The poems and songs of Lula Rothwell

The sources of the articles for this column are sometimes unexpected. Susan Shryock (WSHS, 1961) gave me the impetus for this article when she asked me if I would be interested in looking at a book of poetry by Lula Rothwell, her husband Joe’s grandmother (and my stepfather’s mother). Of course I was interested.

I never met my stepfather George’s mother, Louisa Leona Blankenbeckler “Lula” Rothwell. She died in 1954, five years before I moved to Willow Springs, and most people who knew her have passed away, but I have heard stories about her.

George told me that as a teenager, he left home with eight brothers and sisters and joined the Navy so he could have a regular meal. With the country suffering from the Great Depression, George didn’t return home for years because he sent most of his Navy pay to his mother so he had enough left over “to buy Bull Durham tobacco.” (A side note for younger readers: Bull Durham was loose tobacco sold in a drawstring cloth bag and used to roll your own cigarettes, which was cheaper than store-bought cigarettes.)

During a rare visit home, his youngest sister (who was born after George joined the Navy) made a cheeky remark which George took exception to and rebuked, perhaps in the form of coarse sailor-speak.

His mother disapproved and gave George the punishment he deserved, emphasizing it with the words, “You’ve never had a baby before.” George replied out of nowhere, “No, and I’ve never laid an egg, but I know a bad one when I see one.”

Nevertheless, George, not given to effusive sentiments, spoke of his mother with a detached reverence. He expressed his respect even more when he drove from Great Lakes, Illinois, where he was on active duty in the Navy, to his parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration in 1952, held at the First Baptist Church in Willow Springs.

I know few facts about Lula Rothwell, but the few I have gathered paint a remarkable picture. Born in 1883, she had eleven children (six daughters and five sons); she lived through World War I and had two sons who served in the U.S. Navy in World War II. One can imagine her shock on December 7, 1941, when she learned that her son Marion was stationed at Pearl Harbor.

Apparently she was a religious woman with a good knowledge of the Holy Scriptures and, according to George, also knew esoteric verses in the Bible that promoted the healing of the sick and suffering.

She was chaplain and musician of the local branch of Rebekah Lodge, a women’s relief organization that was originally an auxiliary of the International Order of Odd Fellows. She was a member of the Women’s Christian Temperance Movement (WCTU) for 20 years and served as local president for four years.

As for her musicality, I’m pretty sure she played the piano, because there was a piano in the old Rothwell house on East Ninth Street in Willow Springs. I remember playing a few chords on it while her husband, George Oliver (“Pappy”) Rothwell, played the fiddle and did a few hoedown dance steps. When I think of Pappy dancing the “double shuffle,” I’m reminded of Jed Clampett from The Beverly Hillbillies.

Before the package from Susan arrived in the mail, I didn’t know what to expect. I imagined a few penciled poems in a school notebook from the 1930s or ’40s. When I opened it, I found a 4 1/2 x 7 1/2 inch, 50-page book, typeset and bound, titled Treasure Chest of Poetry & Songs and a publication date of 1953.

Today it would be called a volume of poetry, and to be honest it looks more professional than some contemporary ones I have seen. It contained sixty poems, some of them written as songs, dating from 1916 to 1952.

Rather than further personal observations of my own, I will offer a few selected excerpts from the book that provide insight into the indomitable spirit of Mrs. Rothwell.

(This may be my favorite.)

Let your little candle burn

Let your little candle burn,

It can show the way to a weary traveler

On a path he doesn’t know.

There are many souls around you,

Who stay through the night,

Some who may be saved from the fall,

If they could see your little light.

(The last verse of “Be Not Deceived” reflects her commitment to the WCTU.)

Do not be fooled

Let the world be dry, let the world be dry,

Down with rum forever is our battle cry;

Let this chorus resound through earth and heaven

Down with alcohol forever, let the world be dry,

(Written in 1952, from a memory of 1915. Dedicated to daughter Nan Shryock.)

True love

“Oh, Mommy, aren’t you well?” she cried.

My dear little three year old girl;

As I read in her shining eyes,

Your tender love for me.

You are the best mom in the world!

(With a hug and a kiss) she said:

While I am with the love and pride of a mother,

Touched the shiny curls on her head.

I have often remembered these precious words,

Which were spoken so sweetly;

And as I hope in my heart,

This love remains unbroken.

* * * *

(This picture from 1917 reflects their patriotism and is dedicated to freedom-loving people.)

Flag of my home country

* * *

God of our fathers, help us,

Give us the strength to stand firm

Hold the banner of sweet freedom

About this wonderful country.

Lead us to peace and victory;

Victory on land and sea

And long may it blow over us,

The flag of the noble and the free.

(Written on December 7, 1952, and dedicated to her son, who was stationed at Pearl Harbor eleven years earlier.)

Music of the old guitar

* * *

Of all the gifts you could choose

From the lush treasure chest of nature,

For the good and the joy of using,

I would say music is the best.

So if you have a little talent,

Or mediocre, great or (not at all),

Don’t bury it and stop trying,

You will be successful – bye.

* * * *

Last Memorial weekend, Wendell Bailey and I talked about the intelligence of the Rothwell family. I think Lula was a major contributor to that. And it’s worth noting that she continued to write in her final years.

In the introduction to Treasure Chest of Poetry & Songs, Mrs. Rothwell wrote, “It is the sincere hope and humble prayer of the author that this book may be a blessing to all who read it.” For this reader, it was.