4: mccain - uebele photo

COMPILED BY CHARLES UEBELE 4: THE MCCAIN FAMILY

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4: MCCAIN

ROBERT MCCAIN

ABOUT 1784—JULY 15, 1851

SARAH (BRINTON) MCCAIN

ABOUT 1787—AFTER 1850

Both Robert and Sarah (Brinton) McCain1 were born in Kentucky. From Kentucky they migrated to Indiana, where their son Nelson was born in 1831. By 1850, they were living in the Jackson Township in Buchanon County, Missouri.

With them was living twelve year old Silas Hickman. Robert was a farmer whose property was valued at $6,700 in 1850. Robert died on July 15, 1851 in Bucha-non County, Missouri. Roberts and Sarah's children were:

Born Died Spouse Married1. Lucinda 1816 1882

2. Amanda3. Lankford4. William5. Nelson Feb. 12, 1831 Jan. 5, 1919 Dovey Yates

Mary Margaret RichieAug. 20 1850Apr. 10, 1856

6. John

4: THE MCCAIN FAMILY

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NELSON W. G. MCCAIN

FEBRUARY 12, 1831—JANUARY 5, 1919

DOVEY (YATES) MCCAIN

ABOUT 1833—AUGUST 1, 1855

MARY MARGARET (RICHIE) MCCAIN

1839—1928

Born in Putnam, Indiana, Nelson McCain2 was the son of Robert and Sarah (Brinton) McCain, who were both born in Kentucky. According to family tradition, Nelson's ancestry is mainly Scottish. He stood five feet ten and had dark hair and blue eyes. Most of his life, farming was

his occupation; however, throughout his life he was prominent in religious work. At an early age he was ordained as a Methodist minister and performed the marriage service of at least one of his chil-dren—Laura McCain to Robert Briggs in 1905; and the service for at least two of his grandchildren—Edith McCain to Francis Watkins, and Gracie Belle to Charles Johnston also in 1905. In 1898 he was serving as the sexton of the Meth-odist Episcopal church in Pomona, Cali-fornia.

Nelson's first wife, Dovey Yates, was also born in Indiana around 1833. Their marriage was solemnized at the Methodist Episcopal Church in Buchanan County, Missouri on August 20, 1850 by Charles McKelly, a regular ordained minister. Before their marriage, Dovey and her par-ents, Pleasant and Harriet (McCrary) Yates lived within three family residents of Nelson and his parents in Buchanan Co., Missouri.3

The year after their marriage, Nelson and Dovey had a baby girl named Sarah F., who was named after Nelson's mother; however, this child only lived one year. It was not until 1854 that Nelson and Dovey had another child, William Pleasant, who was named after Dovey's father. The fol-lowing year in 1856 on August first, Dovey passed away at the early age of twenty-two. She is buried in the Yates Cemetery in Buchanan County, Missouri. Nelson and Dovey’s children:

Nelson McCain—taken in Huntington Beach, California in 1910. 138-7


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After Dovey's death, Nelson married Dovey's cousin, Mary Margaret Richie, who was born in 1839, the daughter of

John D. Ritchie. The Reverend Charles Morris married them on April 10, 1856. Nelson and Mary had Ten children:

Born Died Spouse Married1. Sarah F.2. William Pleasant Feb. 21, 1854 Nov. 29, 1906 Addas Adelah Thompson Feb. 6, 1876

Born Died Spouse Married1. John Robert 1857 in Missouri 1917 Mary Thomas.

2. Clara Belle “Belle” 1863 in Missouri 1946 Tom Copeland.

3. Nelson Grant 1866 in Missouri 1943 Minnie Maltby.Triplets born Jun. 30, 1868 in Missouri:4. Martha Catherine Jun. 30, 1868 1934 Dillen Cullen.

5. Amanda Maria Jun. 30, 1868 1951 Kenneth Cullen, Dillen's brother.

6. Mary Susan Jun. 30, 1868 1869.

7. Wesley Mangun 1870 in Missouri 1911 Anne (Unknown).

8. Lucinda Adeline 1872 in Missouri 1942 Otis Butler.

9. Emma Elizabeth 1878 in Kansas 1955 Mr. Whip.

10.Rosa Lorinda “Laura”

1880 in Kansas 1917 Robert Briggs. Oct. 14, 1905

The Nelson & Mary McCain family—Huntington Beach 1910:Front: Dillen Cullen (husband of Martha “Kit” McCain), Mary Margaret (Richie) McCain, Nelson McCain, John McCain, & Rosa Lorinda “Laura” (McCain) Briggs.Rear: Martha Catherin “Kit” (McCain) Dillen, Lucina Adeline “Cindy” McCain, Amanda Marie “Mandy” McCain, Mary Susan McCain, Mr. Briggs (husband of Laura McCain). 138-7


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On January 25, 1862 in St. Joseph, Missouri, Nelson entered service as a pri-vate in the Civil War. He served as a chaplain in Company “A” of the 4th regi-ment in the Missouri State Militia Cavalry under Captain Phelps, Captain Conklin, and George H. Hall. During part of his service he guarded a railroad bridge west of Jefferson City, Missouri. By the war's end, Nelson had been promoted to the rank of Sergeant Major, and he received an honorable discharge on January 31, 1865, in St. Louis, Missouri.

Nelson lived in Missouri for sixteen years. After the Civil war, Nelson and his family moved to Iowa for four years, then to Kansas for sixteen years and finally settled in Southern California in 1886. Nelson appeared to have kept several res-idents in Southern California (possibly because he may have worked at different churches in the area), for according to his pension papers, censuses, and city direc-tories he lived at the following locations:

• July, 1890—Pomona

• May 1895—Santa Monica

• November 9, 1897—Pomona

• November 12, 1897—Santa Monica

• 1898—362 S. Gordon, Pomona

• About 1904 through about 1907—Long Beach

• 1909 through May 1910—724 W. 12th St. Pomona

• 1911 through May, 1916—750 West 3rd Street, Pomona

• April 5, 1919—110 Columbia Street, Pomona

Several of Nelson's children worked in the Pomona area. In 1896, John Rob-ert—like his half-brother William Pleas-ant—worked as a harness maker. Then in 1903, he worked as a baker at Ameri-can Bakery and Restaurant. Nelson Grant Jr. or “Grant” started as a carpen-

ter, who went on to become a builder/contractor and then a councilman.

In 1895, at age 64, while living in Santa Monica, Nelson claimed to have been suffering from a chronic disease of the stomach, rheumatism of a serious nature of all his limbs, and general dis-ability by reason of old age. By this time, his dark complexion had turned light, and his dark hair was now a light gray. On November 9, 1897, Nelson fell from a ladder and ruptured his right side while trimming a tree at his home in Pomona. In March of 1919, Nelson suffered a stroke of partial paralysis. Six week later on April 5, 1919—a Saturday morning—he lapsed into a coma and died. His obit-uary stated: “He was a man of strong per-sonality and was always held in the highest esteem by a large circle of friends and acquaintances.” He was also described as “a pioneer of Pomona.” The Grand Army of the Republic (GAR) was in charge of Nelson's grave side service, with

Nelson McCain’s Civil War marker, placed by the GAR by his grave at the Pomona Cemetery 70-8A


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Reverend W. C. Buckner presiding.Right after Nelson's death, Mary was

living at 1928 Olive Street in Long Beach. Then on May 22 of that same year, Mary was living at 318 Randolph Street in Hun-tington Park. In 1924 she was again liv-

ing in Pomona. Mary died nine years after Nelson in 1928. They are buried in the McCain plot in the Pomona Cemetery near Nelson's son, William Pleasant McCain, and near several of William's children.


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WILLIAM PLEASANT MCCAIN

FEBRUARY 21, 1854—NOVEMBER 29, 1906

ADDAS ADELAH (THOMPSON) MCCAIN

OCTOBER 3, 1860—SEPTEMBER 14, 1934

W. P. McCAIN, of Chino, was born at St. Joe, Missouri, February 21, 1854, the only son of Nelson and Dovey McCain. His father, who was a pioneer of Buchanan county, Mis-souri, came to California in 1886, and located at Long Beach, where he still resides, now aged seventy-three. Mr. McCain was raised on a farm in Mis-souri but later learned the trade of harness maker. He has now returned to farming and is a successful fruit grower and dairyman on the Chino grant [located on East Cemetery Ave-nue].

[On February 6, 1876 in Daviess, Missouri,] He married Miss Addas A., daughter of Howard M. Thompson, a well known citizen of Gallatin, Mis-souri. They have ten children—seven sons and three daughters.4

St. Joseph, Missouri—the town of Wil-liam’s birth—was the starting point for many Pioneers heading west to California and Oregon. The town was booming in the 1840’s & 50’s, and four years before William’s birth, a W. S. McBride observed that:

St. Joseph resembled in some respects a vast besieged city. . . . to the west, were some springs, long rows of tents were pitched closely under bluff rocks. All the principal roads leading to the town were thickly beset with white tents. . . . Auction-

eers were selling mules & horses and all kinds of merchandize all through the streets. Music of every variety could be heard from the groceries and gambling houses. Intelligent looking men, ignorant men, dandies, clownish & negligently cloth[ed] men, old gray head men, beardless boy, negroes, Indians and all sorts of men could be seen crowding along together. . . . Min-strel girls promenaded the streets singing “Oh California, that is the land for me,” with great crowds of . . . men and boys following them.5

William Pleasant & Addas (Thompson) McCain—Circa 1905


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As the above chart shows, William and Addas actually had eleven children; how-ever, one died in infancy.

The previous mentioned description of St. Joseph was the city in which William McCain was born and raised. Being a harness maker in this town was a good profession, but William did not stay. He and his wife Addas moved to Walnut City, Kansas for several years and then to Pomona, California in 1887, finally set-tling in Chino, which is near Pomona. A family story states that the sheriff of the town in which Addas Thompson lived in Missouri considered Addas “his girl.” The sheriff had to leave the town for a while and delegated his best friend, William McCain, to watch over his girl and protect her from the “wolves.” Well William watched over her—wooed her and won her over.6 William’s son Pearl Nelson McCain told his daughter Olive (McCain) Marks that besides being fruit grower, William also developed a fruit drying operation. Pearl spoke admiringly of his father—not so much with affection but more of respect. Olive gathered from her

father’s description of her grandfather that William was a stern man (as most fathers were in those days). Although William was a short man of about 5’6,” Pearl said that he had phenomenal strength. He would walk beside a wagon and grab a 100 pound sack of grain by its ear (or corner) and toss it into the wagon with one hand.

On November 29, 1906, William died of a stroke at his home on East Cemetery Avenue. He was in apparent good health up to the Monday before his death when he was seized with paralysis. In his obit-uary, William was described as “. . . an industrious, modest, conscientious man, who had the respect of all who knew him.”7

After William's death, Addas contin-ued to live in Chino, and her sons Pearl and Roy kept William’s dairy farm going long enough for Addas to get on a finan-cial footing. Pearl even put off getting married in order to help his mother. For a time, Addas was living with her son Edgar. Between 1916 and 1919, her tele-phone number at her Chino address was

Born Died Spouse Married1. Edgar Howard May 10, 1877 in

IndianaDec. 1, 1955 Myrtle Wilkerson Dec. 20, 1900.

2. Edith Adelah Mar. 4, 1879 in Missouri

Oct. 22, 1937 Francis Watkins Oct. 20, 1904.

3. William Arthur Sep. 28, 1880 in Kansas

Sep. 5, 1958 Minnie Schaub

4. Gracie Belle Apr. 25, 1882 in Kansas

Jun. 2, 1948 Charles Johnson Jun. 28, 1905.

5. Pearl Nelson Oct. 22, 1884 in Kansas

Jul. 15, 1970 Clara Detrich Sep. 1915.

6. Olga May 18, 1886 in Kansas

Sep. 15, 1887.

7. Roy Fredrick Jul. 2, 1888 in Pomona, CA

Apr. 13, 1939 Bernice Beard Jul. 13, 1910.

8. Ollie Sep. 12, 1889 in California

Mar. 23, 1959 Frank Mosher Nov. 1, 1911

9. Roscoe Conklin “Ross”

Feb. 5, 1894 in Pomona, CA

May 17, 1967 Laura Stuart Jul. 20, 1916.

10.Albert Bryan Oct. 7, 1896 in Chino, California

May 28, 1965 Dora Kyler Nov. 20, 1919.

11.Jesse Allen “Jess” Jul. 22, 1898 in California

Jan. 26, 1959 Eva McVickers Jan. 24, 1920.


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315. Addas was a member of the Calvary Baptist church and a member and former president of the Helping Hand Club of Chino.

Addas’ granddaughter Hazel (McCain) Weaver, daughter of Ross McCain, spent two summers with Addas due to serious asthma attacks at the age of 13 and 14. She recalls Addas and some of William and Addas’ children in a letter dated August 4, 1996:

. . . She [Addas] was a tiny fragile woman—always spoke to me in a soft voice. She insisted on tea and dry french toast as part of her breakfast. In the afternoons, she liked to have me stay with her during her one hour naps. It was my duty to wake her if she moaned or her body quivered. This meant that she was having “one of her spells,” which according to her description was a nightmare in which

she could not escape. At times they would make her cry and I could not understand why she would have such terrible dreams. . . .

Uncle Ed and Uncle Charlie [hus-band of Gracie Belle] were my “bud-dies” during those two summers. Uncle Ed came home to live with his Mother because of a divorce from his wife [whom] he referred to as Fairy!! . . . in those days a divorce was rare and not discussed. He would take me for a walk to visit Uncle Charlie and his Sports Store on Main Street in Pomona. Uncle Charlie gave me a ten-nis racket that made me yearn to be a tennis star. Grandma McCain was in constant fear of us breaking a window when Uncle Ed threw balls for me to hit. Needless to say, I did not end up being a tennis star—life on a dairy ranch was a 24 hour chore. I remem-ber my Dad, “Ross,” finishing the

The William Pleasant & Addas (Thompson) McCain Family:Back four men: Roy Fredrick, Pearl Nelson, Edgar Howard, William Arthur.Middle three women: Gracie Belle, Ollie, Edith Adelah.Front three boys: Jesse Allen, Roscoe Conklin, Albert Bryan 122-3


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milking, Harness the team and set off to Grandma McCain’s with vegetables and fruits from our 5 acres. She decided alfalfa tea was good for her health; my sister, brother and I would gather alfalfa with heads “seeds” to give her. We thought her teas was quite unusual, but I also remember chewing alfalfa—it was good, besides the cows loved it. . . .

Aunt Edith and Uncle Francis were favorites of ours—especially since they visited several times a year and at Christmas sent each of their nieces and nephews $1.00 in their greeting cards. Sometimes that $1.00 would last for nearly a year—made up feel important and wealthy. My memories

of Uncle Bill and Aunt Minnie were of a roadside cafe they operated in the desert area. Aunt Minnie made fried chicken and pies. My mother refused to let us eat her menu because the cats and flies were abundant in their house and especially the kitchen. Aunt Grace and Uncle Charlie were sweethearts. They would visit the dairy in Chico quite often for mild and produce. Aunt Grace was not in the best of health, but she did not com-plain—made us kids welcome at their store and their beautiful home. Aunt Ollie and Uncle Frank lived in a small “neat” as a pin house west of Pomona—believe it was on Gary Ave-nue. We were not allowed to enter her

The Children of Edgar & Myrtle (Wilkerson) McCain Family, taken in Lone Pine California—circa 1914:Roland, Everd, Gladys, John “Chubby,” Mable, & Howard McCain. 138-1


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house until she covered her sofa and chairs with sheets to keep them clean. It was not just us—it was every visitor. . . . Uncle Bert and Aunt Dora were also favorites as is their daughter Bar-bara [(Mccain) Starr]. . . . Barbara’s folks were the “homey” type. They were always comfortable to be with and my Dad and Mother were delighted when Uncle Bert retired from the oil fields and moved to Santa Cruz.

My folks worked themselves to death—farmers in those days tended to do just that. When they sold the dairy and moved to Watsonville before WWII, they tackled 50 acres of apples that had been left with little care. It took several years to return it to a profit income—Watsonville then had a population of about 2,500 and farming on those rugged hills along the coast was rugged. I worked for the 12th Naval District out of San Francisco at the time and commuted via Grey-hound bus through cherry, apricot orchards and blueberry fields over Highway 17 to Santa Cruz where my folks would meet me and made sure I had a full stomach and a good rest before leaving on Sunday night for the city. . . .

After a short illness, Addas passed away at her home at 1153 S. Parcells Street in Pomona at eleven o'clock, Friday

morning, September 14, 1934. She and William are buried in the Pomona Ceme-tery in the McCain plot next to their sons, Edgar, Jesse, and Roy, and near William's father, Nelson.

Addas (Thompson) McCain with her great-grandson George Sidney Uebele—circa 1934. 55-2


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ROY FREDRICK MCCAIN

JULY 2, 1888—APRIL 13, 1939

BERNICE ETHELYN (BEARD) MCCAIN

JULY 5, 1889—MAY 26, 1986

GRANDMA

BY CHARLES UEBELE

Roy and Bernice (Beard) McCain were my great-grandparents, and although I never knew Roy, I was well acquainted with Bernice (or Grandma), for she was one of our family's favorite relatives and lived long enough to attend my wedding in 1985. Much of Bernice's life and some of Roy's is described in three short essays written by Bernice following this writing, so I will try not to repeat too much of what Bernice has already written. To start off, I should mention that Roy was born in Pomona on July 2, 1888—the sev-enth of eleven children of William Pleas-

ant & Addas Adelah (Thompson) McCain. Bernice, on the other hand, was the only daughter of William Remick & Mary Edith (Saunders) Beard.

Grandma & Grandpa McCain were married in Los Angeles, California on July 13, 1910. At the time, Grandpa Roy worked as an iceman in Los Angeles. He must have been very strong, for he was able to carry an ice block the size of a small refrigerator on his back. Bernice and Roy honeymooned on Catalina Island, which Grandma said is where her daughter Eleanor was conceived. From

Roy Fredrick McCain. 38-5 Bernice Ethelyn (Beard) McCain


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Catalina, Bernice wrote her mother, tell-ing her that they were having a good time and that they did not suffer seasickness on the way over.

Before homesteading in the Mohave desert, Bernice and Grandpa Roy lived in Venice, California. Grandma would fre-quently tell me how during this time, she and her “hubby” would ride an Indian Motorcycle (one of only two American made motorcycles) down to San Diego on what she claimed at the time were dirt roads.

By 1915, Roy and Bernice had moved to 629 Esperanza St. in Los Angeles, and on February 8th of that year, They took out a desert-land entry for 160 acres in Kern County in the southeast quarter of section 24 in Township 9 north, Range 12 west of the San Bernardino meridian, which was on Muroc dry lake in the Mojave Desert.

According to the 1920 census for Kern County, California, Roy worked at that time as a fireman for Assoc. Oil.

Grandpa Roy was always trying to

Post card dated July 17, 1910 that Bernice sent her mother while on her honeymoon with Roy. Post card depicts “Bay at Avalon, Catalina Island, showing departure of Cabrillo.”

Roy McCain carrying an ice block on his back for the Los Angeles Ice and Storage Co.—circa 1910.

Roy McCain (right) and his roommate, who worked as firemen for a mining company—1909. 41-1


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provide for his family, but he had a diffi-cult time doing so. His plan for home-steading in Rosamond in the Mojave desert of California never panned out to what he thought it would be. His plan for growing rice out there on the Muroc dry lake was a complete failure, and their chicken ranch did not bring in enough on which to live. Roy and Bernice sold the west half of their ranch (80 acres) on June 11, 1926, to the widow Ruth Clifton for $10 and other consideration. On March 22, 1937, Roy leased, with an option to buy after one year, the south-east 40 acres of his homestead to Mark Lintz. Mr. Lintz leased the land for the right to remove clay. He was to pay Roy 20¢ per ton for the first 100 tons, then 15¢ per ton for the second 100 tons, and finally 10¢ per ton for all over 200 tons with a minimum payment of $20 a month. Mr. Lintz did not opt to buy the

land and released all rights to it on May 31, 1938.8 Earlier that same year on Jan-uary 7, Roy and Bernice bought an ease-ment or right-of-way to build a road to their property directly through the middle of their neighbor’s lands (Clair and Sophie Frazer) to the north. The easement con-nected with Road Number 525, which far-ther east is called Rosamond Blvd. This easement cost Roy and Bernice one dollar plus other valuable consideration.9 Roy went to work in the mines and also went into Los Angeles to find work to make ends meet. Therefore, he was away from the ranch most of the week, leaving Grandma to run things. I remember Grandma telling us stories about life out in the desert. One story was about how she had killed a rattlesnake with a frying pan—we always knew Grandma was a lethal cook. She also told how she would have to get a newspaper and brush the

Roy & Bernice (Beard) McCain at their Rosamond ranch with Roy's sisters Gracie Belle (McCain) Johnson & Ollie (McCain) Mosher—circa 1930. 143-4


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black widow spiders away from under the rim of the toilet seat. Another incident concerning the toilet is told by my Aunt Ann (Uebele) O'Sullivan:

One time my father [Sid Uebele] was asked to fix the toilet as Grandma had dropped the paper holder down into the void, and he was pretty put out about anyone doing such a thing. The toilet was drug out to the yard where he worked on it, but I guess it was jammed in there very tight as my father was quite strong. He decided to try burning it out, and the toilet cracked, which caused a lot of sparks to fly and not from the fire! They had to drive into Rosamond to get a new toilet, which didn't improve anyone's temper! To this day I watch when I remove an old roll of toilet paper—even watch the cardboard center like a hawk as though it might just fly down into the netherlands.

Aunt Ann also described her remem-brances of the ranch:

I do remember the ranch, where my mother [Eleanor (McCain) Uebele] grew up, quite well. It is now Edwards Air Force Base. The area was typically desert, dry, cracked land, scrubby vegetation. I think the lake had water in the winter, but we were always there in the summer. I remember the house as being brown and made of wood and that there was wallpaper inside, but where George and I slept while there I do not remember. Proba-bly sleeping bags on cots just as we did while camping. In those times the women/girls stuck together doing the cooking and talking, while the men did their things. The chickens impressed me probably because my father didn't allow us to have pets at that time. I can remember swimming in the cis-tern that stored the water and not lik-

ing it at all. It had a very low ceiling, was concrete and was over my head. This very fact already terrified me and then add being warned to watch for black widows wherever you put your hand—and I was nearly destroyed. I either hold on and get bitten or drown. I didn't like it much! Since I was sub-ject to nosebleeds in hot weather I didn't play around much outside. We were warned about snakes and coy-otes with every step.

My father, George, also remembered going out to the ranch in Rosamond. He always enjoyed going there to shoot .22 rifles in the desert.

Although Ann was very young (age six) when Grandpa Roy died, she remembered him as “dressed in overalls, wearing a hat most of the time, and kind of a grizzled face—whiskers rather like a two day old beard.”

Several of Roy’s nieces recounted their memories of Roy and Bernice in the fol-lowing letters:

Barbara (McCain) Starr—June 11, 1996:

. . . Uncle Roy worked in the gold mines and ran a chicken ranch out on their “island.” She [Bernice] probably wrote all that in her biography. Oca-sionally my folks [Albert & Dora (Kyler) McCain] would take me with them for a visit. I remember one occasion Uncle Roy had been complaining about the coyotes coming in after the chickens. In the morning light they [the coyotes] loomed up double-sized as he looked out over the dry lake bed. He spotted one and he yelled, “Ber-nice, get the car.” They took off with him sitting on the right front fender with his gun and they chased that coyote down.

There were usually some old car chassis’s sitting around with a mast


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standing up in the air. When I asked about them, my uncle told me that some kids from “town” would come out, take the wheels off their cars and put them on the old frames, add a sail and spend the day “sailing” on the dry lake.

In the winter time it rained enough [that] there would be several inches of water in the lake. Because of the hardpan it didn’t soak in very much, just put a grease job on the bottom. The wind would blow the water from one end of the lake to another at times. We were going down there one time when there was water on the lake and Uncle Roy told us to park at the edge, honk our horn and he would come out in his old car with special tires to take us to the house. We honked and waited with no avail, so my dad decided not to wait anymore

but put on chains and try it for him-self. We made it with some skidding around, but when he checked the wheels, he discovered he had lost one chain somewhere in all the muck. He started wading back, dragging a shovel behind him in the track of the missing chain. He found it about 20 feet from where he had started. I remember he was quite a mess. About that time, Uncle Roy and Aunt Bernice arrived. Not knowing exactly when we were due, they had gone into town!

My first, and only, visit to a real gold mine was with Uncle Roy. (I guess you know he died because of sil-icosis from his work in those minds.) I was about ten years old at the time. No one thought to tell me how that pretty shiny gold metal was really pro-duced. I just knew it came from a mine. One Sunday when the mine was shut down, Uncle Roy took my father and me to see it. We put on those hats with little lights on them. As I remember, mine promptly went out and the mine was pitch dark. We walked along a wooden walkway with pits on both sides. I could hear rocks falling down into those pits as we walked. I always swore the walk was only three feet wide! (Not too many years before my father died, I men-tioned something to that effect and his answer was, “Why kid, those walks were 12 feet wide!”) When we reached the face of the tunnel, Uncle Roy pointed out the vein. All I could see was more tan rock. WHAT A DISSAP-POINTMENT! I stood it as long as I could and then the fright and disap-pointment got the best of me and I burst into tears. When we got outside, he took us to the [place] where the rock was crushed and washed over the riffles. He pointed out a few tiny yellow specks and proudly claimed, “There’s the gold.” And I had such big dreams of all the gold I was going to

Roy McCain (left) & friend with a coyote they shot—circa 1920. 55-9


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pick up and have some jewelry made.Apparently my priorities were

established early in life. When I was due to graduate from the eighth grade, Aunt Grace [McCain], who lived in Pomona, wrote to Aunt Ollie [McCain] who lived near us in the oil fields to ask what I liked so she could send an appropriate gift. Aunt Ollie replied, “Money, boys, and jewelry, not in any special order.” Things never changed much after that unless one could add animals to that list.

One more thing. At one time Uncle Roy had a pet bobcat. I never had a chance to meet it, unfortunately. One night it was out roaming around and some one on the highway shot it, or hit it with the car. I’m not really up on that story. . . .

Olive (McCain) Marks—1996:

As for Roy & Bernice—I know she

hated the desert, but was a good sol-dier. It amazed me the wide range they covered to socialize—they’d drive 40 miles to play cards or [go to a] dance. One time the local school was having an election—of course it would raise taxes. He [Roy] was really elec-tioneering against it, but the bond issue passed by one vote. He [Roy] was fretting & fuming—how could that be—“Pete voted against it, Joe voted against—I voted against it—you [Ber-nice] voted against it.” Bernice [stated]—“What makes you think I voted against it?” Here one vote had defeated it & he was completely crushed—feeling betrayed. My mother [Clara (Detrich) McCain] enjoyed the incident very much. He [Roy] didn’t have the highest opinion of women, and he had a wonderful woman. . . .

Hazel (McCain) Weaver—Aug. 4, 1996:

. . . Another big event which hap-pened several times in our lives was visiting Uncle Roy and Aunt Bernice on their island in the Lancaster-Palm-dale area where they raised white leg-horn chickens. Uncle Roy had to wear a mask to prevent his breathing dust from the chickens. You could see for miles from their farm and Aunt Ber-nice could spot Uncle Roy when he went to hunt coyotes. Of course this was years before Lockheed began using the desert to test their aircraft. . . .

Working conditions in the mines in those days were very poor, and Grandpa Roy developed silicosis (a disease similar to black lung), which eventually caused his kidneys to stop working. He died at a hospital in Bakersfield on April 13, 1939. Roy's funeral was held in Pomona, and Ann recalled she and her brother, George, played on the lawn during the services since they were thought to be too young

Roy McCain with his daughter Eleanor May McCain at the beach—1914. 53-8


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to attend them.On Grandma’s fiftieth birthday (July

5, 1939) after Roy’s death, her attorney V. A. Morgan filed a petition stating that the Rosamond ranch was community prop-erty valued at $2,400 and thus not sub-ject to inheritance tax. Grandma then moved to San Gabriel to live with her father, and she stayed in that town until her own death. Since Grandma was liv-ing in San Gabriel, she was the only one of our close relatives who also lived in the Los Angeles area. This proximity may have been partially responsible for our great fondness of her, but I believe it was largely due to her gregarious personality and feisty nature. My sister, Susan, and I always loved visiting her at her small

home on Rosemead Blvd. Although Grandma was not a great cook, she usu-ally had a jar of cookies ready for us when we did arrive, and every so often, when it was hot, she would make us root beer floats—a rare treat. She even had special straws with spoons on the ends for eating and drinking the floats Most of her des-serts were topped with maple icing—a fondness that may have come from her being raised in New Hampshire with its numerous maple trees. Susan never really realized that it was maple icing; she just thought it was something burnt. Here are her remembrances of Grandma:

A special event always was the visit of our great grandma McCain. She

Five generations: Keith Hagen being held by his mother Susan (Uebele) Hagen, George Uebele, Eleanor (McCain) Uebele, and Bernice (Beard) McCain—Taken at George’s home in Palos Verdes, California, on Bernice’s 92nd birthday on July 5, 1981. 158-2


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always brought us a special treat or something burnt from her kitchen. It was always exciting to see what it would be. We loved to hear her stories about when she lived in the desert. It was always so exciting to hear how she conquered the snakes, scorpions, and other perils of the Wild West! She was always plump with a happy dispo-sition and a hearty laugh. She was one of our favorite relatives. Sometimes we visited her in San Gabriel and got to chase her cats around the house and yard. Grandma always loved to play Po-ke-no, cards, and to visit Las Vegas and the horse races. She lived a full and lively life and lived to the ripe age of 97!

Although Grandpa Roy came from a large family, Grandma tended to avoid socializing with the McCains for she felt that they looked down on her for not being a good homemaker, which she admitted she wasn't. It was not until 1993, seven years after Grandma's death, that I had my first contact with another member of the McCain family. I was visit-ing Grandma's grave out in Pomona when I noticed that Roy's sister-in-law Eva (McVickers) McCain, Jesse's wife, had recently passed away. The cemetery con-tacted the next-of-kin for me, and I soon received a letter from Jesse's daughter, Floralee.

When I was old enough—I would mow Grandma's lawn. Unlike my parents who only had an old push type mower, Grandma had a large power mower that had a power drive to the wheels. I loved using it as often as I could; although, it was often difficult to start.

A large sycamore shaded the front of grandma's two bed room house from the hot afternoon sun. Susan and I loved the smell of the sycamore's bark, and we would peel off pieces of it to smell its sweet vanilla like aroma. In Autumn, we loved playing in the tree's fallen leaves.

Grandma hated the mess the sycamore's leaves made, and she constantly threat-ened to cut the tree down. Mom kept say-ing that the house would get too hot without the shade from the sycamore. However, as Grandma was very stubborn and set in her ways, she did not listen and eventually cut down the tree. Having spent her childhood in the cold climate of New Hampshire, Bernice loved the desert heat of Pomona and San Gabriel. Even the mildly-cool coastal weather of South-ern California did not agree with her—so she did not seem to miss the sycamore's cooling shade. In the rear yard behind the detached garage was a small steel and concrete incinerator used to burn garbage until they were outlawed due to the air pollution they created. As a child, I thought at first it was a strange barbecue, since incinerators had already been out-lawed.

When Grandma planned a visit to our house, we couldn't wait to see her drive up in her large red car of the 1950's—a Bel Air, I believe. She loved her cars and went through several—all of them large American cars—before her eyesight began to fail, causing her to loose her license. Susan could understand why Grandma lost her license, for Susan remembered a time when our parents were away, and Grandma had to take Susan to a friend's house. This was about the time we were in Junior high school (around 1970) The ride with Grandma nearly scared Susan to death: Although Grandma was driving very slow, she was also running signals and stop signs. Susan was so relieved when she got out of the car. Grandma was severely upset at having lost her license for she dearly loved her indepen-dence, which her cars provided. Another incident concerning Grandma and her cars is recalled in a letter from her daugh-ter, Eleanor, to Eleanor's daughter, Ann, dated November 3, 1972:

Mama pulled a real wingding this


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week. She wrote that she had bought a car. She has been told her old one was at that point, and she has been fussing. As you know, Floyd and I had a deal and when he got another car he called me and offered to give it back etc., but in the meantime George and I had discussed it and decided she shouldn't have that big a car with such sensitive power steering and brakes and F had put on 14,000 miles and said the transmission was about ready to go etc. and he agreed with us that it might not be wise to let her have it. So anyway, last weekend she went shopping with another gal and her boyfriend, and she ended up “at a place that had cars quite reasonable” and she bought a 1966 six cylinder Rambler—power steering and brakes, air conditioning etc. for $400. In the

meantime I had written her that Floyd was going to find a car for her as soon as he got over conventions which will end Sunday for a while. I had also written her about the warnings here about used cars being sold that had been submerged during recent floods etc. I was so furious I didn't dare write her or call her—I blew some steam by telling Edith about it and then finally called Dorothy and let off some more—since they are on the ground floor so to speak. I actually had a headache and I seldom have them. Anyway the boyfriend that went with them said he would sell their old cars—the other gal bought a Thunder-bird from another source. Well he thought she was buying it for him and when he found out she wasn't he blew up and now Mama is stuck with hav-

Out for a drive: Bernice (Beard) McCain with brother-in-law Jesse McCain & his wife (far left) Eva (McVickers) McCain. Also, Jesse McCain’s sister Gracie Bell (McCain) Johnson (between Jesse & Bernice)—circa 1948. 143-3


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ing to unload her old car too. Dorothy was wise though when she said “Well, O.K. now none of us will hear about everything that happens since she did it herself.” I wrote her the next day when I was cooled off some what and sent a carbon to F and told him to be thankful he was off the hook. He likes Mama so much he was more than will-ing to help.

This love for independence Grandma had carried over to her relationships. After the death of her only husband, Roy, she acquired a boyfriend named John A. Volkert, who was a craftsman in orna-mental ironwork. Bernice and John were companions for many years until John's

death on December 1, 1970. During their relationship, John had asked Bernice to marry him several times, and each tie she refused. When asked why she would not marry John, she replied: “I'll never be another man's slave.” Since my great-grandfather, Roy, had died long before I was born, John acted as my surrogate grandpa. John frequently accompanied Grandma on her visits to our house. He was a friendly but quiet man who walked with a cane. The thing I remember most about him was his large hearing aid he wore behind his ear—he was the first per-son I knew who wore one.

Grandma loved horse racing and gam-bling. She would frequently go to the races at Santa Anita. When her father, William, died in 1952 she inherited a modest sum of which a majority she lost at the races—according to her grand-daughter, Ann. Several times while grandma vacationed with us at the family cabin at Silver Lake, we all took a day trip to Lake Tahoe. We always dropped Grandma off at one of the casinos on Tahoe's South Shore while the rest of the family took a scenic drive around the lake. In retrospect, I believe Grandma had more fun on those trips than the rest of us.

Next to horse racing and gambling, television was Grandma's love. My mother, Dorothy, described in a letter to her grandson, Keith Hagen, an incident that no one soon would forget involving Grandma, Susan, and me and the family television set.

One funny event comes to mind; Grandma McCain didn't think it funny at the time. When your Mom [Susan] was two and Charles was just three months old, we left them with Grandma McCain for two days while we went to Mexico with some friends. Poor Grandma had a terrible time while we were gone. Grandma loved to watch TV. Unbeknown to her, as soon

Bernice (Beard) McCain with her boyfriend John Volkert posing at the Beverly—circa 1960. 53-7


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as we were gone, Susan played with the knobs on the TV and turned down the brightness knob so that there was no picture. Grandma spent the week-end without TV because she thought it was broken. The next thing Susan did was to drop a jar of deodorant into the toilet so that it overflowed when it was flushed. Fortunately Grandma was able to fish the jar out of the toilet, but she wasn't happy about having to do so. Charles had diarrhea and kept Grandma busy changing diapers. When we got back, Grandma couldn't wait to leave and go home. That was the first and last time that we asked Grandma to baby-sit for us.

Grandma had a very pronounced New England accent that she never lost, even after living in California for over eighty years. One event I remember vividly regarding Grandma's accent was during a trip to the family cabin. On this particu-lar trip, we took our basset hound, Hilda, with us—which was unusual in that we normally left her at home, tended by

Grandma or a neighbor. At the cabin, Hilda wandered off and got lost in the woods around the lake. We all went out looking for her, calling her name. I still remember how grandma's voice rang out through the woods as she called, “Hilder! Here Hilder!”

Another incident involving Grandma's accent involved a neighbor, an English woman, of my parents. Occasionally while we were out on vacation, Grandma would house-sit for us, and during these times, the next door neighbor—who rarely said two words to my mother—would come over and quiz Grandma on informa-tion about my parents. Well one time this English neighbor, hearing Grandma's accent, asked her if she was English. Grandma was very offended and replied in a huff: “I'm not English, I'm a Yankee!”

Christmas was extra special when grandma spent it with us. While we were young, she would alternate between spending Christmas with us and spend-ing it with my Aunt Ann's family in Los Gatos. This arrangement lasted until Aunt Ann and Uncle Bill divorced. After that, Grandma spent every Christmas with us until her death. Christmas has never been the same without her. One Christmas that my wife, Catharina, will not forget was the first Christmas she spent with my family. For a gift, my brother, David, gave Catharina a very obscene t-shirt, which I will not describe. Needless to say, Catharina was very embarrassed and wanted to hide the shirt as quickly as possible; however, Grandma did not see what the shirt said and kept asking Catharina to show it to her. Reluctantly, Catharina did, and Grandma just sat with her mouth agape and said, “Oh my!”

Grandma's birthday, July 5, was also a treat for us. We would invite some of her close friends and throw her a party at my parents' house. At these parties, we all would play Grandma's favorite game, bingo, which we too loved. Grandma also

Bernice at the slot machines in Las Vegas, Nevada—circa 1965. 143-7


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taught us some of her other favorite card games such as “crazy eights” and “kings corners.” At Grandma's parties we would have cake and homemade ice cream—my favorite.

Although Grandma was very gregari-ous, she (like most of our family) was not one to show great physical affection or emotion relating to affection of others. I recall one Christmas in the 1980's when my parents were about to take Grandma home. Quite out of my nature, I went up and gave Grandma a hug and a kiss on the cheek. This obviously moved Grandma for she became misty eyed. And although she did not say anything, I knew that this meant a lot to her, which in turn made me very glad I went against my nature and showed my affection. I will always cherish that moment.

Grandma did not like being old; she also did not like doctors and claimed that she lived so long because she avoided them whenever possible. She frequently said to me, “Only the good die young—so don't be too good.” About the time of my marriage to Catharina Kroebig in 1985, Grandma's health was failing fast, and she could no longer take care of herself. The decision was made to put her in a nursing home. Catharina and I wanted her in one down near us in the South Bay area of Los Angeles so that we could stop by and see her more often, and Catharina went so far as to call several places, ask-

ing about their accommodations. How-ever, my parents picked one out in the Pasadena Valley where Grandma lived. Naturally Grandma fussed about being placed in the home, but when she got there, she discovered that she liked it for Grandma was very outgoing and there were so many folks about her age with whom she could chat, without having to take the bus to see them. There were also bingo and card games with these people. I believe Grandma would have had a great time if we had placed her in the home ear-lier, for she always complained that tak-ing the bus was so difficult to go to her social activities. Unfortunately, Grandma suffered a stroke soon after she went into the home and died a short while later on May 26, 1987. Grandma's funeral was simple, only my parents, my wife Catha-rina, and myself attended. Grandma and Grandpa are buried next to each other in the Pomona Cemetery. They are right next to Roy's parents, William & Addas McCain, and near many of Roy's brothers and Roy's grandfather Nelson McCain. Many old people on their death beds regress to their youth and mutter things: General Robert Lee of the Confederate Army regressed back to the Civil War and muttered, “Strike the camp.” Grandma too reverted back to her youth and some of her last comments were her concerns that she was going to miss the stage-coach.

MYSTERIES OF LIFE*

BY BERNICE MCCAIN

Sitting by window, I watch the old stark gray tree in the garden quiver and

bend with the harsh winter wind. How old and dead it looks when only a short

*. The following three pieces were written by Bernice and are in what I believe chronological order. Some editing was done to make the pieces easier to read and to understand. Words in brackets are not Ber-nice's, but are added for clarity. Other words were deleted that were unnecessary or confusing. Because of her strong New England accent, some of the words and grammar in these pieces—though incorrect—are left as written to get a feel for how she spoke


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time its leaves were laughing and whis-pering in the summer sun, and its branches were full of fruit, and children played in its shade. Maybe it knew better than we did that to lose a life is to gain one, and when summer comes again it will be alive manifesting God's power. So I ponder on, trying to find the answer that way, for my husband who had great strength and vitality died. And I—like the tree—had danced and laughed in the summer of life [but now] was shocked.

Looking at him so gray and cold, I took his hand to caress it, and it was cold and lifeless. Where had all the life and vitality gone. Then I looked back through the ages to the time of the crucifixion of Jesus—he who had healed and blessed man—how he must have suffered until the material body could stand no more. Then his spiritual body would rise above the world and manifest God's life through the ages.

Roy Frederick McCain—circa 1905. 49-3 Bernice Ethelyn (Beard) McCain—circa 1905. 54-6


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GRANDMA'S SOLILOQUYBY BERNICE MCCAIN

I was born in the so called horse and buggy days, and now [I'm] in the flying age. “Wow” there have been some changes made. Now we live in the push button era, and it is thought essential to have a college education to push them. If you are a married woman, you won't have to know how to cook with all the frozen and prepared foods. For instance, for dinner you can buy a frozen chicken and have mashed potatoes by whipping up some potato flakes with hot water. And with a prepared cake mix, a frozen pie, or a gelatin dessert you have a meal. I still remember my mother-in-law [Addas (Thompson) McCain]—when company came—would go out and wring a chicken's neck and have chicken and dumplings.

For Breakfast, I make a cup of black coffee with instant coffee, a glass of frozen orange juice, and a vitamin pill—not

nearly as satisfying as my old way of bis-cuits, ham, or bacon but think of all the calories. And by the way, the biscuits wasn't made of prepared mix or popped out of a can. Once we were fat and happy, now we are thin and neurotic. If I have some laundry to do, I will put it in the electric washer and in no time it will wash and dry— [quite] some difference when I used to shave a cake of soap into the wash water and boil [the clothes] to whiten them and scrub them on a back breaking wash board. That starts me wondering—What became of the wash board? Ironing was different also. I used to wear two petticoats with ruffles, which had to be ironed, but now slips and most of the laundry are made of materials that require little or no ironing.

I was reading an article of the past [when] it was the custom of taking a bath once a week in a tin tub—that was the

Bernice with her great-grandshildren. Front:Chris William Patton(1954-), Craig AllenPatton (1956-2000).Back: Susan Louise

Uebele (1955-), CharlesSidney Uebele (1957-),

& Carole Ann Patton(1958-). Taken at her

daughter, EleanorUebele’s, house in

Stockton, CA—circa1958. 141-6


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way of life, but it had one compensation, you didn't have to brush your teeth after every meal. Now I drool over the beautiful bath rooms that they take for granted.

When we had leisure time, we used to crochet doilies or edging for towels and so forth, but now all that is passe—so amuse yourself going shopping, playing cards or watching television. If you are a younger woman, you will be restless and want to be a career woman as well as a housewife, or [you will want to] do a lot of work for school, church, or politics.

The love life was different also. When I was being courted, I would snuggle up to my beau, and if he was too bold, I would put him in his place. And he would think I was unattainable and quite a prize, and so we would get married and work ever after. Now going steady is the craze, and

there are more bachelors than ever. They make more money, [which] they spend on new cars and having a good time. Many of them won't ask for a second date unless their desires are gratified, so why marry?

Yes, it is a mad mad world with cars running like mad, and [planes] flying from one country to another and maybe to the moon soon.

I remember my first movie at Keith's Theater in Boston. All it was a train com-ing closer and closer, and I thought it was marvelous. So you see how life is improv-ing. Even grandmothers [have] their sil-ver hair rinses, slim figures, and active interests. And so I'm torn between the peaceful ways of the past or the hectic luxurious ways of the present, but I will take the push buttons.

A LIFEBY BERNICE MCCAIN

I am now in my ninetieth year and have always thought that an older per-son's life story with all its joys and sor-rows would be interesting. I was born in North Woodstock, New Hampshire on a farm that my Dad [William] bought from an uncle [Stephen Sharon]. It was a ram-bling house with lots of bedrooms which my dad turned into a rustic retreat for city boarders. I often wondered how my mother managed, as the water [was] piped into a barrel in the pantry and the boarders[just] had a pitcher and bowl in their rooms. [They also had] no flush toi-lets. But they enjoyed country life as there was wonderful trips to take. Mother fed them lots of fresh fruit and vegetables, and no one counted calories. Those days were so happy. They even formed a ball team named the Sun Set Bums as the farm was called the Sun Set Farm. In the winter, we only used the big kitchen and our bed rooms as the parlor was a special place with its horse hair sofa and framed picture of past relative's hair in a wreath.

My dad was a small wiry man [who] wasn't afraid of hard work. In the winter, he picked spruce gum which he sold to a firm in Boston, and he sold the milk from two cows. He [also] cut slabs of ice from the river and packed it in an outhouse that was [insulated] with saw dust, giving us ice for ice cream all summer.

My mother [Mary] would braid my hair in two long pig-tails and turn me loose. And like Topsy I grew up. I had to walk about a mile to school. [Along the way I] met some older children at the end of the farm who would always tell about the bears in the woods. The woods came down close to the road. One night when we had to stay late in school, I started home and always walked with my head turned to see if a bear was after me. I thought I would cut across the rail road that ran through the meadow. As I tried to get under the barb wire, it caught me in the middle of my back, and I couldn't get free. But the hired man was uneasy about me and found me.


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When I was in my teens, my dad got the idea of building an opera house in town. It was three stories. The basement [was divided] into two parts: one [section had] a pool table and [the other a] bowling ally which dad ran. And [at] street level [there was] a clothing store and a light lunch and confectionery run by mother who baked bread at ten cents a loaf. She did that because dad wouldn't eat store bread “The spoiled brat.” He had to when mother died as I couldn't make bread worth a darn. We had two sleeping rooms on the third floor. The hall was large, and sometimes the seats would be rolled under the stage [to make room for] a ball, which was quite an affair as the women would wear evening dresses etc. Vaude-ville was in and some [performers] would play a two or three week stand. We had a box at the end of the balcony and the men who sang would sing to me. One sang “Blue Bell” to me for six nights, and I got quite a crush on him till I saw him on the street one day [with another woman].

The town was small: two groceries, a post office, and a couple of other stores. But the next town [Lincoln] was run by two brothers who had a paper mill [and] a

clothing factory. In the summer, the mountains had lots of hotels which kept us going.

Then my mother's sister, who lived in California, kept telling [us] about it, and dad got the fever to go. We struck Califor-nia just before the 1906 earthquake. We had stayed in San Francisco the week before. We were glad we left. [While Ber-nice and her family were in transit on the train to Los Angeles, the San Francisco earthquake hit and collapsed the hotel in which they had stayed.]

Dad wanted to buy a cigar store, but my aunt said wait awhile as a lot of East-erners got fleeced. Dad didn't care much for California, but [then he] had to go east during the winter to settle some insur-ance—he didn't complain after that. They bought a five bed room house in Pomona, and I went back to school. I lasted two years and then I answered an ad for an apprentice in a telegraph office.

Those days all business telegrams were sent through telegraph offices— now they have their own teler types [sic]. I had a chance to take over the postal office and was doing fine till Western Union went on strike, and all the paper news came to our

Bernice (Beard) McCain—circa 1906. 55-7Bernice (Beard) McCain with her aunt Emma Beard—circa 1915. 53-4


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office. They got all the little towns on the line, and an operator in L.A. would sling the news at us. If you had to break in, he would burn the wire up. I guess I would have passed out if my old boss hadn't helped me out till the strike was over. My aim was to get on at the Hotel Green, the leading hotel in Pasadena, where I would only send and the tips were large.

In the mean time, I had joined a lodge [the Elks]. We had a drill team that went all around to put on drills. And then the love bug bit me. He played the violin and I played the piano—at least we thought we did. He worked in L.A., and one day when I was down there, we went and got married. That ended my work career as he didn't want me to work and I got preg-nant right away.

I didn't know a thing about cooking or house work. After a honeymoon at Cat-alina, we rented a flat. He ate breakfast and lunch in town—we only had dinner to gather [sic]. The dirty clothes was piling up. The next door neighbor said, “There is a tub and some lines in the back porch.” So I tried my luck and had a lot of blisters to show for it, as we had to wash with a wash board, and I rubbed with my hands down instead of the palms down. Well I survived, and then the baby came. We had a doctor, [who] worked me over as [the baby] was ten pound and it was a difficult birth. They didn't go to hospitals then. Now some more troubles, as I had never been near a baby. My hus-band would come home and find us both crying.

When [our daughter] was about nine or six years old, my husband and his friend [Frank Watkins, his brother-in-law] took a desert entry of a hundred [and sixty] acres near Lancaster. [The land patent was taken out on June 26, 1923 during Warren Hardings presidential administration. The homestead was located in the south-east quarter of sec-tion twenty-four in township nine north range twelve west of the San Bernadino

meridian, or about four miles east of Highway 14 and Rosamond.] It was an old lake bed with water close to the sur-face, and the idea was to raise rice like in Shafter. But we were too close to the Teh-achapi Mountains and had a late spring so [the rice] didn't mature. We had taken the money we had from the house we sold, but [the money went to pay for] fences and [a] well etc., so [Roy] went back to work in Mojave while he built a house of plain boards with batten and beaver board [on the] inside. I said, “Make the rooms large,” so we had a large living [area] with windows all across the front.

[Living in the desert] was quite a tran-sition for me: with no mail, milk, or paper delivered and no electric light, with [just] wood to burn and no one around except rattlesnakes and coyotes. One day my husband killed a big snake and left it there. I would go out [to] look at it. One day it moved, and I went and told [Roy

Eleanor May McCain at 13 months—May 1912. 53-9


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that] it was alive. He laughed as it had got full of maggots. [In the] mornings, the coyotes would come sneaking in, and my husband would chase them with the car with me driving [while he used a twenty-two, which] he had to use as I was terri-fied with loud noises like a shot gun [blast].

Now [Roy] had went back to his old job in L.A. for the summer, which would tide us over. But what could we raise to make a living? While he was gone, I read an article on making adobe brick. And so I tried putting adobe mud and weeds in a mold, and it worked. As my dad had a poultry ranch in Pomona, [we thought we would try chicken ranching.] We got some baby chicks from a hatchery and made an adobe brick [coop] to hold them, but we had a lot of grief at first as we didn't know much about raising chickens.

We had lots of fun as we would have

big dinner parties and go to the Saturday night dance. When prohibition was in, the men thought it was fun to make home brew, and [on] Saturday nights we would take some along to the dance. We could sure dance.

I also remember the time when I was sitting under a tree in the back yard hold-ing a cat when a coyote came up from the well. The cat ran for under the house, but [the coyote] had me. I managed to throw him when he lunged for me. My husband was mending a fence but heard me. When he got there, the coyote ran off. They thought maybe he had rabies, but there was no doctor in town, and it [was] about sixty miles to get the shots, so we took a chance that it was alright.

I used to drive down to L.A. about every two or three weeks while [Roy] was working there. The road wasn't paved then, and there was only one service sta-

Roy McCain (left) by his Ice truck in Los Angeles—circa 1915. 55-6


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tion the whole way. Once, the car broke down half way to no where from no where, and I didn't know what to do, so I locked [the car] and thumbed a ride home. I sure wouldn't take that chance now. [The man who picked me up] never spoke and was a sour looking nut. I offered to pay, but he said no, so I had them fill the gas tank.

Things was going a little better as Roy got a job near home in a gold mine. Eleanor was in high school—we boarded her in a dorm there. And we [finally] got electricity, [but we had to buy an] electric heater, electric stove, hot water tank, and we had to build another room and bath-room [before the electric company would connect electrical service to our house. That was around] our twenty-fifth year—so to celebrate, the folks from town came and brought a pot luck supper and an electric percolator.

Now some more troubles: Roy's lungs were bad. I don't know how to spell it, but the lungs fill up with rock dust, and soon you have no lungs. [Silicosis of the lungs—a disease of the lungs caused by inhaling of siliceous particles as by stone-cutting.] It got harder and harder for him to breath. I would have to take him in the middle of the night to Lancaster for a shot of adrelium (sic). The company had to pay as they didn't have a blower down in the shaft, but it was [still] costly as I had [to take] him to doctors from Bakersfield to L.A. I put him in a hospital in Bur-bank. After being there a month, they suggested to put him in the county hospi-tal in Bakersfield as it was dryer there and cost less. I followed the ambulance there, got him settled, and then went to a motel. In the morning I started [to go to the hospital] to give him some things when someone tooted for me to stop. It was Bert. [He came to say that] Roy had

5th through 8th grade girls In Rosamond, California. Eleanor McCain thrid from right—circa 1924. 58-5


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died that night. So we went to Pomona for the funeral.

When I got home, there had been a cold wind, and a lot of the hens was run-ning around with cankers in their throats. So I had to catch them and pull a quill [to] lift the canker out or they would die. I was so busy with a thousand hens that I didn't have time to think. I had a neighbor [come] to fill the hoppers and clean the roosts, but I swore I would sell the darn place. I found someone, who worked in the mines, to buy the hens, and I sold the place for practically nothing [$2,500] to a couple [Andrew and Alma O’Donnell] with a down payment and so much a month [$200 down and $20 a month at 6% interest starting October 15, 1939]. Soon I wasn't getting the pay-ments, so I wrote but the man said he had left his wife as she was running around with the soldiers at the base. I finally got her out [1943] and later sold it to the Muroc base [now Edwards Airforce Station. Bernice actually sold the land to Myron T. King on April 21, 1949, and later on May 25, 1954 Myron sold the land to the U. S. Government.]

Eleanor had married after graduation, a man [Sid Uebele] ten years older than she. They went to live in Ludlow and in San Francisco, and [they] had a boy [George] then later a girl [Ann. They were] always so far away that I didn't see [them] except on vacation time. My mother loved her grand children, but she died in 1935 of a bad heart attack.

After selling the place [the Lancaster ranch], I went down to live with my dad as he was all alone. Then at fifty-two, I looked for work. My work as a telegraph operator was out, but the war [World War II] was going on so work was plentiful. I got in as a drill press operator. I didn't like it very much, but the plant [soon] closed. Then I worked in a place where they made candles for churches. I was having a good time, as a German couple next door [and I] went dancing in Pasa-

dena. They had a bachelor friend [John Volkert] who I got acquainted with. He had a car, so Sundays we would go to all the beaches and etc. I had a chum, and we were crazy about bingo, and dad loved to go [too]. I won 200 dollars once on what is called a three layer cake.

Then dad got very sick with liver trou-ble. He wouldn't go to a hospital, so I [hired] a day and night nurse for him. He died in 1952.

The candle place moved, so I was out of work again. But dad left me some money and the house so I retired. My friend had to go into a home as she had broken her hip and had to be in a wheel chair. I sold the house as the taxes were so high, and I bought a house on Rose-mead Blvd., a main thoroughfare, which would always be easy to sell. I paid eleven thousand for it, but it will sell for thirty of forty now. John now was getting senile. He lived with a sister who put him

Roy McCain with his son-in-law Silas “Sid” Uebele and grandson George Uebele—circa 1930. 55-3


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in a home, and he died soon after with a stroke.

Now with all my friends dead or in homes, I feel like the last rose of summer. So I went to the races all the time and enjoyed myself. But now I too am going to the dogs as I am almost blind. I had to sell the car. And trying to find new friends is hard to do when you are old. They say it is the golden years, but I call them the hellish years. It would be good if you had a husband to be with and money to travel and live on, but then I am thankful that at ninety-one I am not lay-ing in some hospital bed like a vegetable. Most old people are crippled with arthri-tis, but I have had two or three attacks of blood clots in the veins of my legs. The first [attack] the doctor said to keep my legs up, and [he] had me measured for a pair of elastic hose which was so tight I had to put them [on] over my heel with a shoe horn. My friends said if the clots broke loose and floated to the heart or lungs it would kill you. After two or more time [of trying to wear the hose], I dis-carded the stockings and just kept my feet up a lot. In 1975, I had a heart attack which kept me down for about a month, but since then I have felt pretty good. I guess the older you get the tougher you get.

ROSAMOND RESIDENT PASSES AT BAKERSFIELD*

Rosamond friends mourn the passing of Roy F. McCain on Wednesday evening, April 12, at a Bakersfield hospital, follow-ing a long illness. He was born July 2,

1888 in Pomona, residing there until his marriage in 1910, when he moved to Los Angeles. In 1920, he and his family moved to Rosamond where he was in the poultry business until his death. Services were held at Todd & Reeves funeral home in Pomona and interment at the Pomona cemetery. Among the many Rosamond friends attending the funeral were, Mr. and Mrs. W. S. Webb, Mrs. E Hardin, Mr. and Mrs. F. W. Johnson, Mr. and Mrs. Clair Frazer, Mr. Beller, Mr. and Mrs. For-est Patterson, Mrs. Lena Pioda, Mr. and Mrs. John Cozad, Mr. and Mrs. Byron O'Dell, Mrs. Ralph Jensen, Mr. and Mrs. Albert Johnson, Mr. and Mrs. Cecil Bur-ton, and Mrs. Luella McNamee. Acting as pall bearers were Forest Patterson, Albert Johnson, John Cozad, Bryon O'Dell, F. W Johnson, and Clair Frazer.

The deceased is survived by his wife, Mrs. Bernice McCain, a daughter, Mrs. S. Uebele, two grandchildren, six brothers, and two sisters.

McCain†

Bernice E., of San Gabriel, passed away Monday evening at San Gabriel Hospital. Mrs. McCain was born July 5, 1889 in New Hampshire. She came to California in 1906 from New Hampshire and resided in San Gabriel since 1939. She is survived by 1 grandson; 1 grand-daughter; 6 great-grandchildren; 3 great- great-grandchildren. Private services will be held at the Pomona Cemetery. TODD MEMORIAL CHAPEL, Pomona, in charge of arrangements.

*. Obituary from unidentified newspaper, April 1939†. Obituary from the San Gabriel Valley Tribune, dated Wednesday, May 28, 1986


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NOTES:

1. Information came from census and the research of Laura McCain Folk through Yates publishing, Ozark, Missouri.

2. Information gathered from census, county, and pension records and family history.3. 1850 Census for Buchanan County, Missouri.4. History of San Bernardino County, 1904, page 759. Some additional information as

been added and is enclosed in brackets.5. Smithsonian Magazine, May 1994, Vol. 25, Num. 2, pg. 41-42.6. Letter from William Pleasant’s granddaughter Olive (McCain) Marks to Charles

Uebele dated July 12, 1996.7. Pomona, Progress Bulletin.8. Kern County register book 707 page 295 and book 817 page 271.9. Kern County register book 792 page 286.

4: mccain - uebele photo

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