the end of one of those happy trips came an event which would forever haunt Billy. He sat with his father and grandmother on the hard wooden bench seat of a courtroom watching his mother on the witness stand. He was too young to comprehend the proceedings, but not too young to know he was being separated from the love of his father and his Mums. The courts awarded all three children to the custody of their mother.
Although Billy chose to blot out the memory of that day, the hurt and anger would forever remain. The divorce had been savagely manipulated by Billy's mother stripping his father of his family, wealth and dignity. Mr. Munroe was powerless to respond and physically incapable of doing so. The ruthlessness of the divorce generated in his father's family a passionate hatred toward Billy's mother. It was a hatred which would outlive Billy.
The Carmel Cottage Courts was sold and the proceeds went toward settlement of the Monterey tragedy. Billy's father moved to seclusion in the Sierra Nevada Mountains and Grandmother Munroe, denied the right to visit with her grandchildren, returned to Oakland. Billy joined his siste,r and brother who were living with the Blair's in Oakland. Boarded out was the term Billy would come to understand.
When Gertrude had arrived in Oakland with Beth and Randolph she had been fortunate in two ways. She had found immediate employment and a friend, with whom she and her two children could live. It was only a short time, however, before the living arrangement demanded a change. Her daily absence from the two young children had placed too much of a burden on what was becoming a fragile relationship. Through a neighbor friend she had learned of the Blair family who lived close by in a large house and who had expressed an interest in boarding the children. Discussions with Mrs. Blair had resulted in an agreement to board the children with the Blair family.
The Blair's house sat atop the hill on Lyon Avenue between 38th Avenue and High Street. The wooden two-story structure, from the web-infested cellar to the attic dormer windows looking out onto the barren front yard and the chicken coops, barn and vegetable gardens in the back yard, showed signs of the times. Money was scarce, and what there was of it, went toward the basic necessities of life. The peeling paint, the cracked window panes, and other things of neglect were seen, but ignored in the knowledge that funds were not available for their repair or upkeep.
Anything costing money and not contributing to the sustenance of the Blair household was banished from their habits, with the exception of the precious donations made to their evangelistic church.
"Billy, don't.” Those were the words of Mrs. Blair, and the words Billy would often hear at the house on Lyon Avenue.
From the street, the sidewalk led toward the small covered front porch which appeared as a hastily added afterthought to the house design. On each side of the walk, the cracked and barren earth resembled a dried lake bed. The yard was devoid of vegetation except for a single struggling cactus whose split and discolored palms told of the abuse it had suffered from pointed sticks and sharp fingernails of the neighborhood children.
"Billy, don't". The words would haunt Billy.
Four steps encased by wooden stoops led from the sidewalk to the small porch serving as a cover for the front door. The stoops, being of proper height and width, made comfortable seats where on warm evenings the neighborhood children gathered. The hollow insides of the enclosed stoops gave a resounding thud-thud-thud to the swinging heels of the children who sat there.
"Your soul will turn black, Billy." Again, the words of Mrs. Blair.
From the front porch the cement walkway led around the south side of the house, alongside the small vegetable garden between the Blair's and Baxter's homes. From there, it continued across the sloping yard before joining a large cement area in the rear of the house connected to the cellar, the woodshed, and a set of wooden stairs leading to the back porch.
The cement area was where Mr. Blair split wood, dressed chickens and made ice cream in the hand-cranked freezer. Under the large living room window, over-looking the cemented area, were the cellar doors which folded down on the cold cellar where Mrs. Blair stored her potatoes, apples and preserves. It was a dark damp place where the spiders and salamanders lived.
"The Devil lives in you, Billy." Again, Mrs. Blair.
The slope of the land fell dramatically from the front to the rear of the house giving the back porch an elevated viewing of the nearly flat back yard. From the porch a quick glance brought into view the lower end of the gravel driveway, the large two-story garage, referred to as the barn, the chicken yard with its coops, the grape arbor in which sat Mr. Blair's pedal operated sharpening wheel, the larger vegetable garden and a view into neighboring yards.
"God can see you, Billy." Could he ever escape from the words of Mrs. Blair.
The pathway from the back porch, through the washroom and into the kitchen was cluttered with bulky clothing hanging on the wall, large wash tubs stacked on the floor, and a hand-cranked wringer washing machine. A large table, with an oil cloth cover, and a four burner gas stove, complete with an oven, occupied the kitchen.
The pantry was in the rear of the house with a window above the sink overlooking the back yard. In the short hallway leading from the kitchen to the living room was the door to the pantry, and across from it the closet in where sat a manually operated gas hot water tank. When lit and forgotten, It had a propensity for turning into a steam boiler and scaring everyone with its rumbling and banging of pipes, as though it were ready to blow itself apart.
"God does not like you, Billy." Again, the words of Mrs. Blair
The south side of the first floor was divided into two rooms. The living room with its large pot bellied stove, and the sitting parlor, a forbidden sanctuary, shut off from the living room by a large oak sliding door. Entrance to the Blair house was by either the front or back door. No rules existed except that doors were not to be left standing open nor slammed shut. Although entrance was unrestricted, the route to the living room was mandated to be by way of the kitchen. The sitting parlor was "not a thoroughfare”.
"Stay out of there, Billy."
The route to the second floor started next to the telephone mounted on the front wall of the entrance hallway, adjacent to the front door, where the wallpaper had been picked away by idle fingers. The bare plaster served as a scratch pad for not-to-be-forgotten numbers. Two stairs, then a landing, a turn to the right, up eleven stairs where, "May I", was played on rainy days, alongside the open-railed banister allowing for inquisitive glances into the sanctuary of the sitting parlor, then another landing and five more stairs to the second floor.
"What are you doing up there, Billy?"
Of the Blair's nine children, only three remained at home. Ralph, no longer a child at age 25, had the bedroom to the right and above the entrance hallway. Straight ahead was the second bedroom shared by Beth and one of the Blair's daughters, Sarah, age 14. Mrs. Blair's bedroom, shared by her youngest child, Eugene, age 12, as well as Randolph and Billy was diagonally to the left and over the living room. It had a view overlooking Allendale District where at night the bright lights of the Allendale Theatre sign could be seen. In his learning process Billy would notice the Allendale Theatre spelling of "theatre" was different from his taught spelling of "theater". The explanation given him was that "theatre" was the English spelling of the word. The single bathroom, located on the second floor above the kitchen, was at the foot of the stairway leading to the attic. Under the enclosed stairway was Billy's closet, an unlighted, cobwebbed place with orange crates set one on top of the other which served as Billy's dresser.
Billy was to stay at the Blair's for seven years.
David Baxter lived next door to the Blair', and was to become Billy's
