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. With Marysville and Union County celebrating Bicentennial anniversaries in 2019 and 2020, respectively, these articles help depict what life was like in those early years.
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It was early December in 1938, and my sister, Maryann, had recently celebrated her 15th birthday. She was already starting to feel more “grown up.” She had never before attended a formal dance, and she thought it was now time for her to do that.
The annual DAR dance would be held in a few weeks, and that would be perfect. This was a dance in which girls invited boys. She wasn’t sure whom to invite, and she was a little shy.
Our mother helped out. She had a friend in Columbus who had a son that was a year or so older than my sister. His name was Sonny Dodge, and arrangements were made for them to attend the dance together.
Once the arrangements were made, the next step was to get a dress, an evening gown. Just thinking about that made my sister feel all “grown up.” Fortunately, our grandmother, Hettie Tracy, was a seamstress, and she could make a dress for Maryann. She made quite a few formal dresses for women, so she had several pattern catalogs. They spent an hour or so going through those catalogs to find the right dress.
My sister found one that she immediately fell in love with, and she showed it to our grandmother. Hettie tried to talk her out of that dress, because it was strapless, and she thought my sister might have trouble keeping it up. She showed her several other attractive dresses, but it was in vain. Once a 15-year-old girl has her mind set on something, it’s pretty hard to change it. So Grandma Tracy ordered the pattern for the strapless dress.
December was a busy month for a seamstress. Many women ordered dresses to wear during the holidays. So Hettie was very busy. When her long workdays were over, she went to work on my sister’s dress at night. The finished product was beautiful, and my sister was thrilled.
On the evening of the dance, Sonny arrived at our house right on time. Before the young couple left for the dance, my dad got out his old Kodak box camera and took a few shots of the two of them. Then they left the house.
The dance was held in Union Hall, which occupied much of the second and third floors of the Union Block building on the northwest corner of Fifth and Main Streets. Sonny parked the car and held my sister’s arm as they climbed the wide stairway entrance on Fifth Street.
They could hear music long before they reached the doors to Union Hall. When they walked in, there were already couples dancing. Red and green crêpe paper streamers gave the place a feeling of the holidays, and the lights had been lowered just enough to make it perfect for dancing.
Before they stepped onto the dance floor, Maryann gave her dress a firm tug to make sure it was in place. So far, there had been no slippage whatsoever. She and Sonny joined hands, and she placed her left hand on his shoulder. It was at that point that she noticed her first slippage.
For some reason, when her left arm was raised to put her hand on his shoulder, the dress did not cling as tightly to her body. As they continued to dance, Maryann would remove her left hand from his shoulder and give the top of her dress a little tug. That was necessary only once or twice during the first dance.
But as they continued dancing, more and more tugs became necessary. So they would dance for a while, and then my sister would tug … then more dancing, followed by more tugging. It really wasn’t a good way to dance.
Finally, she told Sonny that she was having some sort of problem with the dress, and she asked him if he could take her home for a few minutes. I don’t know if he knew what the problem was, but he was quick to fetch her wrap and escort her to the car.
When they arrived home, she seated Sonny in the living room and turned on our floor model Zenith radio. Sonny listened to music, while my sister went into our grandmother’s sewing room.
Hettie retrieved some of the material that was left over from the dress, and began measuring and cutting it. She folded it, pinned it together, and then began running it through her foot treadle sewing machine. In maybe 20 minutes or so, she had fashioned two straps that she attached to the dress. It worked perfectly, and my sister’s slippage problem was solved.
The two kids returned to the dance, and they had a great time. They both did a lot of dancing that night, and there was no more tugging. I guess if there is a moral to the story, it is that you are pretty lucky if you have a grandmother who is a seamstress … especially if you are a 15-year-old girl wearing a brand new strapless dress.
Those wishing to contact Bill Boyd can e-mail him at bill@davidwboyd.com