WWP The Strangecreek Saga

I have decided to make my writers workshop piece about my father's work history and how he came to Connecticut from West Virginia, and met my mother. He is turning 90 years old in October, and I think it would be lovely to have a narrative to share at his bash. To this end, I have interviewed him about his childhood and early life.


STRANGE CREEK, WV TO CONNECTICUT

High School

Careening down the street, in my brother Bert's black '36 Plymouth, I struggled to control the car as classmates jostled me. Eight were squished inside the four door sedan, while others stood on the running boards, as we made our way to town for lunch. Only two students in the high school had cars. Ann Swan, whose father owned the local theatre, and me, Roy Eugene Keener. I was eighteen years old and returning to high school to get my degree. As an eighteen year old in ninth grade, I was teased often, but when it came time for lunch, everyone wanted to know me, because I had a car!

Back then, there were no school lunches. You brought your lunch, or bought it. Well, everyday I would drive my car to town and a group of us would chip in to buy a loaf of bread and some bologna. We would then make quick sandwiches before heading back to class. About half the time a police officer would tell me there were too many people in the car, and some of the guys would have to hoof-it back up the hill to school.

Strangecreek Beginnings


Strangecreek, West Virginia, were I was born and raised, held the family farm. My parents had fourteen children - seven boys and seven girls - within a thirty year span. You had to raise your own farm hands in those days. I was very good with numbers and my brother Bert, who had moved to Logan, convinced me to return to school to get a high school diploma. Back then, we were only required to go to school through the eighth grade, and in Strangecreek, that's as far as you could go at the one-room schoolhouse.

Grease Monkey

I was going to stay at my Uncle Bill's house, but I needed to find a job to pay for gas and incidentals. Uncle Bill found me a position as a "grease monkey" at a Super Pepper gas station. I worked 72 hours a week for $65.00 a month. I went to school during the day, then worked the station from 2:00 to 10:00, Monday through Friday. On Saturdays and Sundays, I worked 16 hour shifts. There were no laws regarding days off at that time. My brother Bert lent me his car to get to school and work - his contribution to my education.

Needless to say, I never had time to do all the homework that was assigned. I was taking a Spanish class, and the teacher, Mrs. McDonald, could see that I was not handing in assignments and she asked me if I was planning on going to college. I told her that I didn't think I would make it through high school. She made a deal with me. If I came to every class and took every test, she would give me a "D". I wouldn't have to turn in homework or repeat the class, if I continued with my education. Miss Barber, my math teacher was impressed with my skills with numbers. I got 100 on all the tests and never studied or turned in homework. Math just came easy for me.

The Island Creek Coal Company owned the gas station I worked at and the chief engineer would come in after 8:00 p.m. on Wednesday nights, for me to grease his car's wheels and springs. Mr. Long was a burly man, who liked to smoke a cigar and talk to me as I worked on his vehicle. He said I was the only one he liked greasing his car, because I did such a thorough job. Back then, the roads weren't tar, but rolled dirt. Cars had to be greased every week because the dust and dirt would dry out the axles and the springs would squeak from bouncing in the ruts. (That's why we were called grease monkeys, we were always wearing grease.)

As fate would have it, Mr. Long lived next door to my math teacher, Miss Barber. Mr. Long was telling her, in the spring of 1938, about a nice young man that worked at the gas station by the name of Gene Keener. Miss Barber told him I was a math whiz and had returned to high school at 18 years old. The following week, when I was greasing his springs, he asked me what my goal was in going to high school. I didn't really have a goal - I was just working and trying to get a better education. He then asked if I would like to work for him.

Army Corps of Engineers

I had been making $65.00 a month at the gas station, while going to school, and he offered me $90.00 a month to train as an engineer! Of course I quit school and took it! It was the fall of my junior year. I gave my notice to the gas station manager and I was ready to go! I learned how to use a transom to figure distances and survey land, and I worked in the coal mines mapping tunnels, and topside mapping out new roads .

Each engineering team had a group of three to "do the figuring". There were no calculators back then, you used a pencil and paper or a slide ruler. I was very fast and accurate. Two of the three on the team would use the same coordinates to establish lines, and if the numbers were not the same, they always used mine. I was working in the Army Corp of Engineers when the Wagner law was passed that required employers to pay you extra after . It was an exciting time, being a member of the team that surveyed all the land above and below. I couldn't believe how lucky I was to have gotten this position and training.

The coal cars were big enough for only two people, and since each engineering team had three people, it took a while for all of you to get set up below. One of the guys on our team left and since my numbers were always accurate, we were instructed to work as partners. We could go down together and start working before the other teams were assembled. This caused us to get a lot more work done than other teams, so I received another $25.00 a month! $135.00 a month, whereas six months earlier,I was making $65.00 a month!

One of my greatest pleasures was being able to send money home to my mother, to help with my younger siblings. Mom had moved to Monaville from Strangecreek, so my sisters could go to high school. My father was a lumberjack and had died when a tree fell on him. (His funeral was on my tenth birthday.) The family farm was being run by one of my older brothers, Sylvan, his wife and five sons, so Mom felt she could "head to the city" for my younger sisters' sakes. Like my brothers before me, I was able to help Mom with expenses.

This position was a turning point in my life. Possibilities for the future opened up for me that I could never have dreamed of. I always feel proud that Mr. Long recognized that I was a hard worker and thorough with even small tasks. He told me I was very respectful towards him and intelligent in my conversations. He changed my life. I might have lived my whole life in West Virginia as a "grease monkey" if it weren't for him.

Pearl Harbor and the Draft

It was the summer of 1939, after my Sophomore year at high school, when two buddies and I decided that joining the Navy would be a great adventure. Back then you could sign up with friends or family and be stationed together in the service. Since we were all under 21, we needed parental permission to join. Don and Tony lived in town, so they were able to get the required signatures the next day, and they were gone. My Mom lived some miles away and I wouldn't have been able to get a signature until the weekend. They didn't know they couldn't wait a few days for me, and since they were gone, I decided not to enlist. I imagined them traveling the world in the Navy and having a girl in every port.

After starting back to school in my Junior year, I wasn't sure what I would do with my life when Mr. Long hired me for the engineering training. I was working for the survey team when I heard about Pearl Harbor. I'll never forget the day. It was a Sunday, and since I didn't have to work, I was walking down to the YMCA. I had to cross the river and there were a half dozen young men standing on the bridge talking. One of them was my buddy Donald McCloud's older brother. He asked me if I had heard the news. I hadn't.

He then told me about the bombing and I knew Don and Tony had been stationed on the Arizona. I later found out that Don was on board when the bomb struck and went down with the ship, so his name is on the memorial. Tony had been on shore leave and was wounded heading back to the ship, and died two weeks later. If I had enlisted with them, I, too, would have been on the Arizona. It was a spooky feeling that I could have shared their fate. That was December of '41.

In January of '42 the first big draft call came and I got my draft notice. I was 22 at the time, and all the single boys in town were sent the notices. Half the men of Monaville were called. (At that time they only drafted single men.) We had to report to the courthouse in Logan for the bus trip to the state armory in Huntington. Four busloads left Logan with about 200 young men, raring to go to war. We didn't bring anything with us, all would be provided. I had said good-bye to my family and my sisters had cried and my mother said a prayer. (My brother Walsh had already left for the service.) I, however, was caught up in the excitement of the adventure ahead. I look back and think how stupid we were to be excited about going off to war, but there was an energy that infused us all.

At the armory, we stripped to our boxer shorts and fell into a line for check-ups. They checked your vision, heart, hernias, physical scars and took x-rays. We all bunked in the armory on cots and we were slated to move out in the morning, to make way for the next wave of draftees.

Early the next morning I heard my name called over the loudspeaker, to report to a designated area. When I arrived, I was told that I had been labeled 4F because I had scars on my lungs, which had showed on the x-rays. I was being sent back home. I was given a bus pass home and couldn't go back to tell my buddies what had happened.

The bus ride home seemed so much longer. There were several other men who didn't make it, but they had missing fingers or an eye, and you could see why they were rejected - no one talked. I was disappointed. 4F was what they gave criminals, because they were not to serve. I didn't even call home to say I was coming. I just walked in and said I had scars on my lungs, and left it at that. I knew I had gotten rheumatic fever when I was young, but I had no idea that it had scarred my lungs. I was embarrassed to say I was 4F, because no one could see anything wrong with me and thought I was a criminal. I was teased about not serving my country.

Connecticut Bound

I returned to the Island Creek Coal Company and joined the new safety division team that was forming. I worked exclusively at mine#22 helping to install a misting water spray system to cut down on rock dust and prevent fires. I could read prints and so I was chosen to lay the lines.

Seven months later, in July of 1942, my brother Virgil was killed in a mine cave in. He was part of a crew that installed the wooden timbers to keep the tunnels safe. My brother Audrey came home from Connecticut to attend the funeral. He convinced me to come to Connecticut, as the defense contractor he worked for was looking for help. So I took the train North and got a job at New Departure making ball bearings. Because I was now working for a defense contractor, my rating was changed to 2B. A 2B label made you someone important to the war effort back home, and therefore not eligible for the draft. I liked no longer being a 4F, it was one of the reasons Audrey had talked me into coming this far from home. (In '43 an accident occurred at mine #22, where I used to work, and the bodies were not recovered so they had to close the mine and seal it off - per state law. I wondered if fate had protected me from death once again.)

It was the fall of '43, when the need for more troops caused those of us with 2F labels to be turned into 1As, and the drafting of married men started. I was now being drafted in Connecticut. I told the draft office that I had gone through draft registration in West Virginia and they were able to confirm my 4F status in WV, but they kept me at 2B in Connecticut. Connecticut made me get x-rays every month for nine months, because they felt my scars were from undiagnosed TB, and they needed to be sure the scars were not changing. My brother Audrey, however, was drafted into the Army and was sent to Germany.

The Girl of My Dreams

Since most able bodied men had been drafted, I decided that it was my job to entertain the womanfolk back home. To that end, I started to frequent the dance halls in the area that were attainable by bus, as I had no car. One fateful night, I met Mary Elizabeth Stifel. She reminded me of my brother Bert's wife, Iola. I felt at home with her at once. It was the start of a life long love that is still growing some 60 plus years later. I had traveled from Strangecreek, WV to Connecticut and found my destiny in a pair of smiling brown eyes under an arched brow. But that's a whole nother story!