Monday, March 4, 2013

The Way Sam Saw It


Imagine entering your teen years, a fun-loving young person full of life and great expectations. Imagine that promise being transformed—nearly overnight—into a scenario that can, at best, only barely assure you of an independent existence and the liberty to make what you can of it.

That was Samuel W. Bean’s story from the point at age thirteen when a freak accident took away not only his eyesight but also his hearing.

Perhaps because Sam’s family wanted the best for him, his mother, Ella, moved her three children from their former home in Palo Alto to a new location across the Bay, in Alameda, California. There, the family—minus, by this time, Sam’s father Leon—was close enough for Sam to access the services of what was then known as the Berkeley School for the Deaf.

During Sam’s tenure at the school, multiple reports of his progress were sprinkled throughout several issues of local newspapers. I often wonder if Sam was as much the poster boy for the Berkeley School as seems apparent—or if Ella was adept at serving as the quintessential stage mom. Somebody served as vocal advocate for Sam during his school years—and even beyond that time.

Perhaps in hopes that an American public, already sensitized to the particular difficulties of the deafblind thanks to the saga of Helen Keller, would be sympathetic to a similar cause much closer to home, the local newspapers near Sam’s hometown—particularly the Oakland Tribune—often picked up stories about Sam’s progress through his school years.

Even after the completion of his course of studies—that queasy point of trepidation in every new graduate’s transformation from learner to earner—Sam somehow had parts of his story echoed in newspaper reports.

In what appears to be a regular feature of the Oakland Tribune, the “Blue Bird Bureau” served to encourage local citizens to make business choices coupled with philanthropic impact. The Sunday morning edition on August 12, 1917, chose to provide young graduate Sam and his new business a boost:  
            Samuel W. Bean is now 21. Eight years ago he was a jolly school boy when he was struck in the eye by a rock thrown by a playmate. The accident deprived him of both sight and hearing.
            At first the lad was cast into the depth of despair by his misfortune. His father taught him to handle tools, and he became proficient in making furniture, several pieces of which he sold. His life, since the first recovery from the wretchedness, which was the aftermath of blindness and loss of hearing, has been a struggle to overcome his handicaps. He mastered the manual alphabet, and can now communicate by speech, his voice and accent being good, despite his deafness.
            With a courage that has surmounted obstacle after obstacle, he is now working to make himself independent by soliciting subscriptions for magazines. His home is at 1807 Santa Clara avenue, Alameda, and his telephone number, Alameda 2583. It will be helping a man who is making heroic efforts to help himself to ask him to act as agent in renewing or commencing any magazine subscription.


14 comments:

  1. The only thing that Sam had going for him was the fact that he was born with his senses and knew what things sounded like and what things looked like. More importantly he knew how to communicate speaking.

    I can not imagine how people born without or lose their ability to communicate at an early age.

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    1. Claudia, you are right: thankfully, Sam already was able to communicate. Speaking was not a skill foreign to him. That came in handy in later years when he attempted speaking to groups about his experience.

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  2. And a business man is born..I cannot fathom woodworking without sight:)

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    1. Far Side, I wish I was as facile with cameras as you are. It's my all-thumbs approach that keeps me from just snapping a shot of the chess table I have, made by Sam. It is of an inlaid wood pattern and quite impressive, especially when you consider it was a blind man who put it together.

      A couple things to keep in mind: these were not power tools he was using--that, to me, would be freaky!

      And he surely had to have someone else sort the various pieces of wood by color. He would have no way to know if he were producing the right pattern, otherwise, I would think.

      Whatever it was that he did to keep organized, I'm sure he worked out a system to accommodate his challenges. By the reports I've read in various newspaper articles, Sam was a fast worker. It sounds like he was certainly up to the challenge!

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  3. I am nearly deaf and the thought of going blind fills me with get horror and fear. Try walking somewhere with ear plugs... you still get there - now try it with your eyes closed...

    I'm sure I'll never catch up with all that I've missed in terms of your blog posts - but will be back once more from this point forward - oh how I've missed reading these words of yours!!

    :)

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    1. So glad you are back and doing so much better, Iggy! Always appreciate your insight and helpful links and resources!

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  4. Oh Jacqi,

    Such a tragic accident for poor Sam! And I can't imagine how badly his friend must have felt who threw the rock. He had to live with that regret the rest of his life.

    Sam's mom sounds like an amazingly heroic mom advocating for her son. Good for her! And good for Sam in becoming an independent young man.

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    1. You bring up some important points, Jana. That incident must have been traumatic for not only Sam, but for his classmate. And yes, Ella's role in Sam's recovery was vital--a good point to focus on as we enter March, the Women's History research month!

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  5. I agree with Jana. This is as much a story about Ella as it is Sam. Less resourceful people might have just accepted their lot would be as a permanent caregiver to an invalid. Ella seems to have been very progressive.

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    1. Wendy, when I think of Ella, I think of her daughter, Leona. I never met Ella, of course, but I did get to know Leona, and she was full of spunk and determination--even in her eighties. If that was the way Ella was, I'm sure she was a fierce advocate for her son.

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  6. I think it's good that Sam was famous and that people were advocating for him. I hope he knew that. He must have badly needed some positive news in his life. He was a local hero, and why not? Other people rose to the occasion for Sam, so that he could rise, too. And that playmate who threw the rock . . . how he must have felt! How his family must have felt! Maybe they were part of Sam's support system throughout life.

    What a wrenching story.

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    1. Sam definitely had his ups and downs, once the final news sunk in that there was no hope for his eyesight or hearing. I think his school years were golden years for him, mostly because of that wonderful support system he had. There were several newspaper reports of his progress and his unusual opportunities in the face of such challenges. It's after his graduation that I have less access to information on how life went for him. Of course, it would have been different, had I been able to meet him, but he died several years before his siblings (whom I did know), and I have not been able to access many records from those later years.

      But I'm still trying!

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  7. What a fascinating peek into Sam's life here, Jacqui. Thanks for sharing - the newspaper article must have struck many hearts, I'm thinking, eh? Great post.

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    1. Celia, I'm not sure how large a town Alameda was at the time Sam's family lived there, but these stories certainly give the idea that not only his home base in Alameda, but the school vicinity (Berkeley) and the larger community in which the newspaper was based (Oakland) certainly gave him much heartfelt support.

      Thanks for stopping by and leaving a comment. Glad you enjoyed the post!

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