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- BIRTH, MARRIAGE, & DEATH RECORDS Social Security Death Index: Georgina Lubking, born 18 Jul 1888; died Jun 1974; last residence, Ducor, Tulare Co., California; issued 1965 in California. John Lubking, born 20 Mar 1898; died Dec 1980; last residence, Ducor, Tulare Co., California; issued 1955 in California. California Death Index: Georgina M. Lubking; female; born 18 Jul 1897, Illinois; died 13 Jun 1974, Tulare Co.. John P. Lubking; male; born 20 Mar 1898, California; died 30 Dec 1980, Tulare Co.; mother's maiden name, Grendes. [Note: According to Virginia Fisher Dolan, Ina lied about her age when she married John Lubking so that he wouldn't know how much older she was than he was; also, she wanted him to think she was still in her child-bearing years.] MILITARY RECORDS World War I Draft Registration: John Philip Lubking, age 20; res. Ducor, Tulare Co., California; born 20 Mar 1898; white; native born citizen; farmer; employed by Henry A. Lubking (same address); nearest relative, Henry A. Lubking (same address); tall, medium build, blue eyes, light hair; registered 12 Sep 1918, Lindsay, Tulare Co., California. HISTORY & BIOGRAPHY AH, YES, I REMEMBER! (Autobiographical sketch by Ina Lubking) My very first recollection of being alive was that Mama held me when I was sick. (I apparently was subject to bronchitis quite often.) Mama had a lady visitor, and we were sitting around the heating stove which was almost in the centere dining room at 718 W. 18th St. At times there was a bed in this room, possibly when one of us was ill, as I was at that time. There were two bedrooms in the five-room flat. Each bedroom had a window facing a brick wall of the two-story building next door, with about a twelve-inch air space. On the first floor of that building was a saloon. In the winter time no windows were ever opened. In the dining room was a square oak table and chairs, a couch, and an oak dresser with two "huge" (for me) white frosted glass vases with fluted tops, into which went old mail and other sundry items. The vases had gaily painted flowers ane a joy to behold (possibly a wedding gift). I remember being examined by a doctor at various times. The parlour during the winter was a veritable refrigerator, and was hardly ever occupied, and it was like braving the outdoors to go through that room to the front bedroom, which waor a time, occupied by Mr. Konrad. Later we three girls slept there, in feather beds in the winter, and were never cold. The bedroom had a clothes closet under the stairs, without a door, and was a good place for storying things and for playing hide-and-go-seek. For a long time after he left, Mr. Konrad's trunk was still there. Another time I remember being held by my mother, who again had a lady visitor, and we sat in the dining room. They were talking about Papa, who was in Europe at the time and expected home very soon. Mother must have told me that Papa hado on a train and on a ship to get there, because for years afterward, whenever I heard a train whistle, I would think of Europe and Grandma, and my imagination would roam to far-off lands. Then the big day arrived: Papa came home from the station in an express wagon with his sister, her husband, and their very young daughter (the Huleks), and all their baggage, no doubt consisting of a lot of feather beds, as that was the moportant part of a Bohemian girl's trousseau. They moved into the rear apartment above ours, with a kitchen, a parlor, and a bedroom. Entrance to the apartment was through the kitchen from the hallway. This hall also gave access to the front apartment of two rooms; also a ladder which led to the attic. How we loved that attic! At one time Papa had pigeons in the loft, and I used to love to go there with Mama when she fed them. I don't remember ever eating them, however, but no doubt that was the purpose in raising them. The front apartment had one large room with a bedroom. It had an iron sink and a pantry, as did the other apartment. How we used to love to "play house" there when it was vacant, and when it was occupied, we used to like to visit the te, if they were agreeable to having us around. I did get around, and all over the neighborhood, there is no doubt about that. Our homes were 781 W. 18th St., 1530 W. 22nd St., 896 So. Hamlin Ave., 1515 So. Hamlin Ave., and 527 Clarence Ave., Oak Park. I attended five grammar school. No wonder I was considered dumb, at least so I considered myself. The schools wooper, Cooper Annex at Ashland & 17th St., Spry, Howland, and Lawson. I remember playing in the vacant lot next door to us on 18th Street before a three-story building was erected there. The wooden sidewalk was high above the lot level. The lot was always full of trash, and it was fun to see what we couldnd. One of my great thrills was looking on the beams under the wooden sidewalk for pennies hidden there by a half-wit son of the saloon keeper next door. His name was Frank. He was either the son or nephew of the man. The man was at that timme living with his housekeeper, who had a daughter with whom I used to play. I used to spend a lot of time in their kitchen, where there was always an odor of fish cooking; food was forever cooking on the stove, for they served a free lunch with drinks, and even a full dinner for a few cents, as was the custom in those days. The meat counter was always a rather high affair, coming to about chest level with a man. In the summer time a fan (when there was electricity) was twirling aboove the counter; otherwise it was covered with a cotton netting to keep off the many flies. The saloon keeper's name was Sherman (pronounced Sharman). I remember I could always tell when it was Saturday. There would be a general cleaning up oof the windows of the saloon and the sidewalk, and the huge brewery trucks rolled barrels of beer into the cellar, and (in the summer) ice was delivered. It was then we would hop on the back step of the wagon and help ourselves to pieces of ice, which we loved to suck. The ice man wore a leather cape over one shoulder. He would take a huge chunk of ice in his ice prongs and swing it over his shoulder, or if the ice was going into the cellar, they would roll down a specially built ladder. In fact, most of the store keepers washed their windows on Saturday. In the winter we children used to press pennies against the heavily frosted window panes, and Mama pointed out to us the beautiful leaves Jack Frost left on our windows. Some times we would press our lips and noses against the frosted panet not for long. If we wanted to see outside, we would breathe hard on the glass and make a peep hole. Snows were very deep in those winters. Tunnels were made in front of the homes to get across the street, and when it was not too cold, we would be out playing in the snow, shoveling it, and getting wet, then coming home to sit around the heating stove to dry out. After the building went up next door, there were a lot of tenants to pester us. They used to throw trash into our yard, which we in turn had to pick up and put in our garbage box. This was a huge wooden affair, which Papa made, with lidsth ends into which went everything. Ashes would be thrown in piles in the alleys, which were cleaned only before an election. The stench from the alley in the summer time was awful. In summer the boxes were full of maggots. During election i it was a great sport for the young hoodlums in those days to burn the wooden garbage bins. Since they were too large to move, they would burn on the spot, and it was touch and go. I remember Papa had several set-to's with these hoods, for they were very destructive, but they only laughed at him. One game they used to play, which we dreaded, was "Run sheep run," but which we called "Run cheap run." They would run through our yard at all times of the night and do whatever damage they could. Their favorite sport was knocking down Chick Sales, but ours was a triple affair, so it was quite rigid. The space under our high wooden sidewalk always intrigued us. We never knew who might be hiding there. It was damp and dark inside, and when we did have the courage to go there, or when Mama was around, we would take a peep and see sicklying weeds or toadstools growing. At times it was quite muddy there since water and melting snow would leak through the cracks of the sidewalk. Mama feared some tramp might be hiding there. At night it was a scary place. There was a rather long, narrow porch from the sidewalk to our front hall, which was a nice place to spend a summer evening. Sometimes we would have a swing on this porch, but that was when we were very small. Across our sidewalk was a wooden fence, on which we children used to love to sit. One summer evening there were just too many sitters on the fence, and it gave way, and I with it. I don't remember if anyone else hit the bottom, but I did it knocked me cold. Mother and Dad were quite concerned with me, but I finally came to. So-o-o-o, if you think there is something queer about your sister Ina, charge it to that fall. Of a summer evening, when the family was out on the porch watching the crowds go by (also the horse cars), we used to tie a piece of watermelon rind to a string and throw it over the electric wire, then catch it & tie a lantern to it. We mhe lanterns out of paper shoe boxes. We would cut fancy holes in them and cover them with colored tissue paper, then put a candle inside, light it, and up it went. Then we would play with the string, up and dow she would go until the candle burned out or the box set on fire. Whatta sport! In the new building there was a shoe store, owned by a Bohemian Jew named Kapper. His method of displaying shoes was in vogue then. It consisted of four boards nailed into a sort of standing box-like affair, covered with paper. The shoes of the shoes would be tied together and hung on a nail on this box-like affair. These adorned the sidewalk not only around the building, but on the outer edge of the sidewalk, much like old Maxwell Street. Doubtless it was an old country custom. Kapper carried a very cheap line of shoes. Mama used to say they were paper shoes, and we never traded there. They had a baby born with two thumbs. He looked just like a monkey, but he did not live very long. At Christmas time we had a tree with real candles, but not very many ornaments. We used to buy pink colored popcorn at a certain store on 18th St. east of Blue Island Ave. (north side of street). This we would string and hang on the trebut usually it was eaten before the holidays were over. Papa used to buy the nuts and candy that went into our stockings and used to leave it on a shelf in the back hall. Our stockings were filled twice: Once on St. Nicholas (Dec. 6) and agaiin on Christmas Eve. Our grocer's son got coal in his stocking one year because he had been a bad boy. We used to love to get up early those mornings to see what Santa Claus had left us, and we were never disappointed. The only thrill that can equal that was when I married John. Our aunts and uncles were very stingy. Though they were far better off financially than we were, they seldom gave us anything at Christmas time. I think it was that very thing that made me want to give our children a happier memory of thent Ina, than I have of my own. And this brings me to our grocer, Mr. Blazek. They had four girls and two boys. The oldest daughter, Mary, kept house with the mother. She was a young lady then. Joe, the oldest son, worked for a wholesale grocery concern, Steele Wedelle died of TB just before he was to be married. Rose, the next oldest daughter, worked in the store. She was a very pleasant person, and later married Mr. Blaha, a mail carrier. The father and mother also worked in the store. In the winter time they used to be dressed as though they were going outdoors. It was so cold, the windows were always heavily frosted. They did a good business. Their youngest son was Frank, who went to school and also helped the father. The two youngest girls were our friends, the youngest being my special friend. It was she who first called me "Ina," and the name has stuck ever since.
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1888 - 1974 (85 years)
