The Munroe’s, with their two children, Beth 5 and Billy 3, moved to Carmel. The year was 1930.
Life took on new dimensions for the Munroe's. Happiness and contentment filled their lives, each devoted to the courts and their individual interests. For Bill it was establishing his business in Monterey. For Gertrude it was planning improvements to the courts and engaging herself in the social activities of the country club. Together they worked to improve the court.
Bill moved two small one-room cabins together making a large one-bedroom cabin equipped with modern toilet facilities, and he erected three additional one room modern cabins. In the sandy soil, he etched graciously flowing driveways through the towering pines and bordered them with Monterey slate rock forming flower beds. Gertrude nurtured the beds into plots of glorious blooming flowers which attracted both passers-by and members of the local horticultural society. The court took on beauty and a reputation of the place to stay in Carmel. By the end of the second year the courts were booked in advance and producing a handsome profit.
Bill's performance on his first contract in Monterey brought him additional contracts at a pace faster than local qualified workers could be found. He moved several of his old employees from Oakland and put them in charge of individual projects. Although it was the years of the Great Depression, Bill Munroe had found success for his family and his friends. Beth and Billy loved the court where they were free to run and play, making pets of the squirrels and watching the deer come to lick the salt block set out by their Dad. The children's weekends were often spent on the nearby beaches jumping off and sliding down the high sand dunes when they were not busy building sand castles for the incoming tide to wash away.
When the mackerel were running, Bill would take Billy to the Monterey Pier where hundreds of fisherman, standing two and three deep suspended their long bamboo poles out over the surging water waiting for the mackerel to make a pass alongside the pier. As the fish moved in, the poles would roll up in one continuous wave, a mackerel on every hook. Bill cured his catch in a large wooden barrel of salt brine, to be enjoyed with an ample amount of homebrew supplied by his friends.
Early in the third year, Randolph, the third child and an unwanted surprise to Gertrude, was born. The new baby drastically altered Gertrude's attitude toward the court and her husband. "I don't have time for anything," she would complain to Bill, who was now spending more time in Monterey with his successful business than the court. Gertrude's priorities gradually shifted away from the court, taking on an order of social events first, the baby second, the court third and her husband and family last.
Bill hired a day manager to run the court and to look after routine maintenance. Little by little, problems began to appear. Guests left without paying their bills. Drunken guests backed their cars over the flower beds and destroyed appurtenances in the cabins. Vacancies and double bookings occurred without any apparent reason. Bill tried to reverse the trend by replacing the day manager, but the problems continued and life at the court became difficult and strained.
As Bill's business continued to prosper, he began to consider selling the court and building a home closer to Monterey. He knew something had to be done if his marriage was to survive, and getting rid of the court seemed to be a step in the right direction. When he was awarded a major contract to build the first multilevel parking garage in Monterey, he announced his plan to Gertrude. "We'll put the court up for sale and break ground on a new house just as soon as the garage profits are in. We won't need the income from the court and they should bring a sizeable profit over our initial investment."
The parking garage was to be built on a spit of land adjacent to the Monterey Pier on what Bill and the planning engineers believed to be hard rock. The construction proceeded on schedule with each floor of the poured cement multilevel structure rising above the one below it. A seemingly endless line of wheel barrows were pushed and pulled up a set of ramps to the third level where their contribution of wet heavy cement was dumped into the corner forms to dry into an integral part of the four story structure. However, deep under the ground, the pilings rested on a subterranean coral shelf, which strained under the sheering weight of the corner piling as more and more cement was poured into the forms.
Bill ordered a ladder raised to the second level, below where the cement was being poured, to inspect an area where forms had been removed. He reached the top of the ladder when without warning the coral shelf crumbled under the tremendous weight, letting the pilings drive themselves deep into the unstable mud under the coral. Above ground, the corner collapsed, sending the entire structure into a crashing, death performing role. Bill jumped from the ladder only to become engulfed in the cascading tons of wet cement, concrete, steel and timbers.
Grandmother Monroe, upon being told of the accident, came to Carmel to be with her son, expecting the worse. For days she sat in the corner of his hospital room waiting, watching and praying for an improvement in his condition. The doctors did all they could, but the tons of falling materials had caused severe internal injuries, injuries beyond surgical repair.
The urgently needed surgery to rebuild the crushed pelvic bones and hip joint had to wait. Nothing could be done except to wait and pray. Five days after the accident it was announced that Bill Munroe would live, but doctors told him he would never walk again. As Bill regained his strength and the operations to mend his crushed body commenced, his outside world was falling apart.
Suits charging negligence and default were filed. His ex-friends and employees took what they wanted before the courts could seize the assets, and previous investors who had eagerly sought him out now demanded payment. Employees filed for damages, and his other contracts were scuttled by competitors. From his hospital bed Bill tried to bring some order to his troubles in hopes of salvaging something from the innocent catastrophe. It was no use. It was all over. The business was lost.
Then, came the final blow, a real coup d’état. He was served with divorce papers on the grounds of gross incompatibility, mental anguish and the inability to provide for his family. His world collapsed around him. Gertrude returned to Oakland taking Beth and Randolph with her, leaving Billy behind with his father and grandmother. Billy was six years old.
CHAPTER THREE
Six months passed before Billy's father was discharged from the hospital, well enough to go home, but still a long way from being well. "The doctors," Bill would later say, "were wrong on two counts. One, I didn't die, and two, I'm walking. Maybe not too good, but I'm walking, and I'll get rid of this cane before too long."
During those long six months, Billy's grandmother took on the multiple roles of grandmother, mother and manager of the Carmel Cottage Courts. She and Billy became great companions, sharing the activities of running the courts and waiting for the day when Billy's father would come home. Billy's love and affection for his grandmother moved through the salutations of "grandmother" to "mother" and then to what was to be his most affectionate expression, of "Mums". Mums became her name.
The months preceding the divorce required frequent trips to Oakland in Mum's Rickenbacker, a spacious automobile luxurious with its pecan wood dashboard and velvet seat coverings in which contrasting patterns would appear when Billy ran his fingers through the nap. On these trips to Oakland Billy stood on the floor between his Dad's legs or sat in his lap, looking out the windshield. It was his place for the long trips.
The road to Oakland wound through the hills and valleys and crossed many bridges. The trips became a game of naming the bridges for a member of the family, or a friend. As the frequency of the trips increased, Billy memorized the bridges and the name given to each bridge. When they approached a bridge Billy would announce it’s name. There was one bridge of great significance to Billy, and it was always a long wait until that particular bridge came into view. It was the longest of all the bridges and spanned a deep and scenic canyon. Seeing the bridge, Billy would proudly announce, "This is your bridge, Mums." Billy loved his Mums.
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