Daughter of Frank and Ella Duvall Fromang.

Married Austin Lamar Smith (5/4/1913-5/5/2004) on 12/8/1934, witnesses Joseph E. Maloney and Elinor Fromang.

Children:
Charles Austin Smith (Charlotte Byrd)
Linda Jane Smith (Behrle Hubbuch)
Mary Ann Smith (Richard Ronconi)

Siblings:
Elinor Elizabeth Fromang Maloney (1913 - 2002)
William Robert "Willie" Williams (1924 - 1976)

Below, a rememberance by her sister Elinor...

My Sister

I'm sure I must have been in the room when my sister was born since it was the middle of winter and the little bedroom would have been the only room that was heated. So before the day had ended there were lots of cries and prayers in that little shot gun house on Mellwood and finally a new baby girl.

Another little bedroom 77 years later, this time in St. Matthews and more tears and prayers and a whole other sad assemblage. Only two of the original group were there, my sister and I, me holding her hand, but she had to leave and tho sad the release from pain was blessed. I remember one of her quotes, "The clock of life is wound but once," and it is true.

It was January 17, 1916 and in the small house on Mellwood Avenue in the Butchertown section of Louisville, my mother was striving to give birth to her second child. Conditions as I imagine them were far from ideal. The heat in the frame cottages was usually from grates in each room and the light from kerosene lamps. Not ideal conditions, but doctors did come to your house then and there was one on Frankfort Avenue just around the corner. I have two doctors names in mind but am not sure if either was ours (Minish & Wilhoyte).

My mother had hoped no doubt to give birth the day before which was my father's birthday, but Virginia probably wanted her own. Finally her travail was over and she had another daughter, Mary Virginia Fromang who was dutifully carried to St. Joseph Church on Washington Street about a week later for christening. One didn't let these things drag on in those days lest dying unshrined their tiny sinful souls to spend eternity in perdition.

My father was already in failing health not earning much and I was at the time a cry baby of the first order. My mother said she had wondered how she would cope with two of these weepers.

She said she told me that if I kept it up little sister would have to go back, because she couldn't stand the noise. Faced with this she said I almost completely gave up the sob sessions.

I had gray-green eyes, but Virginia had bright brown ones which took in everything.

My father would sit on the bed at night and take his shoes off and put them under the bed. In the morning as he tried to retrieve them, Virginia, who was now a crawling baby, would size up the situation and crawl under the bed and bring out first one shoe and then the other.

Another Mellwood tale concerns what may have been her first word. It was breakfast time. My father was reading the paper and dunking his kuchen in his coffee. We were waiting, I propped up with a pillow on a chair, and Virginia in her high chair while my mother was stirring some gruel for us at the stove. She must have dropped something, but before she could voice her country expletive, Virginia said quite plainly, "SHIT!" My father put down his paper and scolded mother who had been trying to watch her language and now felt like 2 cents.

Another time (we had moved to a cottage down the street directly across from Kapfhammer's Bakery). Mr. Kapfhammer was a member of the Master Baker's Association, a kind of guild. I can still see the large framed certificate hanging in the shop. He baked all kinds of bread and rolls, and nice fruit or cinnamon kuchens for a nickel and big round cheese ones for a dime - not so surprising when you know that men often worked for about a dollar a day. One day my mother sent me across the street for a loaf of bread. I remember big, hearty Mr. Kapfhammer called Virginia and I "Hans and Fritz." As I started to leave he said, "Here's a cookie for you and one for your little sister." I replied with four year old honesty, "She can't eat cookies, she don't have any teeth. She just has little jaws." I could have had them both. So much for honesty.

I used to draw on every scrap of paper an incredible saga which started with a little stick figure starting out with nothing and eventually owning his own kingdom of towns, castles and stores. Virginia was always asking me to, "draw and talk" and when she would ask where he got some of these things my reply was only that he had "managed" to get them.

Sometimes in later years and after I had an antique shop, Virginia would call and ask what I had "managed to get" lately?

I started to school and since Virginia was about 3 and didn't go, I would come home to teach her. She preferred to draw so I wrote a note to my mother which she kept for years. It said "The child is very artistrick but you should teach her more of her work and less of art." Mother kept the note for years then gave it to me a few years ago. I gave it to Virginia. I'm sure she put it away. It would be nice to frame this little tattered missive.

My father finally became unable to work and we existed on contributions from members of the AFL Butchers Union and the money for the soldiers shirts which my mother brought home to make. My father sat beside the machine and snipped the threads and turned packets. And so they were sitting the day as he coughed his last tortured breath at age 32.

My mother took us back to her father's farm in Frankfort where we stayed a year or so, then she brought us back to Mellwood Avenue where my grandmother (Sarah Elizabeth "Lizzie" Peffer Fromang) and my sweet Auntie (Virginia Fromang Knop) helped her as much as they could.

Mother worked at the Bray Clothing Factory which stood on the now vacant lot next to Hadley's Pottery on Story Avenue.

My young Aunt Virginia went to Spencerian Business College and then went to work at McPherson Insurance Agency in a building at 4th and Market. My grandmother was the worlds sweetest baby sitter and cheapest. My aunt brought us all kinds of little frills she must have spent her lunch hour buying at Bacon's and Herman Straus's both near 4th and Market.

So we were all happy for a while then my mother was courted by Mr. James R. Williams. She soon married him which didn't improve our fortunes much, but did produce my dear brother Billy (1924-1976).

My sweet Aunt Virgie married Otto Knop and had Richard, John – killed in WWII - his plane blown up near Pearl Harbor and none of the crew ever heard from, sweet Gladys who died of cancer, Ginny Bet who has retired this year from a printing firm owned by friends of your parents, and Otto – football star and successful decorator - who fathered 10 children but died a few years ago. Richard was an ex-Marine, a golf pro and was living in Chicago last I heard.

Kind of got off on my rememberances of Virginia. We lived on Mellwood near the Maxwells. Martha Jane was a pretty little girl friend of Virginia's in the early days at Benjamin Franklin School. Virginia admired Martha Jane's incredible deep dimples on her rosy cheeks. Mother said she was so jealous of them that she offered to make her some. She heated an old poker in the stove and stuck it into a chair bottom where it of course produced an absolutely gorgeous dimple. Virginia came and held her little cheek up and mother, for once, had to back down.

Once when we were small we somehow came into possession of large folio size album of colored Howard Chandler Christy prints, with titles like "The Coming Out Party", "The Courtship", "The Betrothal", "The Wedding" etc. Between each print was a sheet of tissue paper. On this Virginia (1st or 2nd grade) carefully traced and water colored the prints. She took these one at a time and sold them. She only had one patron, I remember her name was Charlotte Mae Kluth. I believe she gave Virginia a dime for these masterpieces. Virginia knew better than to kill the goose that laid the golden egg, so she never took but one a week saying it took her so long to draw them. Wonder what ever became of Charlotte Mae?

Well we finally grew up somehow. One spring, Virginia, who was being courted by Austin Smith, methodically assembled her Easter outfit down to the gloves and the little Empress Eugene hat, and Austin brought her a corsage and they went off to Clifton Baptist Church. I had cut out a three piece suit the night before which I naturally couldn't finish. I had the rolled up pieces for years. Clifton Baptist survived without me.

Virginia and Austin married and moved to a little apartment on Locust Street which was a tiny doll house decorated with Virginia's Hope Chest linens and Austin's ingenuity. With the advent of Charles, they outgrew their love nest and moved to the upstairs apartment at Arlington Avenue. Austin had been earning the princely stipend of $16.00 a week at Reynolds Metals. Virginia once showed me the account books she kept where every cent of the $16.00 was accounted for. Ham salad sandwiches at Wonderland were 10 cents, cokes a nickel. The evenings outings cost 30 cents. The walk was free.

By now they had Charles and Austin was doing concrete work and they contracted to buy their first house on Bellaire Avenue. Here Linda and MaryAnn arrived. Linda was a tiny miniature doll who played in the tiny, tiny backyard and called to the garbage men passing the alley. Virginia said they looked for her and hollered back.

MaryAnn came along and lay in her bassinet so quietly that she wore a bald spot on the back of her downy head. She no doubt was dreaming of the days when she would sail off to Europe and great adventures. Later when they had built their 3540 Dayton Avenue home and educated their children, the pursuit of antiques led them into many exciting years of collecting.

Altho she had a fulfilling life, I always thought she would survive me. I miss her so much. I could always call if there was something I needed to remember and as you all do, I miss her.

Elinor January 17, 1994