The House at 2661 New Haven Street

 

2661 New Haven Street, Dubuque Iowa

ca. Winter 1971

Today, even the words "New Haven Street" tug at my heart and memories jump into the forefront of my thoughts. But there was a time when the street did not exist, nor the house we grew up in. 

Our family in spring 1961, consisted of my parents, myself and my sisters, Viki and infant, Lynn. At that time, we lived in a small 2-bedroom house on Hale Street and Dad and Mom decided we needed more room. Mom drew up what she wanted for the floor plan, Dad created the blueprints and my grandfather, Maurice Bush, a retired carpenter, became the contractor in charge of building the house.

We had a large garage right next to the house on Hale Street, it was as big as the house itself. A lot of activity started happening in that garage that little girls found fascinating. Mom, as well as Dad, Grandpa and a few strangers popped in and out throughout the days to work in there. The saws would make loud noises and Viki and I would cover our ears but stood there watching everything that was going on. This went on for some time and Grandpa, who we saw most of the time anyway, came and went more frequently, sometimes multiple times a day. Two curious little girls finally had enough wondering about what was going on and decided to find out for themselves. While Grandpa was in the house having a cup of coffee or a chat with Mom, Viki and I crawled into the back floorboards of his car. Grandpa hopped in a few minutes later and we were off.  

We must have been terrified of being found out because we were silent during the car ride and my grandfather had no idea, we were right behind him. A short time later Grandpa pulled the car to a stop and got out.  Viki and I slowly raised our heads and looked around us. We saw Grandpa up on the hill talking to men in front of something that looked like big pieces of wood put together in the shape of a house but that we could have walked right through. We turned our heads around. There were a few houses here or there, piles of dirt some places, big holes other places and a few more of those stick houses. All very interesting. The door to the car opened suddenly and we both jumped. We had been discovered. Grandpa just laughed at us, got in the car, and drove us back home. The big secret was out! We were going to have a new house.

The dirt covered property that we had just seen was on Lot 11 in Block 12 in Steger Heights Subdivision. At the time that New Haven Street was put in, it was literally the western edge of Dubuque. If you walked just to the crest of the hill all you could see was farmland and countryside in the distance to the west. Center Grove Church, about a mile away, was the only distinctive feature in the landscape and at that time Highway 20 ran a block behind our house rather than several blocks away to the south where it was moved during the mid-1960's. 

The house went up quickly. I started kindergarten that fall and while I was at school, and Viki and Lynn were with Grandma, Mom and Dad moved us from one house to the other on Sept 15, 1961.  Walking into the house that first afternoon was so exciting. We had beautiful hardwood floors throughout the living area and bedrooms that Dad had finished, and a kitchen table that was built into the wall of the kitchen, something I had never seen before. Walking down the hall we saw the bedroom that was going to be Lynn's, then further back was Mom and Dad's room at the front corner and Viki and my room at the back corner of the house. Our bedroom even had a toy closet built into the wall that had our dolls and games waiting for us. 

Although I did not realize it then, the house was of a very modern design inside with a lot of built-in features that other homes did not have. We had a linen closet that spanned the back of the hallway with shelves enclosed by cabinet doors on top and drawers below it. Dad built in false floors in our closet, and in theirs, that had a drop lid shoe chest and drawers along the front for extra storage underneath. Eventually the front bedroom had a chest of drawers built in as well. We had a large closet built over the stairwell to the basement which allowed for storage of larger things that sat on 2-foot-high tiered shelves that also allowed us to get into the attic. 

Most 3-bedroom houses of that time did not have more than a single bathroom. Dad and Mom had designed a longer narrow space divided by a door with entrances from both the back foyer and from the hallway. Walking in from the hallway was our tub and a large vanity that ran the length of the space with a sink to one side and storage underneath, then through to a smaller area with a toilet, sink and the washer and dryer. It was designed for a bigger family, and eventually there were eight of us in all and that bathroom allowed for us to get showers, dressed, hair fixed, and laundry done with surprising grace; most of the time.

Mom's kitchen, was a galley shape and had floor to ceiling cabinets, long spacious countertops, and a large utility closet that sat behind our kitchen table. If there was a spot to build in storage, there was something there; giving Arts and Crafts features to the ranch style house. The basement became our favorite play space, especially in the winter, and we had room to ride our tricycles, play with our toy kitchen and other large toys to our hearts' content. Later as Mark, Lisa and Jill arrived, two bedrooms were created in the basement for Viki and I and a work room for Dad. The play space became smaller but then had a TV and comfortable furniture for the kids to congregate. 

Our family owned the house over 40 years until July 2002 when Mom sold it to downsize to a smaller apartment. We all drive past the house whenever we are back in Dubuque; looking at what's changed and what is still the same. So many memories lie within those walls.

Spring Time

A look at the plans for the new house:

Double click on images to enlarge

The front elevation of the house including swing set placement.

Floor plan

The basement and garage with the curving steps down to the driveway.

The original color of the house remained for several years until a bad hailstorm destroyed the siding.  When it was replaced, the house was painted an olive green that remained until the house was sold.

My sister, Lynn, Spring 1966.

2661 New Haven Street with the curved stairs, 6th house down from the corner

New Haven Street in 2013, upper street.

© Karla Von Fumetti Staudt

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored on a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise – without prior permission of the copyright owner and publisher.

Romance and Marriage: Kathleen Kenyon and Cyril Von Fumetti, 1949-1955

Cyril and Kathleen Von Fumetti

November 19, 1955

Cyril "Cy" Von Fumetti grew up in Dubuque, Iowa.  Kathleen "Katie" Kenyon grew up in Monroe County, Wisconsin.  Their paths might never have crossed except for Camp McCoy, an Army training base, in Monroe County, between Tomah and Sparta.  

Click here for History of Camp McCoy, now Fort McCoy

Click photos to view full size

Cy graduated from high school in 1948 and went to the University of Iowa in Iowa City that fall as a mechanical engineering major.  Needing a way to earn and pay for college expenses he joined the Army ROTC program at the university.  Part of the commitment to the Army included an obligation to participate in summer training. That training took Cy to Camp McCoy the summer of 1949, and the following summers again the next 3 years.  

Cyril met Katie sometime over the summer of 1949 when she was between her Junior and Senior year of high school.  We would not know about that early meeting except that one of her friends made a comment about "Si" in Katie's senior yearbook. 

It was likely a slow to develop friendship or romance because Cyril was not in Monroe County on a regular basis other than during the summers.  Katie had several boyfriends over the same years and moved around enough that no grass grew under her shoes.  

She graduated from Tomah High School in May 1950 and spent the summer at home in Tomah, working at the local A&W.  Although neither Cyril nor Katie ever talked much about their dating life, it is likely they resumed their friendship that summer. At the end of summer training, Cyril returned to the University of Iowa and Katie started at the University of Wisconsin in Madison that fall majoring in Chemistry.  

Katie's College Womens' Dorm 

"The Badger Club"

The Badger Club Residents

University of Wisconsin - Madison

Fall 1950

Katie, age 18, is in the front row, 2nd from the right

Katie was awarded a one-year tuition scholarship to the University of Wisconsin and a monetary science award from Bausch & Lomb.  Her brother Kyle Kenyon gave her a significant gift of money on her graduation from high school which she used to help pay housing and expenses.  In addition, Katie found a job as a part time clerk-typist job in the Sociology Department at the UW.  Despite everything she did not have enough funds to continue after the first semester and had to step away from the university.  

Katie went to work for Cutler and Hamer Engineering Services as a full-time editorial-clerk in Milwaukee, Wisconsin for a little over a year from March 1951 through June of 1952 along with doubling up as a nanny for a local family.  Cyril was back in Camp McCoy the summer of 1951 when Katie was working in Milwaukee.  We do not know if they saw each other much, if at all, that summer.  

Katie, center

Milwaukee Club ca. 1951-1953

When Katie left Milwaukee and returned to Tomah the summer of 1952, she was employed at Camp McCoy as a clerk typist and continued there through September 1953.  She and Cyril may have dated the first summer in 1952, but he was officially sworn in as a second Lieutenant in the Army in February 1953 and was in France and Germany the summer of 1953.

Katie was able to go back to the University of Madison fall of 1953 as a full-time student.  She had dated a local boy from high school over the past few years and they became engaged Christmas 1953 over the winter break. The engagement was brief and was broken off because Katie wanted a large family, and he did not.  

Katie with "small gift"

Christmas 1953

By late spring 1954 Kathleen had moved on with her life and was socializing again at the university.  

"Pajama Party"

University of Wisconsin

Katie, center checked shirt.

Delta Theta Sigma Fraternity Formal

May 8, 1954

Katie is in the 2nd row, 3rd person from the left.

Katie was hired as a part-time typist by Solvit Chemical Company in Madison during the school year 1953-54 but needed a full-time job that summer to help with fall school expenses. During that summer of 1954, Katie returned to Tomah to work as a clerk-typist and stock-record clerk in the Commissary Office at Camp McCoy.  When it was time to go back to Madison for fall semester, she took on a part-time typist job with Schwarz Paper Company in Madison.  Cyril spent that entire time in France.

Always a very social young woman, Katie ran for and became a semi-finalist for the 1955 University of Wisconsin Prom Queen.

Katie permanently left school in February 1955, returning home to Tomah and went back to work in a promoted full-time position as Requisition Clerk for the Commissary Office at Camp McCoy until mid-October.  She quit her job at that point to get ready for her wedding to Cyril and prepare for a permanent move to Dubuque, Iowa.   Katie left college the first time to earn money to go back later, but it is unclear why she left college the second time as Cyril did not return from France until May 1955.  They may have been engaged already at that time and knew she would not finish before they were married.

Women Employees at Camp McCoy

September 2, 1955

Katie, center

Cyril returned from France in May 1955 and went to work as a mechanical engineer for the John Deere Tractor Works in Dubuque, Iowa.  Dubuque is 125 miles from Tomah and from photos taken he made the trip to see Katie several times that summer in his new Chevy Bel Air and used the camera he had purchased while visiting Germany.

Katie

Taken by Cyril Summer 1955

Katie and Cy

At the Beach, Summer 1955

Katie putting her hair up in her trademark pinwheels after swimming.

Summer 1955

Cyril in town for the Tomah Centennial Celebration

Katie, Fritz Kelley and Cy with Fritz's car

Summer 1955

Katie and Cy

Summer 1955

Cy and Katie's wedding was held on November 19, 1955, a cold, snowy weekend.  It was also the first day of deer hunting season in Wisconsin, a bone of contention with a brother and a couple of brothers-in-law! 

Katie and her mother, Harriet (Shookman) Kenyon 

leave the house to get ready for the wedding. 

Katie, the youngest of the 8 children was the last to get married. 

Tomah Methodist Church.

Postcard from 1956

Harriet, attaching Katie's veil shortly before the wedding.

Flower girl, Karen Greene, age 5.

Katie at the back of the church, escorted by her father, Charles Kenyon.

Wedding party photo after the ceremony.

Rev. Ernest Kistler (back)

L-R: Sandy Hart, Roxy Buxton (maid of honor), 

Katie & Cy, 

Bob Greene (best man) and Jim Link.

Karen Greene, flower girl and Danny Kenyon, ring bearer.

Marriage Record signed after the ceremony.

Receiving Line at the church.

Karen Greene, Dan Kenyon, 

Cyril, Bob Greene and Bob Von der Ohe

Off to the reception!

Bob Greene and Cy helping Katie into Cy's new car.

Exchanging bites of cake.

L-R: Sandy Hart, Cy and Katie, Roxy Buxton, Bob Greene.

Danny Kenyon is not all that interested!

Devilment is afoot!

Bob Greene, always full of fun himself, clearly sees the situation.

The Bridal Couple

Wedding Party

Sandra Hart (niece of bride), Roxy Buxton (maid of honor)

Kathleen and Cyril

Bob Greene (best man and husband of Cyril's sister, Phylis) and Jim Link, (lifelong friend of Cyril).

Wedding Announcement

Dec 8, 1955

La Crosse Tribune

Katie and Cyril spent their first months of married life at 1760 Adair Street.  This house belonged to Cyril's mother and step-father, Sadie and Maurice Bush who spent that winter in Arizona.

© Karla Von Fumetti Staudt

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored on a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise – without prior permission of the copyright owner and publisher.

Hunting Morels

Even the name makes my mouth water. It has been a lot of years since I sat down to a plate of morels, but every year they haunt my memory.  In the late spring, after the snow had slowly melted away and the earth was moist and full of fragrance my Grandma Sadie and Grandpa Maurice would go foraging for morels.  They had several spots that they would go to each year, and you had to promise to keep the location a secret. I knew that it was a special thing to be included as the secluded locations were to be treasured and protected for the hunt "next year" and you did not tell "just anyone" where those precious spots were. 

Morels were mainly to be found somewhere near a rotting log or fallen tree.  Their little rounded waffle like heads would be peeking up from the humus rich soil below last year's leaves and twigs or they might surprise you as you moved the early spring grass and weeds around with your hands.  No matter the size, from as small as my young thumb to as big as Grandpa's hand, they would be carefully pulled up and stored in a sack.  One of the locations I remember going was near the Julien Dubuque monument which is high on a hill with a beautiful view overlooking the Mississippi River and the outlet from Catfish Creek on the outskirts of Dubuque.  I think there is now a fence there, but we used to make our way up and down very carefully on the steep slope and around the backside of that hill.  It was usually a goldmine for morels.  

With our bag full of morels, we headed home, and the anticipation would begin. As we would watch with our heads just barely above the countertop, Grandma would fill the sink with fresh water and carefully set several morels in at a time to be swished around to remove any dirt still hanging on to the mushrooms.  Then she would trim the stem edges and except for the smallest ones, she would cut the morels in half, top to bottom.  From there they were laid out on clean kitchen towels to drain, patted dry then wait on mealtime to be cooked.  I remember running out to look at those morels on the towels.  They had such beautiful patterns and intricacy that several years later when I was in high school, I made a silver pendant based on that memory.

When the time came, Grandma put on her apron and pulled out her large cast iron fry pans. She would turn on the burners, put the pans in place and heat them up before tossing in generous chunks of fresh butter to foam up, slide around on the hot surface as they melted and then sizzled. Grandma would lay the morels in the pan a few at a time so that they would brown in the butter but not steam each other.  Between the smell of browned butter and those morels, our feast could not come fast enough!  As they were finished the morels were put on a platter in the warming oven and the process repeated a couple of times until they were all cooked.  

Grandma would pull the platter from the oven and set it on the dining table. One of the most distinct memories I have of my grandmother was hearing her call "Dinner's ready" any time we visited their home, and we were always happy to come running. I can not remember anything else on the table besides the morels but knowing my grandmother I imagine there was a plateful of other good things to go along.  With a pile of morels served up on my plate, I would cut off a piece, close my eyes and pop that bite into my mouth.  

Heaven.  

In my memory, their taste is delicate and distinctive, a wonderful gift from nature.

© Karla Von Fumetti Staudt

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored on a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise – without prior permission of the copyright owner and publisher.