Extremely Lonely 1926
“But it’s a lonely life, extremely lonely.”Agnes Moorehead
Three years of teaching
I had been teaching at Soldiers Grove since 1923. The monotony had set in as I labored away at the school. I was a human, although a few might argue that point; I was so bored in the tiny hamlet of Soldiers Grove. Nonetheless, I made my own entertainment and continued striving to give my students my best. I participated in so many school events and was gladder for them. The entire school became involved when I finally got to direct a school play. I performed a song for the Washington Lincoln celebration. I enjoyed watching the children grow so much. I was just as anxious for summer as my students were, and once June arrived and school was out, I beat a hasty retreat to St. Louis.
The Wilds Of Wisconsin
The wilds of Wisconsin can be daunting for the average person. Fortunately, I was at least familiar with them. While it does sound like the “wilds” of Wisconsin, Soldiers Grove is a mere 88 miles from Madison. But in 1923, when I first arrived to teach school, that might have well been 88 million miles. When I tell you Soldiers Grove is a small village, I am being modest about its size. The high point of 1926 was the opening of the American Legion post. Soldiers Grove was once actually called Pine Grove, but after the Civil War, the name was changed to honor the troops that camped there during the Blackhawk War. Soldiers Grove was the very definition of bucolic.
I found a room at the Roth house in Soldiers Grove when I arrived in 1923. What a beautiful place it was, and everyone was so kind. Several of my fellow teachers lived there as well. It was at 102 Pine Street. I could walk to school in 10 or 15 minutes on a snowy day and much quicker with sunshine. My room was purple. If you know anything about me, I adore not just mauve or lavender but every shade of purple above and below them. Perhaps it was divine providence! How often in this world do you find a place that was made just for you? This lovely house was my home for four years, with its domes and stained glass windows. I felt like a princess in a castle. The only troubling thing was the time it took to get home to my parent’s house, especially when they returned to St. Louis.
Like A Fish To Water
I took to teaching like a fish to water. I taught English and public speaking and coached dramatics. Little did I know the things that I was doing would be the essential tools I would need when I ventured into radio. I had always suspected that I was meant to be a school teacher. Giving knowledge to young people is sacrosanct, and teachers are the ones who mold the world through their students.
I attended summer sessions 1924 at Columbus University and the University of Wisconsin. While I was in Madison, Pegg came up with Mother for a visit. Madison is a fantastic place; We had a great time. It is a very entertaining city. We visited the capital and saw a vaudeville show at the Orpheum. This visit felt more like it had been before the troubles between Mother and Peg. I also participated in a teaching conference in Milwaukee. I loved Milwaukee. In 1924, I decided to go to Reedsburg for Thanksgiving instead of St. Louis; I just couldn’t make it in the allotted time. I suppose it had to do more with spending time with my Mother and father, knowing they were hiding things from me. I had a beau, Fred Halverson, with whom I used to attend football games at the University of Wisconsin. Oh, it was great fun going to those games. All the folks were cheering and yelling. It can be thrilling! I performed in a recital in 1925 and sang at a Lincoln Day celebration in 1926. I had begun to feel like life was passing me by, even as happy as I was. Fred and I were an item, but I already knew that Fred Halverson wouldn’t be the man I would marry. He was nice enough, but I knew he would never leave Soldiers Grove, and I wanted to go so badly. I had been saving money since she started teaching. Papa padded the roll for me to make it easier.
At the end of the school year in June 1926, I returned to St. Louis. only to find, in true Moorehead fashion, something happened that summer. Peggy was in a poor state—her trip to the West to see Ray had been a disaster. Peggy was not built for wild partying; this sounds like a wild house party. Pegg was fearless typically, but now she looked worn out and extraordinarily sad. Alcohol had never passed Peggy's lips before that party, but it indeed found its way there once she got back to St. Louis. It didn’t matter to Peggy that she was breaking the law! After all, breaking the rules is part of the fun. Fortunately, Mother and Father seemed none the wiser, but Pegg spilled her guts to me. I couldn't believe what I heard came from my sister's mouth. Suffice it to say the summer of 1926 was stressful because of Peggy’s rebellious streak. Pegg was attending nursing classes and lived on the campus, so there was little Mama and Papa could do to get her straightened out. I never understood how she could run around all night and then go to class and work without sleep. It was pure insanity. Then I found out the bank where all my deposited money had collapsed, taking the tidy sum of $300.00. It pushed back my imagined departure date from Soldiers Grove to anywhere. Perhaps I thought I’d just get on a ship and go to Honolulu to teach. What more could you want? There was no snow or freezing weather, so to me, it was ideal!
Honolulu Honey
But on August 5, 1926, when I got off the train to return to Soldiers Grove. I took a page from Mother’s book and went to the newspaper to tell a little story. I announced that I was looking into a teaching position in Honolulu and had lost several hundred dollars because of that bank failure. Ultimately, I wished I had never mentioned Honolulu because all the young male teachers at school would call her “Honolulu Honey.” Fortunately, they did it out of the students' earshot, or I would never have been able to live that down.
Pegg and I visited our grandparents, Grandpap and Grandma Moorehead, on the farm in July. Grandma Moorehead was frail but quite elderly. Everything seemed right on the farm. Peggy was back to her cherubic, jovial self, and our grandparents treated them like they were visiting royalty. Neither of us wanted to get on the train to return to St. Louis. Peggy became the listless creature she had inhabited in the last three years, making the return trip seem to last forever.
We got back to St. Louis on the 22nd. I only had three more days at home before I had to get back to Soldiers Grove. It meant I would have to spend at least one of those days repacking everything into her trunk. That trunk had been with me since I first went to Muskingum and would go with me back to Soldiers Grove. I had neatly painted “Bobby” on the front before leaving for Muskingum. My friends used to call her that because they all insisted I did not look like Agnes. I asked them what precisely an Agnes looks like. My middle name was Robertson, so Bobby it was!
The night before I left, I closed my trunk after placing all the items I wanted to take in it. When I looked up, I saw Pegg standing in the doorway. She had the oddest look on her face. I couldn’t figure out what was happening in her sister’s head. She said softly, “Agg, when you aren’t around, I sometimes think I’m just going to lock myself in my room and refuse to come out again.” My mouth dropped open, and I stammered, ‘Oh my dear sweet sister, please tell me how I can help you! I hurt for you when I see you like this.” Her response was, “You can’t help me. Nobody can help me.” With that, she turned and entered her room, closing the door behind her. I sat down on my bed with a thud. I knew I couldn’t tell my Mother and father, yet I also knew I should. I opted not just to keep the peace; I have regretted that decision daily.
Something Naughty 1928
"When I was a little girl, I was always into something naughty." 1928
Agnes Moorehead
Last Day At Soldiers Grove.
On May 3, 1928, Agnes returned to Soldiers Grove to finish the school year after completing my first
semester at the Academy. I had finally finished my last day of teaching in Soldiers Grove,
Wisconsin, on June 7, 1928. I was leaving Soldiers Grove High School as a teacher for the
last time. My sights were set on New York City and the American Academy of Dramatic Arts.
I braved the beginning of summer heat to go to visit friends in Baraboo. Even though my
parents were moving to Dayton, I loved Wisconsin's small towns. Reedsburg and Baraboo
were close to my heart, as was the city of Madison. I was taking a massive leap of faith.
In the eyes of my family, I was practically joining Le Cirque Satan by becoming an actress, but
I was going to do it, and that was that. I joined Mother and Father in St. Louis for the
summer on June 21. We set about packing for the move to Dayton. Mother, Father, and Pegg
would be in Dayton by the middle of August, and I would join them there before returning
to New York. More than 365 days later, my entire life would change dramatically.
The dominos that would set up this dramatic change had already begun to fall.
Reedsburg, St Louis, and 365 Days
In 1928, Pegg was a third-year nursing student at the Jewish Hospital in St. Louis, and as fate would have it,
Pegg’s past was there, staring her in the face, too. Pegg never recovered from the Washauer debacle.
She mooned over him daily even though she knew he was married, and I believed
then that she was on the edge of losing her grip. She had completed her training since the program was
only three years long. I don’t know whether she graduated since nobody showed me the degree. But
dutifully, as always, Pegg went with our parents to Dayton. But I could see Pegg wasn’t
right, and I didn’t know how to talk to her about it. Mother knew as well that Pegg was
at the end of her rope, and like me, she struggled to help her. I couldn’t do much from
New York but decided to visit every moment she could spare.
My first full year at AADA was hectic. I had another beau named Dwight, and boy, howdy, was that a nightmare. That
man was so up and down in love and out of love every five seconds. If I had wanted instability, I would have stayed
at home. I got a letter from him which achieved something I had never done before. I managed to be bloody angry
and laugh hysterically at the same time. Dwight was not the smoothest guy on the ground, to be sure.
Dear Dwight
Dwight dear, Tuesday
You amaze me. I wonder if you realize how tactless your letter read. Did you reread it before
you sent it to me? But, since you did send it, my dear, all well and good; my dear. Don’t feel that
you aren’t exactly “free.” For really you are. Don’t blame girls for falling head over heels, you
know since the “Battle Creek Lady” has and still is since you feel very much worried over her
hurt and disappointment. I’m afraid you have gone off again on another target
when you think that you are in love with me. (scratched out “Said you thought you were before
You were kind to tell me about it–I greatly admire you. I shall not class you as a
heartbreaker– so don’t mind me.
Some of these days, we need to talk it over–you know, kind of seriously. That’s that.
I’m working like the dead–made my first step toward a new career.
With the date on this one and who Dwight is, I cannot tell, but Jack was the first Agnes to have
beaus before she ever met Jack. Why she settled on hi,m I will never understand.
Oh Nurse
By 1928, Peggy was a third-year nursing student at the Jewish Hospital in St. Louis, and as fate
would have it, Peggy’s past was there staring her in the face, too. When our parents left in 1928, Peggy
went with them. At this point, Peg had completed her training. It remains unclear whether she graduated or not. But dutifully, as always, she went with our parents to Dayton. Before we left St. Louis, Mother and I had
done stints in show business by singing on KMOX.
Mother sang on the radio, beginning in 1925 when she and father returned to St Louis. Mother
gave recitals, both public and private. Mother also was a Carondelet Women’s Club member
and managed their musical entertainment, mostly her singing.
An Unfortunate Call
On June 4, Papa was assigned to the church in Dayton, and on June 28, seven days after I came home,
Papa tendered his resignation at Carondelet, accepting the posting in Dayton. It made me think of something
that had not crossed my mind: what if the falling out I had with Pegg resulted from whatever was
happening between Pegg and the Washauer fellow? Furthermore, what if the decision to go to Dayton resulted from what had gone on between Pegg and the Don? Was this another Reedsburg? Did we have to go
because of something Peggy got herself involved in? Pegg had never lived independently outside the nurse's
dorm, and I had never returned home after graduation from college because Peggy could not be
trusted to be on her own. The whole thing was just too complex!
Frankly
August 31, 1928
Dayton, Ohio
Friday
“Dr. John Henderson Moorehead, pastor-elect of Patterson Presbyterian church, with Mrs. Moorehead,
arrived in Dayton Friday preparatory to assuming his new pastorate…He has been enjoying a vacation
with his parents in New Concord, Ohio.”
The number of months elapsed between Mother and Father's arrival in Dayton and Pegg's suicide is ten.
I said it before Peggy fell in love faster than most folks sneeze. It would have been ten months I to believe that Peggy killed herself over a man she had known for a maximum of ten months
and a minimum of a couple of weeks? Poppycock!
None of that thought process makes any sense. We have all tiptoed around Peggy’s behavior.
Author's Observation: Peg With the Golden Hair
Yes, Pegg was an angel with rose gold hair in ringlets, but she was also a loose woman, and I’m not being
funny here. In her twenty-two or twenty-three-year-old mind, you had to have a man to be a valid human.
The first thing she did in high school was snag a senior boy, and the second was break every
moral code she had been raised with. There was Marden, Ray, Frank, and Don Washaure, and she was fifteen
when it all started and twenty-three when it ended. I called all of this risky behavior. I have no idea what else she
got up to?
I started with the 1929 and 1930 directories for Dayton, Ohio. I knew that his initials were FP from Agnes’
postmortem opus. So I looked for Frank, Francis, and Franklin with a last name that began with the letter P.
Then I checked them against census records 1930 for a rough estimate of birthdates. While doing this,
I gleaned their relationship status and looked for wives with children to eliminate people.
What I ended up with is a list of six Franks. They are less than one mile and a half from 19 Stone Mill
Road, but only one of these six seems to fit perfectly. His name is Frank Powell. Frank and his family
live less than half a mile from 19 Stone Mill Road. It would be about a 15-minute stroll, and you would
have to walk right by Patterson Memorial Presbyterian Church on the corner of Stone Mill and Brown Street.
I settled on this man for several reasons.
Location, location, and Margaret didn’t drive, so walking location.
Peggy had only been in Dayton since early September 1928. Her primary focus was her father's church, so it follows that she would meet someone who was either a member of the church or lived very close to it in the neighborhood. Frank ticks all those boxes.
While Frank wasn’t married when Peggy was still living and wasn’t public with any other relationships, something odd happened with this whole marriage. Frank and Pansy got married suddenly on August 24, 1929, without knowing either of their families and did not announce they were married to their “surprised” families until Christmas of 1929. None of this is normal. You marry and then go live at your individual parents' homes until Christmas, when you suddenly announce it and acknowledge you are a man and wife. Molly said Frank dropped the bomb on Peggy the day she took the mercury, July 10. One month and two weeks later, Frank suddenly marries Pansy and then lives separately. There is something so not right here.
The Grim Reaper 1927
"It's marvelous to be called a lovely witch.”
Agnes Moorehead
Grandfather McCauley Dies
July 30, 1927
Warren, Ohio
Saturday
Mother was in the kitchen. Father was in his study, and Pegg was moping around in her room. I was sitting on the back porch reading. There was a knock at our front door. Father was closer than Mother was, so he answered it. I stood up and went to the screen door to the kitchen. When Papa entered the kitchen, he held an open envelope and a half sheet of paper. Father was sheet white in the face, so I knew it would not be good news. Mother stopped kneading the dough on the Hoosier, turning to look at my father. “Molly,” my father said solemnly, “It’s a telegram from your sister. Your father has died.” Mother dropped the dishtowel she’d had and started to cry. I walked away from the back door and sat down hard on the wicker settee on the porch. I cried softly because I didn’t want to upset Mother further. She was sobbing in great, huge wails. Father just held her close and let her cry. Pegg had come down the back stairs to the kitchen to see if Mother was alright. I heard her sit down solidly on the stairs and sob softly as well.
Mother was beside herself. Father immediately set about getting her to Canton. My Aunt Agnes had telephoned about twenty or thirty minutes after fathFatherd the telegram to Mother. I entered the kitchen, retrieved Mother’s handkerchief from her apron, and handed it to her. She sobbed continuously for what seemed like an eternity as I made her a cup of tea. I could hear my father in his study making arrangements for them and Pegg to go to Grandma McCauley’s house. I turned and saw Pegg sitting on the stairs with a glazed-over look, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. It was something Pegg always did when she was in distress. There I stood with my Mother bawling and my sister looking as if she were on a completely different planet. Father and I seemed to be the only two people in the house capable of functioning.
I walked into my father’s study, and he just hung up the phone. I said, “Papa, what can I do to help?” He looked up at me, and I saw tears in his eyes for the first time. He was deeply distressed. He was silent, so I hugged him as hard as possible and got the luggage from the attic I knew my family would need. I had to return to Soldiers Grove and wouldn’t attend the service. Piece by piece, I wrestled the luggage down. I put Mother’s trunk in her room and Peggs in hers. Father had a neat black satchel, which I cleaned and sat on Mother's trunk.
I felt so sorry for Father. He was going to have two hysterical women, no three, no four, with Grandma McCauley on his hands, and I knew it would be so hard for him. Grandma McCauley made the Mother look like a bad actress. She could cry on demand, and speaking strictly as a performer, I found that impressive! I saw them off the following day. Peggy had cheered up a bit and was more helpful with her Mother. Mother was still a mass of emotion. Father was so firm. He held my Mother tightly, guiding her into the train car. The porter had put their luggage in their compartments. Pegg had her own, but I knew she’d end up sleeping next to her Mother for her comfort and Mother. I doubted Father would sleep at all. My train left the following day, and I had nobody to see me off or look to my grief. I was nearly always alone, even in crowds, so I was accustomed to it. I could count on Fred for comfort when I got to Soldiers Grove.
The man who had passed away was Molly’s father. Agnes may have known him as a child but hadn’t seen him for years. I never understood Agnes’ parents. Grandpa McCauley lived fifty miles or more away from Grandma McCauley. They’d lived like that for a very long time. I’m sure that the excuse for him not being there was that he worked in the steel mill, and what a good job it was, allowing him to provide for Grandma. The truth of the matter is that Grandpa didn’t want to live with Grandma because Grandma was, well, pushy. If you lived under Agnes’ Grandmother’s roof, you lived by her practically Pentecostal rules! Aggie’s Grandma McCauley was a tough old bird.
On a hot July day, Teddy McCauley, Aggie's maternal grandfather, works in a steel mill in Warren, Ohio.
Steel mills are hot. Extraordinarily hot. Once you add July to the words steel mill, you are talking about the fifth circle of hell hot. Teddy was working in a mill job as a “heater.” Heaters are the men who tended to the furnaces used for heating metal for forging, rolling, case-hardening, and tempering the molten metal. A heater does a crucial job. He is responsible for achieving and maintaining the temperature at an exact level for the type of level being smelted. The heater working today was born in Manchester, England, and emigrated to Leechburg in Armstrong County, Pennsylvania. His name is Terrance Edward McCauley, and he is Agnes' maternal grandfather. This is his last day on earth.
Trumbull Steel Company is where Teddy worked in Trumbull County, Ohio. Steel mills are hazardous places. In those days, accidents were common and often fatal. The furnaces are the most dangerous place to work. At 12:30 pm on July 30, an accident occurred at Trumbull Steel that resulted in an enormous fatal fracture at the base of Teddy’s skull. I doubt he even felt what hit him. The doors on these things do have a way of being directly responsible for the death of the operator. I lost a great uncle the same way. Teddy was one of the most unfortunate people on the day shift this summer. A blast furnace like the one Teddy worked on was typically 240 to 340 feet tall. The doors on the base where coke came out were enormous and heavy. The facts of the accident are unavailable, but you don’t need to know that a human skull doesn’t stand a chance against a door that is not in control. Either Teddy or his partner did not have control of the door, and it cost him his life.
Agnes boarded the train the following day and began her return to Soldiers Grove. With every mile she put behind her, she relaxed more. Two months from now, she would be in New York City for three months. With that happy thought in mind, She drifted off to sleep after she left Chicago.
Agnes finally returned to Soldiers Grove on the morning of August 4. The following Friday, she went to her office at the school and set about preparing herself for new students and a new year. With September 6th fast approaching, the staff beavered away getting classrooms ready and bulletin boards decorated. Before they could blink, it was October. Time was whizzing by so quickly. Agnes and Fred went to the Wisconsin-Michigan game on the 20th. Agnes knew she would have to sit Fred down and discuss the future. Whenever she saw him, he had a flower for her or a poem, and she just didn’t know how to tell him she wasn’t the one he would marry. Off they went to the game on October 15. Off Agnes went to break a heart. Fred had agreed to drive just he and Agnes together in his car. The rest of the gang piled into other vehicles. They chattered down and back about Fred and Agnes, trying to guess when they would be married. Boy, they were in for a surprise!
On the way back, she talked with Fred. When she said they were done, she thought he was going to faint and crash the car. Fred pulled off the road for a minute while he caught his breath. The minute turned into thirty, and Agnes had to drive them back to Soldiers Grove. Aggie said goodnight to Fred and asked him if he could get home alright, “Yeah,” he said, “I’m used to it.” Agnes cried all night because she had broken the heart of a gentle, wonderful man and couldn’t forgive herself for years afterward.
Soldiers Grove to New York City.
In November 1927, Agnes moved from Soldiers Grove, Wisconsin, to New York City to attend The American Academy of Dramatic Arts. This was the first step towards realizing Aggie's dream of becoming a professional actress. The years that followed would be hectic and challenging. While completing her studies at AADA, she worked at the Dalton Progressive School to help get by. She would also wait tables. She was awful at it, though. So, she earned money by doing paintings and sketches. She was quite a talented artist.
These first months were challenging for me in many ways. The passing of Grandmother Moorehead and Grandfather McCauley punctuated my first few months. My academic life was completely different. I had always excelled at being disciplined and studying, and as a bonus, my academic life allowed me to become other people and pretend I did not have a care in the world. During my studies at AADA, I starred in several productions.
These first months were challenging for Agnes in many ways. The passing of Grandmother Moorehead and Grandfather McCauley punctuated her first few months. Her academic life was completely different. Agnes had always excelled at being disciplined and studying, and as a bonus, her academic life allowed me to become other people and pretend she did not have a care in the world. During her studies at AADA, she starred in several productions.
The sweet relief of warmth rolled over Agnes as she entered the door to her hotel. “Miss,” the clerk said, you have a message. Agnes took the paper. It has three words on it: “Call home immediately.” She asked the clerk who had telephoned and quickly responded, “Your mother,” she said softly. Agnes’ heart dropped like a stone. If her Mother called, it was either her father or one of her remaining grandparents. She turned and went to the phone booth in the Lobby. When her Mother answered, she could hear the sadness in Molly’s voice, “Oh Agnes,” she said, “Grandmother Hannah is very ill. Your father will meet your uncle Alfred in Chicago so they can go home together.” Agnes made an excuse to get off the phone and quickly ran up the stairs to her room, closed the door, and locked it. Then she sat down on her bed and sobbed like there was no tomorrow. Her Grandma Moorehead had been a rock in her life. She taught Agnes to sew, knit, and cook. Grandma Moorehead was a gentle little woman with the soul of a pioneer and the mind of a scientist. She could name every plant in the front of the house, including planting times, soil content, and how to keep it alive once you get it in the ground. Agnes just couldn’t imagine her life without her grandmother in it. She knew her sister would be heartbroken, and that added tons to the grief she was feeling.
Hannah Humphrey Moorehead
November 11, 1927
Rich Hill, Ohio
Friday
Hannah Moorehead was born to Marcus Humphrey and Amanda West on October 13, 1841, in Muskingum County, Ohio. Her father, Marcus, was born in Loudoun County, Virginia, and her Mother, Amanda West, was also born there. She married Agnes’ great-grandfather Marcus Humphrey in Muskingum County on February 14, 1839. One of Agnes’ favorite memories was when her Grandma Moorehead taught her how to make a feather bed so that she could be skilled enough at keeping a house in tip-top shape to catch a good husband and be adequately taken care of. Agnes loved John’s parents dearly and spent many a day at their farm in Ohio. Her grandparents spoiled me rotten. One day, Agnes decided to go to the village, hopped on a horse, and then proceeded to do just that. It took them hours to find her. Her grandparents applauded my gumption for doing it. They never told either her Mother or father what she’d done. Now, she was going to lose one of them. She cried for hours and then fell straight into a restless sleep.
Although 1927 was a year that seemed to drag out endlessly, Agnes persevered. The death of two grandparents was anything but easy. The passing of her grandfather McCauley and her grandmother Moorehead were less than four months apart. She had barely gotten on her feet after one death before another one arrived to take its place. But it wasn’t all upheaval and chaos. When Agnes returned home in the summer, she got to sing on the radio. KMOX! The thought that many people could hear her sing set Agnes on fire. Once she started singing, she didn’t want to stop, and then it occurred to her that radio might just be a great career. She didn’t think about it long, though she wanted to be on the stage in the limelight, so to speak.
Look, Ma, I’m On The Radio
July 15, 1927
Friday
Agnes Moorehead, The Girl Tenor, 9:30 pm, Lange’s Orchestra.
I stared at the page in disbelief! This was my first radio appearance. I would be singing and performing a popular song! “Ma, He’s Making Eyes At Me.”. I did it on the largest broadcasting radio station in the Midwest, KMOX. I didn’t know it then, but this was the birth of my career in radio. Mother had been singing on the radio for the last two years, and her influence helped me get the job. I was beyond thrilled and wrote my friends in Soldiers Grove immediately.
By August 1927, Agnes was returning to Soldiers Grove to start the school year. Everything was slowly changing, and the change began catching up with her over the next two years. She auditioned for the American Academy of Dramatic Arts during the summer and was accepted. Agnes didn’t think she was good enough and nearly burst into tears several times. Ultimately, it turned out she was, and to prove it, she would have to cover an entire year's worth of work in three months. She was always quick to study, so that didn’t bother her. She spent three months in New York with her nose either in a book or her ears listening in a class. She did her year in three months. Aggie then returned to Soldiers Grove to finish the year. These next two years would prove to be both fulfilling and heart-shattering. She chose to embrace the majority of it and endure the remaining. She had no idea she would be enduring a shattering death in the family before she ever boarded the train for Soldiers Grove.
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