| Max married Patricia Elaine Roudebush, (born May 21, 1940) on June 1, 1958. The couple had 3 children. |
| Ramona Kay, born May 27, 1959 Stephen Eugene, born September 6, 1962 Brent Allan Griffith, born May 31, 1966 |
| Children of Max and Patricia Roudebush Griffith: |
| *~Max Eugene Griffith~* |
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| My name is Max Eugene Griffith, and I was born March 31, 1937, at 333 W. Main Street, in Jasonville, Indiana. I was the eighth child of William and Maude Elsie (Wheeler) Griffith. There were nearly fourteen years difference between my older brother, Daniel and I, who was the seventh child, and nearly twenty-nine years between my oldest brother, John, and I. There were two girls, Mildred and Edith, who were born after John, and then Harold, Bruce and Bill. The three older children (John, Mildred and Edith) had left Jasonville and moved to the northern part of Indiana, to find work, during the depression. John was married and living in Garret, Indiana, and Mildred and Edith were also married, and living in Kendallville. Mildred had married a boy from there, named David Trowbridge, and they had twin sons, James and John, who had been born in 1931. My father owned and operated an electrical business, at the time of my birth, which he and my grandfather, John L. Griffith, founded in 1921. At this time, several of my older brothers were working with Dad. We lived in an apartment upstairs, over the business, which was located just west of where the post office stands today. In fact, the lot where the post office now stands was empty then, and Dad usually planted a garden there. My grandparents had all passed away before I was born, so I never had the privilege of knowing any of them, although my parents kept their memories alive, with the many interesting stories they told of them. There was a gas station located directly across the street from where we lived, which was ran by a man named Charles ‘Curley’ Miller. Just west of that was a really small wooden building, where Dexter Ferguson had his barbershop. Then west of the barbershop was a large open field. Every summer, a medicine show would come to town and set up in that field, and put on skits and comedy routines, to draw people in. One of my earliest memories was of my mother holding me up to an open window, so I could see and hear the medicine show. Jasonville was a thriving, busy little town in those days. It seemed like there was always something going on, and I just couldn’t wait to explore it. Every time my mother turned her back, I would run off. She would threaten me with all sorts of dire consequences if I ran off again, but the moment she looked the other way, I was gone. The city park, or Littlejohn’s Grove, as some people called it then, was a popular place in those days. It was always full of kids in the summertime. There were swings and slides, and what we called the ocean wave, that went round and round, and never failed to make me sick at my stomach. They would have a carnival there every summer. It was only two blocks from where we lived, so I spent a lot of time there. It was about this time that I made an interesting discovery. We had a lot of widow women in town, and they knew all about what went on here before I was born, and they were just busting to tell someone about it. On top of this, they always had a fresh baked pie, or cake, or cookies, that are necessary to a small boys diet. So I began visiting my widow women, learning all about local history, plus sampling a lot of home baked goods. Ah, life was good! It was about this time I grew interested in church. The Assembly of God church was located about half a block away, so it was there I had my first contact with religion. Dad always told the story about me not coming home one night and he and Mom were really worried, so Dad went in search of me. When he returned, Mom wanted to know if he found me, and he told her I was down at the Assembly of God, sitting up front on the bald-headed row. He said I was so dirty from playing all day he was ashamed to go in and get me out. I began attending Sunday school there. Looking back over the years I have always appreciated what a great Sunday school they had, and how dedicated their teachers were. One Sunday morning, I was all dressed up, on my way to Sunday school, when two older women stopped me. They said, “Good morning, Max, where are you going?” and I proudly told them I was on my way to Sunday school. Sticking my hand in my pocket and pulling out some pennies, I said, “And I’ve got the money to get in.” It seems like so many things happened in the summer of 1942, when I was five years old, My niece, Delores, was born on March 4th. She was the daughter of my brother, Bill, and his wife Mary. She, like myself, was born in an apartment over the family business. I recall Dad taking me out to Shakamak Beach one Sunday, so I could play in the water. It was about the only way people around here had of cooling off in those days before air conditioning. There were so many people in the water that Dad soon lost track of me, and I noticed kids sitting on the pier. That sounded like a good idea, so I decided to wade out to the pier, and sit a spell. No one had told me there was a step-off before you reached the pier, and that the water was much deeper there. When I reached the step-off, I went under the water and began drowning. I thrashed around in the water trying to stay afloat, but to no avail. I finally wore myself out and decided I was going to drown. Some people say your life passes before your eyes, when you are about to die, but such was not the case with me, maybe because I hadn’t had much life at five years of age. I just thought about Mom and Dad, and realized I would never see them again, and thought about how this would hurt them. It seemed I was losing consciousness, when suddenly something huge swam between my legs and was carrying me on its back. I thought it must be a big fish, and then I thought it’s bad enough to drown, without the fish getting you too. Before I had any more thoughts on my plight, my head came out of the water and I was able to breathe. I then realized this big kid had seen I was drowning and jumped in and saved me. It turned out to be an older boy I knew, named Bill Borders. He took me up to the beach and found Dad and told him what had happened. It really scared Dad, and he decided I was going to have to learn to swim. He took me up to a lifeguard at the beach, and after telling him of my close call, offered to pay him to teach me to swim, but he declined. By this time World War ll had begun, and three of my brothers, Bruce (Barney) Dan and Johnny had been drafted. Since I was so small, I really didn’t understand what was going on. I missed my older brothers, but soon adjusted to this new situation. Wiring materials soon became so scarce that Dad was forced to close the business and look for work. He and my brother-in-law, John Guthrie went to Toledo, Ohio looking for work. Evidently they didn’t find anything, but when they returned Dad went home with John and my sister Edith, to Kendallville, Indiana. Dad found work in Kendallville and sent money home to Mom each week. John and Edith brought Dad down, for a visit one weekend, and he had bought me a brand new Buck Jones cowboy suit, complete with belt, gun and holster. Boy I loved that cowboy suit. Mom had a time getting it off me to wash it. There was an older boy I knew, named Jerry Rumple; he was the next-door neighbor to my best friend Johnny Slavens. They lived on Burr Oak Street, near the city park. A farmer, named Charlie Neal, lived near to them, on North Park Avenue. Charlie had a barn across Burr Oak Street, where he kept cows. He hired Jerry to drive the cows out to a pasture he owned, every morning and back to the barn every evening. One day Jerry asked me if I wanted to help him go out and get the cows and drive them in to the barn. He said I had the cowboy suit so I must like cows. This sounded like fun, so I began going out to the pasture with Jerry, every evening, and helping him drive the cows home. Mr. Neal would caution us to never cut across the neighbor’s pasture. He said there was a mean bull in there and he was dangerous. It was quite a walk around that pasture and one day Jerry asked me if I had ever seen a bull over there. I told him I hadn’t seen one in all the times we had walked around it. Jerry said he thought Mr. Neal was lying to us, just to make us walk the extra distance, and said we were going to cut across today. We climbed over the barbwire fence and began walking across the forbidden pasture. We were about the middle of the pasture when we heard something bellow. We turned around and there was the largest bull I had ever seen, about twenty feet away. The bull was pawing the dirt with his hooves and tossing his head in the air. Jerry said, “its that red shirt of yours that’s made him mad, bulls hate red.” About that time the bull charged us, and Jerry grabbed me and held me up in front of him. He was so much larger than I was, that I couldn’t get away from him. Just before the bull reached us, Jerry realized that holding me in front of him wasn’t going to stop the bull, so he dropped me. We ran for the fence with that bull breathing right down our necks. When I reached the fence, I jumped as high as I could, the fence was higher than I was tall, and kicked both feet out in front of me, and sailed right over the fence. That ended my cow-herding career. I never went back out there with Jerry again. Not long after that Dad sent for Mom and I to join him. My brother Bill and his wife Mary were to drive us up. Bill was hoping to find work up there as well. So we loaded our clothes in Dad’s panel truck and drove to Kendallville. John Guthrie had found work in Detroit, Michigan, and he and Edith had moved there, so they let us move into their house. Kendallville was much larger than Jasonville, and I didn’t know the people, so I stopped running away. I only remember running away one time. I was at my sister Mildred’s house and my brother John’s wife Evelyn was taking care of me. I guess Mom and Dad had gone somewhere with Dave and Mildred. I got upset with Evelyn, and decided I was going home, I was sure I knew the way. Well I discovered just how much larger Kendallville was than Jasonville that day. I must have been all over town. I was looking for Clyde Street, but couldn’t remember the name, so I just wandered around hoping to find it. The one thing that stands out in my mind about that day was the number of tandem bicycles I saw, I remember seeing many numbers built for two and even saw one with five or six men riding it. This really fascinated me because I had never seen any before. I really don’t recall if I finally found my way home, or if the family found me, but it was some adventure. John Guthrie was laid off, from his job in Detroit, and he and Edith, and their daughter Sandra, had to move back to Kendallville. We had to move out of their home and find a place of our own. Dad rented half a duplex for us and we moved in there. The owner, whose name I am unable to spell, lived in the other side. Their grandson, Dewey, lived with them. I think he and I were the same age, so I had a new playmate. My twin nephews, Jimmy and Johnny, would sometimes ride me around on their bicycles. When one of their friends would ask who the little kid was, they would say Uncle Max. Their friends had a difficult time believing I was their uncle. It wasn’t long before my mother grew homesick for Jasonville, and wanted to move back. Everyone attempted to talk her into staying in Kendallville, but she just didn’t feel at home there, so Dad had to quit his job and bring us back. I don’t remember the date we moved back, but I am sure I celebrated my sixth birthday in Kendallville, and I remember being there for Easter. Back in Jasonville, Dad reopened his electrical business, and we resumed the life we had lived prior to moving away. One day I saw Dad talking to Oscar ‘Peggie’ Jones, out in front of the store. They were talking about fishing on the river. Peggie, it seemed, owned half interest in a fishing cabin, located on White river, and he was telling Dad that his partner, Lukie Maynard, wanted to sell his half, and was wondering if Dad was interest in buying him out. Dad was interested, and the next thing I knew I was learning to fish on the river. The cabin was located near a place called Rock Ripple, which was a rapids probably created when the glacier covered Indiana, during the last Ice Age. Some of the rocks located there were huge, they filled the river and also rested on the bank. The sound of the water rushing over the rocks, in the river, was not unlike listening to a waterfall. I remember going to bed in our cabin, and listening to Rock Ripple, and then being lulled off to sleep by the sound. Dad met an old man one day, down near the ripple, and the old man told him he remembered seeing Indians crossing Rock Ripple, on horses, when he was just a boy. I don't know whether the story was true or not but the ripple would have been an excellent place to ford the river Of all the experiences of my childhood, I would have to rate the time we spent on the river, as one of the most enjoyable. Although my first night on the river was pretty scary, at least it was for a five year old boy. Dad and Peggie had put trotlines in the river before dark, they woke me in the wee hours of the morning and announced that it was time to go run the lines to see if they had any fish on them. The lines were full of catfish which the two of them began removing and throwing in the boat. I was sitting in the back of the boat, with no light, and had never seen a catfish before. They kept warning me to keep my feet up so the catfish wouldn't horn me. I was trying to imagine what a fish would look like that had horns and I came up with some pretty scary images in my mind. I remember I became so afraid I begin crying. Dad soon bought the other half of the cabin from Peggie Jones, and began to make improvements to it. He added a screened- in front porch which could double as another room when we had company. He also dammed up the creek that ran behind our cabin making me a little swimming pool, and with the help of two teenage boys, from the nearest cabin he made me a swing which hung from a limb of a huge oak tree that grew near the cabin. My favorite place to play was the large sandbar across the river from our cabin. It was like having my own private beach because the only way to get to it was by boat. Dad would take me over there occasionally and let me play. He would fish off the sandbar while I was playing. I remember him making throw lines, which consisted of a heavy line with hools on it and a window weight on the end. He would stretch the line out on the sandbar and then pick up the end, with the weight on it, and swing it over his head until he had sufficient momentum, then throw it into the river. He would tie the other end of the line to a willow and when the willow shook he knew he had caught a fish. The river was clear enough, in those days, that you could see the botom, in shallow water, and we would look for the trails made by the river mussels and dig then up. Dad would open the shells, remove the meat and boil it. The meat was then put into canning jars and buried in the ground to be dug up later and used as fish bait. I remember it was really smelly. Dad and my older brother Bill would seine minnows, or minners a we called them then, along the sandbar, to use for bait also. Keeping several trotlines in the river can keep a person busy finding bait for them. I also delighted in finding where the turtles had hid their eggs and digging them up. I don't remember why now, it must have been the thrill of finding something that was hidden. I recall nights spent in the cabin, with Mom and Dad and only the dim light of a kerosene lamp to see by. I don't think I ever felt closer to my Mom and Dad than I did on those nights when the three of us shared our little cabin. My mother always made her own beer, ot home brew as it is called. She would put all the ingredients together in large ceramic vats which were about two feet high. These were placed in a vacant room to age. Once the beer was made a siphon hose was used to move the beer from the vat into glass bottles. The bottles were then sealed with a capping machine. I used to love to help her bottle the beer. |
| To Be Continued |
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