A chapter from “An Artist’s Story,” the life story Lee wrote in his eighties. In his words, as he wrote them.

I have always wanted to write my life story and I have found that it is not an easy task.

Questions keep popping up such as, where do I start? How detailed do I want to write? Will I be able to keep at it? Do others care what I write? What’s my purpose in writing a life story?

Well two guesses, I’ll start by saying that my purpose for writing this is the realization that no one in my past has ever taken the time to let me know in writing about them selves, how it was when they were born, what their lives were like and who were their loved ones in the past?

I have this urge to some how let my children and grandchildren know how it was in my past. I feel it’s important to let them know where I am coming from so they may have some way into their own future. My prayer is that in these times we need God’s help to be able to predict the future and know where we should place our feet. It is a perilous life and I feel the need to let my children know some of the things I did in my past with the hope that this may help them build their future. So here goes.............

I was born at home Nov 4, 1918 and three days later on Nov 7 Billie Graham was born we both have come a long way in 83 years.

This was the time of the great flu epidemic and I was kept secluded from other people for many weeks. This flu epidemic came at the close of WWI and my mother was very busy with me and two older brothers, Allen and Douglas who were born in Chicago, IL five years earlier. My mother told me many years later that there were lots of people who were deathly sick in our neighborhood! The schools were closed for weeks and church attendance was sparse.

My mother said that I had a “finicky” start as a baby. When I was a year old I had developed a problem digesting cows milk and the Doctor suggested that my folks might try a goats milk diet. This seemed to work well and by the time I was four years old we

had two milk goats. I remembered well the times they would knock me over including my Grandpa Johnson, my mothers father, who came to live with us when he was in his late 80’s. He had given up his business in Bad Axe when grandmother Johnson died. Grandpa Johnson lived with us for some years until his death in 1927.

Our home at 1922 Nebraska Ave was nearly a small farm with two goats and a flock of chickens that Grandpa took care of along with a huge garden. At this time our home on Nebraska Ave. was what they called “Out in the Country“. There were only a few houses on our street. A big red barn with windmill and corn cribs was just across the street on the north side. This was perhaps 1500 feet east of Franklin Ave.

Grandpa John Mick and Grandfather Johnson had built this house together doing all the work in about 8 months. During this time they lived in a small tar paper shack called the “Snuggle Inn“, that later became a chicken coop. Grandpa Johnson (Goggie) lived in a large tent. Mother did the cooking on an old three-burner kerosene stove. Outside whenever possible.

Before I was born I believe that my mother and two brothers spent some of their time in Chicago and later in Bad Axe where they lived with Grandma Johnson. While our house was being built on Nebraska Ave. during the summer of 1916 people began to recover from WWI and the flu epidemic, which began to die out as a new vaccine came into use. The economy was slow at first, but began to pick up with the new Buick Plants being built. This was a time when many people of all backgrounds were moving to Flint. There were few houses to live in but many new homes were being started, so lots of people built the “tar paper shacks“, such as the one my dad built before I was born.

This would be a good place to tell you what I know of John Douglas Mick my father. My father John D. Mick was born in Iowa in the county of Adair. His father was George B. Mick a farmer and was 22 when my father John D. Mick was born in the year 1885. He was the oldest of 5 children, a brother Floyd and sisters Clarcy, Lula and another sister Mrs. Garnet Harrington of Valley Junction Iowa. The farm in Iowa was a hard place to live for Grandpa John Mick and when he was growing up it was the time of the big drought and huge dust storms. He had the farmer instinct and always wanted to learn more of farming. He went to a one-room school not far from his home. I remember hearing very little of his childhood, perhaps its because I didn’t listen well to what he told of his early childhood.

I do know that he was a good student with excellent grades in high school. He wanted to attend college and study Horticulture. So he came to the U of Michigan to get a degree. He was active in sports and I believe he sang in the college glee club. Some where along the line he met my mother she was 23 years old and was music major and an outstanding pianist. I believe they both graduated from the U of Mich in (1909) but Dad came back to the U of M to finish his college years and were married in 1910.

John Mick then moved to the city of Chicago where my brother Allen was born. I think my Dad may have had some connection with Sears and Roebuck in the early years of marriage. And I believe that the reason for moving to Flint was two-fold. He had heard that there was to be a new Sears store in town and the prospect of employment was a good bet. Also this location was much closer to Bad Ave and the home of his young bride and two boys so this is where he settled down.

Coming to Flint he purchased three small lots in the Windate Person subdivision, Lots, 745, 746, 747. This area was a large partly plotted subdivision with a few homes North of the Grand Trunk switching line that was two blocks south.

This subdivision had been laid out with many sidewalks in place. However the property south of the tracks became the location of more expensive houses in the Court Street district and later yet, St. Joseph Hospital.

Dad worked hard in establishing his home and making our neighborhood a desirable place to live. It was evident in whatever her did. I always felt that our home was the best looking and I was proud of it.

He became scoutmaster of a troop at Homedale School, which included his two sons Allen and Bud. I remember some of the troop activities even though I was much too young to be a member.

Dad was instrumental in collecting food and had established an early food bank. Many troop nights were spent delivering food to families in the neighborhood using wagons and then sleds in the winter.

Dad was responsible for establishing a big Boy Scout Rally at the old athletic park, which was behind the IMA auditorium.

Scouting was very popular in the 1920’s and many troops were outfitted with World War I army surplus uniforms.

My dad was a good disciplinarian and some of this rubbed off on the Scouting movement in those days. When I was still in grade school at Washington, Allen and Bud were in Whitter junior high and active in a scout troop 144. Allen was Assistant Scoutmaster and Ken Taylor was Scout Master. Ken Taylor worked at Buick for a number of years then becoming a professional scout leader in Illinois. Ken lived in Frankenmuth Independence Village until he died at 94 in 2001, a man that I remember very well.

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Original spelling preserved; [brackets] mark uncertain or editorial readings.

Printed above the photograph: James Duke, Jack Potter, Walter Gardner, Lester Snow; Kenneth Taylor, George West, Tom Potter, Lester Dalby, Howard Olso[n]; Alan Mick, Ed Young, Jack Whitehouse, Neil Tracy, Sherman Roof.

Printed below the photograph: Jay Duke, Robert Garthwaite, Robert Olson; Howard O’Brien, Don Grove, Gordon Potter, Charles Sparks; Harvey Sparks, Thurmond Robinson, Robert Magee, Max Graff.

I remember my dad as a very strong man both physically and mentally. Many times I felt very proud of my dad and at other times I had mixed feelings as I was growing up.

I remember the times just before Christmas when he and my mother would spend hours preparing a big shipment of clothing and presents to be sent off to Iowa for all of the nieces and nephews and to grandmother Mick whom I had scarcely seen. They needed a lot of help from their prosperous uncle in Michigan. I knew that this was the right thing to do but I felt that I could have used a new bike perhaps.

Sometimes my dad embarrassed me I thought. My dad did not hesitate to make a statement when he felt it was warranted. For instance.....

One time my dad was driving mother and me up north to the cottage at Oak Hurst. He had the box trailer hooked on behind our model T Ford loaded with used lumber that he had salvaged. He would work all weekend long building and remodeling our cottage on the Saginaw Bay. Dad had pulled up to a stop sign and was abruptly hit from behind by two men who had apparently been drinking. I think this was my first experience with their type of conduct. My dad said very little except to ask mother and me if we were hurt. He opened the driver’s door and got out walked around in back to survey the damage. He then raised the hood on the other car and promptly pulled the distributor wires out so that they would stay put until the State Trooper arrived. While waiting, Dad paid no attention to the two strange dressed drunks and went ahead and repaired the broken tongue on the trailer. My dad got back into our car and drove off and left them there to sober up. We wondered if we would ever see them again and we didn’t.

I cannot remember him being sick except one time when my mother and I were spending the summer at the cottage in Oak Hearst on Saginaw Bay. I must have been 10 or 11 and she had not heard from my dad for over a week. He always came up to the cottage every weekend and some times on Wednesday night. I always looked forward to seeing him arrive. I would walk down to the mailbox a half-mile from home and peer down the road to see him coming. I would get very excited at each car that would approach and I felt bad when ever it was not him. This was a narrow dirt road in the country with a deep “dredge-cut” along side. There was often a long wait between cars and I would spend my time throwing stones at frogs or turtles that would pop up. But finally I would recognize dad’s car and get excited to see him and it was a special time in my life.

It was a great treat to receive a letter in that mailbox because Dad would often put in a stick of gum. That would make my day. I seldom missed walking down that narrow lane to the mailbox with expectation of hearing from him.

We had no telephone at the cottage so there was no way to hear from Dad except by mail. When my mother had not heard from him for over a week and half she became very anxious. She decided to pack up and go home and check up on my father. Not having a car, we got a ride with a neighbor who drove us to Bay City. We purchased tickets to ride on the DUR called the Inter Urban Railway. This was a real thrill for a 10 year old.

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Original spelling preserved; [brackets] mark uncertain or editorial readings.

The Flint Journal, Dec 12 1951 — Retired Buick Worker Dies; Funeral Friday.

Services for John D. Mick, 66, retired Buick employee, who died Tuesday, will be held in Masonic Temple at 2 P.M. Friday under auspices of Genesee Lodge 174, F&AM. Burial will be in Sunset Hills. The body will be at Brown Funeral Home, 1616 Davison Rd.

Mr. Mick died of a heart attack at his home, 6134 Eastmoreland Dr. He had been an employee of Buick for 35 years when he retired as supervisor of office services in September, 1950.

He was born in Des Moines, Iowa, but had spent most of his life in Flint. He was a 1909 graduate of the University of Michigan.

An active member of Masonic organizations, Mr. Mick was past master of Genesee Lodge; past high priest of Washington Chapter 15, RAM and a member of Flint Council 56, R&SM, and the Genesee Valley Commandery 15, Knights Templar. He also was a trustee of the Masonic Temple Assn., a member of the Flint Industrial Executives Club, and a trustee of the Industrial Mutual Assn.

Surviving are his wife, Grace, three sons, three sisters and a brother. The sons are Dr. Allen H. Mick, Palmer, Alaska; Douglas E., Jonesville, Mich., and Leland W., Flint. The sisters are Mrs. George Beard, Richland, Wash., Mrs. Clarcy Bechtel, Des Moines, and Mrs. Garnet Harrington, Valley Junction, Iowa. The brother, Floyd, lives in Berkeley, Calif.

[Photograph caption: John D. Mick]

The inter urban was an electric car on a narrow rail that traveled very fast (35-40 mph). The ride went south thru Old Sag, then Bridgeport where there was a high wooden trestle that crossed the east west railroad. It followed the old Dixie Highway in those days and it was a lot like a roller coaster and fun to ride. It was noisy with a clanging bell at every farmers drive. Many people rode the DUR. On arriving home mother found my dad was very ill and had been in bed for over a week. I was too young to understand what he was ill with however I was concerned and aware that all was not well. My dad did recover and life became normal again, however the highlight for me was the exciting ride on the DUR from Bay City to Flint.

My Dad was a whistler and I can hear him in my memories. You always knew where he was, down in the basement or out in the yard. He was an early riser and spent two or three hours in the morning before breakfast. I can always remember that dad kept a small 22 rifle handy and when a stray cat wandered thru the yard. The cat wound up in the compost heap. I think it is safe to say that he felt cats were predators especially in his back yard.

Dad had a lot of community pride and he felt he could help others by getting into politics. So he ran for commissioner of our ward. This was the time that Billy McKeighan was mayor. He didn’t have much to say for this man or his politics. I did hear him tell my mother once that this man Billy McKeighann was so crooked he could not lay straight in bed, time proved my Dad right.

This was a time in the life of the city of Flint when many people had their own “axes to grind“.

I remember my dad took me along with my two older brothers to Kersely Park where we stood at the top of the big sledding hill and saw a big cross set-a-fire by many people wearing the uniform of the KKK. I was too young to understand what was going on but dad explained to me and my brothers that this was typical of the kind of government that controlled Flint politics. He felt it was wrong and did not go along with it. I personally felt it was like a big circus. Thinking of circus, I remember that the Grand Trunk Rail spur that ran behind our house was the location where the cars of the Ringling Bros Circus were unloaded and pulled south on Dort Highway to the show grounds on Lapeer Road.

This was a special time for us boys. Dad would take us late at night and we would watch the cars being unloaded with teams of horses. The noise of men yelling at the teams and the smells of coal smoke from the engines, the smell of manure I can still remember to this day. Our father felt it was important for our growth and education that we have as many new experiences as possible and this was a good one from a long time ago.

My Dad liked music and helped us boys with any instrument we wished to try. Bud and Allen became professional musicians with the Bassoon and Violin respectively. They had lst chair in the Flint Symphony and other groups for many years.

Mom and Dad had me try a few musical instruments but I didn’t have enough “stick- to-it-of- ness“. My Dad had the first radio on our block, he built it himself. Our house was full of neighbors every Saturday night to hear this marvel of invention. Dad’s radio would draw in stations from far away even though it was powered by a big 12 volt battery that mother was afraid of. Dad had a charger for the battery and once it blew up while we were eating dinner, it frightened us all. Wow! What a bang!

It was great fun to listen to the early programs in those days. A family that lived on Kansas Ave. by the name of Wolf had a 12-year-old daughter who was born deaf and when she first heard the unknown sounds through a pair of earphones it was a wonder of wonders to her. Dad kept building bigger and bigger radios until mother put her foot down Ha! Ha!

My Dad was a good swimmer and I and my brothers took to the water when we were very young. We loved to swim during the high winds of warm summer days when the big rollers would come in from the west, often 3 to 4 foot high, and we would dive through them till we were so tired we could hardly walk. Saginaw Bay was noted for some appalling summer storms but we were not afraid, it just built up our ravenous appetites.

We looked forward to dinner on Sunday, roast beef and mashed potatoes with gravy. Nearly every Sunday we drove to Bay Park where there was a large Ice House and Dad would buy a block of ice for 50 cents he would put in a gunnysack and put it on the running board of our model T Ford. It was held in place with a running board carrier that would scissor expand down the board. It did not melt much in the mile ride home. We would pound the ice block into small pieces that would go into the hand cranked cream freezer. Mother had a favorite recipe for Pineapple Ice Cream. She would save the cream that came off the top of our farmer’s milk during the week. Whichever one of the three of us could go the longest on the crank got to have the paddle turner in the center to lick off. Guess who never got the turner?

After dinner with ice cream every one took a nap. What great family times those were.

When I was close to 11 years old my dad purchased a glass green house from Mr. Pearce and reconstructed it on the lot east of our home on Nebraska Ave.. It was set back on the lot so that a large flower garden was cultivated every summer. Dad grew many special Irises there; he called it the “Iris Green house“.

I remember people coming from all over Flint to buy his Iris. He planted many spring flowers. This required hours and hours of early morning work, not to mention that he was up all sorts of hours at night to keep the temp in the green house just right. He enjoyed this hobby of his for many years.

I can all most taste the warm flowery moist air of his green house, it had it’s own atmosphere.

When I was perhaps 5 or 6 years old Dad would purchase and plant ornamental shrubs from “Greening Bros.” Bud and Allen were old enough to help him in this endeavor and I always had to stay home with mother.

My dad was a good landscape gardener having had this course at the U of M Ann Arbor. There are still lots of old trees on the west side of Flint that were planted by my Dad, I marvel at their size today after 80 years.

One spring day Bud and Allen helped my dad load up the old box trailer to head out on a job of planting. Bud and Allen always were old enough to ride in the trailer, not me; I got to stay home with mother.

Dad took off down the driveway with me hanging on to the tailgate. I am sure that dad didn’t see me back there as he continued to increase speed down our cinder street.

Allen was able to see what was going to happen so he pried my hands off and I went head over heels in the cinders and I have a few of them under by skin to this day. I never did that again. Mrs. Head who was an enlisted nurse during WWI lived two doors down from us; she patched me up using iodine (wow!!) One time she nursed my dad back to health, she was a good friend and neighbor. Everyone called on her for her nursing skills.

Dad never said much to me about this little escapade but he didn’t have too. I some how always knew when I was out of favor. And I often was. I think there is some thing in children of birth parents that is unspoken but known. There is this tie between us and our Heavenly Father to if we are “Children of the King“.

Mother was born an only child of Mattie (Elesworth) Johnson and Elmer A Johnson on the 17th of July 1881.

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Original spelling preserved; [brackets] mark uncertain or editorial readings.

Certificate of Birth (Delayed Registration) — Michigan Department of Health, Bureau of Records and Statistics.

Place of birth: Huron County, Colfax Township, Bad Axe. Full name of child: Grace Amy Johnson. Female; single birth. Date of birth: July 17th, 1881. Father: Elmer A. Johnson, white, birthplace Breckenridge. Mother, full maiden name: Mattie Ellsworth, white, birthplace Oakland County. Residence and post office address: Bad Axe. Number of child of this mother: 1; number living: 1. Summary of supporting evidence: 2 affidavits. Probate court: Genesee. Given under my hand and seal this 7th day of September, 1950 [signed], Judge of Probate. Recorded and filed in Michigan Department of Health 9-8-1950.

I hereby certify that the above is a true and correct reproduction of the certificate on file in the Michigan Department of Health, Lansing, Michigan. Albert E. Heustis, M.D., State Health Commissioner.

This was a great time of prosperity and growth for Bad Axe and mother grew up in this atmosphere. Bad Axe was a small town in some of the best farmland in the US. This was great sugar beat country and most farmers did well. Gogie was a harness maker and had a thriving business in the days of the horse.

My mother didn’t lack for anything as she was growing. She was a very healthy child. She was very well liked by others during her school years. She had a very special friend during her high school days. Her friends name was MaudeTewellager and she lived only a block away. She too was an only child and she and mother were inseparable.

When my mother went off to Ann Arbor to music school it was hard for them to part. I don’t have any other memories to relish of my mothers childhood days. What a shame.

I think in many ways I was a favorite of my mothers. It came to me as I grew up; she seemed to take my side whenever I got into mischief.

Dad and mother were great people for visiting other couples when I was small and I seemed to always go along and I remember falling asleep with my head on my mothers lap even when I was older like 8 or 9 years of age.

Dad loved to play checkers and I can remember many evenings when I would fall asleep listening to my mother and her lady friends talking well past my bed time as Dad played checkers.

In those days there was little entertainment and you listened to others talk of the days events. Many people’s opinions were based on the last people they talked to. Not my Dad and Mother. They were well read and seemed to know what was what. However they were not opinionated in any sense. They were just choosey about who they picked for friends. Dad and mother were not drinkers and smokers and they did not play cards, however they did enjoy playing games and they loved the outdoors. We spent many happy hours camping as a family all over Michigan.

Mother was a homemaker as many women were in those days. There were few automatic appliances, which made for longer working hours for my mother.

“Wash day” was Monday, always, and I often helped her with washing the clothes. We had a ringer type washer with two large rinse tubs. My job was to run the clothes through the two rinse waters. The ringer did a fair job of squeezing the water out of each tub full. Then they were carried up the stairs to the back yard where the clothes were then hung up on the wire clotheslines and held in place with wooden pins.

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Original spelling preserved; [brackets] mark uncertain or editorial readings.

MICK—Grace A. Mick, 6134 Eastmoreland Drive, age 76, died Friday, June 27, 1958, at Hurley Hospital. Funeral services will be held at 1 P.M. Monday, June 30, 1958, from Chapel of the Chimes, Brown Funeral Home, Rev. J. Kenneth Hoffmaster officiating. Burial in Sunset Hills Cemetery. Mrs. Mick will lie in state at the Brown Funeral Home, 1616 Davison Rd. Death was due to complications following a prolonged illness. She was born in Bad Axe, Michigan, July 17, 1881, and had resided in Flint for the last 45 years. She was a member of Flint Chapter No. 138, OES. Surviving are: 3 sons, Leland of Flint, Dr. Allen H. of Palmer, Alaska, Douglas of Jonesville, Michigan; 9 grandchildren.

For some reason the clothes dried this way always seemed to smell and feel better. All clothes in those days were mostly 100% cotton and everything had to be ironed.

Mother had a roller iron for the large sheets and towels. The rest of our clothes were ironed standing up at an ironing board. Mother used a wet towel to give off steam with a very hot electric iron. This took most of her odd times the rest of the week. In the mean time the clothes were kept damp by rolling them in a damp towel until she was ready to iron.

I think it was safe to say that this was her biggest job of the week, out side of washing dishes. My mother was a fairly good cook and like many moms she copied her mother’s methods and they were both great fryers. She used the frying pan a lot. Fried eggs, fried potatoes, fried squash, etc. etc. etc. Cholesterol was not known about in their days.

Mother was a good housekeeper and our house was always “picked-up” and neat. This was true of her appearance to. When ever we went “downtown” mother always wore gloves and often a hat. At home during the week she always wore a dress and apron, I never saw her in pants. I often went shopping with her and she and I would wait at the old city library for my Dad who would pick us up after his workday was over.

She made many of her own clothes and made clothes for me and my brothers. She played the piano and helped Bud and Allen with their music.

I remember well the Sundays that we drove to Almont to have dinner with our Great Aunt Nan, my Grandmother Johnson’s sister. Aunt Nan lived in a big old square house west of town. There was a very large old piano with lion claw feet and legs. After a big dinner she would play for Allen with his violin and Bud with his Bassoon. The piano was a little out of tune but it was the talk of the town when it was new. It was a great place to play under when I was small.

Aunt Nans house was very sparse with no wallpaper or paint on the walls with hardwood floors that were very slippery. She took care of Nettie Wales who as a child had a crippling fall from a swing and Aunt Nan took care of her as her nurse the rest of her life. She was a very dedicated friend and nurse. I remember having to sit on a black horsehair settee that you kept slipping off of and oh how it did itch! After the music recital I could go outside and play in the orchard. Some times I would rummage in the old horse barn where the old buggy was kept. It was covered over with a large sheet but I would sit in it and pretend I was driving down the road with the horse pulling it. I can still smell the barn dust and the musty smell in all of the old chests that held some real antiques then. I didn’t know what most things were I just knew they were old.

It was a long drive to Almont from Flint but we enjoyed these Sunday outings for we went there every month for several years. After Nettie Wales died Aunt Nan lived there alone until she ran out of money in her old age.

I can still remember the smells of that old house. They used wood for all the cooking and to run the hot water furnace. The wood was hickory and walnut that was delivered all year long by the man who rented the old estate farm three miles west of town. The wood was cut off the farm by hand and was the rent this man paid for living on the old farm.

Mother had only a few friends on Nebraska Ave., Mrs. Head (two doors west), Mrs. Hans (next-door east. Then there was Mrs. Shimerhorn who was somewhat younger who lived next door (west).

Mrs. Shimerhorn was a talker and she would visit mother during the day. She would become very upset with something she had read in the paper and would begin to cry. My mother would spend a lot of time in counseling her. The next day she would be back and go through the same thing all over. However my mother never gave up on her and I never heard my mother repeat anything that Mrs. Shimearhorn had said. Mom always seemed to be ironing, Ha! Ha! during these times, but she didn’t listen or pay attention to gossip. We had a large old refrigerator in the kitchen that always seemed to be full. The motor that kept it cool was in the basement. When mother needed more room there was always a wooden orange crate at the kitchen window you could keep the window open a little and it would keep things just right during those cold winter nights.

In the summer we had many days that were hot and the cooking was done in the basement as well as sleeping. Mother did her canning in the basement. Canning many bushels of peaches. They made for good eating but some of the old peaches would ferment and blow-up, what a mess!

I remember the homemade root beer that mother made in a big 10 gallon crock it was placed under the kitchen sink for a number of days until it had a little bite. When it was served in an ice-cold pitcher it was difficult to save any for more than a day or two it disappeared fast.

Mother was well known for being a good seamstress and made many of her own clothes as well as most of ours. These often were worn by Bud and Allen when they were small and are a good example of her work as a tailor and costumier. These two guys look pretty silly I am glad I didn’t have to wear something like that, then I found out I did, Wow!!

My mother was 33 year old when I was born at home. This was somewhat unusual in those times. There were few hospitals and most children were born at home.