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Written by Sister Regina (Aileen) DeCoursey, 1994
When we children complained about how cold it was walking one snow-covered block from the house to St. Peter's School, he would tell us that when he was a boy, he rode his sled from the farmhouse on Spruce Street all the way to Sacred Heart School on Fifth Avenue in Leavenworth, crossing Chippawa, Seneca, Ottawa, Kiowa, Pottowatomie, Kansas, etc. on the way. (The streets in Leavenworth are named after Indian tribes.)
When he finally arrived at Sacred Heart School, Sister Marian felt so sorry for the poor little boy, that she would have him come and sit right next to the wood-burning stove in the classroom until he thawed out.
He also used to tell about delivering milk from the DeCoursey farm in the early hours of the morning when it was frigid, using the horse and wagon, of course.
Dad, Uncle Frank, and Uncle Jim were good friends, as well as brothers and business partners. Besides sharing the big roll-top desk in the creamery office, they would also take off every morning about 10:00 to go to Lou Cole's drug store across 7th Street for a morning coke and a big discussion about the stock market reports that had just come in. When they really wanted to go someplace special for a coke and the latest edition of the Kansas City Star they would drive over to the Union Station and Fred Harvey's.
I remember Dad and Uncle Frank calling each other every evening to talk about the latest developments in the market. Dad seldom said "wheat" in these conversations, but "damnwheat," not "stock market," but "Helluvastock market" - the only times I remember I ever heard him say "damn" or "hell."
Come to think of it, this was during the time after the stock market crash of 1929 and during the early 30's, so it probably was a "Helluvastock market."
It seems to me that Dad almost always would walk over to Grandpa DeCoursey's at 444 N. 17th (three blocks from our home) every evening to see how he was. Grandma Catherine, Grandpa's new wife, was also there. Usually he would take one of us children with him for company - not that we really wanted to go. Our amusement there was to look through the stack of Ave Maria magazines (no pictures) that Grandma Catherine had accumulated.
Dad was very thoughtful of his father. Because Grandpa loved to go to the horse races, Dad would often take him to Riverside, the race-track north of Kansas City (now an industrial site ). In fact they were at the races just a few days before Grandpa died.
The three DeCoursey "boys" were a great trio for running the DeCoursey Creamery Company. Uncle Jim was the outside man - a member of the Chamber of Commerce, Rotary , Kiwanis, etc., and represented DeCoursey in the public eye. He even ran for mayor of Kansas City , Kansas once, but was greatly relieved that he didn't win. The mayor at that time found himself operating the draft board during the first World War.
Uncle Frank was the "business" person, made all the deals, etc. He was a very shrewd businessman, and made sure that the operation made money sometimes lots of it. Dad was the "customer man." He spent many an evening perched on the soda fountain stools of different drug stores, listening as the druggists poured out their troubles about "how tough things are" into his sympathetic ear. (This was one excursion of Dad's where he never had any trouble getting one of his children to accompany him, for we were always sure of a coke or a soda for our time). Another kind of "customer" for the DeCoursey Creamery was the farmer who sold them the milk used in making the ice-cream and butter, and who also had to be kept happy. "You can't go wrong, selling all along, to the DeCoursey Creamery Company" was one of the advertising jingles I remember.
I remember that we would be driving along a country road when Dad would suddenly pull off the road when he saw a farmer plowing a field, and get out to talk to him. The two would lean over each side of the fence, discuss wheat prices, crops, weather, both chewing on a stalk of wheat to test its contents.
He was a faithful Mass-goer. He could be found every morning in the sixth pew, left side of St. Peter's church for the 6:30 Mass each day. He often tried to get one of us to go with him . If the love of the mass didn't draw us, the fact that Minnie (Mom's helper) had a big bacon and egg breakfast waiting for us when we got home, did.
Mother would have liked to go to Mass each morning, too, but she was otherwise occupied trying to wake us up and make sure we got breakfast and on to school on time. His devotion to the Mass and Blessed Sacrament continued all through his life. It seems to me that he and Mother tried to go to St. Boniface every morning when they were living on Leonora Street.
Dad was not a teetotaler - but he might as well have been. When we were a little older and at family parties where liquor was served, Dad would be the bartender. His idea of a drink would have been a thimbleful of whiskey in a big glass of club soda or ginger ale. No one could get too much to drink when he tended bar.
However on a cold Kansas evening, he would sit next to the radio in the living room and nurse a small glass of bourbon half filled with sugar or a piece of rock candy. "For my sore throat," he would say.
