Downey, as I remember it

A Reliance Dairy truck in Downey in 1934. (USC Digital Library)

Editor’s note: The following memoir was submitted to the Downey Historical Society by Clara Harper Foy of Long Beach. In it, she recalls her childhood in Downey during the late 1800s, offering a rare first-hand glimpse into the daily life, people, and traditions of the time.

In 1868, my father, W. Harper, bought an eighty-acre farm in the San Antonio district, now Bell Gardens. He built a four-room cottage, planted an orchard, and added a barn and dairy house. A ditch of water flowed through the yard, so there was always water for household use and irrigation.

In 1876, he married the daughter of a neighbor, Jacob Lower. Alpha Jane was a beautiful young lady, refined and an ideal homemaker. On May 7, 1877, a little daughter whom they named Clara came into their home. On September 8, 1879, a son, Robert, was born.

When I was five years old, my father bought a 20-acre farm nearer Downey, on the corner of what is now Florence Avenue and Lexington. There was a two-story house, a barn, and a windmill; ten acres planted with fruit trees, and ten acres in alfalfa, for which he paid $1,000.

The nearest school was the old Gallatin School, a four-room building at what is now Tweedy Lane and Florence Avenue. On my first day of school, I was met by a lovely young teacher, Miss Josie McKellar. She was a sweet, gentle young lady of high ideals, so kind and thoughtful with children. We loved her dearly. (In those days, children were called children, not kids.) Pearl and Grace McDonald, Irene Cochran, Mattie Finley, and Stella Mayes were among my friends.

The following year, the Downey School was built, a four-room building. To our delight, “Miss Josie,” as we lovingly called her, became the second-grade teacher. Later, I remember Mrs. Lydia Crawford as a teacher, and Professor Strine as principal. We were very fond of Professor Strine, who built the school to a high standard and was respected by all. He later became State Superintendent of Schools.

A little brother, Willie, was born, and my Aunt Florence, Mother’s sister, came to live with us. Those were happy times. Father bought me an organ, and a neighbor lady, Miss Morrison, gave me a few lessons so I could play some songs. Friends would come over and we played and sang. Mother would pop a big pan of popcorn or make taffy for a candy pull.

If we played indoors, it was “Spin the Plate,” “Musical Chairs,” or playing house with our dolls. Outdoors, we played “Hop Scotch,” “Hide and Seek,” and “Ante Over.” There was always an abundance of fruit to eat. And when Mother baked bread, we enjoyed thick slices of fresh bread with homemade butter. Nothing could brighten home more than the aroma of bread baking.

Downey was just a sleepy village with one main street. On the east side stood a blacksmith shop, a livery stable, a drug store, and a saloon on the corner. On the west side were another saloon, a hotel, Jenison and Greening’s General Store, and the Frankel Building. Going to the Post Office after school was always an event. We checked our mailbox, No. 52, sometimes finding a letter from Aunt Clara in Sacramento, The Youth’s Companion, or the weekly newspaper. Then we walked home along the dusty road.

There was close friendship among neighbors. Mothers would gather, bringing their children, sewing, or mending, and spend the day visiting. They were always ready to help a friend in sickness or trouble. There were no trained nurses, but no patient was ever left unattended.

Dr. Rives, Dr. Brown, and Dr. Brunson were the faithful doctors of the time. They ministered to the sick, often sitting at the bedside until the crisis had passed. In times of death, friends went from house to house, gathering flowers from gardens for the funeral.

Several churches were built — Christian, Baptist, Methodist, and Holiness. The Holiness congregation held summer camp meetings in a willow grove just south of town.

We were always thrilled when our parents took us camping at the ocean. The Pacific was only eighteen miles away. We would set up camp on the beach and often had the place to ourselves. Mother cooked over a campfire, and we feasted on coffee, fried bacon, potatoes, and eggs. We waded in the cool surf and jumped the breakers until Father took us by the hand and led us into deeper water. Sometimes neighbors joined us, turning the outing into a real party. Today Long Beach holds more than 300,000 people.

Christmas was always exciting. Mother cut a limb from a pepper tree and decorated it with strings of popcorn, cranberries, and real candles in tin holders. Under the tree were dolls, toy dishes, rocking horses, wagons, doll buggies, and a Chatterbox book. Each year brought a new edition.

We had roast turkey, seasonal vegetables, cakes, mince and pumpkin pies, and plum pudding. The word “diet” was unknown to us.

I was the envy of the older girls when we had a wedding at our house. My Aunt Florence married Robert Mayes after a long courtship. The preparations were exciting, and the wedding itself was quiet, with only family and close friends. The next day at school, I did plenty of bragging about being at a wedding.

The Mayes family settled at what is now Florence and Lakewood. They raised three daughters: Mabel, Agnes, and Burnice. Burnice is now Mrs. Walter Love and is dearly loved by all who know her. Mabel and Agnes have gone to their Heavenly Home. Mrs. Mayes was a humanitarian, always ready to help anyone in distress. Mr. Mayes was a Mason, an active member of the Eastern Star, and a successful farmer. Such people are rare today.

The country was filling up. The Southern Pacific and Santa Fe Railroads brought newcomers looking for homes. Father sold his twenty acres for $550, which he thought was a good deal, and then bought three acres nearby, planting oranges and walnuts.

We children continued at the Downey school before later moving back to the original ranch.

What a beautiful place to call home. How fortunate we were to be part of this land, and to live to see the progression of our beloved country.