Recipes for Living Mike and Lucile Roe

Mike came to the door on the morning of July 13, 1999, dragging his "fish line". He'd caught a big one, he said-a relatively large oxygen tank, the kind that converts air to oxygen and doesn’t need moisture. His brother, John, had used a huge one that needed water so Mike and Lucile are happy to have this one. Mike wasn't sure about doing his life story but Lucile encouraged him saying, "The government has it all anyway. You might as well go ahead." At the time of a later interview, Lucile mentioned that the day was their 58th wedding anniversary. "What are you doing to celebrate?" "We're sitting here looking at one another and wondering where 58 years have gone."

Mike began. He was born in Lucas County where his parents, James Sherman and Effie Elizabeth Nine Roe, farmed. Mike's mother is a second or third cousin of Francilia Nine Reynolds. Mike commented that the Nine family had 99 children, 11 Nines.

Mike was born October 29, 1919. He had an older sister, Edna (Phimmer), who married Charlotte Kelley's brother, Saxon. She was 15 or 16 years older than Mike and taught him to be left-handed, which was not natural to him. The result has been that he does some things with his right and some with his left hand. She lived to be 93 and is buried at Norwood.

The boys in Mike’s family are Virgil Henry; John Martin; Leo Sherman (Mike), and James Bernard (Shine). Mention James or Bernard Roe around Chariton and no one will know who that is, but say "Shine Roe" and he will be known. The nickname "Shine" was one that their father gave him. Mike associated it with "You Are My Sunshine" which Lucile contested, saying the song was written long afterward.

There were 14 years between Virgil and Mike, five years between John and Mike and five between Mike and Shine. John loved to scare Mike to the point where he was almost afraid to go out at night to the outdoor toilet. John would jump out of the dark, or beat on the toilet door. Such are big brothers.

Mike became seriously ill as a child. His tonsils were very bad and he often had tonsillitis. In addition he had something that might have been scarlet fever that caused sores inside his mouth and down his throat.

The Roe children went to school at Norwood, which was one of the first in the state to be consolidated. (Marion Ashby went to the same school and his sister and Mike were in the same class.) Lucile commented that whereas other children Mike's age were walking to school, Norwood buses picked up their pupils. Mike began driving the bus when he was about 16. The administration would simply dismiss him about five minutes early and he would get the bus from where he had parked it behind the school. Unlike today, there was no discipline problem on the bus, except for one boy who "acted up". Mike thinks he "probably whopped him one on the side of the head and that took care of it." He had one family that was always late and one day Mike simply went off and left them. When he arrived at school, the superintendent told him to go back and get them. Instead, Mike went home and told his dad, who went to school to have a talk to the superintendent. The end of the story was that the superintendent went to pick them up but they weren't late for the bus again.

Mike graduated in 1938, and began hauling with his father's truck. They simply took the school bus body off the chassis and put on a grain body. Mike hauled coal from the Confidence mine between Chariton and Centerville, Iowa; corn, grain, or "anything I could make a dollar hauling."

In 1940 preparations for war were becoming evident. Mike went to Burlington to work in the ordnance plant. Until it opened, he worked at Denny's Hamburger Shop. Being already a licensed chauffeur, when he became an employee of the plant he was hired to drive an intraplant bus, taking employees from place to place within the complex.

Mike and Lucile were married July 26, 1941. The small-world aspect of their wedding was that they and Helen and Lynn Stickler live almost directly across the street from one another in Osceola. The Sticklers were married in December before Mike and Lucile in July and drove them to Missouri. Mike commented that he thought Lynn was taking him to a movie and he came back married. "Been mad at him ever since."

Lucile and Mike had known each other since he was a senior in Norwood and she a junior in Woodburn, but other than talking to one another at ball games, a relationship did not begin until after he had graduated. Lucile had been born in Calhoun County on March 15, 1922, to Earl Edward and Irene Rudiger Mackey. Irene's father, Henry Rudiger, ran a saloon in Princeton, Illinois. The renowned preacher, Billy Sunday, came through preaching the evils of liquor; prohibition came in, and for some time the country was dry. Henry came to Iowa to manage a farm 1910.

Earl Mackey had been raised on a farm east of Woodburn and had bought land in Calhoun County. During W.W. I, prices dropped dramatically. The country went back to supply and demand. Lots of people, including Earl, lost their farms. He came back to Clarke County and started over at the age of 45. When he died, he owned 200 acres. He was one of many in that era who proved they had the courage and persistence to begin again, and do it successfully.

Men, of course, didn't do that alone. Women, too, had the qualities necessary to be the helpmate in all ways. Lucile says of her mother that she was typical of the age she lived in: modest, with definite ideas about right and wrong. Older members of the Osceola United Methodist Church will remember Irene. She lived to be 101 years-of-age, and her mind was sharp throughout her life.

Lucile had a sister, Edith Joy (called Joy), seven years older than she. Joy died of breast cancer in 1985, at the age of 69. She had lived all of her married life in Oregon and Arizona. Lucile went out to visit her when she was ill but not for the funeral. "What's the point?"

The girls grew up on a farm, as did lots of young people at that time. The farms were not large--1/4-mile to a mile apart. Cousins lived a quarter-mile away and neighbors seemed close. They were a mile from the school house and all the pupils walked to and from school. A lady who lived along the way gave Lucile the nickname, "Cricket". "I suppose I skipped to school, maybe stopped to talk or 'chirp' a lot." For whatever reason, the name has stuck and many people still call her that.

Lucile was the only young pupil in the lower grades who brought her lunch. The rest lived in town and went home for lunch. One time, during the noon hour, she was running on top of the desks when she fell and cut her head. Lily May Weakland carried her to the doctor's office, followed by Joy and a cousin. Dr. Bowen sewed her up but that put an end to unsupervised lunch periods. There were only six teachers in the entire school, so their turns to supervise came often.

Lucile loved the out-of-doors. "In other words, I was a tom-boy." She would have preferred playing with the boys but they didn't want her around. Woodburn had a sand basketball court, which could only be played on in dry weather. There were no backstops. If the ball was overshot it went clear down the hill. They also played tennis on that court, but Helen Terhune Stickler owned the net. Earnest Smith was Lucile's favorite and in ball games, the minute she got the ball, all the boys guarded Earnest because they knew she would throw it to him. She sat with him during lunch whenever she could. When he graduated, she ate with boys.

The school building and church were centers for social events such as wiener roasts and parties. A school joke was that one time when hot chocolate was being served, an argument arose regarding whether or not the drink was hot. A student stuck his finger in the principal's drink, to test the temperature. The church, also, had activities for young people. Lucile has many awards for perfect attendance at the Methodist church. From their farm they could hear the school and the church bell and could tell the difference. When roads were really bad, Lucile stayed in Woodburn with an aunt and uncle, Lyman and Polly Stedwell; or she might stay with a good friend Ruth Forester. She and Ruth would persuade Ruth's grandmother that it was really cold, so that Lucile could spend the night.

Lucile went all 12 years to school in Woodburn, graduating in 1939. There were only three who went all the way-Lucile; Betty Heston's sister, Louise Bell, who now lives in Winona, Minnesota; and Jack Evans who lives in California.

Even though Lucile acknowledges that she didn't feel the pinch that her parents felt, because she didn't have to keep the books, she well remembers going through the drought years when she herded the cattle along the side of road and the invasion of the chinch bugs. The method of prevention to keep them from the crops was to run a line of oil around the fields. However, the sun was so hot that it caked the oil and the bugs crawled right over. Pleasant memories include going to get the cows and going barefoot in the mud, looking for rocks. She particularly liked the white and red metamorphic rocks. She hated gathering eggs; liked to get the cows.

In July of 1941, Mike and Lucile began their married life in Danville, Iowa. They moved to Burlington and lived on West Angular Street. They were two or three houses from Grace United Methodist Church, where Bessie Martin attended. Lucile eventually took a job at Niesners, which was a variety store such as the 5-and-10¢ stores that were prevalent at that time. It was then that Mike had his tonsils removed (Mike said, "And they kept them!") because he knew he would be drafted and wanted to enlist in the Army Air Force as a pilot. He became an engineer instead, but did quite a little flying.

He was inducted at Fort Leonard Wood, had his basic training at Shepherd's Field, Texas; and received his CTD (Cadet Training Division) training in Stillwater, Oklahoma. That was where he learned to fly Piper Cub aircraft. The wind was so severe in Oklahoma that the instructor said, "I can get in a Piper Cub, take off into the wind, slow down the engine and, without turning around, and the wind will carry me back so that I will land on the same spot where I took off." To prove he was not joking, he did it.

Mike was in Stillwater, Oklahoma, from November until March 15. According to his story, he was talking on the phone to Lucile and told her that there were 1,000 cadets there and 2,000 WAVES (JV omen Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service), the women’s reserve of the U.S. Navy. "The next morning, Lucile was there." Lucile said, "Wait a minute. This is your story but let's make it true." The fact is, they didn't telephone. It was l-o-n-g distance. Instead, Mike wrote and said, "All the rest of the guys have wives here. Come on down."

Mike had traded a "decent" car for a 1937 Plymouth coupe. Lucile and a maiden aunt, Aunt May Mackey, who had a brother and nephew living not far from Stillwater, at Wellston, Oklahoma, drove down. That required using Lucile's father's ration stamps for gas and driving all that distance at the national speed limit of 35 miles per hour. It supposedly saved gas.

Mike spent the remainder of the fall and Christmas, 1943, in that area while Lucile was in a room in Stillwater. Each night, after the roll call at bedtime, Mike left camp to go see her. It wasn't far enough that he was AWOL (absent without leave). Lucile found work in a laundry after Christmas and in time Aunt May came back to Iowa by bus.

Mike's days began with a run before breakfast, far and fast enough to make breathing heavy. Throughout the day there was the equivalent of college classes. Mike loved Trigonometry and gives credit for that to the Norwood superintendent. In those days a superintendent not only taught but was involved in other aspects of education. Mr. Starry was an excellent classroom teacher, making sure the students learned the basics. He also promoted the idea and led in construction of a ball field. Farmers came in from the fields to help. They used telephone poles and chicken wire for the backstop. Not too many superintendents chose to be involved in that way.

The next move for Mike was to the Cadet Center in San Antonio, where the entire class was washed out because too many had enlisted. All the fellows went back to their previous positions-infantrymen back to the infantry; those who had come back from Europe were sent to fight again. However, fellows who had enlisted in the Air Force were assigned to some branch related to flying, according to their skills. Mike was mechanically inclined, so he was assigned to airplane mechanics. He was given the opportunity to try out for Aerial Engineer. He had an astigmatism problem all his life but took off his glasses when he went into the service. His eyes became so bloodshot that the fellows warned him to close them or he would bleed to death. When he was given the aerial identification test, the pictures went by so fast that he couldn't see them and washed out.

Lucile left the car in Oklahoma and went to San Antonio by bus. She found work in a Woolworth's store right across from the Alamo. When Mike was transferred to Biloxi, Lucile followed him in mid-May. She picked up the car and spent two days driving from Oklahoma to Biloxi, crossing the Mississippi at Vicksburg, where she spent the night. She is quite astonished that, although the car sat out through the night, and in spite of tires being at a premium, they were still there the next morning. In Biloxi there was so much salt in the air from the spray of the Gulf that every so often they would have to drive out in the country and use a cleaner not only to take off the salt but to restore the green Plymouth to its original color.

Mike and Lucile lived in a two-bedroom apartment and rented out one room. Their landlords were Mary Jane and C.M. Drey. Lucile imitates Mary Jane's southern drawl that was so pronounced that sometimes Mary Jane would have to spell the words in order for the northerners to understand. Mary Jane was a school teacher, educated at Duke University; a good Episcopalian and a loyal Democrat. She didn’t believe in the way the Roosevelt family lived and expressed to Lucile that she hoped Dewey would win the election even though she couldn't bring herself to vote for him.

Lucile worked at the school in the hot lunch program, with the demeaning job of wiping off trays. A hold-over from slavery days, everyone who was liked was referred to with the preface of "Miss ..." Lucile was Miss Lucile, there was Miss Katy, etc. Miss Katy couldn't believe that people up north put raisins and milk on rice. The southern custom was to put gravy on it.

There was other exposure to southern customs: They burned a combination of kerosene and gasoline in the car and cooked with kerosene heat. Mike's shift was from 3:00 to 11:00 so they had daylight time for recreation and often went crabbing. Mary Jane taught Lucile how to dress them. They had to be alive and cooked immediately because there was something referred to as "dead men's fingers" that would poison the meat if they were allowed to stand. Mary Jane's mother killed them with a hatchet; Lucile and Mike dropped them into boiling water. Mary Jane cooked a meal for them of crabs gumbo. They were to eat the crabs by breaking the shells with their teeth and sucking the meat of the crab legs out of the shell. The dish that Mary Jane prepared for them was a slimy concoction, which neither Mike nor Lucile could stomach, so they took it out and buried it under a fig tree. There was a neighborhood dog with big ears, which earned it the name "Dumbo". He dug up the crab dinner. Mary Jane saw it and wondered where he got the crab legs. Lucile told her that she and Mike had given them to Dumbo.

One morning the dog got hit by a car. Lucile had to interrupt her breakfast and get it to a vet. It was a hot, ugly morning and the combination of no food and the heat caused her to black out. As she was corning to, the friend who had ridden with her remarked about the beautiful, live oak tree with moss on it. The Chamber of Commerce had wanted to put it on a recommended tour but that was resisted because they didn't want the "damn Yankees" walking through the yard.

Lucile had another friend, Barbara, whose last name was French and the spelling uncertain. She claimed that her granddaddy was the only private in the Confederate Army. All the rest were officers. As a hold-over from Civil War days, there was a sailboat named "Damn Yankee". In Biloxi, the home of Jefferson Davis was preserved after the Civil War ended. Even though "The South" is sometimes accused of still fighting the war, Mike and Lucile found that they were good to the soldiers, whom they regarded as saving our country.

The next transfer, in November, was to Knob Noster, at Warrensburg, Missouri. This was an interim assignment because they didn't know what to do with so many Air Force boys. Mike and Lucile lived off base while there. They had driven from Biloxi and had some leave time in Iowa. From there Mike was sent on to Pope Field Air Base near Fayetteville, North Carolina. Lucile worked at Highsmith Hospital as a laboratory technician and in the dietary kitchen. She recalls that needles used for drawing blood and other purposes were not disposed of If they were crooked, they were straightened out on an iron rod and marble base. "You never saw so many square needles! We just hoped we would never have to be stuck with one." If she had been sure how long they would be in the area, she would have taken advantage of their willingness to train her as a lab technician.

Knowing that Mike was due to go overseas, they made a flying trip to bring the car to Iowa and returned together by bus on a three-day pass. The fellows were never told where they were being sent and when the orders came, instead of going overseas, Mike called back to say they were in Fort Wayne, Indiana.

During their time in Fayetteville, Mike and Lucile had become acquainted with Bob and Helen Prince. Bob and Mike had received the same orders, so the wives set off by bus to join them. Thus began Lucile's, and probably Helen's, worst night of their lives. At a stop in Bluefield, West Virginia, they left the bus to have something to eat and use the restroom. When Lucile came out of the restaurant, she asked where the bus was. She was told that it had left; however, she could take a taxi, which would catch up with it. Because all their belongings were on the bus, in her panic she forgot all about Helen and took off in the taxi. It was a two-bus convoy and the taxi caught up with the second section. Lucile was assured that she would be able to transfer to the other section. When that finally happened, sure enough another lady was in their seat, claiming their luggage.

It was early evening when they arrived at the next stop, where Lucile tried to phone to have someone page Helen, and at the same time Helen was paging her. Lucile was told that another bus would be in at 4:00 a.m. The obvious place to wait out the hours was the ladies' rest room, which was upstairs; so she put her luggage in a locker and went upstairs to rest. When a bus came in from the north, and passengers began coming upstairs, Lucile was surprised to see a little old mountain woman in a lovely fur coat. It belonged to a lady from Cedar Rapids, Iowa, who had taken pity on the elderly lady, and rapidly acquainted herself with Lucile because of their coming from the same state. When she had to leave, she asked Lucile to take care of the lady.

Lucile called the Red Cross and was told that they only served people during office hours. They offered nothing after 5:00 p.m. The next call was to the Salvation Army, who would take care of the woman if Lucile could get her there. As she was preparing to arrange for a taxi, here came a girl, who was drunk, carrying the lady down the stairs. Lucile put them both in a taxi and directed the driver to take them to the Salvation Army headquarters.

By then it was then 3:00 a.m. The next encounter was with a very large black lady in a gray pin-striped suit, with a bright green hat and shoes to match. She offered Lucile a drink, which she declined. The lady misinterpreted that and, while backing Lucile into a comer, asked, "Are you too good to drink with me?" Lucile's rescuers were two girls who invited her to have a cup of coffee with them. Shortly, three guys came in and the suggestion was made that they all go to a local dance hall. Lucile explained that she was married and that she was waiting for a friend who would be coming in on a bus due to arrive at 4:00. Never was she so glad to see anyone as she was to see Helen! She questions if anyone will believe that all this could happen in one night, at one bus stop, during W.W. II, where everything was calm and lovely except in that spot in West Virginia.

Lucile and Helen boarded a bus for Fort Wayne and arrived about 10:00 at night. There was no room for them at the USO (United States Organizations), which provided services for persons in the military. They found a hotel within walking distance and a room with very modest but adequate furnishings. Shortly after settling in, people began knocking on the door calling, "Joe? You in there?" It went on all night but Lucile and Helen were so exhausted that they slept in spite of it.

Mike and Bob joined their wives for what they anticipated would be a temporary arrangement because it was from this base that they expected to be sent overseas. They went back to the USO for assistance in finding a home. They found one with a community bath which meant that whoever got there first had the advantage. Mike had just a summer uniform at the time, so each night after Mike went to bed, Lucile washed the uniform on a scrub board over the tub. They were there a couple of weeks before Mike shipped out and Lucile came home.

Mike went to Vancouver for a week. The planes were ferried and the guys were put on a converted freighter that zigzagged its way to Honolulu. There was no mail service during this time even though the families had a pretty fair idea of where the fellows were. The men were on five different airfields in Hawaii, flying cargo between the islands. The only close call that Mike had during his entire time in the service was on one of those flights when a hydraulic line broke and there were no brakes. They got it remedied before anything serious happened.

There are certain historical high points that are like a freeze frame in a movie, and many people remember precisely where they were and what they were doing at that moment. One was President Roosevelt's death. Lucile recalls that she heard the news while she was in Fayetteville, North Carolina, having lunch. Just across the street was a truck load of German prisoners who immediately began cheering. One of the guards pointed his gun and announced that the next one to cheer would be uttering his last.

The other momentous happening was when the bombs were dropped on Japan and the war came to an end. An invasion was scheduled to begin so it meant a great deal to many military personnel and their families. Service men and women began to be mustered out according to points, which included their length of time in the service. Mike was encouraged to stay to be promoted to Staff Sergeant but he chose to come home. That was in March, 1946. It was a source of some bitter amusement to observe that a fellow of the Jehovah Witness faith, who had been a conscientious objector and sent to Leavenworth prison, arrived home ahead of Mike.

Mike and Lucile moved in with her parents. He didn't draw any of his benefits but immediately began to look for employment. He shingled a farm house before he went to work in the auto parts department of the Montgomery Ward store in Chariton. There he learned inventory control and other aspects of operating a business that proved valuable in the future.

Mike and Lucile moved to Chariton and laugh about their accumulated furniture, which consisted of orange crates and chairs without bottoms. The movers charged them all of $3 to relocate. They traded the '37 Plymouth coupe that had taken Lucile many, many miles for a '41 Chevrolet two-door.

Eventually, Mike was hired to work in the shipping department of Snowdon's factory in Osceola. They moved to Woodburn and Mike commuted to work. This was the arrangement until he went into business for himself in a service station across the street east from the former Methodist Church and to the north from Webster's Funeral Home. Next, Mike went on the road for Skelgas, hauling bottled gas to dealers.

Mary was born in 1951, delivered in Harken's Hospital. In 1952, Mike was transferred to Red Oak; they were there about a year when he was transferred to Creston for four years. Kate was born in 1953, while they were in Creston. A week after her arrival Mike was in the hospital in Osceola. He had had similar attacks in Biloxi and Hawaii but the doctors could not diagnose the problem. Dr. Harken found that his appendix was behind the colon and therefore had been difficult to locate. By the time he saw Mike, the appendix had broken and there were indications that it had broken several times previously.

When Mike was ready to return to work, he was no longer able to lift the heavy cylinders of bottled gas, so he was transferred to Sheldon, into the retail part of Skelly Oil Company, and was made district salesman for nine counties. All the towns had Skelly stations. His accounts included 10 jobbers and 20 stations; and his job was to sell them Skelly products, notify them when there were price cuts or gas wars, keep them enthusiastic and do pages of reports. They lived in Sheldon for four years and Mary started to school there before they were transferred back to Red Oak for nine years. Lucile worked with Girl Scouts and in the United Methodist Church while they were there.

From Red Oak Mike was transferred to Rapids City for another nine years. Throughout his employment with Skelly, Mike did well, always getting the bonuses that were offered. However, a new mind-set had entered the business world. Mike's 21 years of service were ignored. With 329 other of the older employees, Mike was laid off. He was two years from early retirement, in which situation he could have drawn $800 or $900 a month. It was very discouraging. One fellow kicked a hole in the desk, but Mike went on. He got a good job with Firestone and for awhile he sold insurance.

When there was need for someone to operate the Champlin Truck Stop in Osceola, several of the executives stopped at the Union 76 truck stop in Altoona. The operator, Len Sheldon, said, "I know a fellow who has just been cut back," and Mike was given the opportunity to operate the Champlin Station, not including the restaurant. He and Lucile had not been alerted that a family involvement would take precedence over their continuing contract, so they were there for only two years. Like those who had experienced losses during the Depression, Mike and Lucile had to start over when Mike was 59.

For nearly a year they looked for a good spot to begin a Casey's or some other convenience store. During that time, Lucile worked at Snowdon's Lingerie Factory. She said that it had been 28 years since she had worked there and was sure they sat her down to work at the very same machine she had operated previously.

In October of 1978, they approached Cliff and Ruth Carr, who operated Tabler Oil Company, about buying their establishment. Even though the Carrs were both in their 80's, they were not in favor of selling but called two weeks later to indicate that they were ready. The deal was made. Mike and Lucile bought the business that included the Mutual Oil bulk tank. They tore down the old station and the house that was part of the station and built a modern station and convenience store. They began their business in that location in March, 1979.

In many ways, Mike and Lucile were caught in the transition of the old and new way of doing business. They belonged to the Iowa Independent Grocers' Association and the Iowa Independent Oil Jobbers' Association. The Grocers' was the last cooperative before they began wholesaling to retailers; and in seven or eight years, the Oil Jobbers' changed to Petroleum Marketers of Iowa. It became very difficult for anyone to be an independent operator.

During this time, also, the DNR (Department of Natural Resources) made a ruling regarding underground tanks and removal of contaminated dirt. This project cost the Roes $300,000, of which $100,000 was repaid to them. Few station owners could afford to abide by that ruling and they were forced out of business. The situation virtually closed many small towns because, for some of them, the filling station and grocery store were about the only remaining businesses. When people had to drive to a larger community for gas, they bought their other needed items also. In time the ruling that caused such havoc seemed no longer to be enforced and many stations escaped.

In 1994 Mike had a stroke that incapacitated him, and Lucile developed macular degeneration, which is the leading cause of blindness in America. They sold the business to Kum and Go and bought the home where they presently live. Lucile's mother lived with them the last three years of her life. Currently, theirs is a "come and go" home with children and grandchildren keeping them involved in their lives. They stay current with goings-on in the world and accept their disabilities with wit and good humor.