I will never get used to living without you.”

Among the goals Paul and Edith set was saving $100 before they would spend any money on luxuries. In his letters, Paul often asked for a report on “the treasury.” Their goal suffered quite a setback on discovery that $20 had been taken from Edith’s purse – apparently by Victor who was 7 at the time. Paul was discouraged, but philosophical:

“Regarding the $20, they are gone and they are not the first nor will not be the last twenties that we have lost or will lose in some way or the other. Money is round so it easily rolls away. I would not try to economize on necessities . . .[or] try to make it up at all in fact, it is gone just in the same way as measles . . . The children are bound to cost us something one way or the other. Let us forget it.”

The work in Stockton ended in August, 1915. Paul returned home, again taking what jobs he could find. They supplemented the family income by taking in boarders. Edith worked from time to time caring for children or taking in washing. Paul did not like her to do heavy physical work. In 1916, with World War I creating a demand for skilled workers, their luck improved. Paul got a job with Pacific Rolling Mill in San Francisco doing structural iron work. In 1917, he was hired as a shipfitter for Bethlehem Ship-Building Co. in Alameda. In his non working hours, Paul made skillets and knives out of the scrap iron discarded at the yard.

Paul enjoyed being home enjoying his family. They

were not wealthy, but content. He did things for his children. He built a swimming pool for them in the yard of the home they rented at 2717 Russell Street in Berkeley. Edith worried about his health which she described as, “our most important asset.” Paul, now in his mid 40s, found hard physical work now tired him from time to time. He longed for more challenging work. Teaching appealed to him.

In 1920, Paul and Edith had their fourth child, Myron Herbert. The war was at an end and work at the shipyard began to decline. Paul took night courses in a teacher training class in Oakland to earn a teaching certificate. Edith observed: “Several women teachers earn $2,600/year – more than Paul earned at his best.”

Paul scored 205 on the mental test for teacher applicants. The median for his group was 191. On February 23, 1921, he was hired as a teacher of mathematics at Vocational (later McClymonds) High School in Oakland, three miles from his home. He walked to and from work each day. He loved teaching. He was extremely well liked by the students and fellow teachers. ⁷

Work as a teacher opened Paul’s intellectual life. Edith reported that: “Paul likes to talk at night after the children are in bed. Psychology is his favorite subject – he is trying the intelligence tests on his students.” In 1922, he began writing a book on teaching algebra. On October 25, Edith reported:

“Paul has been working furiously on his book and is doing very well with it. He thinks it will be finished by the end of Christmas vacation. He gets up at 4 or 5 o’clock every morning and works on it, as well as evenings. It is a good thing he has the constitution of a horse, for he is certainly burning his candle at both ends at present.”

He completed his manuscript in January, 1923 and submitted it to Houghton Mifflin Company of Boston. Their response was encouraging:

“I need hardly say that I am very enthusiastic concerning the general plan and content of your book, otherwise I should not have put the time on it which I have. I am equally convinced, however, that the manuscript needs very considerable revision along certain lines indicated . . . I shall be most interested in your reaction.”

Paul’s plunged into making the suggested revisions. On September 1, Edith reported:

“Paul is trying to do 3 men’s work at once – he gets up at 5 and works ’til 10 at night on his book besides teaching and taking daily trips to S. F. to superintend the building there.”

His book, “The Teaching of Elementary Algebra,” was completed in 1924 and published in 1925. With this accomplishment, Paul had become an established and respected educator. He was ranked 1 (exceptionally good) by his principal. He taught extension courses for the University of California. He continued submitting professional articles throughout his teaching career. ⁸

In 1925, Paul and Edith rented a large home at 6165 Chabot Road in Oakland. The property was bordered by a creek and surrounded with spacious, but unkept grounds. By spending a few hours in the garden each morning before leaving for school, Paul created a garden spot. The Ligdas held Easter Egg hunts on the property for many years. In 1925, for the first time since beginning his teaching career, Paul did not attend summer school. He spent the summer at home with his family and working in his garden. Edith reported that he had become, “a croquet devotee – beats everyone but Vic.”

By 1928, family finances had improved to the point Edith managed a trip to Ohio to visit her family. She took Ted (16) and Herbert (8). Victor (20) and Barbara (18) stayed at home with Paul. Despite problems with Ted whose behavior brought him to the attention of the juvenile authorities, these were good times for the Ligdas. Victor graduated from U. C. Berkeley. Barbara was a student there. Both worked and contributed to the family. Paul was understandably proud.

That year, with $60, Paul and Edith bought their first car – a 1923 Ford coupe they named “Henrietta.” The car became Paul’s passion. He spent many happy hours tinkering with the engine and keeping the machine in top working order (although not always successfully judging by an article in the school paper). Family life was expanded by weekend motoring trips. Paul found time to spend alone with his wife.

In 1930, while in Barbara’s care, “Henrietta” was totaled. Paul promptly bought a Buick 7 passenger car which they named, “Parsifal.” The family trips continued around California and to Tijuana, Mexico. On June 22, 1932, while he and Edith were returning from a trip to the Pacific Northwest, “Parsifal” plunged off the embankment of the Hopland Grade north of Cloverdale. Paul and Edith were both seriously injured, but Edith managed to crawl back to the road and summon help. Both were taken to a local hospital. Edith was released after treatment, but Paul was transferred to Merrit Hospital in Oakland where he underwent an operation which seemed to go well. Paul was expected to recover well in advance of the start of the 1932-33 school year. However, complications developed and he died unexpectedly on August 6, 1932.

His funeral was held at St. Peter’s Episcopal Church with a public service at the Chapel of the Chimes.