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Posts Tagged ‘portsmouth va’

More on Jim Walter Homes…

December 19th, 2014 Sears Homes 7 comments

In the last couple years, I’ve had probably about 20 requests for more information on Jim Walter Homes. As mentioned in a prior blog, the company started doing business in 1946 and ceased in 2009, having sold about 320,000 homes.

That’s a lot of houses.

Last week, Carmen Miller contacted me and asked if there was a way to authenticate a Jim Walter Home. (Carmen was interested because she had recently purchased an alleged Jim Walter Home in Elizabethtown, Kentucky.)

I thought and thought about her question, and couldn’t come up with a good answer.

As it turns out, I do some of my best thinking when I’m semi-conscious. Bolting upright about 4:30 this morning, I had my answer: Grantee Records.

Jim Walter Homes (like Sears) offered a really sweet deal on mortgages on their kit homes; easy payments, unusually low downpayments and lower-than-market interest rates. Using Grantee Records (where mortgages are recorded), I could look up “Jim Walter Homes.”

I immediately awakened in-house counsel from his slumbers, who put a damper on my brilliance, and pointed out that I would need trustee names. I replied, “Maybe that’s true, but I’m going to try ‘Jim Walter Homes’ and see what happens.”

I was surprised at how much I found: Four houses within the computerized records in Portsmouth, Virginia!

If you enjoy the following information, you should thank the architecture-loving angel that whispered in my ear at 4:30 am. And thank Carmen, too!  :D

To read more about Jim Walter Homes, click here.

Thanks to Bill Inge for providing some super-fast research on a couple names!

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house house

The map book (showing a physical address for this site) is housed in Norfolk County (see red arrow) which is in Chesapeake, about 45 minutes away from downtown Portsmouth. Using the legal description and some help from my friend Milton, we figured out where this house is located. The trustees names are given as W. S. Sullivan and R. E. Kane, but the deed was found by searching for "Jim Walter Homes." At the top, this document references a "deed of satisfaction," showing that the mortgage has been paid in full. Notice the letterhead.

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Here is the house in Portsmouth, referenced in the deed above.

Here is the house in Portsmouth, referenced in the deed above. It was built in 1974, and unfortunately, I wasn't able to find this model in my 1972 catalog. It's endured some remodeling. Who knows what it looked like 40 years ago.

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Honestly, Im not sure what this document is, but I suspect its a cover letter for legal documents. Nonetheless, it was on file in the city of Portsmouths land records, and gives the address of another Jim Walter House.

This appears to be nothing more than a cover letter for legal documents (which I did not find). Nonetheless, it was on file in the city of Portsmouth's land records, and gives the address of another Jim Walter House.

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This one, I was able to identify.

I was able to identify this house on Highland Avenue. Construction started in 1988.

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Its The Oxford.

It's "The Oxford."

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Highland

Fancy name; simple house.

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match

According to city records, the house on Highland Avenue is 24 by 38 (912 square feet).

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Last

This also shows a trustee name of Robert E. Kane (for JW Homes). On another note, I can not make out the owner's last name. Is it Lyttle?

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And heres the little JW house that the Lyttles bought.

And here's the little JW house that the Lyttle's built on Holladay Street.

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As my buddy Bill Inge said, Jim Walter Homes were - for the most part - pretty modest dwellings and in the final years of the company, their quality apparently took a nose-dive. Still, it was fun to find four of these homes in Portsmouth. And theres one I still cant locate! It was purchased by Sidney Allen Weiss, Sr., and all we know is that its located in Portsmouth, VA. The deed says, Legal description attached, but there was no attachment.

As my buddy Bill Inge said, Jim Walter Homes were - for the most part - pretty modest dwellings and in the final years of the company, their quality apparently took a nose-dive. Still, it was fun to find four of these homes in Portsmouth. And there's one I still can't locate! It was purchased by Sidney Allen Weiss, Sr., and all we know is that it's located in Portsmouth, VA. The deed says, "Legal description attached," but there was no attachment.

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I’m on the hunt for a few more (earlier) catalogs. If you find one, please drop me a note!

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The Adorable Attleboro - Right Here in Portsmouth, Virginia

May 15th, 2012 Sears Homes No comments

Post-1930s Sears kit homes are hard to find. Sales of the 12,000-piece, do-it-yourself kits plummeted in the early years after the Great Depression.  But one of the most popular post-depression kit homes is the Sears Attleboro.

Several years ago, when I did a survey of kit homes for the city of Portsmouth, I was delighted and surprised to find the Sears Attleboro in the Shea Terrace section of Portsmouth. It’s in beautiful condition, and the owners have done a fine job of keeping it maintained.

I wonder if they realize what a treasure they have!

The Sears Attleboro was on the cover of the 1936 catalog.

The Sears Attleboro was on the cover of the 1938 catalog.

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And what a fine little house it was!

And what a fine little house it was!

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If you read the fine print, youll see that the screened-in porch could be built on the *back* of the house, instead of the side.

If you read the fine print, you'll see that the screened-in porch could be built on the *back* of the house, instead of the side.

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That side porch was offset a bit from the house.

That side porch was offset a bit from the house. Notice the three small columns in each corner.

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The Attleboro - as shown in 1938.

The Attleboro - as shown in 1938.

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And here it is, in the flesh.

And here it is, in the "flesh." That side porch is offset (as it should be)!

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Close-up of the porch.

Close-up of the porch.

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To learn more about Sears Homes, click here.

To read about Aunt Addie’s exhumation, click here.

To buy Rose’s book, click here.

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An Amazing Discovery in an Old Shoebox (Updated!)

June 26th, 2011 Sears Homes 3 comments

This blog was written June 26, 2011. Since then, I’ve learned many new facts. Please click here to read the latest.

Two weeks ago, I cleaned out the apartment at my father’s assisted living facility and found an old shoe box. Inside was a photo album from the late 1800s, full of people that I didn’t recognize. The most significant clue was these few words scribbled on the back of one photo (first photo below). It said, “Enoch and Addie Hoyt Fargo on their wedding day, 1896.”

My great-grandmother’s maiden name was Hoyt, so I figured I had to be related to these folks - somehow.

I thought “Fargo” was the location. Later, I learned it was the last name of Addie’s new husband, and that Enoch was a direct descendant of the same Fargo that started the big bank with his friend Mr. Wells.

I posted the photos on Facebook, asking for ideas or suggestions on where to learn more. That was Friday morning (June 24, 2011). By Friday evening, I had learned a lot, thanks to my friend and local historian David Spriggs. He dug around a bit and found old census records and much more.

Enoch was 22 years older than his second wife, Addie Hoyt. In fact, one of Addie’s two step-daughters was only four years younger than Addie! This was Addie’s first marriage and it would be her last. She died in 1901, a mere five years after her wedding day. Born in 1872, she was only 29 years old when she died.

There were rumors that Addie did not die a natural death, but that Enoch may have helped speed things along because he was in love with Addie’s cousin (Martha). She was 23 years younger than Enoch. Seems he had a thing for the young women. It was Martha who provided nursing duties, and sat at Addie’s bedside as she lay dying.

Six weeks after young Addie died, Enoch married Martha, Addie’s cousin. It caused quite a scandal at the time.

UPDATED!  Aunt Addie was apparently shot in the head by her loving husband! Click here for the latest!

Martha fared better than the first two wives, and she outlived Enoch by 40 years. Enoch died in 1921. Martha, born in 1873, died in 1964. I do not have a maiden name for her.

As to my familial connection, Addie Hoyt and Anna Hoyt were sisters, and Anna Hoyt was my great-grandmother, so Addie Hoyt Fargo was my great, great Aunt. Anna Hoyt ended up marrying Wilbur W. Whitmore and landed in Denver, Colorado. This photo album that I found amongst my father’s treasured possessions was inscribed, “A Merry Christmas, to Wilbur, from Addie.” I’m not sure why she gave a photo album to her brother-in-law, but apparently she did.

Thanks to David Spriggs’ amazing sleuthing, I learned that this house is in Lake Mills, WI and is still standing. In fact, it’s now a Bed and Breakfast. And thanks to Mark Hardin for finding those birth/death dates!

Last night, I talked with the owners of the B&B and told them about my amazing shoebox discovery! They provided some history on the family and Enoch’s three wives. And as always, please leave a comment if you know anything more!

To read more about Addie and Annie Hoyt, click here.

Enoch Fargo and his bride, Addie Hoyt Fargo. This is labeled as their wedding photo from 1896.

Enoch Fargo and his bride, Addie Hoyt Fargo. This is labeled as their wedding photo from 1896. Addie was 22 years younger than Enoch. This was her first marriage, his second. He had two daughters, the oldest of which was four years younger than Addie. Addie died a mere five years after this picture was taken. Addie Hoyt Fargo would have been my great-great Aunt. I wish Uncle Enoch had remembered (or foreknown me) in his will!

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Addie

When I first started looking at these photos, I thought that Addie had it all. Here she was, a beautiful young woman married to an older wealthy gent. He moved her into the family home, a Victorian manse built in 1881. Hers was a life of wealth, privilege, comfort and opulence - for a time. According to local lore, Addie's death was suspicious, and Enoch was in love with Addie's cousin, Martha. The fact that he remarried six weeks after Addie died is more than a little questionable. Addie died at 29 years old.

Close-up

Addie was a beautiful young woman, but I don't know about that chair. It has a face carved into the arm. That's just a little troubling.

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Addie in her wedding gown?

Addie in her wedding gown?

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My favorite photo of all.

My favorite photo of all. I love the detail and the beauty and the opulence.

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Close-up of the bed. Love that pillow sham!

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Close-up of my great, great Aunt Addie Hoyt Fargo

Close-up of my great, great Aunt Addie Hoyt Fargo

Another

Another view of the lavish interiors of the Fargo Mansion.

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Not sure who this is, but she sure is happy!

Not sure who this is, but she sure is happy!

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Look at that waist-line!  Good thing I wasnt around then. That wasp-waist thing wouldnt have worked for me. Id have to say that my shape is more reminiscent of an egg than a wasp.

Look at that waist-line! Good thing I wasn't around then. That wasp-waist thing wouldnt have worked for me. I'd have to say that my shape is more reminiscent of an egg than a wasp.

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These were fancy people living a fancy life. As my daughter Crystal pointed out, even the horse is wearing a doily!

These were fancy people living a fancy life. As my daughter Crystal pointed out, even the horse is wearing a doily!

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I just love it that she's wearing a sailor suit.

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With a matching cap...

With a matching cap...

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Old Enoch didn't age well.

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The fam sitting in front of the house in Lake Mills, WI. Enoch is at the top, with Addie below him. Enochs two daughters are Elsie and Mattie.

The fam sitting in front of the house in Lake Mills, WI. Enoch is at the top, with Addie below him. Enoch's two daughters are Elsie (top right) and Mattie (lower right). Elsie (1876-1959) married a McCammon. Mattie (1883-1956) became Mattie Fargo Raber.

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close-up

close-up

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Fluffy plays with Addie

Sylvester plays with Addie. Tweety has been turned into a hat.

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Talk about a feather in your cap!

Talk about a "feather in your cap!"

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Unknown person

Unknown person with a snazzy dress.

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Not sure who this is, either.

Not sure who this is, either.

Tennis anyone?

Tennis anyone?

cap

The Fargo Mansion, as photographed in 1896, 15 years after it was built.

Another view of The Fargo Mansion

Another view of The Fargo Mansion, built 1881.

If you know any more about these people, please leave me a note!

To read about Sears Homes, click here.

To buy Rose’s book, click here.

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On Behalf of a Grateful Nation…

June 20th, 2011 Sears Homes 2 comments

The piece below was written June 20, 2011 (Monday).

Today was the day of my father’s memorial service. And it was also the day that I delivered my first eulogy. Thanks to a lot of kind souls and a lot of help, it turned out to be a beautiful service and was well attended. More than 60 people showed up to pay their respects to Thomas Hoyt Fuller.

The service was opened with remarks from retired Methodist Pastor Dabney Walters, with readings from the Old and New Testament, followed by my comments (see below). After I spoke, Pastor Walters offered a closing prayer. At the end of the service, the Honor Guard did their presentation of the Military Honors, an honor earned by my father’s years of service in World War II.

A sombre and soft version of taps wafted from the back of the room as the two soldiers - in their Army Dress Uniform - walked toward the front of the chapel with the flag, stood ramrod straight before us, gently unfurled the flag, and then refolded it. After it was folded into a triangle, one of the soldiers turned to me, and then slowly and methodically knelt directly in front of me. Looking directly into my eyes, he spoke softly and respectfully and said,

On behalf of the people of a grateful nation, may I present this flag as a token of appreciation for the honorable and faithful service your loved one rendered this nation.

Heretofore, I’d maintained my composure and hadn’t shed a tear, but when that young gentleman presented me with that flag, and spoke those words with such conviction and tenderness, I felt the tears come to my eyes. And everyone behind me and beside me was doing a whole lot of sniffling. It was a beautiful service, and it was a day I’ll always remember.

The eulogy I delivered today at my father’s memorial service follows the photos (below).

My father in January 1943.

My father in January 1943.

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The folded flag I was presented today (Monday, 6.20.2011) at my father's memorial service.

The Eulogy

You may have noticed a statement in the obituary that said my father was moved into assisted living under “strong, strident and consistent protest.”

That’s an understatement.

But it doesn’t begin to describe how he felt when I took away his driving privileges.

Sometime in his late 80s, he became firmly convinced that four-way stop signs were an egregious violation of his constitutional rights and he’d roll right through those stop signs, boldly declaring, “I’m a veteran of WW2, and these stop signs violate those very rights I fought to protect!”

Frequently, he’d get pulled over by local law enforcement, but he told me one day that he’d never been ticketed, because he knew the magic words to say at such a time.

“I start shaking real bad when they ask me for my license,” he explained with a wry smile. “And then I tell them that I’ve already had three heart attacks, and that I’m feeling ill, and that I have to get home immediately so I can take my nitroglycerin tablets.

“They always put away their ticket book and tell me to get home and to be more careful next time.

“It never fails.”

In 2006, he called me and said that he’d had a little car trouble on I-264.

“I’m near the Rosemont Road exit,” he explained. I’m pulled over on the shoulder of the road, and I’ll wait for you here.”

Talking to him as I drove, I said, “Where exactly are you?”

“Oh, I’m easy to find,” he told me. “Just look for the fire trucks. They still have their lights flashing.”

“Fire trucks?” I said with my voice rising.

“Well, they put out the fire, but there’s still a lot of smoke rising from the car. You’ll be able to see me from miles away.”

When I got there, I found him - dressed in one of his fine suits - and standing next to a still-smoldering car. His engine had overheated and literally caught fire.

He got into my car and we got the Caddy taken care of. Heading back to the interstate, he said, “Listen, I was on my way to a dinner date with Cathy Creekmore. I need a ride out to her house and she’d love to meet you.”

I declined the date, and took him home.

After several more months of drama, which included the revocation of his driver’s license and disabling his cars, and removing the license plates from his vehicles and burying them under his azalea bushes in the front yard, and having two cops and one commonwealth’s attorney visit him in person and threaten him with arrest and criminal prosecution, he finally stopped driving, but it was under the most strong, strident and consistent protest.

In 2008, several weeks after he’d stopped driving, I dropped in on him one Sunday morning.

Walking up the front steps to his house, I saw the morning paper still resting on the porch stoop, and I felt a wave of panic.

He was an early riser and usually, he’d have read half the paper by now. Something must have happened to him.

I used my key and entered his spacious brick ranch, yelling his name repeatedly. No response. I moved through his house slowly and deliberately, gently pushing open each door.

As I entered the rooms one by one, I took a deep breath and steeled myself for whatever awaited on the other side, but he was nowhere be found. I left a note on his favorite table and went on to church.

He called me later that day to report that he’d caught an early ride to his church. He told me it was Senior Pancake Breakfast Day at church.

“I’m glad to hear from you,” I told him. “When I saw that newspaper on the front porch, I thought that maybe you’d…”

Died, was what I intended to say, but that sounded so cold and hard. In those fast few milliseconds when the brain scrambles to fill in any gaps in conversation, my alternate for “died” turned out to be a little wordy.

“I thought that maybe you’d…gone on to be with your parents.”

Immediately he replied, with the anger rising in his voice, “How am I going to get there? You took away my car!”

It was hard to know how to respond to that, so I did what I always do when the old man left me flummoxed. I changed the topic and asked what a Senior Pancake tastes like.

He answered by saying that he’d sat next to a beautiful woman at the breakfast and that even though she was 95 years old, she didn’t look a day over 75.

“A real babe?” I asked.

“The pancakes were excellent,” he replied. “And that reminds me, I need a ride to the liquor store soon. I’m almost out of booze.”

That’s Tom Fuller.

He was famous for documenting everything, and he’d take copious notes and then file them safely away. When I cleaned out the house on Briarwood, I found notebook after notebook on every topic imaginable.

The most interesting documentation was a small tablet I found in the living room. It was his “Roach Log.”

He started documenting the physical well-being of the roaches he found in his house, and their specific physiological reactions to being sprayed with toxic chemicals. Each entry was marked with a time and a date.

Knowing that I’d found the mother-lode of documentation, I immediately took a picture of the log and forwarded it to my children. They loved it.

One such entry read, “Unusually large roach found behind sofa. Sprayed at 8:32 pm, and adverse reaction was immediate. Re-checked at 9:15 pm. Legs still wiggling, albeit weakly.”

After he was moved into assisted living, my husband started taking bets on the odds that my father would be evicted from the beautiful facility within 30 days. Problem was, no one would take a bet on him NOT being evicted.

The manager of Province Place called regularly, and she was an angel. Just an angel.

The most interesting incident can best be described as “Grand Theft Rascal.”

Seems my father had walked to the Kroger behind the facility, and “borrowed” one of their electric scooters, and drove it back to Province Place, and parked it in a handicapped spot and then went inside the facility, and asked one of the female residents out on a date, explaining that “now he finally had wheels again.”

The last few years of his life were quite an adventure.

My happiest memory of Tom Fuller comes from my childhood.

When I was about 12 years old, I returned home from a school trip to Washington DC late at night. The chartered bus rolled up to our junior high about 1:00 in the morning and we all scurried off the bus and ran off to find our waiting parents. My father was waiting for me in his recently purchased car, a 1967 Buick Electra 225. It was 1971, but that was the newest used car he’d ever owned and he loved it. It had a 430 cubic inch engine and a four-barrel carburetor.

He told every one who’d listen that it was a one-owner car, and had been owned by a funeral home, so it had never been driven over 25 miles per hour. It was, in his words, a real cream puff.

My father and I were driving down High Street in the wee hours, headed west to our home in Waterview and the streets were deserted. I loved riding in the car with my father and I was so happy that he finally had a nice car. We spent many happy hours riding around in that car and talking, just father and daughter.

That powerful V-8 just purred as we rolled down the quiet streets. Relishing this quiet time with my beloved father, I turned to him and said those three simple words that every father longs to hear.

“Dad, goose it.”

He looked at me and smiled.

“Just this once,” I pleaded. “Let’s see what that V-8 will do. No one’s around for miles. Please Dad?”

He looked at the street for a moment, looked back at me and smiled.

“Hold on,” he said with a lilt in his voice.

And then he floored it.

You could almost hear that powerful engine whisper a quiet “thank you” in that millisecond before it roared to life. As the four-barrel carb drank in great quantities of fuel, those 360 powerful horses came alive. The torque was so powerful the car lunged a bit to the left as we took off. We hit 75 mph in the blink of an eye. That was one of the most delightful memories of my life.

My father eased his foot off the gas, hit the brake and we went back to 35 mph. Felt like we were standing still.

Next week, he took the car in for repairs. Turns out, that powerful torqueing and twisting had busted a motor mount which was an expensive repair. He told me about it later that week adding, “We won’t be doing that again!”

When I was 14, he left home one night, and for the next 30 years, by his choice, he was mostly absent from my life.

Thanks to the grace of God, at the very end of his life, I was able to be there for him, talk to him, comfort him, and kiss him on the forehead and tell him sincerely, “I love you Dad, and I always have loved you, and I always will love you.”

Sunday night, five days before he passed, he sat on the edge of his bed and made three simple statements, and they came from the depths of his soul.

He said, “Mother’s been gone a long time, hasn’t she?”

I asked, “Do you mean, Betty, my mother, or your mother?”

He said, “Betty.”

I said, “Yes, it’s been 10 years.”

He said, “She was the mother of my four children.”

I said, “Yes, that’s right.”

He said, “My four children turned out very well, didn’t they?”

I said, “Yes, your four children turned out well.”

I was comforted to know that at the end, my brothers and I were very much on his mind. It was like the pain-filled distance of those 30 years had closed a bit.

On Tuesday, his last good day, he told me that his parents had come to talk to him. He said they had a long talk, and a good talk. He also said that Betty had sat with him for a time, and they’d had a nice conversation.

He finally was at peace and was ready to go.

He passed on early Friday morning, and I was with him.

He came into this world surrounded by love, and 92 years later he stepped out of this world, again surrounded and embraced by love.

It was a good ending.

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May God Bless Him and Keep Him

June 10th, 2011 Sears Homes 2 comments

He was not always in my life, but I always loved him just as any little girl loves her father. May he rest in peace.

Thomas H. Fuller, Sr., of Portsmouth, Virginia, passed on June 10, 2011 at the age of 91. He had suffered a stroke in June 2010, and moved from his residence to an assisted living facility, under strong, strident and consistent protest.

Mr. Fuller was born in Denver, Colorado on June 13, 1919, to Edgar A. and Florence W. Fuller.  At the age of four, he and his twin brother Edgar A. Fuller, Jr., moved with their parents to Santa Monica, California, where they grew up.  Mr. Fuller was a graduate of UCLA, and a founding member of Muscle Beach on the Santa Monica shore. He and his twin brother worked out each morning on the beach and soon became known as “The Muscle Twins,” and as friends started to join them for their morning workouts, local residents dubbed the area “Muscle Beach.”

Mr. Fuller enlisted in the United States Army after the attack on Pearl Harbor, and was a combat soldier in the European theater.   As a member of General Patton’s Third Army, he was in a number of battles now distinguished in history.   One of his favorite memories was entering Paris in his combat fatigues,  having left the battlefield only hours before making a trip into the liberated City of Lights.

Returning stateside, he married Betty Mae Brown, a Navy Lieutenant, of San Francisco, Ca.  He worked for Skippy Peanut Butter in Alameda, California, and in 1953 moved his family to Portsmouth, Virginia to manage the Skippy plant located at Confederate and High Streets.  He was active in the Portsmouth PTA, Chamber of Commerce, Boy Scouts, and several other civic organizations.

He is predeceased by his wife of 28 years, Betty Brown Fuller. Survivors include their four children, Mrs. Rosemary Fuller Ringer (Wayne), of Norfolk, VA, Dr. Thomas H. Fuller, Jr. (Sue), of Elsah, IL, Mr. Richard B. Fuller (Margie) of Pickens, SC., and Dr. Edward E. Fuller, Sr. (Kathy), of Raleigh, North Carolina. He is also survived by his twin brother, Edgar A. Fuller, Jr., of Rolling Hill Estates, CA.

Tom Fuller is also survived by ten grandchildren and six great grandchildren.

A memorial service is scheduled for Monday, June 20th at 11:00 at Monumental Methodist Church in Portsmouth. In lieu of flowers, memorial donations can be made to the Portsmouth Humane Society, 2704 Frederick Blvd, Portsmouth, VA 23704.

Dad with Tommy and Rickey, mid-1950s

Dad with Tommy and Rickey, mid-1950s

Dad

Left to right is Rose (me), Dad, Rick, Tommy and Eddie at Hoover Dam (1966).

Dad

My father (right) with his father, in Santa Monica.

Dad

Eddie (far left), Rick, Dad, Rose, Dolly, and Mom.

My father and my brothers at the Fleishhacker Zoo in San Francisco, about 1966.

My father and my brothers (Rick and Ed) at the Fleishhacker Zoo in San Francisco, about 1966.

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Hampton Roads and Their Sears Homes!

June 6th, 2011 Sears Homes 2 comments

Are there any Sears Homes in Hampton Roads? It’s a question I’m frequently asked. The answer is a resounding yes!

Below are just a few of the kit homes I’ve found in our area. Thus far, I’ve found 50+ in Portsmouth, more than 80 in Norfolk and about 15 in Chesapeake.

To buy Rose’s book, click here.

Sears Lewiston, one of my favorites!

Sears Lewiston, one of my favorites!

And heres a sweet little Lewiston in P-town!

And here's a sweet little Lewiston in P-town!

Sears Oak Park from the 1933 catalog

Sears Oak Park from the 1933 catalog

This sweet thing is in Franklin, not quite Hampton Roads, but its in the neighborhood!

This sweet thing is in Franklin, not quite Hampton Roads, but it's in the neighborhood!

Aladdin Plaza as shown in 1919 Aladdin catalog

Aladdin Plaza as shown in 1919 Aladdin catalog

The Pungo Grill in Pungo

The Pungo Grill in Pungo. Note the distinctive eave brackets. The porch on this house has been enclosed, but it's still a fine-looking Aladdin Plaza!

One of my all-time favorite Aladdin Plazas is in Norfolk, Virginia, about three miles from my home in Colonial Place.

One of my all-time favorite Aladdin Plazas is in Norfolk, Virginia, about three miles from my home in Colonial Place.

Glenn Falls

Glenn Falls, from the 1929 Modern Homes catalog.

Glenn Falls in West Ghent (Norfolk)

Glenn Falls in West Ghent (Norfolk)

Sears Alhambra from the 1919 catalog

Sears Alhambra from the 1919 catalog

Sears Alhambra in downtown Portsmouth

Sears Alhambra in downtown Portsmouth

Sears Alhambra in Portsmouth, Virginia (Cradock area)

Sears Alhambra in Portsmouth, Virginia (Cradock area)

Sears Westly

Sears Westly

Sears Westly in Portsmouth on King Street. Photo was taken in 2004.

Sears Westly in Portsmouth on King Street. Photo was taken in 2004.

Sears Westly in Suffolk, Virginia

Sears Westly in downtown Suffolk

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Sears Crescent

Sears Crescent

Sears Crescent in Larchmont section of Norfolk

Sears Crescent in Larchmont section of Norfolk

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Aladdin is very popular in Hampton Roads, probably because they had a massive mill in Greensboro, NC and shipping charges would have been affordable.

Aladdin Kit Homes (a competitor of Sears) was very popular in Hampton Roads, probably because they had a massive mill in Greensboro, NC and shipping charges would have been affordable. Sears sold about 70,000 homes during their 32 years in the kit home business (1908-1940). However, Aladdin started in 1906 and went to 1981, selling about 75,000 houses.

This Aladdin Colonial is in Suffolk. For years and years, people believed it was a Sears kit home. This is not uncommon. It *is* a kit home, but it came from Aladdin, not Sears.

This Aladdin Colonial pictured below is in Suffolk. For years and years, people believed the house pictured below was a "Sears kit home." This is not uncommon. This house (below) *is* a kit home, but it came from Aladdin, not Sears.

Aladdin - another kit home company - offered the Aladdin Colonial.

Aladdin - another kit home company - offered the Aladdin Colonial. This one is in Suffolk.

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This is a kit home from Gordon Van Tine, a competitor of Sears in the kit home business.

This is a kit home from Gordon Van Tine, a competitor of Sears in the kit home business.

Heres a Gordon Van Tine in the Ocean View area of Norfolk - and in perfect condition!

Here's a Gordon Van Tine in the Ocean View area of Norfolk - and in perfect condition!

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Aladdin Marsden from the 1919 catalog.

Aladdin Marsden from the 1919 catalog.

Aladdin Marsden in Port Norfolk (Portsmouth)

Aladdin Marsden in Port Norfolk (Portsmouth)

Aladdin was very popular in the Hampton Roads area. Heres an Aladdin Venus. Note the casement windows.

Aladdin was very popular in the Hampton Roads area. Here's an Aladdin Venus. Note the casement windows.

This Aladdin Venus still has its original casement windows. Its in Colonial Place (Norfolk).

This Aladdin Venus still has its original casement windows. It's in Colonial Place (Norfolk).

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The Beckley (from Sears)

The Beckley (from Sears)

This is The Beckley, which is in use as the Sextants Office at a large cemetery in Newport News.

This is The Beckley, which is in use as the Sexton's Office at a large cemetery in Newport News.

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Ive also found several homes from Gordon Van Tine in Hampton Roads.

I've also found several homes from Gordon Van Tine in Hampton Roads.

This pretty little #594 sits on a large parcel of land in Chesapeakes Deep Creek area.

This pretty little #594 sits on a large parcel of land in Chesapeake's Deep Creek area.

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Sears Whitehall from the 1928 Sears Modern Homes catalog

Sears Whitehall from the 1928 Sears Modern Homes catalog

Sears Whitehall just off Colley Avenue and 28th Street in Norfolk

Sears Whitehall just off Colley Avenue and 28th Street in Norfolk

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Aladdin kit home: The Virginia

Aladdin kit home: The Virginia

Aladdin Kit Home - The Virginia - in Norfolks Colonial Place

Aladdin Kit Home - The Virginia - in Norfolk's Colonial Place

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Aladdin Kit Home: The Pasadena

Aladdin Kit Home: The Pasadena

Here it is, right in Norfolks Lafayette/Winona neighborhood

Here it is, right in Norfolk's Lafayette/Winona neighborhood

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As mentioned, Norfolk is full of Aladdins and heres the Aladdin Edison

As mentioned, Norfolk is full of Aladdins and here's the Aladdin Edison

An Aladdin Edison in Norfolk, within a few yards of the ODU campus.

An Aladdin Edison in Norfolk, within a few yards of the ODU campus.

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Aladdin Detroit

Aladdin Detroit

A perfect Aladdin Detroit in Chesapeake

A perfect Aladdin Detroit in Chesapeake

To read the next article, click here:

To buy Rose’s book, click here.

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Dad, Part II

June 4th, 2011 Sears Homes 3 comments

One year ago, we moved my elderly father (almost 92 now) into an assisted living facility here in Portsmouth. In the last couple weeks, he’s started slowing down quite a bit and his needs have increased quite a bit. At least once a day, I drop by and visit to make sure everything’s okay. I don’t know how full-time caregivers do it. I really don’t. Just dancing on the fringes of caregiving takes a whole heapin’ helping of my emotional energy.

These days, the time I’d normally spend writing new blogs is devoted to helping him as he writes the last pages in the last chapter of his earthly life.

When I was a little girl growing up in Waterview (Portsmouth), my father would walk around our neighborhood every evening after dinner. He called it his “evening constitutional.” He never walked out that front door without me running after him yelling, “Daddy, wait for me!”

I was his shadow, following him wherever he went. I adored my father. I thought he was the smartest, handsomest, most wonderful person on earth.

And then when I was 14, he walked out the door one night without me and didn’t come back. It was 30 years before I would be a regular part of his life again. And now, as his life draws to a close, the little girl in me still feels a little trepidation about saying good-bye for another 30 years.

Dad with Tommy and Rickey, mid-1950s

Dad with Tommy and Rickey, mid-1950s

Dad

Left to right is Rose (me), Dad, Rick, Tommy and Eddie. I'm not sure where we're at here, but this photo was taken during our trip to California in 1966.

Dad

My father (right) with his father, in Santa Monica.

Dad

Eddie (far left), Rick, Dad, Rose, Dolly, and Mom.

My father and my brothers at the Fleishhacker Zoo in San Francisco, about 1966.

My father and my brothers (Rick and Ed) at the Fleishhacker Zoo in San Francisco, about 1966.

To read more about my father, click here.

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