My father, Rafael Vencint Foley. Most people knew him as Vence. And he sometimes went by RV. Born the baby of the family in 1905, he met and married my mother in 1936.
There is a lot of my father that I do not know. Nothing about his childhood. What he did. Who were his friends. I remember that either he or my mother only got as far as 2nd grade in school and the other 6th grade. I knew that my father was pretty much a self educated man. He was intelligent and articulate and as far as I can tell was well liked by everyone. Apparently he did not like his given name so he went by Vence and that is what everyone called him. Sometimes he went by RV but that was not often.
He was 40 years old when I was born and I believe he had been working off and on for the better part of 30 years. He and my mother were married in 1936 at Williamsburg, Ky and did their honeymoon at Cumberland Falls State Park. Mom was very fond of Cumberland Falls as I recall but Dad did not say much if anything about it.
Dad and Mom were married for about 9 years before I entered the world. My earliest childhood memory is living in a house on Wooldridge Pike just down from the Douglas Cemetery. I remember Dad was still coal mining because he would come home covered with coal dust but I do not know where he worked. At the time, there was still some coal mining going on. I understand that he and Uncle Nean owned a coal mine but I do not know if they did at the time I was born. Dad built a small building down from the house on the road and he sold some grocery items but predominantly he sold beer. I vaguely recall some of the neighbors from up in Wooldridge would stop by. Most were Italian and spoke the language. I was told in later years that they taught me some of the language but that did not stick.
I was not sure when we moved from the Wooldridge area to the big house in Newcomb. Then this year (2022)
with the release of the 1950 census, I determined that is was after the date the census was taken. I think we moved to Indianapolis in 1953 or 1954 so it was between 1950-1953. I believe he was still working in the mines and I think it was strip mining not deep mining. Most of my memories of childhood were during this period.
I remember walking behind my father while he was plowing the ground behind that big house. I was told that I stuffed my mouth with dirt when I walked behind him. I thought the property was huge but in reality it was but an acre or so. Dad had a mule called Old Joe that he used to plow. Do not know where he kept the mule but I remember being put upon Old Joe's back and he bucked me off.
In my child's view of that property, I thought it was huge but now when I look at it with Google Earth, it was only about 100 ft X 100 ft. But Dad used the mule and raised a crop, mostly corn I think.
I remember a lot of living in that house and the house itself. Funny, I cannot remember where I slept upstairs. In later years I learned that was the Rodeheaver home. That name is probably not familiar to a lot of folks living today but Homer Rodeheaver was an American evangelist, music director, music publisher, composer of gospel songs, and pioneer in the recording of sacred music. His father started up a furniture manufacturing business in Newcomb. I suppose due to the abundance of hardwoods in the mountains. They were prosperous and founded the Methodist Church which stood directly across the street from their house. That building, long abandoned, still stands. The house we lived in caught fire and burned to the ground after we moved to Indianapolis. Interesting, a newer more modern home was built on the site and I just recently discovered that house had burned down as well.
The house was two story with I think 3 bedrooms upstairs. I remember those stairs were constructed of the most beautiful cherry wood. Dark in color,Mom kept them polished constantly. There was a landing, half way up and they were fairly wide. We had a parlor downstairs where there was a coal stove used for heat and Mom had two stoves for cooking, one electric and the other a wood burning stove. I suppose that electricity could go off and stay off for awhile so Mom had something to cook on. The kitchen had a sink with a hand pump for well water but we did not drink it due to pollution. Mom carried our drinking water in from a neighbor's house. There was no indoor plumbing of course. I remember we had an outhouse but Mom also kept what was called a "slop jar" in the house for us kids to use and she was carry it out and dump it in the outhouse.
We probably lived in that house for several years before Dad moved to Indianapolis and he was there for at least a year before we moved up. Not so sure if Dad had bought it or if he rented it. One of my cousins thinks it was rented and she is probably correct. I do not know what his financial affairs were like but work was probably little to none by the time we moved. And do not know why either and can only surmise. My two sisters had been born and he had more mouths to feed and needed more room, plus I was getting close to school age and not sure that Wooldridge had a school so it would have been a long way to get to school in Newcomb.
I did start school in Newcomb, first grade in the old wooden structure and then second grade in the new school that had been built. Miss Roxie Zechini was my first teacher and Miss Jeanette Petrey in second grade.
It was not until after we moved to Indianapolis, that I learned I had a sister other than Delida and Mary Janalee. Dad had fathered a daughter before he met my mother. After many years passed and I was well into my adulthood did I ever get the opportunity to meet with Shirley and her family. She lived in Benton Harbor, Michigan and married a good man who had his own insurance agency and she had four children, all about my age. Sadly, we lost her a few years ago but I cherish the memories and the times we spent, not just in person but also over the phone and the internet. Dad did not talk about her very much but Mom did and we got Christmas cards and photos of her children when I was growing up. I always wondered why we never went up to visit or they came down. I will never know the answer now with her passing and Dad and Mom gone. Since Dad never talked about her, I always wondered if he cared for her and loved his daughter. That answer did come in the form of a tape recording, my sister made of her and her aunt and adopted mother, Marie. I have extracted a fragment of that and included it below.