Mom's Christmas KO circa 1925

This is an entry from my mom's journal dated 9 December 1988.

The first Christmas that I can remember is in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania....was I five? Probably.

The great depression found my Dad working in a barbershop and hiding out from being arrested for bootlegging. My dad and mother somehow or other decided that this would be a Christmas that we needed to remember, because the next Christmas he might not be able to spend the holiday with us....and he didn't.

As I have grown older and have thought many times of my Dad being away from us, I used to put it in the back of my mind and tried not to think of it. But our Dad loved us, he wanted us to have a roof over out head and food in our bellies. It is the only time my Dad was ever in trouble with the law and when you think of how he was practically an orphan, how he went to work so very young and was on his own from the time he was in the fourth grade...the struggles he had to overcome. I'd proud of my Dad, even the hard lesson he had to learn, he learned, he overcame. He became a great man in my eyes, especially since he did most of his overcoming on his own and he did it for me and my brothers.

To get back to the Christmas of 1925 or 1926, we were living in an apartment in Pittsburgh. Liberty Avenue. Christmas morning found the little Mckinney family waking from a sound sleep with the "HO HO HO" and the scratching of the reindeer on our roof (or so we thought). We hopped out of bed and the first thing I saw was a blackboard with the words written on it, "Merry Christmas from Santa Claus." A doll for me, boxing gloves for the boys. Dad had set up a ring in the kitchen, roped off with the kitchen chairs. We had lots of fun that day with Dad showing us how to box. Our little brother Hooch was too little to box with us so dad put the gloves on Harold and me. I remember him tying them around my wrists and telling us what to do. Harold, my twin got a little carried away, socked me a good one and knocked me out. His first KO. It scared everyone to death and Mom made Dad put the boxing gloves up. We had the best Christmas I thought any child could ever have. I'm sure my Mother cooked a fantastic meal because my Dad saw that we never were without food. Mother was always going on a diet and this was about the time that she was on the 17-Day Diet and Dad teased her and made her cry because she hadn't lost any weight and the diet was supposed to be a sure thing.

The second Christmas found us in the small town of McMechen, West Virginia. Dad was gone for a short while and Mother was trying to make a roof over our heads and food. It was a great struggle for her but she was one in a million and the best of mothers. She took all of us to Caldabaugh's, the store that had EVERYTHING! From a tiny nail to glorious toys for good little boys and girls. We were allowed to choose one gift each. I saw the doll!!!!! It looked exactly like a new baby and was the same size. It was the only one that my eyes spied...the cost? Twelve dollars! Do you have any idea how much twelve dollars amounted to in the depression? But I knew Santa would bring it to me because I wanted it and knew that I was a very good little girl and he would leave it under our tree on Christmas Eve. The boys chose rubber tired roller skates and then they could skate in the house. Yes, my Mother allowed roller skates in the house! A few days later our Uncle Lee wanted to borrow the skates and because the boys wouldn't give them up, he cut chunks out of the tires and then they were good for nothing (what our Mom used to tell us if we didn't straighten up and be good...we'd end up good for nothin'!) Well, the skates were a disaster and we still have pangs of sorrow over our rubber-tired roller skates.*

*It goes on but I can't find page two.


After my mom passed away in July 1990, the saddest part for me was cleaning out the shed in the backyard. There in the middle of the hottest day in August in Las Vegas, Nevada, I found Christmas!! I discovered all our presents there, ready to be wrapped and slipped under the Christmas tree. My mother loved Christmas. Her birthday was on December 23rd and she always took great pride that she shared a birthday with the Prophet Joseph Smith. She had a twin brother that was born fifteen minutes after her, which was a total surprised to everyone. Helen and Harold were as different as night and day. Unfortunately, Harold was always a source of heartache for my mother. He lived the majority of his adult life in prison. I remember as a young girl traveling on Saturdays— once a month— with my mom to the London Correctional Institution, which is about 30 miles southwest of Columbus. Mom would bring a fried chicken dinner and we would sit and visit with Uncle Harold in a large room filled with other prisoners who were also chatting with their loved ones. I remember those visits fondly, minus the clanging of doors and rattling of keys. I also liked going to see the things for sale at the Prison Shop. Some prisoners learned to tool leather and sold purses, wallets, and belts. Decorated with various flowery patterns, I thought they were very pretty. Uncle Harold barbered in prison, since that was his trade on the outside. I think he also got extra points for filling the salt and pepper shakers.