“I’m A Horse and Buggy Girl.” 1919
Agnes Moorehead
The Daughter of A Preacher Man
You are scrutinized constantly when you are the child of a minister as I am.
I even said it in an interview. I was explicitly asked about being the child of
a minister, and I said that you are on display constantly as a minister’s child.
You have no privacy, and everything untoward you may do makes its way straight
to your father's ears. So, Pegg and I were literally on display from our first breaths.
I am an exhibitionist because I'm an actress and have never been "off stage," so to speak.
There is no anonymity when you are the child of a minister, and that happens
whether you live in a big city or a small town. Throughout my youth, I lived in both
worlds and thrived. Did you know I danced barefoot on the lawn before Central High
School in 1917? I went to burlesque houses to get autographs and to the stage door
of every theater in St. Louis to which I had access. I wrote letters to the likes of
Eleanora Duse. It culminated in me being on stage at the St. Louis Municipal Opera
at twelve; I was about three years older than that. So, I lied about my age
to get on stage and dance. Never mind that I was a “minister's daughter. Never mind
that I was constantly on display. I made it a point to be noticed, which she learned
to do from Mother. Suffice it to say that my humor, pattern of speech,
ability to reason, and a fair bit of generational trauma became part of the
confounding masterpiece that was or is me.
Papa
Father always considered Pegg and her when accepting a call to pastor a church.
After we left Massachusetts, we moved to Hamilton, Ohio. I loved it there.
There was so much to do and to see. We lived in the parsonage at 23 Court Street.
I had an enormous sandbox in the yard, and all my friends used to come, and we would
play for hours and hours. In 1906, my sister Margaret Ann was born. What a gorgeous
little cherub she was. Her hair was a mass of red-gold curls. Her cheeks were pink
and chubby. I used to pinch them gently, and Peggy would laugh and laugh.
Even though she was younger than me, she was fearless. Pegg was always right
there in the middle of any games the older children played, laughing. Everyone
adored her so. It was as if I had a living doll to play with daily. Oh, my mother
fussed over Pegg because she was so tiny as if my mother was tall, and for some
reason, Mama seemed to think Peggy was fragile enough to break like fine porcelain.
She wasn’t delicate and kept pace with us no matter what. Papa stayed at the church
in Hamilton until I was eleven. Then, having decided that the family needed to
broaden our horizons, Papa accepted a pastorate in St. Louis, Missouri. In my mind,
Pegg and I were beside ourselves with joy. We were going to live in the big city.
We could now see and do things they had only dreamed of.
As we grew up, St. Louis allowed us to be ourselves. I would experience that freedom
again in college. Pegg and I set about the task of making friends. Pegg had tons!
I also had a good number, and St. Louis gave me freedom. Did you know that two
years before my graduation, I went to the front lawn of Central High School, kicked
off my shoes, and danced barefoot in the grass? I had no idea my happy little dance
hinted at my future as an entertainer. At this point in my life, I felt unconstrained by
my overly prudish mores. I could be silly, joyous, unfettered, and exuberant without repercussions.
My time in St. Louis was some of the happiest of my whole life.
Then, in a complete about-face, Mama and Papa accepted a posting in a tiny
town in Wisconsin called Reedsburg. I entered Muskingum College during the
Fall of 1919. I came home to St. Louis during my vacation, and in December, we all
boarded a train to take us to the small, quaint, gorgeous village of Reedsburg. Peggy
was beside herself because she knew they got a large quantity of snow, which
meant tobogganing and snowball fights with her sister. I was enchanted with the idea
as well. I loved the quiet way snow falls. It soaks up the hustle and bustle, making it
seem like you are walking in a fairytale.
Mama
Mama adored Reedsburg. It breathed new life into her. It reminded Mother of the
area she spent her childhood in with one enormous difference. Mother always said
that no matter how hard god tried to make the snow in Scottdale white,
it was always a unique shade of gray because of the coal dust. The snow in
that part of Pennsylvania was gray. There were many shades of gray, from light to
dark, but absolutely no white within 12 hours of the snow hitting the ground. The lack
of coal dust made this the ideal place for Mother because Reedsburg had considerable
white snow yearly. They all, Papa included, looked forward to the first snow.
It was very nearly a holiday in itself. But Christmas, oh, that was glorious indeed.
I love winter. As the train rolled along the tracks, I sat still with my hands folded
in my lap. Mother fussed at me for fidgeting with the leather edge of my gloves.
I was tugging at them in rhythm as the train wheels clicked.
I looked at my sister and said softly, “Each one is different, you know, Peg.”.
Snowflakes look the same on the outside, but they couldn’t be more different from
one another if they tried,” I said matter-of-factly. Peggy looked up. Watching her
long strawberry blond curls bouncing as she raised her head was a joy.
Margaret, we called her Peggy, had been reading her bible. Peggy tilted her head
sideways and sarcastically said, “Do you know that you tell me that every single
time it snows, Agg.” Straightening her head, she said, “Then you tell me that we are
like the snowflakes, different but the same.” “There, I’ve just saved you the time.”
Peggy was a sassy young woman, always sassy. It drove the mother to distraction.
Peg turned her attention back to her reading. I remember that I smiled and gave
a silent chuckle. My sister was singular, and she knew it.
Peggy daydreamed as she stared at the bible lying in her lap. I know she hated that
these moves always seemed to happen in the middle of something else.
This year, it was Christmas. Here it was, the day of the birth of Christ and
the day with all the presents. “How did the Mooreheads end up on a train in the snow
on CHRISTMAS?” she asked with a tone that made Mother look up disapprovingly.
Peg quickly followed, bemoaning her leaving St.Louis behind, saying that she would
have no friends again and be forced to start from scratch with everything and that
I would be there to help her this time. Peggy began to cry but stopped herself
because she knew the repercussions. She hated all of it.
“How,” Peg thought, “was she going to do this without her sister?” Peggy knew the
tears were coming, so she excused herself, saying she had to go to the restroom.
As usual, I was close behind her. I could sense my sister's anxiety. When I
reached the door, Peggy was inside with the door closed. So I softly knocked to
avoid drawing attention to herself. “Peg,” I whispered through the door. “Come on, Peg,
open the door before I have an accident!” The door lock clicked, but in typical Peggy
fashion, she could not open it. I told you she was tiny. I opened the door gently
and went in. Peggy was sitting on the closed toilet crying. I closed the door, locked it,
and returned to Peggy. Peggy stood up, and I held my baby sister for several minutes,
comforting her while she cried.
The train continued throughout the day. Finally, at 4:00 p.m., it pulled into the railway
station in Reedsburg, Wisconsin. It was dark and cold, and we were all exhausted
. In true Moorehead fashion, we all pulled ourselves together, hiding our exhaustion
and anxiety under partial smiles on Peggy and me, soft, motherly concern on
Mother’s face, and warm confidence on Papa’s gentle face. We stepped off the
train as the porter collected our luggage, looking like the perfect family.
A small crowd was on the platform to greet us and welcome us to our new home
with fellowship and a hot meal. Followed by what seemed like hours to Peggy
and me of joyous conversation with people we had never met before.
I thought we all made it look easy, but it wasn’t. It was downright painful for Peggy.
But since I was grown up, I have been able to converse about various topics.
Peggy was not even thirteen yet and felt like the lone onion in a petunia patch.
Reedsburg was a lovely little town filled with amiable people, and Father thought
it was the perfect place to bring us after the hustle and bustle of St. Louis.
That year, five inches of snow were on the ground in Reedsburg, Wisconsin,
on December 25, 1919. It was twenty-nine degrees outside when Mother, Peggy,
and I arrived with Papa from St. Louis. The air converted breath to frozen mist as
people walked and talked. It was incredible. The whole place looked like it had
come from a Currier and Ives print! Evergreens dusted with frost and snow.
Wreaths and ribbons were abounding. This is the Christmas scene that we all
imagine as children. Twilight glowed about the village since we had just passed the
shortest day of the year, and that darkness would bring a deep cold to Reedsburg.
This small hamlet had a population of 2,997 people that year. It was a picture
postcard-perfect scene. This scene greeted us when we first came into
the town of Reedsburg.
Reedsburg was the polar opposite of St Louis, Missouri. St. Louis had tons of
people in it, and Reedsburg had 2,997. These two places could not have been
more different if they tried. We all may have suffered a wee bit of shock when we
surveyed the quaint little village. Although we had lived in a smaller town in Ohio before
we went to St. Louis, this was a different situation altogether. From the rush and bustle
of a city to the hush and quiet of a village. I adapted effortlessly, but I knew Peggy
would have abundant time on her hands, which could be problematic. Remember, Peggy
had no fear of anything except for Aunt Cam. My sister got herself into scrapes and
was rarely successful at getting out of them without being noticed. As I looked around,
I surveyed the lay of the land in their new home. It was a place that was quiet and serene.
It was the perfect place for now, despite Peggy’s initial dislike. In the parsonage that night,
we all slept deeply and peacefully. We dreamt of Christmas and New Year’s
and the joy that 1920 would bring them. If we had frozen that moment,
we would have lived happily in it forever.
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