The Seventies

 

This is the crew that built Ultra Value Panel, dad’s dream plant in Longview. Clockwise from #29 which is cousin Mike Walsh, then Phil Sines (our mentor and machinist), then dad in the plaid shirt, then me, then my brother, Doug Walsh and, finally, cousin Chris Walsh in the snappy red suspenders. We made the best product in the industry but the bottom fell out of the housing market and gravity took it all away. Brother, Greg probably took this photo but the words below are all mom’s…(oh, and Happy Mother’s Day, Mom :-)

Continuing with the TV theme, the 70’s were the “Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman” years.  If you are not familiar with this show it was about a woman who had everything bad happen to her but she kept smiling through, more or less. I had always had the notion that when two people wed they became one. Where could have I have gotten that idea? This decade I learned that Paul and I were two separate entities with two different fates.

I moved the boys to Seattle, rented a small house way out in the suburbs and put the boys in private school. Their education was still our priority. As soon as we were settled Paul found a plant to manage in Arizona.  I spent a lonely year waiting for the lease to run out and the school year to end. The next year our son Paul was in New York studying acting, Greg went to college in Arizona and we boarded Doug at his grandparents to finish his senior year at the private school.  Billy and I moved to Arizona.

I quickly found a sitter and resumed my usual volunteer activities. I was on the Board of the Opera Guild within a year. I also signed up for classes in Interior Design. This is where my husband’s fate and mine parted ways. While he was having a rotten year I was having one of the most successful of my life.

I had a degree in General Art but had always wanted to be an interior designer. This school had an excellent program. The head of the department had been an ASID designer for 25 years, got burned out and decided to teach. His goal was to turn us into real professionals from the start. Unlike my earlier college years which were about parties, I was now mature, responsible and very eager to learn. I had also had some experience in the field. I did five versions for every assignment. I aced everything. I discovered I had an aptitude for architectural drafting. I loved turning two dimensional floor plans into three dimensional renderings. So much fun.

Paul was miserable. He knew immediately that the machinery they had already purchased was the wrong kind for the type of available wood. He tried hard but it didn’t work and after the second year he was let go again. They closed the plant a few years later. The interior design department head said he would place me in the best studio of my choice, in Salt Lake, Phoenix, San Francisco or San Diego. Or, if we stayed there he would open a studio and let me run it.  But I was a Fifties kind of woman and it never occurred to me not to follow my husband.

Paul decided to build his own plant. He found a large empty building right on the railroad tracks in Longview, WA. This is when I began to believe in paying attention to omens. All omens for this venture were negative. I could see it but was powerless between Paul’s parents and his life long dream. His mentor of many years said not to do it. My Mormon aunt read regular reading cards and said the plant would fail and we would lose everything. The building Paul found was large enough and right on the railroad tracks but it was back in the same small town we had started married life.

We bought a small, old house and I cashed in some stock and fixed it up, stripping wall paper, painting, new carpets and new draperies. The older boys and their cousins came to help fix up the factory and install machinery. Another bad omen was the main piece of equipment was damaged on delivery and delayed the start of the plant. I sat in front of the TV watching Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman. Almost everything that happened to her happened to me. Billy was five and not having any older brothers to wrestle with, patiently watched with me. After years of broadly hinting, Paul had finally given me a kit to build a large dollhouse. Mary Hartman built hers and I built mine. Again I had no money to spend but the town had a great library. I found a small book on the meaning of Chinese symbols. For the first time I could see that every Chinese article that Paul and I had bought over the years meant something. I began going back to the library for more books on China.

Since I could only learn new stuff by associating it with stuff already in my head I had trouble digesting it. So I began making flash cards, each one representing the different dynasties; the names, dates, capitol city, history and a picture or two of the major art work from each period, their inventions, their flags , the wars, foot binding, agriculture, methods of cooking, the weather and anything else I could find.. The Arts of Asia magazine was a big help in finding the photos.  Each week I brought home as many books as I could carry. I would sit in the Children’s department and read every China book there. I checked out every cook book, every art book, every magazine. It became an obsession. I would go to other libraries to find more books. Nixon had just opened China. Whatever else about him he will always be my hero for that alone. For over 30 years America had said that big geographical space in Asia, the size of the US, did not exist and that little tiny island off the coast, was China. Beyond belief. I became desperate to go to China. A few tours were going such as those that included Candace Bergen and Shirley McClain, but they were Communist led tours and I was afraid of them. I wrote to the US State Dept. but they could not help me. I attended seminars and every home movie show presented by people who were going. In 1975 I heard of an art study tour presented by the Portland Art Museum. I still had bad feelings about Japan but decided if I could get in I could at least learn the difference between Chinese and Japanese art. I had a bit of stock left that would just cover the trip, my mother would baby sit and my husband was in a period of optimism. There was one place left on the tour. All good omens.

I discovered a fascinating country that was nothing like China. And I saw a lot of art, but when I arrived home my husband ’s optimism had turned to total discouragement. Two years later he was forced to close the plant. We had lost everything. Almost. After we sold the house and paid the taxes we had $3000 left over. Paul immediately got a new job in Tacoma so I said we were going to Hawaii for two weeks. He was horrified but I knew he needed it and he had a good paying job waiting for him when we got back. Hawaii was his favorite place.

After a few years of China study, I began to believe I could think like a Chinese. When the paper asked ‘What will China do?” I felt I knew the answer. And I did. My husband who had known a lot about China said my flash cards helped him put it all in perspective. My Mother, who had never forgiven China for Pearl Harbor, confusing the two like many Americans, said the cards helped her to understand it better. An old college friend who had now become head of the international studies at the University, invited me to lunch at the Faculty Club to meet with heads of the China department. They thought my flash cards were meaningless. Too broad. I had to be more academic. Pick one subject and go deep. I tried to explain that they were meant for business men, women’s clubs, tourists and high school students entering college with no knowledge at all. But it was no use. I was totally discouraged. I put all my work away in a closet and didn’t think about it for a few years. Lesson learned: believe in yourself, not what the experts tell you.

We moved to Gig Harbor, across the bridge from Tacoma. We rented an apartment overlooking the town . We had a very small sail boat and a small motor boat which we kept moored in the harbor. The town had good restaurants and we loved jumping into a boat when we wanted to, but I could not make friends nor find volunteer work. We bought a house. I wrote to the head of the design department in Arizona and he was shocked I had not gone into the business. So was I. Fate was leading me elsewhere. Again Paul was in an unhappy job and at the end of the year found a new job back in Eugene where we had raised our older boys. I stayed behind to sell the house.  In January 1980, Paul went to S. Africa on a business trip and while there died of a heart attack. That story was covered in an earlier blog.

-Jean Clarice Walsh