LEONARD DEFRAIN ~ A PEEK AT HIS OWN PAST
by Janis Stein

Ever since I was a little girl, I heard the name “Pic” DeFrain, and I wondered about this local coaching legend – and where did he earn his nickname? As an adult, my interest in history grew; it was inevitable our paths would cross. During 2007, Pic and I communicated a fair amount, our love of local history warranting the exchange. But just who is Pic DeFrain? I thought I’d find out, and on a sunny September morning I sat at his kitchen table while we took a peek at his own past.

Born on the first day of January in 1920, Leonard DeFrain’s seen more than most. The ninth of 11 children born to George and Catherine (Katie) DeFrain, Leonard grew up knowing every little bit helped.

In November of 1913, Katie DeFrain traveled by train from Bay City with five young sons, en route to Harbor Beach where George had a home waiting for them. The train conductor asked if they were little orphan boys; Katie proudly told him they were hers. When Katie left Bay City, a horrendous rainstorm raged, the rain eventually turning to hale and snow and the storm causing havoc, sinking ships, and ravaging docks up and down the lakes.

While the country faced a good many changes during Leonard’s formative years, the world’s problems barely touched a young boy sheltered by a big family living in the small town of Harbor Beach. Though the Great Depression crippled the country’s cities, folks in small towns were used to getting by with little. It was a way of life.

George DeFrain, the father of all those little DeFrain’s, earned his wages working as a cooper at Harbor Beach’s barrel-making business. George held onto his job through those depressed years during the 1930s, allowing him to earn enough to cover the necessities. At times, George alone worked at the cooper shop, learning to run every machine in the process and, while he put in a goodly amount of hours, he knew he was fortunate he had work. Others weren’t so lucky.

While George spent his days at the cooper shop, Katie spent her days within the DeFrain home nurturing 11 children, the children spaced one or two years apart and all born at home. Katie didn’t have to seek employment outside of the home – she had all the work she needed right before her eyes.

All those children at varying ages made the DeFrain home the perfect gathering place for the neighborhood children. Many came from small families and it became natural to congregate at the DeFrain’s where there was always a child the same age to play with, or at least very near. With so many children in one place and only the occasional passing car, enough players ensured a ballgame would ensue on the dirt street in front of the house. In the winter, Leonard and his siblings, as well as a host of neighborhood children, built snow forts, threw snowballs and made angels in the snow. While games of Fox and the Goose burnt off enormous amounts of energy, the children spent most of their free time skating on the ice.

Though the DeFrain family survived with no refrigerator and no icebox, they did enjoy the luxury of an indoor bathroom and electric lights, the electric bill totaling $5 for every two months of service. Many folks did without the convenience of electric lights, and Katie was ever conscious of her good fortune, making sure the DeFrain children never left a room before turning off the lights. The children endured a lengthy lecture on the rare occasion they did forget!

A potbellied stove standing in the dining room worked hard to heat the DeFrain’s two-story home, and Katie utilized the kitchen’s coal stove to feed her brood of 11. The DeFrain’s two big gardens ensured a fresh summer bounty, the excess vegetables stored or canned for winter consumption. Katie spent her days baking bread and, desserts, too, made all the DeFrain’s smile. From pies and cakes to cookies and doughnuts, Katie made everything from scratch.

Katie made her own soap out of lye, as did many women of the day, and she ensured her family had clean clothes – on laundry day out came the scrub board and wringer washer. After the clothes dried, Katie began her ironing. While she used one iron, the other heated on the stove, and she switched between the two until she completed the chore.

With 13 DeFrain’s under one roof, the children learned early the value of a dollar. As soon as George and Katie deemed them old enough, off the children went in search of work. All 11 DeFrain children peddled newspapers at one time or another, the children squirreling their money away to pay for new school clothes and books.

When Leonard turned 12, he began peddling papers as his brothers and sisters did before him. During the 1930s, most folks in Harbor Beach bought the Port Huron Times Herald, Leonard carrying a stack of the latest issue on his back in a newspaper sack. During the summer months, Leonard sought additional work, mowing lawns with an old-fashioned push mower and weeding flowerbeds for the neighborhood’s elderly. Anything for the sound of a little money jingling in his pocket.

Harbor Beach’s dirt roads led to the grocery store and any number of establishments including at least two butcher shops; most shops did their own butchering. Pre-packaged meat was unheard of, for many residents had no icebox to store it.

At the time, Mihlethaler’s store might have been the biggest establishment in town. Mihlethaler’s contained four departments to service their patrons: grocery, hardware, clothing, and a men’s and women’s department. Leonard always found a trip to the store an interesting event. After deciding on what new clothes or supplies he would need for school, Leonard dug into his pocket to pull out the money needed for his wares.

Perhaps because cash registers were not plentiful, Mihlethaler’s utilized an electric contraption that carried a patron’s money along with the bill of sale up above to the office where two or three workers scurried about making change, the change returning to its rightful patron in as timely a manner as the electric motor allowed.

Services the Mihlethaler’s store offered included grocery delivery. Patrons needed only to drop off their order. Workers collected the specified goods, with morning and afternoon deliveries provided by Mihlethaler’s employee, Pickey Brandow. The eggs Pickey delivered were contained in a little box that held a dozen. By gently flipping over the box and pulling off the cover, Pickey released the eggs onto the customer’s kitchen table. No matter how careful, every now and again Pickey broke an egg during the transfer.

Keeping Pickey Brandow in mind, the DeFrain’s owned one milking cow, which made its home in the DeFrain’s barn located right behind the house. The DeFrain’s shared their milk surplus – if there was one – to whichever neighbor might be in need. On one such day, a neighbor by the name of Frank stopped by for some milk. While he was there, Leonard broke an egg on the kitchen table. Frank surveyed the scene and, with a laugh, said, “You’re as bad as Pickey Brandow!” Therein, Leonard earned the nickname of “Pic,” a name that would stick throughout his life!

During Pic’s childhood, cows in town were fairly common. Small barns with haylofts lined the alley behind the houses on South Third Street, the street where Pic lived. George bought hay for feed, and all the DeFrain’s enjoyed the cow’s produce. During the winter, the DeFrain’s made ice cream, since ice was readily available during Michigan’s cold weather season.

The DeFrain’s pastured their cow right in town in a vacant lot across from Trescott Street. Few houses lined the southwest corner of Harbor Beach. After the cow had expended the little makeshift pasture lot, Pic had to lead the old girl all the way to Section Line Road to what was called the first and second pasture. The Harbor Beach milkman delivered the milk from his 10 cows to homes spread throughout the small town, and the milkman owned the pastures on Section Line Road. He allowed George DeFrain’s cow to join his own – free of charge. That’s how it was to be neighborly.

Katie DeFrain assigned her youngest son, Pic, this job of fetching the cow every morning to bring her home to be milked. Katie, growing up on a farm, milked the cow morning and night. Pic gave the job his best try, realizing quickly if he continued at the same rate he had started, he’d likely be sitting there all day. Although George did the milking sometimes, Katie’s milking skills exceeded his; so quickly and efficiently did she milk the cow, no one else lined up for the job. After milking, Katie chained the cow up on their property and, after the evening’s milking, Pic would lead the cow back to greener pastures.

For Pic, leading the cow turned into an embarrassing job, for every time he crossed M-142, the old girl let loose, leaving a fantastic mess in her wake. At about 12 years of age, Pic looked to the left and then to the right, leading the old cow along as fast as he could in hopes no one spotted him - or the mess behind.

Leonard earned his grade school education at Harbor Beach’s little red school before moving to the Harbor Beach Community High School. On and off, he worked at the cooper shop with George, helping out whenever work became available. Four machines were utilized in the barrel-making process. The first machine was the tongue and groove machine used for the staves; the second machine shaped the barrel. The third machine at the cooper shop formed a groove for the upper and lower part of the header, for the bottom and top of the barrel. The last machine placed the steel bands around the barrel.

Pic learned to run two of the four machines: the tongue and groove, and the header machine. While running the tongue and groove machine, Pic pulled down a hot iron, branding the barrel. Red stave paste barrels were stamped with red dye, marking the patent number and the name, Huron Milling Company. When Pic went home with red dye on his hands, everyone knew where he had spent his day!

During his teen years, Pic spent a few summers working in his granddad’s store, located at Murray’s Corner near Croswell. David Murray, an interesting man, short in stature with an expanding waistline, owned a Plymouth car, but never drove it. If he needed to travel, he hired a driver no matter whether the distance was Florida or a neighboring county.

David Murray told grand stories to anyone who would listen; Pic proved to be a good audience, and listened well. Murray grew up in Applegate and recalled the dense forests of the region. The trees grew so thick it was as if a man walked from daylight to dark when he entered the wooded landscape. David Murray recalled with fascination the Great Fire of 1881, darkness covering the land in a sweeping black motion of fury. The heavens above looked like a moonless midnight sky.

Though David Murray owned the store, much of the day-to-day operations fell on Murray’s daughter, Pic’s Aunt Stella. A hired man also filled in, helping out in whatever capacity he was needed. Pic lived with his grandfather during the summer months, earning a few dollars. Aunt Stella lived there, too, taking care of his grandfather and the many details of managing a store.

In time, Pic’s cousin, Jane, the daughter of Aunt Stella, died a tragic death, killed in an auto accident. She had been about to give birth to twins. Her family buried her with a baby in each arm. And Pic learned about grief.

With the end of summer came the return of school. When Pic graduated from Harbor Beach High School in 1938, he decided to pursue a college education. With high hopes, Pic borrowed $500 and, without a car, he made his way the best he could to Port Huron where he would attend Port Huron Business College.

Pic attended business classes during the day and rested his head at the YMCA each night. Though the old building had clearly seen better days, Pic found his new lodging to be adequate and comfortable. His room contained a bed and a dresser, all a young man needed; residents shared a bathroom and shower down the hall.

No stranger to work, he pounded the pavement in search of a job. To Pic’s dismay he couldn’t find work – not even washing dishes – and, though the YMCA had been an economical choice, the cost of living proved too much. The combination of tuition costs, books and eating out three times a day ensured his $500 didn’t last long. Disappointed and out of money, Pic was forced to give up his pursuit of advancing his education. He had lasted on his own only a few months.

Look for the continuation in next month's issue.

© 2008 Stein Expressions, LLC