A Love Story from the Greatest Generation

or

Do Nothing Till You Hear From Me

 

Everyone’s connected to a family. We’re just born into them, or adopted by them, without much say so regarding the circumstances. “You can pick your friends but not your relatives.” We’ve all heard that one.  We don’t have much input in the selection of our family and relatives.

The way family groups are made up can be as different as the individuals in them. There are, and always have been, all kinds of configurations of adults and children living together. The most important thing about families, however, is not their structure but their purpose. The primary reason families exist is to provide for the needs and well being of those in the group. Providing love and nurture, good health and positive growth, giving emotional and spiritual support for the members of the group, particularly the children, are the reason humans live in families.

As we said, families are different, but they all have some things in common. One thing common to all families, no matter what the structure, is the enormous influence they have on who we are and how children develop into adults. Who one becomes as an adult is in large part under the influence of the family members, adults and siblings he or she grows up with. “The nut doesn’t fall far from the tree”… “Your daddy won’t be dead until you are”… “You’re the spittin’ image of your daddy”…these old sayings are used to describe our resemblance in both appearance and behavior to our parents.

Our physical characteristics, of course, are a result of the genes we inherit from our parents. Both the genes we inherit from our parents and the experiences we have when we are young, however, determine our behavior and personality characteristics. It’s the old nature vs. nurture controversy. Which has the biggest influence on our attitudes and behavior, the genes we inherit or the environment in which we grew up? No matter which side of the aisle you line up on, the family is right in the middle because in most cases it’s responsible for both the characteristics you inherit and those you learn. We are products of the genes we inherit from our parents, and the experiences we have with our parents and our siblings as we are growing up.

That is why it is so important for parents to provide experiences for their children that will broaden their minds. These experiences don’t have to be expensive vacations but simple and inexpensive activities right here at home. The first and most important activity is to talk to and with your child at every opportunity. Take them with you whenever possible and interact with them constantly, particularly in their first three years of life. Take them to the park, the library, the grocery store, church, wherever you can, talking constantly with them about the things they are seeing around them. Play with them using their toys or whatever is available to encourage interaction. And, of course, read to them and with them at every opportunity.

You inherited red hair from your mother, your musical ability from your father. You learned to love the outdoors because your dad took you hunting as a child, and you love animals because your mom always had a soft spot in her heart for strays and took them in as part of the family. These are examples of the influences of nature and nurture. We can’t control the genes our children inherit but we can do something about the things they learn, through the experiences we provide them. 

Tonight I am going to share a little with you about my family, southern working folk.  I thank you for indulging me for I wrote this as much for my family as I did for you.   My mother, Daisy Elizabeth Newman Hilton, Lib to her friends, grew up in Sumter.  Her parents were Selma Steele Newman and Van Telberg Newman.  Selma grew up in Olanta and Van in Sumter.  Unfortunately, I know very little about the upbringing or the family histories of my maternal grandparents except neither came from families of means or much formal education. 

Lib attended the public schools in Sumter and was an excellent student, according to her younger brother, Van Newman Jr.  Van hated having the same teachers Lib had, as the teachers always told him what a wonderful student his older sister was.  Lib graduated from Sumter High in 1942.  The family didn’t have the funds to send her to college.  However, she earned a scholarship to attend Meredith, a women’s college in Raleigh, NC, where an older cousin was already a student.  

My father, John Bingley Hilton, J.B. as he was called, grew up in rural Berkeley County.  His parents were Gussie Welch Hilton and Paul Tillman Hilton, both from Berkeley County.  My paternal grandparents and great-grand parents operated a small farm in Berkeley County.  They also operated a meat market in Charleston, selling beef, pork, and poultry from livestock they raised on the farm, then butchered and took to Charleston to be sold at the market.  As a youngster, J.B. worked on the farm and at the meat market in Charleston.  He attended Cross High School, in Cross, SC, graduating in 1941.  While he was a student in high school he began working part time with the Atlantic Coastline Railroad, in Holly Hill, SC, initially as a laborer, loading cotton bales onto flatcars.  While still in high school, he learned the Morse Code and landed a job as a part time clerk and telegraph operator in the railroad depot in Holly Hill.  Upon graduation from high school he went to work full time with the railroad.  So how did this working class small town girl and a poor farm boy from the sticks get together?   That will be, not the rest, but the next part of the story. 

J.B. had been working as a clerk in Holly Hill for just a short while when the railroad transferred him to, of all places, Sumter, SC, to work as a clerk in the freight depot. And wonder of wonders, within a few days he met a man that also worked in the depot named Van Newman. Mr. Newman went home and told his wife Selma about this hardworking, smart, handsome, young man that was driving a brand new 1941 Ford. Selma thought it would be a good idea to introduce their daughter, Elizabeth, who was a senior in high school, to this young fellow. Before you know it, Selma shows up at the depot just about quitting time, with Lib in the car. She honks the horn, as was her custom. Van comes out, but Selma sends him back inside to get that young fellow to meet Lib. I don’t know if it was love at first sight, but something clicked for it soon became a true love story.

In those days there were only eleven grades in high school. Lib was 17 when she and J.B. met. As previously mentioned, after graduation Lib went off to Meredith in Raleigh. During Lib’s freshman year at college, J.B.’s work with the railroad sent him for short stints to several other towns including Florence and Cheraw.  The two kids were smitten very badly, however, and a long distance romance was really not what they wanted.

The backdrop for this love story, of course, was World War II. The United States entered the war as J.B. and Lib were courting. Lib decided that she couldn’t stand being away from J.B. so she didn’t return to Raleigh after her freshman year.  It’s not the first time a kid came home from school because they were in love.  There was talk of marriage.

Before the wedding bells could chime, however, Uncle Sam called J.B. into the service of his country. He entered the army in the fall of 1943.  When he was being processed into the Army it was discovered that on his birth certificate he was named with only the initials J.B.  The good men in the U.S. Army informed him he would need a name as just initials wouldn’t do.  So he came up with John, probably from the Bible, and Bingley, which was the first name of his maternal grandfather, Bingley Welch. So he was christened John Bingley by the U.S. Army. After his christening, he was assigned to the 747 Operating Railway Battalion in the Transportation Corp as a telegraph operator because of his previous work experience with the railroad.   He was promptly sent to Clovis, New Mexico, for training.

The two kids were really love sick now.  As you may recall from watching old movies set during WWII, getting married before the guy goes off to war was the thing to do.   Their plan called for Lib to come out to New Mexico where they would be married. In early February of 1944, however, J.B. sent a telegram to Lib saying, “Plans have changed. STOP. Do nothing till you hear from me. STOP Love, J.B.” Lib thought he was being shipped out overseas. She was beside herself, upset and worried. Two days later, there was a knock at the front door, and there stood J.B. They were married Sunday, February 6th at Selma and Van’s house at 111 East Charlotte Avenue, in Sumter.

They went to Orangeburg, S.C., on their honeymoon. Taking a walk on Sunday evening around “downtown” Orangeburg they came upon a church where a service was being held. They heard the congregation singing as they came up the street. The hymn drew them inside. They both loved music and they both loved being in church.

J.B. went back to New Mexico and Lib soon followed. They rented a little room in a boarding house. The place was full of other couples like themselves, guys in the army whose wives had come out to spend some time with them before they were shipped out to the war.

In late May all the men were restricted to base. The rumor, of course, was that the invasion was coming soon.  Around 1 a.m. on the morning of June 6, Lib was awakened by sirens sounding on the base. She sat straight up in the bed and knew the invasion of France had begun. It was D-Day. First thing that morning Lib went to the base, where all the men were preparing to board a troop train, headed for the east coast and then on to Europe. She found J.B. and they said their goodbyes. She walked back to the room, crying all the way.

Once at the room she realized she had to go back to the base before the train left, as she might never see J.B. again. Finding a girl at the boarding house who had a car, she caught a ride back to the base. By this time the men were already on the train. Lib just happened to come up at the end of the train. Asking for Head Quarter’s Company, she was directed forward. At each car, with men hanging from the doors of the boxcars, she would yell out, "Where is Head Quarter’s Company?" Each time she was directed forward. She was worried that the train might pull off before she found her sweetheart. She broke into a trot, shouting her inquiry as she moved forward. Did she find him?

As you might expect, Head Quarter’s Company was at the very front of the train. Just moments before the train moved out…… there he was.   A few more kisses, another goodbye and he was gone.

Gone to Belgium, France, and Germany. Places with names like Koblenz, and Remagen. Not usually on the front, he did have to pick up his carbine to experience some combat action in the Battle of the Bulge, however, when the Germans launched their last counter offensive of the war. While J.B. was overseas, he and Lib wrote letters to each other often.  We have 84 letters that J.B. wrote to Lib that she saved. These letters are truly a treasure of our family. 

Thankfully J.B. came home unharmed, to spend the rest of his life with his beloved Lib. It was the railroad that brought them together. Their ride on the rails lasted a lifetime.  Now it’s time for the rest of the story.

After the war J.B. returned home to go back to work with the ACL Railroad.  Lib got a job as a bookkeeper at Carolina Hardware.  They borrowed some money and bought 12 acres of land on the Wedgefield Road, a couple miles out past the Second Mill Pond which in those days was “out in the country”.  There they built a little four room house.  Pretty soon there was also a chicken house, and a little barn, and a pen with a few pigs, and a fenced in field with a couple of cows grazing. 

In 1949 I came along, and in ’51, my sister Tricia joined the group and the farm family was complete.  As the years moved along, Mom and Dad continued to buy additional parcels of land increasing the size of the farm.  Corn, soybeans, cattle, and pork were the primary cash crops.  Peanuts, hay, pecans, and blueberries were also part of the mix.  For twenty-five years Dad worked both with the railroad and on the farm before deciding to focus on farming and engaging in other entrepreneurial activities.   

In 1966 Mom and Dad bought Blums, a ladies clothing store on Main Street upon the tragic death of Mrs. Blum in an auto accident.  Mom had left Carolina Hardware a few years earlier.  They renamed the store Lib’s and relocated to Guignard Drive, in a triplex, next to my grandparents’ flower shop, Newman’s Flowers, and Mary Boyle Interiors, in the same spot as the Dollar General is now, next door to Guignard Diner.  Mom and Dad had worked hard and had been very frugal over the years, saving and investing to slowly but significantly grow what was initially a very small nest egg. 

Working hard, saving and investing, they never lost sight, however, of the things that were really the most important to them: their family and their faith.  Tricia and I were the center of their universe. We were a tight unit that worked, played, and worshiped together. We all worked on the farm, helping with the chores, feeding the animals, milking the cows, driving the tractor, and baling hay, doing whatever it took.  The stories my sister and I can tell.  It’s a great life growing up on a working family farm.  The two operative words in that last sentence are “working” and “family”. Our extended family was important as well.  We were always interacting with grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. 

The Grace Baptist Church was at the center of our family’s social life.  Mom’s family were members there when she met dad.  He grew up in a Baptist church in rural Berkley County so it was a good fit.  Mom, a gifted pianist, played for church services at Grace beginning as a teenager and continued to do so all her life.

Their real love and most significant contribution to life at Grace was their work with young people.  They led a Sunday School class for 5^th and 6^th grades for over fifty years.  Mom played the piano and Dad led the singing.  Mom arranged a medley of songs, primarily the choruses, which came to be known as the “Hash Choruses”, which they taught to all the kids that came through their class.  In addition, the “B-I-B-L-E” song was a standard as well.  One of Dad’s goals was for all the kids to memorize the books of the Bible in order. He adopted a policy of giving each kid $5 when they could stand in front of the group and recite the books in order.  I spoke with someone just the other day who as a kid had come through their class, and then their child had also come through, which resulted in both parent and child memorizing the books of the Bible.

In addition to leading the Sunday School class, they had countless hayrides, hot dog roasts, bonfires, parties, and celebrations at our house and farm on the Wedgefield Road.  The attendees were the kids, their parents, and the many other good folks from Grace Church. In 1962, Mom and Dad built a new house on the property just up from the original little house, complete with a pool.  Mom called this new spot “Heaven on a Hill”. Now the church parties also included swimming during the summer.

Music and dance played an important role in the life of our family.  Mom and Dad both loved music and loved to dance.  As previously mentioned, Mom was a gifted pianist.  Both Mom and Dad were very good singers.  As a kid, mom loved Shirley Temple, and adored Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire. When my sister and I were very young we started performing at church, just singing of course, you wouldn’t dare dance in a Baptist Church.  But there were dance lessons at Betty Freeds’.  We were the Fred and Ginger of the dance studio, singing and dancing at all the recitals.  Mom and Dad loved it!  When I decided in the sixth grade that tap dancing wasn’t cool, it nearly broke Mom’s heart. 

As my sister and I grew to be teen-agers, Mom and Dad really became involved with our friends in a loving and supportive way.  Our friends were at our house a lot, at the pool swimming, in the basement shooting pool or just hanging out. The band I played music with in high school held all our rehearsals in the basement as well.  One of my buddies was kicked out of his house by his dad and, of course, he moved in with us for a while. 

In my last Fortnightly paper, entitled “Our Gang”, you may recall that I wrote about the high school social clubs of Sumter during the 50’s, 60’s, and early 70’s.  My senior year in high school the Esquires decided to contract with Maurice Williams and the Zodiacs for our Christmas dance to raise money to support our “activities” for that school year.  Mom and Dad decided to underwrite the event for us, putting up the deposit money for the band.  For a couple of “T-Totalers” they were very supportive of and involved with a bunch of wild and crazy high school boys.

My freshman year in college at USC, I joined The Footnotes.  Of course, we held rehearsals in the basement at their house as well.  When the band really started traveling and we needed a van, Mom and Dad stepped up and bought us a van which we “leased” from them.  I’m sure they lost money on the deal but they just loved helping us and being a part of the whole music scene. 

On and on went the list of their involvement and support of my sister and me and all our friends; chaperoning  house parties at the beach for my sister, taking all our friends to the lake house, water skiing, countless hunting and fishing adventures in the swamp, swimming parties, ……..

As time went by, Tricia and I grew up and started families of our own as Mom and Dad moved toward retirement age.  They never really retired, however, they just changed the kind of activities they did each day.  When the grandchildren came along they became the center of Mom and Dad’s universe, just as my sister and I had been earlier.  Incidentally, when the grandchildren came along there were name changes as well.  Mom and Dad became Nana and Papa.  They started all over again with dance recitals, hunting and fishing in the swamp, taking kids out on the farm, and trips to the beach.  The activities with the grandkids were as numerous or even more so than with my sister and I. Likewise, they got to know and interacted with the friends of the grandchildren, just as they had come to know mine and Tricia’s friends.  (See Addendum)

Eventually, Nana and Papa sold the dress shop and sold all the hogs and cows, too. They cut back on the farming and started planting pine trees on land that had previously been “row cropped”, replacing corn and soybeans with longleaf.  They joined a couple of square dance groups.  Dad became very involved as a leader with the Lions Club.  They became active as leaders of the XYZ club at Grace Church. 

The most exciting activity they added to their menu as they grew older was travel.  They began taking trips here and there.  They went on several bus trips sponsored by various organizations.  Next thing you know Papa and Nana started their own travel business, “Hilton Tours.”   They would work out an itinerary and then invite some friends to come along.  It was a huge success.  They lead dozens of tours and cruises. People would stop and tell me all the time what a great time they had on their trip to such and such a place with Nana and Papa.  They traveled with their friends all over the lower 48, north to Alaska, and then on to St. Petersburg, Russia.

All families develop traditions and Mom and Dad saw that we had them, too.  The most memorable one is our Christmas Eve celebration.  When my sister and I were “just up off the floor,” Mom and Dad started inviting folks over to our house on Christmas Eve.  Initially it would be our neighbors, of whom there were actually very few in those days, because we lived in the country.  Mom would serve some fruit cake, a little ham and other treats, and punch.  After a little small talk over the refreshments we would gather ‘round the spinet, with Mom playing and we would sing Christmas Carols. 

As the years flowed by, this event continued seamlessly. The attendees varied and evolved over the years; family and friends, girlfriends, boyfriends, wives, husbands, grandchildren, and great grandchildren but the format remained the same.  We haven’t missed a Christmas Eve in 65 years.  When Christmas Eve is approaching I’m asked all the time, either by former attendees or those who know of Nana and Papa’s tradition, “Ya’ll having ‘the sing’ again this year?”  It’s an example of how we all yearn for the closeness of family and loved ones and for things that endure.  It’s that closeness and love that sustain us over time, through the good and the bad, the joy and the tears. 

Lib and J.B., Mom and Dad, Nana and Papa, whatever you want to call them, they were in love with each other their entire lives.  It was truly a love affair that lasted a lifetime.  When South Carolina came out with custom car license plates, Papa jumped on it, getting one for Nana that read, “MIBRIDE.” 

You know, Selma and Van, and Gussie and Paul did a pretty good job with the nature and the nurture they instilled and passed on to Lib and J.B..  Proverbs 22:6 says “Train up a child in the way he should go, even when he is old he will not depart from it.”  Lib and J.B. did not depart from the training given to them by their parents when they were children.  They remained true to the values they were taught, that family and faith go hand-in-hand and are really what matter the most.  Being a parent is a miraculous blessing and an awesome responsibility.  My sister and I, our children, families, our friends, and all who knew them were truly blessed to have been touched by these two that lived and inspired “A Love Story From the Greatest Generation”. 

 

 Addendum: Remembrances from Grandchildren

Tracy Spigner:

Going fishing with Papa in the swamp...eating sardines and coming home to clean the fish with a spoon in his yard. Eating fried fish and grits for dinner. 

“Play cooking” on my play kitchen at Nana and Papas house...I always cooked butter beans and rice and they would always pretend to eat it all up.  

Going camping at Pirate Land at Myrtle Beach in the camper. They always let me bring a friend. We would ride bikes and they would take us to the flea market. Papa would cook us pancakes every morning on the skillet outside the camper on the picnic table.  

Nana and Papa were my Sunday School teachers in 5th grade. They taught me the books of the Bible song and the Hash Chorus.  

They would take me on Hilton Tours with them too. I went to the Grand Canyon with Hilton Tours and to Washington DC.  

Growing up my mom and I lived next door to Nana and Papa in the little house. When I would get in trouble with my mom I would take off out the back door and run through the pecan orchard to Nana and Papa’s house  

Papa would always introduce me as “the apple of my eye with whom I am well pleased”  

I loved how Papa called everyone Friend...in stores or passing on the street it was always “Hello Friend”. 

I loved how he called Nana “My Bride” 

My favorite part of Papa was his hands...they were rough, big and strong...his fingers were crooked and had scars from being hurt. They were working hands! I loved to hold his hand. His hands made you feel protected and safe. You knew with his hands there you would be taken care of and he taught me that many hands make light work. 

My favorite part of Nana was her giving spirit. Nana would do anything to make others happy! She would cook your favorite meal, watch your favorite movie, play dolls with you, swim with you, let you have friends over, let you spend the night....she was always saying yes to others...trying to make others happy! Growing up I remember Nana was always smiling...unless the cows were out...Nana loved her family and wanted everyone happy! She would always sing “You are my Sunshine” to me! Nana was definitely my sunshine! 

 

Margaret Hilton:

I remember them both singing a lot. I remember singing on Christmas Eve together, Nana proudly playing the piano and giggling along to papa's jokes. Songs were also made up on the spot all year long- silly songs, sweet songs, nonsense songs... Singing was a way of communicating, lightening the load and bringing people closer. 

I remember walking into the house and smelling salmon patties frying in the kitchen. 

I remember Papa sitting in his chair and when I was tiny, him asking me to come and sit on his lap.  

I remember nana's roses- both their beauty and their sweet smell.  

I remember the passion they shared between each other, their romance lasted to the end and beyond that too.

 

John Hilton:

When I think of nana and papa I am overwhelmed with feelings of comfort, acceptance and love. Below are a few specific memories and lessons learned from each of them. 

When I think of papa I have so many wonderful memories. Hunting, fishing, working, playing softball right before dark on summer nights, swimming in the pool, and Jesus. 

Papa taught me how to look for business opportunity, which is the essence and spirit of my career. We cut and sold firewood together; cut, tagged and sold mistletoe; I watched and learned how he made a living drilling wells, cutting hay, selling blueberries and pecans, buying land, and trying to never say no to a chance to use the knowledge and equipment he had to make a dollar. 

He taught me how to love and appreciate Mother Nature and the great outdoors as he called it, which has grown into the essence and spirit of my earthly soul. We hunted quail, doves, ducks, deer, turkey, squirrels, and any other critter that might cause harm to one of those beloved game species. He would pick me up from school to take me fishing in the swamp, packing a cooler of snacks and drinks extra full just for me. He taught me of the special respect man should have of the land we tread on.  

Papa was the first person I ever experienced talking to about Jesus as if he was standing right there with us. I bet he had a similar experience as Oswald Chambers predicted for himself, that when he died it would take him a while to realize because he walked so closely with the Lord he wouldn’t even notice he had moved to the other side. 

Papa was a law abiding, honest, Christian man and he pretty well did what he pleased. I learned that life is full of restrictions and reservations but man was put here to rule the world, and a man should do as he pleases while he’s here. He was very good at figuring out how to negotiate through rules and regulations in pursuit of his goal. 

He never met a stranger, never said no to some poor soul in need of help and he made me feel that he loved me unconditionally. By the time he died, he was my best friend. 

When I think of Nana my first memory is how much she loved papa. They had a true fire romance. I can still vividly see her sitting in his lap holding hands and kissing. They were very affectionate and I’m glad I got to see them do this and love each other in this way. She was devoted to him and served him. That is not to say that she didn’t stand up to him and put her foot down when she strongly disagreed, because she did. I learned how two people could fight and make up and still love with passion. That is a special lesson. 

Nana was an excellent cook. Most of my other memories of Nana involve delicious food. Cube steak with gravy; pancakes and bacon with the best blueberry syrup still to this day I’ve ever tasted; salmon patties and grits; and real sweet tea. She would fry extra bacon, wrap it in tinfoil and give to me for a mid morning snack while out working with pop.

If I wasn’t feeling well at school, or I wasn’t feeling well about school, a trip to the nurse’s office and a call to Nana would have me on her couch watching TV with toast loaded down with melted butter. In my mind I can see her walking across the room bringing it to me like it was yesterday. 

She was a leader in her home, with her family, with her church, with the community and also with Jesus. 

I miss them both so much. I am lucky to have had them for as long as I did.