Ruth wrote that her father had jet black hair and eyes. She also wrote: My father was a moulder in the steel mills. Re had learned his trade from his father at a very early age as did all young lads at that time. When my father was pensioned off at age sixty five, he was given a big banquet and a gold pocket watch. Our family had set a record. Between my grandpa, uncles, father, and brothers, they had worked for over two hundred years for the U.S. Steel Company. My father was a skilled man at his trade. He was made foreman of the foundry at an early age. It was an important job and there was never a mold poured without pa's supervision. He could detect a flaw or a crack at a glance. He was a hard working man and well liked. He was reliable and steady when on the job but like so many of the mill workers, he one bad fault - he liked his whisky and beer. The terrific heat of the molten lead and steel burnt their throats and the only relief was to ease the pain with cold beer or strong whisky. He was not a steady drinker but when he did go off on his sprees, they lasted for a week at a time or until he was so sick that we had to call in the doctor. Then he would not touch liquor of any kind for a couple of months. My father had a hobby that was very important to him. He raised game roosters, or fighting cocks, and he trained them for the fighting pit. During the years that he followed the fights, he won many prizes and bets. His roosters were considered the best around and were in great demand. Chicken fights were legal then and it was a weekly event that all the men looked forward to. The fights were held at some remote spot on the outskirts of town every Saturday night. My pa worked six days a week, so as soon as he came home on Saturday, he stripped to his waist, stood over the sink in the pantry, and scrubbed his body with a big cake of American Family soap. He always washed his head at the same time. The water was usually cold as it was pumped from the cistern that was built in the basement. This was made of bricks and was of a good size. The water was rainwater that ran down into the cistern after a shower. By the end of summer, we usually had enough water to carry us through the winter months. Our cistern would get to full and sometimes it overflowed on to the basement floor. We never wasted that water. It was used for baths and dish washing.

But to return to my pa and his Saturday nights - after he finished washing his chest and head, he would put the wash basin on the floor and wash his feet. The water was then thrown in the sink and went down the drain into a large pail that was under the sink. Every day, after every one had washed and the dishes were done, the pail was carried outside and poured over a bush, or tree. It was never wasted. Pa would then change into clean clothes, eat his dinner, then go out into the chicken house and pick the two roosters that he was going to fight that night. He would take the sharp, steel, spurs from where they were hanging on the hook and off he would go. We didn't have any means of transportation then, so he had to walk, which must have taken him a half hour or more. Nobody ever waited up for pa because that was his night out.