EAST AND WEST

I try in these columns to share information about our West Coast family, those in the East and those inbetween. A few days ago I received a nice story about Stephen A. Giils, son of my grandfather's sisters, Ann Gillis. It was written by Peggy Rudderham, one of Stephen's daughters. You may have recalled and enjoyed an article Peg wrote awhile ago that was published in this Newsletter and which told about her being trapped in a utility yard in her fur coat and having to crawl under the wire fence to get out. She won a local creative writing competion in the Sydney newspaper for that piece. Another person I feature this month is Nancy Frye,granddaughter of cousin John Frye, also an Eastern kin. John confessed to me he was both proud and yet a little embarrased by this clipping. I think you will see why. Hopefully, my slide show on my West Coast aunts will help to balance the East West scale.

Let me remind you that much of what I publish here has come from family members so PLEASE think about writing an article for a future issue. It could be a biological sketch on your grandfather or a comical piece about your chidhood. All such articles would be of interest.

STEPHEN A. GILLIS

By Margaret Gillis Rudderham

Stephen Alexander Gillis was born on a farm on Meadows Road in East Bay (Laughlin Mc Donald was also born on Meadows Rd.) in 1860. He was the son of John A. Gillis and Annie MacDonald, (daughter of then Senator John MacDonald). Being the eldest son of a family of eight, it became his lot to provide for his mother and siblings when his father died in 1882 at the age of 55. In the early 1900's he came to Whitney Pier where he met and married my mother, Jessie Cash, formerly from Irish Cove. They resided on French Street until their sixth child (Kay Gillis Wall) was a year old, at which time (1913) they moved into their new home on Church Street in time for Christmas. I was one of four more children who completed the brood, consisting of Johnnie, Annie, Mae, Theresa, Mickey, Kay, Danny, Robert, me (Peggy) and Paddy. We had the best of both worlds, city conveniences plus lots of land containing a pond, which was a popular skating and hockey spot for neighbors before rinks were built, as well as a hill which provided coasting from Lingan Road to Victoria Road. We had two cars, a 1923 Studebaker (Packard Design) and a Chevrolet with isin glass for snap on windows on the sides and running boards. It had to be cranked at times in order to start it. This made it possible for us to visit family members in the country and family trips to picnic and pick berries out on Grand Lake Road. My mother always came prepared with picnic baskets consisting of hams, homemade bread, biscuits, butter, etc., always a feast enjoyed by all.

We always had our own cow, horse, chickens and ducks. At one time my father raced his horse on Sydney Harbor in the winter. All our vegetables were home grown and stored in bins in the basement in winter. My father built a root cellar under the veranda, which was insulated with eel grass. He had sides of beef, pork, etc., hanging, which supplied us with our meats. We always had a barrel of apples on hand. There always seemed to be people coming down over the hill who would come to our door looking for food. No one was ever reftused. Father was a road construction contractor and many of our roads and highways were built by him and his crew, which consisted of the men, horses, picks and shovels and dynamite. He also had a rural logging camp which employed woodsmen.

We were accustomed to having people come to our home looking for work. We always had a telephone and one of the first washing machines. To add to the point that there were always men coming to our home looking for work from my father, i.e., one particular evening after supper in March, 1928, during a severe blizzard, my father, mother and two older sisters were seated in our large front hall, enjoying the warmth emanating from the register above our large coal fired furnace, feeling safe and secure as the winds screeched and howled with a vengeance like a thousand devils outside the house. Suddenly a pounding was heard on the door; Poppa jumped up and said, "Holy God! Who could be out on a night like this?" When he opened the door, the wind caught him and took him out onto the veranda. As he struggled to get back into the house, a young stranger appeared beside him. To our amazement, he was a handsome young man whose face was scarlet from the cold weather, wearing only a suit and not hat. He was looking very apprehensive and glancing furtively from one of us to the other and refused a seat, but stood with his back to the door saying, "Mr. Gillis, I was told that you have a lumber camp; can you give me a job"? Poppa said to him, "My God man, it is not fit for a dog to be out tonight; stay the night and I will find something for you in the morning". Abruptly the man turned, opened the door and dashed out into the storm. The next day when our local paper arrived, my parents were horrified to see our strange visitor's picture on the front page with the caption "Charged with Murder". My mother exclaimed "Blessed Virgin (in Gaelic), you invited him to stay the night and we could have all been murdered in our beds!" The name of the stranger was Emmitt Sloane, a former American Gold Medal Skier who had fallen on hard times and came to Sydney. He murdered and robbed a young hotel clerk (who was married only six weeks) at a local hotel in Sydney. The clerk had only a couple of dollars on him. The newspaper told how the man had arrived at a lumber camp late at night and had repaired a broken radio in the bunkhouse. When his description came over the radio, beads of sweat came down his forehead. The other men were calm and pretended not to notice. One man, on pretense of going to bed, left the camp and walked to the nearest phone and called the authorities, who arrived before dawn and took him into custody. Emmitt Sloane was incarcerated at the County Jail, subsequently tried and sentenced to hang, which took place once the scaffold was erected. We never discovered who sent him to my father's house or to the lumber camp. This remains a mystery to this day.

My father was political minded. He received an engraved silver tea service in 1905 from the Sydney City Council on which he served as an alderman for Ward 6. The tea sevice is now in the possesion of his grand daughter Marilyn (Wall) Mc Intyre. He was a "dyed in the wool" Tory. The year that Gordon S. Harrington was defeated as premier my father accompanied him as he campaigned through the streets. Poppa was crushed by the defeat. He suffered a stroke shortly there after. He died October 30. 1933 at the age of 73. My mother, Jessie, died October 30, 1932. In March of 1933 my sister, Theresa, died at the age of 23. My brother, Danny, died during the summer of of 1934 at the age of 19 years. Brother Robert died in 1944 at the age of 29.

My father was dedicated to his faith and his parish. Holy Redeemer.

He worked closely with the pastors. A cement retaining wall, which he had built to support the church lawn, was still in good condition until it was damaged by a sidewalk plow a few years ago.

A memory of Danny Momson's (former caretaker at Whitney School), was the numerous times during the winter months that funeral processions could not reach Calvary Cemetery at the top of Church Street. Steve Gillis would hitch up his horse and sleigh, then the casket would be placed on the sleigh surrounded by the six pallbearers.

Winters were very severe with blizzards and extremely high snow banks. At times when the horses were chest deep in snow and could go'no farther, the men would have to shovel their way through the drifts, carrying the casket until they reached the side gate of the cemetery. Another memory of those days was looking out a rear window of our home on Nov. I, All Souls Day, watching dozens of flickering candles which the Polish and Ukrainian families had placed on the gravesites of their loved ones. These candles were left there until they burned out. This was a yearly custom in those days.

"Ben Eoin", Cape Breton - which is Gaelic for "Big John's Mountain", is named after my father's Grandfather, Big John Gillis, who was the first settler.

NAVEL MANUEVERS

Belly Dancer

Unveiled: Pop Culture Brings Traditional Belly Dancing Back to Popularity

by Dana Bisbee Sunday, July 14, 2002, Boston Herald

Your navel is a rounded bowl that never lacks mixed wine.
Your belly is a heap of wheat encircled with lilies.
- Song of Solomon 7:2.
Bellies are in - and the ancient art of belly dancing is benefiting from the exposure.

From Britney Spears - the high priestess of the bare-belly look - to Yancy Butler, star of the TBS series ``Witchblade,'' to noontime Newbury Street shoppers and midnight clubgoers, young women in short tops and hip-huggers are flashing their tummies. Colombian singer Shakira performs belly dance in videos and at concerts. And women are flocking to belly-dance classes around the Hub. ``In the Boston area, there are some 40 active belly-dance teachers,'' said Bellydance Music Association founder and musician Steven Kouyoumjian. ``Everyone tells me that the number of young students is booming now.'' ``MTV is responsible,'' said Melinda Heywood, who teaches belly dance at Daughters of Rhea in Newton and, as Melina, dances regularly at Karoun, a Newtonville restaurant. ``

There's a lot more interest in the dance,'' she said, ``and it's because of Shakira and Britney. College students come and say, `Can you make me dance like that?' Later, they get beyond that and want to learn the art form.'' Belly dance, sometimes called Oriental dance, comes to us from the Middle East and Mediterranean coast. An Egyptian form is called raks sharqi. There are Jordanian, Turkish, Greek and Lebanese styles, too. And then there's American Fusion, the melting pot for all belly-dance styles. The styles differ in tempo, foot movements and the use of arms and hips. But all focus on dramatic, rhythmic, controlled movement of the stomach muscles. It all derives from ritual dances that are centuries older than the countries that claim them. ``It is a primal dance,'' Heywood said. ``It's prehistoric and matriarchal. It's a rite of fertility. The undulations of the belly mimic the natural motions of childbirth.'' `

`The belly is the site of fertility,'' said Deanna Likouri, Heywood's mother, who dances professionally as Rhea. ``In Hinduism, the navel is one of the shakras, an energy center.''

Rhea said that the dance is passed down properly from mother to daughter. She taught Heywood, who now is teaching her daughter, Zoe Isadora, 2. The three generations - Rhea, Melina and Zoe - danced together recently at the Bellydance Music Association party at Arlington's American Legion Hall. Organized in 1999 by Kouyoumjian and dancer-singer-musician Lisa Casselli, the association hosts events and workshops to promote the dance and the music. Most recent guest artists were Rose Champagne, who teaches in Holyoke, and Zahira, the performance name of New Hampshire-based dancer Nancy Frye (Grandaughter of cousin John Frye and seen above), who first learned the moves as a child at the U.S. Army base in Ansbach, Germany. Frye said that the dance is liberating. ``When I'm belly dancing, I feel beautiful, happy and part of the music,'' she said. ``My vain side screams, `Look at me now!' and the selfless side says, `Join me in my happiness and experience the beauty of the song.' '' If the bare-belly trend has fueled a belly-dance boom, the ancient rite also is influencing fashion.

Stores sell jeans with waistbands removed to get lower down the hips. They carry the spangly-dangly jewelry reminiscent of belly-dance costuming. ``Belts or glitzy halter tops,'' Frye said, ``hip wraps or belly chains, shoes that have glitz and beading - all that is an incorporation of the belly-dance world.'' Even medicine is keeping pace with the belly trend.

There's a new procedure called umbilicoplasty,'' said plastic surgeon Ramsey Alsarraf of the Newbury Center, ``for women who want their navels pierced or those who have had a bad piercing experience, to make it more attractive.''

Couture designer Denise Hajjar, who started studying belly dance at age 10, predicts that bare bellies will be with us for a long time. ``The young kids won't stop because they like it,'' she said. ``It's a way of showing skin without exposing cleavage. And if they have a bellybutton ring or tattoo, they want to show it off.''

Belly-dance teachers are waiting for them. The dance is good exercise. It is a good vehicle for meditation. And it is an ages-old art that has been taught and practiced even when women are not so belly-concious.

``It'll never be boring,'' Melinda ``Melina'' Heywood said, ``to watch someone undulating.''

I BUILT IT AND THEY CAME

Field of Dreams

This week I received the forty second "Cousin Contact" since I first built my web page. "Cousin Contacts" are those I receive as a result of a cousin I hadn't known previously contacting me after visiting my web page. This one from Dan Gillis is quite similiar to the others I have received:

From: "Don Gillis"
To: "William Norin"
Subject: Re: Gillis Clan
Date: Sun, 6 Oct 2002 12:17:58 -0400

Dear Bill:
Here is some background

My grandfather was Augustine (Austin Douglas Gillis) born 1882 St. Margaret's PEI, Canada. His father was Hugh Daniel Gillis born 1835 Hay River died in Rhode Island in 1897. He married Flora MacDonald. They had three children, Flora, Augustine, and Margaret. Augustine (known as Austin) came to the USA in 1901, worked in the Maine woods. He moved to Noank, Ct and married Emmeline D'Entremont in 1903(?). They had three children, my father, Douglas E.. Regina M, and Chester L. all whom are now deceased. Emmeline died in 1918 in Westfield, MA. Austin remarried Grace E. Drake in 1920 in Westfield, MA and they had four children, Grace R (1924), Marion E (1926), Margaret S (1927) and George A (1936) all whom are still living. Austin died in 1963 (I was 14 years old and was a pallbearer at his funeral!, in Westfield, Ma on a very snowy New England day. I will never forget it. According to my Aunt Margaret S (see above) she says:

"Austin D. Gillis, my father, worked in a lobster factory in PEI, Canada, when he was quite young. After his mother died he lived with his mother's brother, John MacDonald, in St. Margarets PEI. After he left the Island he worked in various jobs. Going to work for the New York-New Haven & Hartford Railroad, becoming Bridge and Building Supervisor for 48 years. He was honored with many awards for his integrity. My father told us that his ancestors were Scotch Catholics who left there for a better life in Canada."

Are we related? Since your last name is Norin, are your relatives Gillises? Sincerely yours
Don Gillis

LOVELY LADIES

Once upon a time boys and girls there were seven gorgeous girls who were born in the middle of the Golden State of California. The were good little Catholic girl (when I was in high school that would have been an oxymoron!)and they were all baptised in an old Spanish Mission, originaly founded by the Spanish Franciscan Missionaries in 1797; it was the 16th mission founded in the 21 mission chain in Alta California. The girls' father almost religiously followed the old Scottish naming pattern with his girls; first born Ellen was named after her maternal grandmother, and Theresa, Agnes, Catherine and Ann were all named after their father's sisters, Mary was named after her mother. It is suspected that Bessie (Elizabeth) was named after her grandfather's (Peter Mc Adam) sister. The seven girls had seven brothers and there names too followed this pattern.

The girl's parents were married in the old San Miguel Mission church. Each Sunday they would all sit abreast in the family pew, anxiously awaiting the sound of their father's footsteps coming down the aisle and hoping they would not hear the familiar hesitant wobble as he returned from the local saloon owned by he and his brother, Michael.

The girls attended the Phillip's School which had been established by their father and his brother and their cousins. This was a typical rural one-room schoolhouse whose student body consisted in the main of children with the name Mc Donald. Laughlin.s fourteen children , Uncle Michael's six children and the issue of cousin Ronald. When the school marm called for a Mc Donald to recite almost all assembled raised their hand.

There was not much in the way of entertainment out on the ranch except that which the kids could create themselves like when the boys would paint the chickens various colors and bet on the cockfights. The highlight of most weekends were the dances held in the Phillip's School House on Saturday nights until the wee hours of the morning. Aunt Tessie danced with Will Dalton of Dalton Gang fame at one of these Saturday night outings.

The girls as they grew older were all required to work at the ranch serving food to the many ranchhands who worked the fields. It was hard grueling work and the girls for the most part hated it. They also were responsible for tending their many younger siblings and they were embarrased to tell their friends how many brothers and sisters they had for fear that their chums might think "it" was all their parents did.

One morning around the turn of the century the Phillip's school teacher caught cousin Frances Mc Donald peaking out a window. When she asked him what he was doing he told her he was watching his cousins riding down Estrella Road in their covered wagon. They were all there except for Ellie who had recently married They were all huddled together in the wagon and were pulling a cow behind them. It seems that the bank had withdrawn Laughlin's chattel mortgage and he had lost everything. They were heading for Hanford, California which was North East of Estrella and probably a three day ride. They would travel over Mustang Pass in the Coastal Range and spend the first night in a farmer's alfalfa field. The girl's life on the farm had come to the end and their once prosperous father was now nearly a pauper.

As time moved on in Hanford and the girls grew older they married and, except for Ellie, most moved eventually to the Bay Area. Now, only Mary and Bess were left at home to help as breadwinners and kepers of the house. Soon Tessie and Agnes persuaded my Mom that she would be happier living with them in Oakland and working in San Francisco so she too left for the big city.

As years went by their parents moved first to Modesto and then to Oakland, presumably in their old age to be near their children . Except for Ellie, the girls and their families settled into the Bay Area and saw each other regularly on holidays or when it was their turn to spend the weekend helping out their parents. In 1938 their father died and every one of his children attended the funeral; I believe I was there also. A couple years later their Mom died and the seven gorgeous girls turned into seven lovely ladies and here they are:

* I am deeply indebted to all my cousins who contributed the information contained in this piece. I tried to keep it as accurate a description of my aunties' lives as I could.

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