David kindly suggested we take them to Cambridge and show them where he was born and raised. We took them boating amongst the historic buildings of his childhood. Emo came with us and did a lot of the punting in the traditional way, adding a bit of Emo humor as a flavor that had them laughing. I loved sharing this time with Toni and Marcus, for I had missed most of their early childhood. I left for college when they were just little. I think I became a storybook character our parents often spoke about during dinner. I was real and loved them. As years went by, we have become closer and closer, which I treasure.
CHAPTER 17
EARLY CHILDHOOD DAD HIDES US AWAY
I sat looking out from the lead light windows of Woodley, holding little baby Alice close to my breast, feeding her. I pondered my own beginning. Memories of those early years in Philadelphia returned with the reality of now being a Mom. As children, we would often play in the streets playing tag with other children. In the summer, the city fire department would open the fire hydrants on the holiday weekends so that we could cool down and frolic in the water.
One particular morning, I had my toys out on the sidewalk and was pretending to cook dinner for my girlfriend, who lived next door. I didn't hear my mother calling me from inside despite the fact we always left our doors open in those days. "Charlie, Charlie come here!" Charlie was my name at home.
My father's name was Charles Hasenbein. He was part of a large German family that migrated to the US several generations ago. My mother's maiden name was Virginia Collins. Both my mother's mother and my father's mother name was Virginia. Both his father and grandfather's name was Charles. Names passed down the Family tree, from one generation to the next. However, my parents had different ideas.
They made an agreement that this would not be the case for their children. But, when it came time to name their first grandchild, my father's parents demanded that I should be called Virginia. If not, they would not allow my Catholic baptism to take place. My grandparents were Protestant and the power of their word was so strong that my father gave in to them. Consequently, my mother took a stand later for her priority was first for me to be under the protection of Christ as a Catholic. After the baptism, she proceeded to call me Charlie Ann in which my family on both sides continue to use.
On that morning, she came out from the house looking rather tense. "Charlie, did you not hear me?" she shouted. "Pick up your toys and get in here! Now! We are going to visit your Aunt Dot and DO NOT tell anyone!" My girlfriend had returned outside when she asked what I was doing. I tried not to answer for I was an extremely obedient child down to the letter. I bit my lip, but I could not keep the secret as her demands increased. I was only five years old.
The next thing I remember was my mother hustling my younger sister, Donna and I out the door. Like little ducklings, we rushed down the street behind our Mom trying to catch a cab to the train station, bags and all. Mom then bought the tickets and hurried us to the platform so as not to miss the train. It seemed exciting and yet unexpected. I loved Aunt Dot as we had visited her before. Daddy often drove us up to her house in Connecticut for the odd holiday. It was a sunny day and I sat next to the window of the train feeling its warmth, daydreaming. Donna was sitting on Mom's lap. We had stopped at another station when I heard my father's voice. "Where are you going?" Thereupon, he picked up Donna yanking me with his other hand from where I sat. My mother was so caught off guard. Everything happened so quickly; he was supposed to be at work. She grabbed my other hand as he dragged me across her lap.
I became the center of a tug of war, all the other passengers gawked in suspended animation wondering what was going on. All were shocked into silence and non-action. My mother lost her grip as he took us down the coach. I still can hear her feeble cry pleading to him, "Please don't take them. Please don't take them."We left the train just as the doors closed; it was over. Daddy hid us in the New Jersey countryside with his parents in their newly built house. And I forgot that I had a Mother.
Baking Apple pie, Rival cake and making jam filled the time with our grandparents. Nannan's kitchen was large with a pine table in the center. She was like the perfect image of a fairy godmother, bonnie, gray haired and a smile that warmed your heart. Her apron always covered with flour or some sauce she had been making for dinner. Her pantry was a child's delight full of preserves, chutneys and jams. Herbs hung from the ceiling and filled the room with drifting fragrances, which held me spellbound each time I entered to fetch something for her.
PopPop, my grandfather, was a welder and worked from home in his garage. His white T-shirts always covered with little holes from the sparks. He never shaved, and with his prickly beard, he chased and teased us without mercy. When he finally caught us, he would rub his whiskers across our faces as he held us in his arms. We squealed with glee as he continued to tickle us. It was such a fun game, which we played often in the gravel driveway.
My father's sister, Aunt Dolly, had two children, both were boys, Tommy (Butchy) and Billy, who came to live with us. Story has it that their father wanted girls and my father had wanted boys so we all wound up placed with our grandparents. It really didn't matter, because our grandparents showed us so much love.
My grandparents' house was like a fairyland haven for me. Nannan collected salt n' pepper shakers that adorned her living room windowsill. She would often sit and crochet another doily or tablecloth in her big armchair by the window. She taught me how to do the same, and knit. A grandfather clock hung on the wall; a family heirloom from the old country that had a cuckoo that cuckooed on the hour. PopPop would rewind it each evening by pulling the metal pinecones on the chains that dangled from the main part of the clock. Tick Tock, Tick Tock echoed throughout the house.
Each morning Butchy, Billy and I would go out into the pine- woods and collect blueberries for our morning cornflakes. Donna was too young to go with us so she sat by the window with her head in her hands, grumpy until we returned. Donna and I wore the exact same crinoline dresses that I found out years laterwere from our mother. She must have sent them to our old address in Philly for she did not know where we were. Dad must have passed them on to our grandparents secretly. They were so pretty.
My grandparents' home was deep in the woods away from any town, down a long dirt drive. I remember often a fog would come permeating everywhere with a terrible smell. I came to know that this was actually DDT to kill the mosquitos and ticks. They even did this at the Drive-in Movies as we played on the swings before the film started. I am not sure when this was finally stopped. However, I hope the chemical used caused no damage to our health.
My grandparents had a large vegetable garden surrounded by a tall fence to keep out the deer and other critters. They raised chickens and turkeys, and we delighted in chasing them. At the end of every summer, there would be a barbecue when all of our uncles and aunts plus their children would come. The men would till the soil and prepare for the next harvest, while the women would help in the kitchen.
Those barbecues were tasty. PopPop would cover the coals with seaweed and place the corn on the cob within it. We also had grilled beef, chicken and fresh fish cooked on another part of the barbecue. Food was plenty: potato salad, barbecue baked beans, goulash and corn muffins fresh from the oven. We played games with all of our cousins until the food was ready. If the weather permitted, a long table would be set up in the garden covered with a white tablecloth.
Christmas too was exceptional. It was like a page out of Peter Pan, our favorite book that Nannan would read to us. There was a large Christmas tree decked with colored lights and baubles in the corner. Weeks before, we had all strung cranberries and popcorn as garlands with white thread. On Christmas morning, wiping the dust from our eyes, we entered the living room. We could not believe what we saw as smiles grew upon our faces. Colorful wrapped presents lined the 10 ft walls on two sides to the ceiling. Mary and her little lamb stood in the middle with large cars, bicycles, scooters, play table and chairs.
&n
bsp; My grandparents were not wealthy, but what a memory they created for us. Apparently, each season they took out a loan to pay for the extravaganza. The Hasenbein family was large and they all came with their growing families for lunch. Daddy came with a friend named Agnes, who seemed nice. Nannan would cook the largest turkey that PopPop could find from their pen. Looking back, I know a lot of what I do in my home is inspired by those very impressionable times from making jams, cooking pies and stews, to decorating.
One afternoon, as we were playing in the dust near the main house, a little powder blue car drove up the driveway. A man came out saying he was a "Fuller Brush man." Fuller Brush men were door-to-door salesmen in America selling merchandise for the home. My grandmother stood listening as we all gathered behind her skirt like little ducklings. PopPop was out on an errand and we were the only ones home. We were curious who this stranger was and listened from behind Nannan's skirts, peeking out occasionally. When suddenly a woman with dark hair and eyes sat up from where she had been secretly lying on the back seat out of sight. In almost the same motion, she opened the door and got out. My gran tensed as I ran out up to her. She was beautiful. I asked, "Who are YOU?" She replied, "Why Charlie I am your mother." "OH, REALLY? Would you like to come in and see my toys?" I asked as I grabbed her hand.
At that moment, my grandmother grabbed my other hand, shouting at my mother to go away while at the same time demanding that we all go inside. The Fuller Brush man called out to my mother, "Ginny, come on. We know where they are now." She let go of my hand reluctantly with tears in her eyes as she got back into the little blue car. Gran held me close, wrapping me safely in her arms also with tears in her eyes. I was confused, but returned to play with the others as I watched the car disappear down the drive leaving a trail of dust.
I have no idea how much time had passed before my Dad's summons brought us to court. Daddy, Donna and I all went together. The building was amazing. It was huge with marble floors and round pillars. There were rows and rows of wooden benches with people sitting on them. Daddy led us to one and asked us to sit down. As we waited, we could hear other names called in the distance echoing around the room. We felt very tiny in such a place. I held Donna's hand tightly, hoping this would keep us safe from harm.
Before we arrived from the station, Daddy had said that we must not mention his friend Agnes. I think I was too young to understand or know if they were living together since we spent most of our time in the country. But, that is what he asked.
Daddy stayed, while a nice lady escorted Donna and me out of the room. She held our hands and assured us that we would return soon. We walked across the white marble floors, our shoes clicking as we shuffled along until we came to a rather large door. She knocked and waited for a voice to speak. "Come in,"we heard from the other side. We felt even smaller as we entered the room as the ceiling was so high. All the walls covered in wood with large shelves of books with gold letters. There were carpets in bright colors with a huge desk and large leather chairs. We both sat on one together with our feet dangling over the side. The kind lady left once she knew we were comfortable.
Across the room was a man who was wearing a black type robe and a white collar. I suppose he was our judge, but I am sure we had no idea. What was a judge? He was just a man who had a pleasant voice and gentle eyes. We were there for a while and he asked us many questions. The only one that I can remember was "Does your Dad have a girlfriend?" I froze, but Donna shook her head, her blonde bob moving with her gesture, as she said, "Yes, Agnes." Later, I was mad and kicked her, I said, "Daddy said we shouldn't tell anyone." Accompanied back to the courtroom, we found Daddy sitting on the bench looking rather forlornly. Three women with dark hair and eyes sat a few rows in front of us smiling and waving their hands. I recognized the one, who said she was our mother. One of the other ladies was her sister, Dorothy (Aunt Dot) and a close Friend of theirs. (I remember her face, but not hername... ?) Beside them was the Fuller Brush Man. In fact, he was mom's lawyer and private investigator, Mr. Miller.
Mom had spent years trying to raise enough money so that she could hire one to find us. She worked in factories saving money and sadly was ripped-off by the first investigator she hired. She was living with her sister Dot in Connecticut and her two children, Sharon and Tommy. Finally, she found someone she could trust who also worked in Philadelphia. It was Mr. Miller.
My dad must have had a lawyer but this was such a traumatic time for us. I do not remember nor can I ask him for my dad has passed over 10 years ago. Since writing this chapter my mother also has passed over in October 2014 but she has often shared the story of how she had lost her girls and then got them back. But it was her story. My dad very rarely spoke of it though he was noticeably angry towards my mom by his comments.
When we returned my dad stood up and the three women approached us. We stood at the end of the bench looking up at him with our blonde hair and innocent blue eyes. Wondering what was going on. His voice cracked as he said, "Girls the judge has decided that you both must go and live with your mother." We cried as we fell into his legs clutching them, me peeking to the side at those women. He continued to speak to our hearts as his fingers stroked our heads, ''Please, girls don't cry, for we shall be together every summer and I shall come to see you every holiday where you live." "NO! NO! Daddy,"we pleaded.
The women got closer, as I looked at them again through my tears and the safety of my father's legs. I did not want to leave my Daddy and I had forgotten that I had a mother's love. These women were strangers. They pulled us away, holding our hands gently, to a path unknown. Trying to comfort us my mother said, "Come girls." I kept looking back as my father's waving image, faded amongst the crowd. He went home to an empty house. We were gone.
We had to take a train to Connecticut, where my mother had a small little house near my Aunt Dot. All the way, I sat alone behind them. They kept looking at me and smiling. Donna sat on their lap giggling. I was angry, sad, frightened and alone not knowing that there was another surprise of a little brother, Stephen, waiting at home with my other Nan. We fell asleep in the taxi until they would carry us into our new home.
CHAPTER 18
ANIMALS IN FLIGHT
December 1976
It was early December, and the scheduled photography for the Animals album cover was to take place at the Battersea Power Station in London. The idea was to suspend a large inflatable pig called Algie, between the four chimney stacks. Algie was 30 ft. long, full of helium and the plan was to tether her within the middle of the antiquated building. For extra safety, there was a trained marksman on standby in the event she broke loose.
Apparently, Roger's daily drive to Britannia Row in Islington inspired the idea. He lived across the river just off Clapham Common and the station was a daily vision along the way. The image of the pig was born from the book Animal Farm, by George Orwell, as was the concept for the whole album. Storm Thorgerson, from Hipgnosis, worked together with Rogerto design and execute his vision, which the rest of the band accepted.
The day arrived and we all gathered at the station to observe the photographing of the cover. However, the weather proved to be a bit inclement so postponement of the shoot became evident. In addition, the cables were also not secure enough to make it viable. Again, the next day we arrived and despite the weather being a bit calmer, disaster happened. Algie broke loose.
The cable snapped and there was no marksman in sight. She shot up in the air, last reported heading for the English Channel. It made the news with wonderful caricatures in the morning papers of two airline pilots looking out of the plane window freaked to see a pig flying next to them. Was it a hallucination? They hadn't been drinking. Oh dear, it is a flying pig! There was great concern that Algie would cause an accident in the air, but fortunately, she descended on her own accord. Thank God, for the winds had diverted his flight plan. The farmer whose field she came to rest in remained perplexed. There amongst the trees she hovered, bouncing gently befor
e his eyes. He went back inside and made the phone call to the local police. "Hello, has anyone reported missing a 30 ft. long pig, have ya?" And the reply, "Are ya' sure ya' ain't had a pint, have ya? Ya sure it ain't a figment of yer' imagination?" "NO, there really is a giant inflatable pig bouncin' around me field. I ain't jokin! Has no one reported a missin' pig?" Word got back to the Floyd, who then sent Robbie William and few of the stage crew to the rescue. Their mission was to retrieve Algie safely. The famed mishap is amongst many fables in the Pink Floyd History books. Thenceforth, she and a few cousins became a regular feature in the Animal "In the Flesh" tours. I even remember that during the Animals tour in the States one could find an isolated roadie backstage painting little baby ones. The idea would be to release them from Algie's behind over the audience. However, that never happened or at least not to my knowledge.
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