REDOING MY OFFICE

THE PROBLEM
The state of my home office is kind of getting to me.

It's two meters wide and four meters long, not counting the closet at the far end.

It has no window.

It's furnished with whatever I had at hand when we moved in, nearly five years ago. At the time, I had just left my drudge job and begun taking genealogy clients. I had no idea what I needed, so I set up based on what I had.

These two photos were taken from the doorway, leading from a closed-in porch which serves as a laundry room and spare bedroom.  It has a very large window overlooking a main street and generously lets in lots of noise.

The closet on the far wall came with the apartment. The cork-covered door in the middle leads to a bathroom, but I rarely use that doorway. I had the cork put on. Previously the door had been covered with a full-length mirror.

The only source of natural light and air, seen from my doorway. And much street noise.

The office chair faces my desktop computer which now uses a 24" screen. After I bought the tablet three years ago, I realized that it can serve as a bulletin board, as well as allowing me to have more things going on at once. When the 24" screen arrived, the older screen went to my son's room and his old clunky monitor came to me and the tablet is now attached to it. (When I have a chance to find a used flat-screen, I'll solve part of that problem.)

I really like the table that the tablet is on. I made it myself about a dozen years ago and it has some excellent storage. I also made the table that the 24" screen is on - it's not very good.

The wall I face when working has a couple of bulletin boards - one I hardly use anymore - and a small bookshelf for dictionaries, Bibles, a Hammond's World Atlas that I had been in print ten years when I got it for my bar mitzvah, and my Concordance. And a thesaurus that I also got for my bar mitzvah.

The second photograph shows four shelving units. The furthest one is something I made for Devir's toys when he was young and it fits here very well. The wooden cabinet is something I picked up at a second-hand store, seven or eight years ago. It has served it's purpose well, but it's really ugly and in very poor condition. The two sets of metal shelves have been with me for forty years, reassembled more times than I'd care to count as I moved from place to place. Despite their history, I think I am ready to part with them.

To the right of the door at the top of the wall is a heating / air-conditioning unit. It's definitely a necessity, though I'm usually too cheap to use it.

The two shelves of purple files in the top center are all Pikholz Project. The box of papers on the far end of the top white shelf are Pikholz Project papers waiting to be filed. Waiting is part of my system, but it's been too long.

There is also a large arm chair on the right as you enter the room. It's just below what you can see in the second picture. It's too big for the space, but I really really like it and when we moved here it was probably less than a year old.

And if that was everything, it wouldn't be half bad. But soon after we moved, we realized we didn't have enough refrigerator space and I like to have a few bottles of cold water close at hand. So we bought this, used, of course, and it found a place between the white table and the far closet.
     

When Mother moved out of her independent apartment, I added her desk to my collection. Mother brought that desk with her from Skokie twenty-six years ago.

There was no place for that but between the white table and the closet - where I almost never use it - so the refrigerator moved over next to the door. Now it's really crowded.

It's crowded, inefficient, with "to do" piles scattered all around and it's making me a bit nuts. (The Hebrew expression is that it gives me "harara" - a skin rash.)

THE SOLUTION
So I asked Anat Gertner to come and have a look. Anat is an interior decorator whom I met back when I went to weekly meetings of a business networking group. I figured that an hour of her time was worth it to get me started on dealing with it.

Anat had a lot of questions, most beginning with "Do you really need..." Clearly the bulky screen had to go. She liked the big armchair, but it has to be placed better.

How about if I turn around and face the corner to the right of the door? I'm not sure I can handle that as it would disconnect me even more from the window on the porch. besides, facing a corner seems more confining. And then I'd have to rearrange all the electricity. And the phone line. But Anat likes the idea of shelving along the long left wall. She says that sitting in the middle of the room is inefficient.

Do I really need the refrigerator? I think so. I really like to have three bottles of cold water at hand.

Do I need the desk? Well, it's my mother's desk. And who will want it after me? One of my kids, I'd hope. They were all close with Mother.

Devir returned from a three-day class trip and saw I was doing things in my office. He asked what is going on and I told him I was making some changes, changing some furniture. He said "Not Savta's desk." So that settles that.

Anat took a look at a shelf full of odd items and pointed to a small plaster building. The conversation went something like this:

What is that?

That's the Casino Theater a landmark building in Vandergrift, where my mother grew up. It was across from my grandfather's store.

Why do you have it? Do you really need it?

Well, I bought it from the local historical society when I visited three years ago.

Where in Europe is Vandergrift?

Europe? It's about an hour from Pittsburgh.

Anat wants to get rid of all the shelves and tables. Things should be even and uniform. And she says I need real drawers, not just those plastic sets of four that I have all around. And I do have six real drawers - one with stamps, one with drivers and software manuals, one with computer cords, phone cords and such, one with pills and stuff. Plus the drawers in Mother's desk, which have mostly unsorted photographs.

She also wants me to move the scanner/printer further away from where I sit. She says it takes up prime real estate. (In the picture at the top, it's that black thing between the two computers, with the papers on top.)  I am sure she is right about that, but if I use that space for the tablet & screen, thus opening up space on my right for work, I may not be able to see that screen as easily.

Those really need some silver polish.

On top of the shelves to the right of the door are a couple of teapots and some plates from my wife's great-grandfather's restaurant in England. After her father finally shut it down, we ended up holding on to a vast quantity of plates, cutlery etc. Most of that is gone, but I insisted on holding onto a few pieces. Anat says they should go on a special glass shelf on the wall. That way maybe I'll polish them more than once a year.

Anat really doesn't like the small alarm clock but I want an analog clock with numbers, where I can see it. Not just the numbers on my computer or cell phone.

I need to find a way to keep the pictures from falling off the wall.

Jewish Law requires an unfinished patch in a home, as a zecher lemikdash - a reminder of the destruction of the Temple and the glory of Jerusalem. Mine is in my office, on the right wall above the white shelves. It stays where it is.

The center says "If I forget you, Jerusalem, may my right hand lose its cunning. The pictures are from an old Passover Haggaddah or the sort we used at my grandfather's seder.

What about all the files, Anat wants to know. Can't they be scanned? I'm sure they can. Dick Eastman goes on about that all the time. But the scanning is alot of work and I'm still from the older generation who feels more comfortable with paper. And I'm not sure I trust the computer to keep it all safe, back-ups or no. Well, Anat has a suggestion for that - a friend who helps people organize themselves. Basically another pair of hands, though my brain sometimes has trouble controlling the pair that I have. And if she is going to scan files, she needs access to the computer, right?

So I concluded our meeting having tentatively decided on a a three-step process. First I would get rid of or consolidate everything I can. That includes getting things into temporary storage boxes for the duration of the process as well as getting rid of some of the furniture.

Second, I should talk with Anat's organizer and determine what she can do for me. And do it.

Third, go back to Anat for more specific advice about replacement shelving etc and arranging the room.

PROGRESS

• I learned how to work the feeder on the scanner, though for some reason some of the scans come out rotated ninety degrees.
• I scanned 366 Pages of Testimony and thrown out the paper copies. I also scanned the first ninety-nine Skalat birth and death records, most of which have to be done in two parts and combined on the computer. Many more to go.
• I did some rearranging of closets and opened up some storage space for these temporary boxes of which Anat speaks.
• The old dot matrix printer is on the way out the door. My daughter Merav wants the paper.
• A few miscellaneous items that are meant to go "someday" to the kids, will in fact go at the first opportunity.
  
• I dug out Mother's musical clock which will go up above the doorway - probably without the batteries that make it play a different instrument every hour. The small alarm clock can go back in the bedroom.
• My wife agreed to try to find a good folding table, which can repace the table on the porch, giving me a place to put Mother's desk. We are discussing the refrigerator.
• The metal shelves to the right of the door are gone.
• Nachum the painter is coming over to give me a price for a patch on the ceiling, caused by a leak in the upstairs neighbors shower. At the same time, I'll get a quote to refresh the office. (Maybe some other stuff too.)
• The big ugly cabinet is more than half empty (some would say less than half full) and I hope to be able to get rid of it perhaps as soon as Sunday evening.

I am not going to keep you informed as I go along, but I'll probably give you a peek at the final results.

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Housekeeping notes

I am spending way to much of my blog time trying to get the photographs and the paragraph breaks to stay where I put them. And I save stuff one way and it comes back differently. Maybe I should be thinking about leaving Blogger. But it's another learning curve and who knows if it will be any better.

KENNETH JACKSON STULL, Proud Jew

National Commander, American Defenders of Bataan and Corregidor

Uncle Kenny

When I still very young, I already knew that Uncle Kenny was different from my other relatives. He had tattoos on his arms and his back. He was an electrician and smoked Lucky Strikes. He came from rural western Pennsylvania and used expressions like "redd off the table." He sat flat-footed on his haunches, with his arms around his knees, the way he learned from the Filipinos. And he had been a prisoner of the Japanese.

And on one or two occasions that I recall from childhood, he referred to himself as a Jew.

He was also my sandak (~godfather).

Kenny Stull was the eldest son of Francis Jackson Stull and Velma Thompson and was married to my mother's older sister, Ethel Gordon. Aunt Ethel had grown up in Vandergrift Pennsylvania without any Jewish education to speak of. There were no outward signs of anything specifically Jewish in their home or their lives.

The house on Franklin Avenue,
two and a half years ago.
I was surprised how annoyed I was that the
owners had allowed it to deteriorate so.



They had gotten married shortly before he went off to war and although he had been home a couple of years by the time I was born, they had no children. I guess that's partly why my parents chose him to be my sandak. Besides, the sisters were close despite the eleven year age difference.



We lived in Pittsburgh and they were in Vandergrift, but we visited with them often and when we'd stay over, it was at their house on Franklin Avenue, rather than with my grandparents. When I was very young - I want to say six, but that's crazy even for my parents -  my mother put my younger brother and me on a bus to Vandergrift for a few days' visit with Aunt Ethel and Uncle Kenny.

They had a "Lassie phone" with a party line and you had to dial the operator and ask for Vandergrift 577A. I knew how to do that well before first grade.

One time we went to see them when I was about five and they brought out a little blonde girl, maybe three years old. "This is Sally. Soon she will be our daughter." Sally became Donna and about two years later, they had a daughter on their own. Aunt Ethel was in her fortieth year.



With their children and son-in-law

 Eric was born seven years later. Aunt Ethel died when he was just turning fourteen.

A few days before his thirtieth birthday, Eric was killed in a freak automobile accident in which he should have played no part.  Donna died of cancer five years later, leaving a husband and two children. The second daughter has not responded to our attempts to make contact during the last few years, even when my mother died.

I stayed in touch with Aunt Ethel and Uncle Kenny until I moved to Israel thirty-nine years ago. They travelled to Chicago for my wedding and we visited with them a couple of times in Vandergrift.

To the extent that I thought about it at all, it was obvious to me that he had become Jewish because he married a Jewish girl and they wanted to keep her parents happy and his references to himself as Jewish were for effect. Shows how much I knew.

He Killed a Girl
One day, when I was about twenty-six and here in Israel, my mother started talking ex nihilo, as she did from time to time. I will tell you what she said, but mixing in the details I have learned since. I don't know if my mother knew all these details as she had been ten years old and hadn't yet known Kenny.

Indiana (PA) Evening Gazette, 3 February 1937
"Mudless Shoes Freed Motorist"

On the evening of 8 January 1937, Kenneth Jackson Stull of Leechburg was driving on the road between Leechburg and North Vandergrift and he hit a girl. She had been walking along the road - one of a group, which apparently included her mother. Catherine Frayer Beatty was seventeen when she died and had been married for two weeks.

On 2 February, a coroner's jury accepted the highway patrolman's testimony that it was an accident. She had no mud on her shoes, so she must have been walking on the road itself, not off to the side as Mrs. Frayer had claimed. It had been dark, so he wouldn't have seen her. No charges were brought.

Soon after, he was in church on Sunday morning and the angry voice from the pulpit said something like "There is a murderer among us. The law says he is not guilty, but he knows and we know he is a murderer." Kenny left the church, never to return.

Having renounced his spiritual anchor, he was rather at a loss what to do next. My mother said "He drove around until" - and she made it sound like hours, but it may have been days or weeks - "he came to a 'Jewish church' and he went in." And some time after that, he completed his conversion and became Jewish.

I don't think he knew any of the Gordons at the time. He didn't marry Aunt Ethel until November 1940. Very possibly he decided that since he had become a Jew, he should look for a Jewish girl. Yet they were married in Hardy West Virginia, so it seems they eloped. (Thanks to Beth at the Vandergrift Historical Society for that  bit of information.)

Soon the army came calling. He learned about the Phillipines. And Bataan. And Corregidor. He survived the infamous death march and whatever else the Japanese had in store for their prisoners.

The four Vandergrift Gordons in WWII        (My mother was too young)
The Jewish Criterion (Pittsburgh) 24 September 1943.

 He came home, went to work for my grandfather for awhile, eventually going off on his own. He tried a few businesses, eventually settling on one he called Ken Electric, was elected to serve as a Vandergrift Councilman and smoked his Lucky Strikes.


Beth Jacob Cemetery, Lower Burrel Pennsylvania

 

Uncle Kenny served two one-year terms as National Commander of the American Defenders of Bataan and Corregidor veterans organization and participated in a veterans trip back to the Far East to see the camps once again.

He lived his last years near his second daughter down south and died weeks before his seventy-sixth birthday.

Milt Rosenberg and His Guest, Jan Thompson

I often have podcasts on while I work and two or three times a week will listen to Milt Rosenberg's wonderfully eclectic night time interview show on WGN in Chicago. On Memorial Day, he had on a woman named Jan Thompson who is in the process of releasing a film called "The Tragedy of Bataan."

As I listened to the archived show the next day, I decided to google "Kenneth Jackson Stull," just to see what is out there. What I found included this: 

On January 25th  members of the “A” Company led by the 803rd Battalion’s Executive Officer, Captain James D. Richardson joined men of the 21st and 34th Pursuit Squadrons, all virtually untrained and poorly equipped to become combat infantrymen in the defense of the Aglaloma-Quinauan Point area on Bataan’s rocky southwest coastline.  These raw troops aided by Philippine Army and Scout forces engaged in combat with about 600 Japanese invaders who had attempted a landing behind the lines.  On January 26th in a Japanese ambush, 10 men of “A” Company were killed-in-action and another 38 wounded, decimating the unit.  On February 5th “A” Company’s survivors were relocated to Corregidor where they spent the next 3 months engaged in tasks that they had been trained to do, i.e., widening and extending Kindley Field, the island’s airstrip, constructing aircraft revetments, maintaining roads and utilities, etc.  Working in the open, the unit was exposed to ever-increasing Japanese artillery barrages and air raids and suffered eight more casualties including the C.O. of the company, Cap’t Zbikowski who was killed on April 2, 1942.  Just prior to Corregidor’s surrender on May 6, 1942 the remaining physically fit “A” Company men were integrated with marine and navy defenders on the beaches at Monkey Point.  Troops of the Japanese 61st infantry Regiment, a component of the 4th Division landed on the north coast of Corregidor on May the and the island was surrendered by General Wainwright the following day.

Pvt. Kenneth Stull left Corregidor in the latter part of May and after a brief stop at the Bilibid Prison in Manila he was transported north to the Cabanatuan P.O.W. camp where he remained until November 1942 when he sailed to Japan on the freighter, “Nagato Maru.”  After his arrival in Japan in late November 1942, Stull spent some time at the Shinagawa P.O.W. camp/hospital in Tokyo, perhaps in ill health prior to moving to the large Omori camp located on an island in Tokyo Bay and connected to Tokyo proper by a 300 foot long timber causeway.  The Omori camp became the home for many Air Force personnel downed in the Pacific during the war or over Japan in the last year.  

Thanks to the American Defenders of Bataan and Corregidor Museum at
the Brooke County Library in Wellsburg West Virginia for this envelope

I sent the link to some of my family, including to three of my DC-area second cousins who are some years older than I.

Cousin Dick Sincoff wrote back:

I greatly appreciate the article. A significant omission was the Bataan Death March, which he survived. At a local theatre in D.C., not long after the fall of Corregidor, we saw captured Japanese film and saw Kenny standing near Gen. Wainwright. My mother made us stay through to the next showing to confirm it. She ran from the theatre; she called Ethel in Vandergrift and told her that he was alive. Ethel already had received a telegram from the War Department that Kenny was missing in action and presumed dead.

He continued thus (emphasis mine):

After the release of prisoners, he went to rehab hospital in Hawaii for many weeks and finally was flown to Andrews air base in suburban Maryland outside of Washington. I went with my mother and father to greet him. He was rail thin but held himself tall. He still had the thick glasses he wore--albeit wired and patched. He spoke very little about the war thereafter, but in 1948, when I was 13 and spent 2 weeks with him, he opened up some, told me some of the horrors and some of the sabotage that US prisoners did while in the camps. He was often beaten because he was Jewish.

As you know, Kenny converted to Judaism. At one time while a POW, the camp boss told told all Jews to come forward, and Kenny did so. As he stepped out, a fellow American, held his arm and said, "Stull, you don't have to do that." Kenny said yes he did, because he was a Jew. I felt great emotion hearing his stories, as I guess did he. For the rest of his life, he never liked men with extra-short haircuts and avoided rice.

On summer afternoons after work, he would walk with me on the bluff overlooking the river and rail tracks and softly tell me things, out of earshot from Ethel. I still wonder if he opened up with others as he did with me. Maybe I was just a kid who needed to know, who needed to hear the horror, and maybe not let it happen again. But it did, didn't it?

This is the story of one man, my uncle and sandak and has significance for me and other family members, so I can close here.

I really should be saying kaddish for him. For my sandak.

Afterword for Genealogy Researchers

But there is also a lesson here for us genealogy researchers which I don't want to pass by. I don't know who besides me knows the story of the conversion. Cousin Dick, for instance, will learn those details when he reads them here. Nor do I know how many other people know the bits I emphasized in red above. I certainly hadn't and my mother probably didn't either. Until last summer, Cousin Dick and I had not seen each other in probably fifty years, though we have been exchanging emails recently.

Often when we researchers contact cousins, we will talk to one or two of a group and assume we have them covered.  That is not the case. You can never tell when a particular story or piece of information has fallen only to one specific person. And even so, what makes something come up from distant memory into conversation. It is important to talk to everyone, and not just once. And there are still important things you will miss.



Graphic by Sarajoy