Near
the turn of the last century, a young couple named Tom and Katie fell in love
and got married. Their wedding
announcement in the Charleston paper described Katie McCarty as one of the most
“deservedly popular young ladies in Charleston.” Tom Coady , one of “Pana’s representative young businessmen,” was
congratulated on “his good luck , to say nothing of judgment, in having won
such a wife.” They moved to Paris and
bought a small two bedroom home at 509 Marshall St. Little did they know that nearly 119 years
later that that address would still resonate with their children,
grandchildren, great grandchildren, and great-great grandchildren.
Tom
and Kitty’s (she was called both “Katie” and “Kitty”) seven children were born
in the house which eventually had a front porch and a second story added. While the children were growing up, there was
a barn in the backyard, chickens and cows roamed the yard, and a large garden
was planted each year. Although Kitty
died in 1928, she would have been happy to know that her children remained
close to one another their entire lives, and they and their families gathered
regularly and happily at 509 Marshall St. Whether guests were properly seated around the
dining room table or crowded around the kitchen table, love and laughter
prevailed.
When
Tom and Kitty’s youngest daughter Catherine married Vic Bridwell in 1947, Vic moved into
509. Catherine and Vic walked over to
Paris Hospital on Shaw Ave. for the births of their children. When it became clear that Catherine wasn’t
interested in moving to another house, no matter what its attributes, Vic
compensated by adding a garage, a rec room with a pool and ping pong table, and
another bathroom. 509 was ready for
another generation. The kitchen was
remodeled in 1956. It never saw another
remodel. In the 70’s Catherine’s children
pooled their money to buy their mother a
lovely new Tell City wooden kitchen
table. It spent five years in the den as
Catherine liked her formica table just fine. Finally, her daughter Mary Ann took the wooden
table home.
In Catherine’s opinion, the house was fine
just as it was. And it was. People
certainly were drawn back to it. It was
a given that family holidays would take place at 509. As a widow, Catherine’s older sister Helen
came to live at 509 while Catherine’s four children- Bob, Tom, Mary Ann, and
Tizzie - were in high school. If the
teenagers got too much for Helen, she retreated to her room to listen to a
ballgame or to pray the rosary. Yet she
came back for four school years.
For Catherine’s
younger brother Connie’s family, 509 Marshall was their summer vacation
destination. For many years, the five of
them came to visit each summer for about two weeks. During that time, Catherine rescinded her
rule against pets in the house and happily welcomed their dog , Mickey
Flynn. She didn’t even flinch when he
jumped on the furniture.
One
can’t tell the story of 509 without mentioning the front porch. Today, people seem to want decks and privacy,
but it was just the opposite at 509.
With over thirty kids in the neighborhood, it was often put into use for
various causes. Once it served as the
hospital for childhood war games. Boys
would be patched up with sticks for splints and sent back out into the yard to
fight some more. Sometimes, the neighbor
girls would join Mary Ann and Tizzie (aka “Elizabeth”) to rock their baby dolls
to sleep on the big swing. The adults
just liked to sit and chat. Catherine’s
sisters Mary Louise Sunkel and MeMe Mansfield and their families often drove by
and stopped as did Vic’s parents. The
porch was where the action was. The
Bridwell girls’ friends met on the porch each fall on the first day of school
to make the short trek to PHS. Vic took
many photos to commemorate these ritualistic gatherings. Eventually, it was the spot where a nervous
young man asked Vic for his daughter’s hand.
Like any house, 509 saw its share
of sorrow. Three sons went off to three
wars – WWI, WWII, and Viet Nam. Kitty
and Tom both died in the house. Kitty
and her son George, who died unexpectedly at 29, were both waked in the house.
But life moves on. Houses get
quiet. Eventually, only Vic
and Catherine were left at 509. For a
while, they were blessed with grandchildren and the good health to enjoy
them. Another generation was introduced
to 509. They watched Grandma make her secret fudge recipe in pan that was at
least fifty years old. They tasted the
pork chops with the distinct flavor that only a lifetime of seasoning on an
iron skillet can produce. They dressed
up in old clothes and hats of indeterminate age. They sat on Grandad’s lap and read stories.
They ate sugar toast. They viewed the iconic portrait of Mary and Tizzie
forever memorialized at ages 5 and 6 that had greeted anyone who had walked in
the front door since 1957. In short,
they fit right in. It all seemed normal
to them. The fun only multiplied when the out-of-town
cousins showed up. Vic loved kids and he
loved Christmas, and he did all the Christmas shopping. The grown grandkids still talk about those
Christmases as the best ever.
After Vic died in 1995, only
Catherine was left in the home she had never left. Vic had had insulation blown in and security
doors installed, and had made it so that only a small part of the house needed
to be heated or cooled. In essence, it
became a small home again. Catherine
managed well for many years, but eventually, she had to leave her beloved home.
For the first time in its long
life, 509 was suddenly empty. The
Bridwell children began to ask, “What are we going to do about 509?” Well, as
of August 15, that question has been answered for us. The house is changing hands today. It has a new roof and new wiring ---
preparing it for another go round with another generation.
For five generations, it has been a mainstay in the family. While, in the end, the house is old and not
worth a great deal of money, no price tag can be placed on the memories it holds
for those of us who are descended from the popular young lady from Charleston
and the man lucky enough to marry her.
Thank you, 509, for your good and faithful service. We wish you the very
best.
Crying and good bying,
I remain
Tizzie/Tiz/Mom/Tizmom/Elizabeth/Liz
