One detail that caught my eye, as I read the obituary for
Maud Woodworth Bean’s father, was a strangely familiar story line—one that
replicated her husband Sam’s own history of blindness.
Remember, Samuel W. Bean was one of a set of perfectly healthy, rambunctious twin boys born in 1896 to Redwood City, California, residents Leon and Ella Shields Bean. Somewhere between his thirteenth and sixteenth year—depending on whether you believe the “rock fight” or “baseball game” version of the story—Sam sustained an injury to his eye, which eventually also affected his hearing. Unable to see or hear from that point onward, he soon enrolled in the California School for the Deaf and Blind in Berkeley, where he met his future wife, Maud Woodworth.
Remember, Samuel W. Bean was one of a set of perfectly healthy, rambunctious twin boys born in 1896 to Redwood City, California, residents Leon and Ella Shields Bean. Somewhere between his thirteenth and sixteenth year—depending on whether you believe the “rock fight” or “baseball game” version of the story—Sam sustained an injury to his eye, which eventually also affected his hearing. Unable to see or hear from that point onward, he soon enrolled in the California School for the Deaf and Blind in Berkeley, where he met his future wife, Maud Woodworth.
Apparently, this scenario repeated one that Maud was already
quite accustomed to: the story of her own father, William C. Woodworth. Take a
look at this excerpt from the front page of the Covina Argus
on May 25, 1928, where William Woodworth’s obituary was published, and see if
this report sounds familiar to you:
At the age of twelve the sight of Mr. Woodworth’s right eye was destroyed by a blow from a snowball thrown by a schoolmate, and when thirty-eight years of age he lost the vision of his left eye. Although living in total darkness for nearly twenty-five years, he looked after the affairs of his large ranch and retained his sunny, cheerful disposition which made for him a host of friends.
Photograph above: An unidentified man stands in a dirt driveway near an old truck in this unmarked, undated picture from the collection of Bill Bean. While this most likely is not William Woodworth, it could possibly be someone from that same time period and region.
Poor Maud must have felt as if she were living under a dark cloud. She had a strong role model in her father to help shape Sam into the same kind of positive-thinking, self-sufficient man.
ReplyDeleteActually, Wendy, I'm wondering if discovering those same qualities in Sam was what attracted Maud to him. Like father-in-law, like son-in-law???
DeleteThat photo is intriguing. The writing on the top of the spare tire is hard to read (perhaps it is readable in the original?) but it looks like it says "Oakland California" on the bottom row. I wonder if he has a spark plug in his hand... of course it could simply be the truck keys.
ReplyDeleteIggy, try as I might--better lighting and magnifying glass--I could not decipher that writing in the original. It's a small photo to start with--only 3 inches by 4 1/4 inches. Of course, my eyes are generally shot by the end of the day, so I tried drafting others to read it for me, too. Still no luck. All I could make out was the final "A" on the bottom line.
DeleteIt will have to remain a mystery for now...
I wondered what the writing was too! Interesting history of her Dad:)
ReplyDeleteWell, Far Side, besides Iggy, you and me, both! I even blew the thing up on my photoshop program to see if I could read it.
DeleteThe obit was a real gift, though. Sometimes you can really get lucky with some of those small town newspapers back in the day when that kind of stuff would actually get printed.
Oh, heavens. This is chilling! The rock fight, the baseball game, and the snowball. How much bad luck can befall one family? Maybe it's better that now everyone is playing videogames and wears helmets for everything. Brrrr.
ReplyDeleteNow, that's a different way of seeing it, Mariann! Never thought there would be a plus side to gaming...
Delete