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59

I shall try to set the stage for life on Douglas Street by describing the people as I did on Highland. Unlike the Rev. Jones on one side of us, who supplied a wholesome flavor, the Gilmans on the other were slightly questionable, largely because Bob Gilman, the father and an insurance man, was rumored to be a heavy drinker and possibly womanizer although these two traits were lost on me when we first moved; however, as I became more sophisticated, moving on into my teens, I began to hear these whispers about handsome Bob, a big, tall, good-looking man, I suppose in his early forties. The rest of the family were okay. In fact, they moved in quite acceptable social circles and Dorothea, the oldest daughter, soon married Louis Balmer, scion of the candle-manufacturing family in Syracuse, very well-to-do people. Mrs. Gilman was a short, dumpy, little woman who'd once been very pretty but had lost her attributes as she moved on into middle age. The one who affected me was Frances, my contemporary. Unlike her elder sister, who was tall and willowy, Frances was substantially built for a child of 12 or 13 and I was not unaware of her attractions, which increased with the years. As I recall it, the Gilman parents separated or were divorced within two or three years of our moving to Douglas. And so the Gilmans provided new interests, not all wholesome, but broadening my horizons and adding to my awakening understanding of the maturing life I was moving along toward. 

On the corner of Douglas and Graves Streets, just three houses west of us, lived the Montgomery family, who were to exert perhaps the major new influence on me. They comprised a memorable and interesting family. They were Irish-Catholic, Mr. Montgomery, I'd judge, in his early fifties and Mrs. Montgomery, a bit younger. He was a handsome man in a rugged Irish way, with a craggy face, but he moved around slowly like an old man, looking more like a grandfather than a father to my young eyes, at least. His wife was a big, tall, once-pretty woman, grown now to overweight. Mr. Montgomery was a building contractor. The only house he'd built which I was ever aware of, was a two-story flat on Douglas right behind the Montgomerys, which they rented as an investment. Their own house was a venerable frame structure that must have dated back into the 80s, I'd say, with very high rooms and gloomy inside. Mr. Montgomery had remodeled the house so he could house his family on the first floor and rent the second floor as an apartment to a family named Anable. There was a big porch stretching all the way across the front of the house and it was the gathering place for many of the neighborhood kids in the summer. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The Montgomerys had four children, all handsome from the maturing Peg down to Jane, the baby, who must have been seven or eight when we moved; in between were Helen, a year or two older than I, and John, my age. I think thatPeg was the flower of the family, a tall, slim, beautiful brunette with a lovely pink and white Irish complexion, and great poise and charm. She married early and very well into another Irish-Catholic family of means and I lost track of her. Helen