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Family Stories
A potpourri of stories about various family members or events, written by others and edited by me.
The Girl from “Across the Tracks”
[This is an item that my grandfather Jesse Hibbard wrote (and typed) in March 1916 (age 22). My (Al) role was to first transcribe it, next to add corrections or clarifications [within brackets], and then to add links to people connected to me (that gives more information), links to give more information about places, and for those mentioned but not connected, I sometimes added links to FamilySearch.org.]
[This is a 2-part story in his journal about how he met his future wife. This is part 1. These two parts are incorporated together in How My Paternal Grandparents Met that I wrote and includes a few other details and photos.]
Images (skip to transcription)
pages 1 and 2
pages 3 and 4
pages 5 and 6
Transcription
The Girl from “Across the Tracks”
There were only the two of us on the courts that beautiful September (9/23/15) afternoon – De Booy and I. We must have been playing for nearly an hour when I noticed a pair of trim middy-clad figures coming across the campus. Each carried a tennis racquet and a pair of shoes. They went up the steps into the Administration Building, came out after a moment and walked very slowly past us. “Ask them if they want to play with us, Henri,” I said, not having nerve enough to ask myself. In answer to his call they came over to us. “We two can’t play against you two, Mildred, hasn’t played much,” the darker one said. “Then you and I will play together,” I told her.
We didn’t talk a great deal while playing. I supposed they were college Frosh. Later when some more people were playing next to us our balls got mixed. “Is this ours?” my partner asked, picking one up. I looked. “Yes, see that ‘A’? That’s Anderson, my name.”
“My name is Westphal,” she returned, spelling it. Then, thinking I might want to know her better, I said, “But these aren’t my balls. They belong to my room mate, and his name is Anderson, not mine.” I didn’t tell her what mine was.
As we were taking down the net to go home an hour later, I asked them if they were going to the Frosh reception the following night. Then they confessed that they weren’t college girls, but lived down the line a mile or so. Mine, was a high school senior, the other fluffy haired one was a junior at Hamline U.
We walked home with them that night. Westphal said she didn’t live “so very far”, but it was way across the tracks. I had a most enjoyable time walking home with her and listening to her chatter. She told of her life in California, something about her H.S. [high school] life, tennis, etc. Finally as we came within a couple blocks of where she lived, an airedale dog called “Jeff” came running to meet her. Beyond the Park Drugstore, across a little three-cornered park in that beautiful quiet wooded residence district we went. She lived on Bayless Avenue across from the park in a large white house set back a little from the sidewalk. [Now, 2351 Bayless Place, St. Paul, MN] A seven passenger touring car stood in front. As I was standing talking to her at the steps, the old man came home and glanced at me; evidently he noticed my white pants. We made a date to play tennis again the following Sat. morning, and after saying “goodbye” at this time I expected to see her again in a couple of days. However, altho [sic, although] De Booy and I were out the following Saturday at 6 o’clock it was raining and so could expect no girls. The following week I called up my new friend and a week or so later made a date with her for a little musicale. Met her at the M.E. church after choir practice on Sat. eve. October, 9. Had a good time that night. Told me to come and see her sometime.
In the weeks that followed, those beautiful hazy October days when all the campus was alive with football and tennis players, and the pungent smoke from the burning heaps of dead leaves signified autumn was with us, I looked forward to the afternoons after Market Classes when we met the girls on the courts. They were always on time, punctual to the minute. The afternoons with them are the only times in fall of 1915 I remember. We always paired off the same; Edna and I, Mildred and Henri. Edna always was quick to chase stray balls – a trait I liked.
Our tennis playing ended in Nov. I took the girl to a couple of U. [University] dances, and so our friendship continued; many dances, a couple of nights at the carnival in St. Paul, some basketball games, and finally March 8 we went to see “The Bird of Paradise” together. Lent ended the dancing season. By this time I had met all the family, was down to dinner a couple times, (and they sure fed me up some) and was feeling that I was lucky in having my tennis court friend. Whatever else I may remember of her, I shall always remember how very nice she was to me at all times, always kind, considerate, and thotful [sic, thoughtful]. She seemed always to know what to say and do, seemed never at a loss.
Used to tell me that I lacked self-appreciation. “If you believe in yourself, you can make others believe in you” she would say.
So, no matter what other memories I may ever have of her, let me always remember to appreciate her kindness to me, a stranger acquaintance of the tennis courts. (Written March 1916.)
Published 2021-02-13. Revised 2025-07-05.
If you find any error(s) in the text, please let me know. Thanks. Contact me with errors or comments using hibbardac@gmail. [Back to the top] [About the editor, Al]
N/Alisting of family stories by Jesse Hibbard Goodbye to “Across the Tracks”