My Grandparents’ House
My grandparents, David and Mary Ann "Minnie" Methven, purchased the house at 423 Westbourne Dr. in
West Hollywood, California in 1929. They moved from the house at 4125 Hammell
St. in East Los Angeles, California.
My grandfather built the first house by himself when the family
moved to California in 1919. He did everything except the plumbing because his
brother-in-law was a plumber. The house is still standing all these years later,
although it has been remodeled to such an extent that the original house is no longer
recognizable. (I could not find a good photo of it.) Mother and I used to drive
by it once in a while just to see if it still existed.
The new house in West Hollywood was much larger than the old
house. The family now had three daughters and needed more space.
The story I was told was that the builder had intended to
live there himself, but he had to move to another state. Grandpa heard about it
from a friend and purchased it.
I have this small painting of the house. Grandma told me
that during the Great Depression, itinerant artists went from house-to-house
volunteering to paint them for a very small amount of money. The actual
painting is about the size of a postcard. It is done on a thin piece of wood
and is signed “O.J. Russert” and dated ’33.
Until her death, Grandma hung it next to the front door.
At the time I was born in 1946, my parents lived in the “little
house,” an ADU behind the “big house.” My grandfather built the “little house” originally
when his father came to live with them. Great-grandpa later moved to the third
bedroom in the main house, and my older aunt and uncle, Gordon and Muriel
Collin, moved into the “little house.”
It was originally just one room with a Murphy bed with a
half bath (toilet and sink) attached. It never had a shower or tub.
When my aunt and uncle moved out, my mother moved in. She lived there when my dad was in the military in WWII. They were married on October 27, 1942 at the Wee Kirk o' the Heather at Forest Lawn Memorial Park when Dad was home on leave, and their reception was held at the house.
Dad and Grandpa added a lovely, large, sunny kitchen and
breakfast nook on to the “little house.” My parents still had to go to the “big
house” for showers and baths, but it was a cozy place to live.
After over four years in the US Army, Dad was discharged. He first reported on April 21, 1941
and served through November 24, 1945. Since Dad passed away at thirty-seven
years of age, the loss of these four-and-a-half years was significant.
My earliest memories are as a baby waking up in my crib, which was
shoved against one wall of the living room/bedroom. Mom and Dad were in the
kitchen with the lights on entertaining friends. Smoke arose around them (Dad
smoked) as they talked. I knew I was supposed to be asleep, and I tried to be
as still as possible.
I remember the yellow kitchen with its sheer curtains. These are
happy memories of a time when I was safe and cared for.
Every day, when Grandpa came home from work, he walked by the “big
house” and tapped on the kitchen window so Grandma would know he had arrived. However,
his first stop was the “little house” to see me. He carried me around and
talked to me. Sometimes, he took me to the “big house” and pointed out objects:
door, table, picture, window, etc. Because of this, I had a 52-word vocabulary
at one year old. (Mom wrote all of them in my baby book because she was sure no
one would believe her.)
When I was a bit older, Grandpa read to me. Although space was
at a premium, the bottom drawer of the dresser was filled with books. Grandma and
Grandpa and my parents bought me lots of Little Golden Books. Some of my
favorites are still published. I wore out quite a few. It was through Grandpa
that I learned to love reading.
Dad and Grandpa loved working together on “projects.” Grandpa adored
Christmas. He and Dad built lots of decorations from wood and many “found”
items.
They built a whole village of “tiny houses,” most of which were
based on real structures. They created a village on the front lawn, surrounded
by a miniature picket fence, and covered in Ivory Snow (washing machine soap
flakes). They formed street lights from tin cans and wired them to illuminate
the “village.”
Later on, they added a Santa on the roof, two large reindeers,
and a sleigh full of presents. In this photo, a few of the “tiny houses” are
along the wall.
Dad and Grandpa both worked at the Broadway Department Store
in downtown L.A. They obtained the reindeer—previously used in a window display—when
the store discarded them. After my family moved to Alhambra in 1948, the deer
came with us.
Grandpa died of a heart attack at the Broadway at closing time
on October 27, 1948. He was just fifty-five years old. I was twenty-six months
old, but I still remember him. And I remember the night he died.
I have a memory of standing at the screen door of the “little
house” waiting for of his footfalls on the driveway and the sound of his voice.
They never came.
Unfortunately, most of the “tiny houses” were lost in a fire
in Grandma’s garage a couple of years after Grandpa died.
Ironically, my father also died of a heart attack in the
Broadway on February 16, 1954 at opening time. He was only thirty-seven years
old.
My grandmother passed away on the 26th of March
in 1969, while we were on the road driving to Illinois, where Larry had a job.
When we called to let our parents know we had arrived, we learned that they had
just attended her funeral. The house was sold a year later, before we returned to
California.
I am grateful to have these photos of my grandparents’ home
since it was the site of many lovely memories.