Editor’s note: This is another column in Bill Boyd’s new series, “The Way It Was,” about growing up in Marysville. Bill continues to work with the Union County Historical Society to obtain information for his stories.
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In 1938, my mother saw an announcement in the Marysville Tribune that a cooking school was coming to town. It would be held in the high school auditorium on West 6th Street. I think it was sponsored by the gas company. My mother was excited about the whole thing. She liked to cook and could learn to make some new dishes.
A special kitchen was built on the stage where the lady would prepare all the dishes. There was a “presentation” counter, complete with a sink, a stove and a sizable chopping block. A very large magnifying mirror was set at an angle above it all so people in the audience could have a view looking directly down into the pots and pans.
The show was divided into sections, or acts. One act might feature desserts, while another zeroed in on appetizers and the like. The curtain was drawn between acts so the stage crew could reset the stage and bring in all the things needed for the next dishes. For one section, the director wanted to have two little kids on stage with the lady. It was to look as if it were a mother and her two children watching her cook.
Our first grade teacher, Ms. Westlake, asked a girl named Susan Scheiderer and me to play the parts of those two kids. There were no rehearsals, or anything like that. All we had to do was sit on a couple of kitchen stools, one at each end of the counter. Our only instruction was that we should not look at the audience. Instead, we should focus on the lady who was preparing the food, to make the whole thing look real.
When it was time for our act, some lady led Susan and me behind the closed curtain to the stools on stage. The curtain then opened, and our act began. But before it could even start, I could see all those people out there in the audience. The house was almost full, and they were all staring at me.
I scanned the audience from one side to the other and then I spotted them, my mother and my 14-year-old sister, Maryann. They were sitting right along one aisle, so I began to wave at them. The audience seemed to think that was funny, and they began to laugh. I didn’t know what they were laughing at, but I kept waving.
It doesn’t take much for a six-year-old boy to embarrass his 14-year-old sister, especially when some of her friends and classmates are in the audience. So I think I may have made my sister a little embarrassed.
The lady on stage, who was doing the cooking, tried to get my attention so I would look at her, but I really wanted to wave at my mother and sister. So that’s what I did.
And then, as my sister was looking at her little brother, he dealt her the unkindest cut of all. He picked his nose. Right there on stage, in front of all his sister’s friends, he picked his nose. I don’t think that’s uncommon for a first grader who didn’t have a handkerchief, but I think it made my sister squirm a bit in her seat.
My sister never forgot that day, and 12 years later, I was to perform in our senior class play on that very same stage. I left home a bit early for the evening performance, so I would have plenty of time to have makeup applied. When I left the house, all my family wished me, “Good luck.”
Then, as I was walking out our front door, my sister added, “Bill, don’t forget your handkerchief.” Boy, big sisters never forget anything.
Those wishing to contact Bill Boyd can e-mail him at williamboyd514@gmail.com