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AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF
PAUL
MARTIN
TONSING
June
23,
2001
(Dear
Margaret:
This
is
sure,
to
be
a
disjointed
narrative,
in
that
I
can't
see
what
I'm
writing,
and
I'm
sure
when
I
get
deeper
in
it,
I'll
recall
something
that
should
have
been
told
earlier.
Ordinarily,
when
d o n e ,
I'd
separate
paragraphs
throughou
and
get
the
dates
in
order,
but
will
have
to
depend
on
you
to
do
that.
Thanks
in
advance) .
I
wa
born
on
March
3,
1917,
in
the
old
Martin
home
in
Atchison
Kansas.
The
same
house
my
mother
was
born
in.
My
father,
Paul
Gerheart
Tonsing,
was
47
at
the
time
ofmy
birther,
and
my
mother,
Ruther
Martin
Tonsing,
was
4 4 .
I'm
sure
my
birth
was
a
shock
to
them,
and
to
the
rest
of
the
family,
as
I
was
preceeded
by
seven
other
siblings,
which
by
any
measurement
would
signify
a
full
bjushel.I
have
always
understood
that
my
father
had
always
wanted
a
son
named
after
him,
but
for
one
reason
or
another,
they
had
all
slipped
by
with
other
names.
So
presumably,
I
was
planned
by
him
at
least,
to
be
named
Paul
after
him.
But
as
will
be
narrated
futher
along
in
this
term
paper,
the
Martin
family
was
dominant
and
my
name
went
on
the
birth
certificate
as
Martin
Paul
Tonsing.
This
was
not
entirely
appreciated
by
me
in
my
formative
years,
as
I
was
subsequently
called
"Junior"
the
rest
of
my
sojourn
in
Atchison,
of
some
18
years.
I've
always
told
least
than
interested
people
that
I
left
town
to
get
away
from
that
nickname.
But
when
I
did
grow
up
and
get
out
of
town,
I
changed
my
name
to
Paul
Martin
Tonsing,
without
any
legality,
but
in
those
days
they
weren't
so
red
tapish
(and
who
cared! ) .
I
had
a
wonderful
childhood,
probably
not
appreciated
at
the
time.
But
my
oldest
brother
and
w i f e ,
Evan
and
Bess,
were
wonderful
to
m e ,
like
a
fond
uncle
and
aunt.
I
spent
many
happy
days
in
their
home
on
Riverview
Drive
in
Atchison,
and
their
children,
Virginia
and
G e n e ,
were
my
frequent
playmates.
The
old
house
was
a
treasure
trove
for
children,
having
cabinets,
mainly
n
the
large
librry,
full
of
treasures
like
music
boses,
stereopticans,
some
Civil
War
bayonettes,
and
thousands
of
books
lining
its
shelves.
The
cellar
(we
weren't
so
high-fallutin'
as
to
call
it
the
basement)
was
under
about
half
the
house,
and
was
a
wonderland
of
places
to
play
hide
and
seek
with
kids
in
the
family,
and
neighbor
playmates.
My
mother
used
to
can
anything
that
would
grow
in
her
garden
and
on
the
cherry,
mulberry
and
pear
thres,
plus
a
rheubarb
pat
in
the
garden
under
the
bay
window,
on
the
south.
Alongside
the
house,
below
the
library
windows,
was
a
huge
bobsled,
perhaps
20
feet
long,
left
over
from
when
my
older
brothers
used
it
to
slide
down
the
second
shteet
hill.
But
i*iwas
long
past
its
prime,
and
just
sat
for
years
and
rotted
away.
Jutting
out
from
the
kitchen
on
the
northwest
side
of
the
house
was
a
porch,
mainly
used
for
washing
clothes.
Mom
had
an
old
washing
machine,
armed
(I's
sure
with
the
grandfather
of
electric
m o t o r s ) ,
wooden
slatted.
It
would
leak
alightly
at
first
introduction
of
water,
but
the
wood
would
soon
swell
until
it
was
leak-proof.
It
didn't
have
a
wringer,
so
it
was
usually
my
job
to
hand
wring
the
clothes
with
a
hand
wringer,
a
contraption
with
two
rollers
about
two
inches
in
circumference,
and
a
long
handle
projecting
from
the
side,
Clothes
were
introduced
into
the
wringer,
then
with
one
hand
they
were
steered
down
the
middle
of
the
rollers,
while
turning
the
handle
to
get
them
through,
and
into
a
washtub
sitting
underneath.
From
there,
the
clothes
were
carried
outside
and
hung
on
clotheslines
on
the
north
side
ot
the
house.
As
clothes
were
added,
clothespoles
were
constantly
moved
and
adjusted
to
compensate
for
the
load
of
wet
clothes.
Mom
always
said,
at
least
once
a
day,
that
there
was
nothing
sweeter
smelling
than
clothes
fresh
off
the
line,
and
warmed
by
the
heat
of
the
sun.
V
Probably
jumping
the
gun,
but
across
the
road
in
front,
and
down
the
bluff
was
(or
were)
rail
y a r d s,
a n d
a
r o u n d h o u s e
w h e r e
e n g i n e s
^
- 2 -
k
around,
and
as
I
recall,
there
were
repair
shops
there
also.
(My
mind
isn't
slipping,
I'm
still
on
the
subject
of
washing.)
Consequently,all
this
ra
railway
activity
generated
tons
of
coal
smoke
and
ash,
and
any
clothes
onthe
line
thrued
white
sheets
into
grey
ones.)
But
Mom
never
complained,
was
glad
the
railroad
was
there,
for
it
generated
jobs
for
men
whi
otherwise
would
not
survive
the
Depression
then
racking
the
country.
Returning
to
the
cellar:
As
a
result
of
all
the
trees
and
crops
from
the
garden,
Mom
did
lots
of
canning,
in
Mason
jars,
with
a
glass
lid,
and
a
little
metal
clamp
that
sprang
down
and
kept
them
airtight.
A
rubber
gasket
kept
them
airtight.
The
basement
was
usually
cool
the
whole
year,
except
when
t
got
too
cool
in
brutal
winters,
when
lots
of
the
jars
would
freeze
and
we'd
be
busy
sweeping
up
shards
of
broken
glass
and
sloppy
fruit.
The
floor
of
the
basement
was
some
sort
of
primitive
or
cheap
cement,
for
as
one
swept
it,
one
could
always
rely
on
it
giving
up
duat.
In
other
w o r d s ,
it
was
never
entirely
clean.
On
the
sough
side
of
the
base
(OOps,
cellar)
there
was
a
coal
bin,
and
in
better
days
coal
was
heaved
through
a
window,
from
wagons,
then
the
window
was
sealed
until
the
next
load
was
needed.
By
the
time
I
came
along,
this
was
never
done,
probably
as
we
could
never
afford
a
load
o
coal,
and
it,
along
with
wood
and
corn
cobs,
wer
carried
down
steps
on
the
soughwest
side
of
the
house,
with
very
crude
steps.
A
wooden
cover
and
door
covered
this
stairway,
and
was
used
only
as
something
had
to
be
carried
into
the
cellar.
There
was
a
large
old
furnace
at
the
bottom
of
the
steps
leading
down
from
the
kitchen,
which
had
long
since
given
up
the
ghost
before
I
came
along,
so
it
was
only
a
space- waster.
Instead,
the
house
was
headed
by
stoves
in
various
rooms,
and
it
was
my
job
to
take
a
coal
scuttle
down
the
staprs
daily,
and
bring
up
enough
coal
to
last
the
night,
or
day.
Stoves
were
banked
(or
shut
down
when
we
went
to
bed,
and
on
cold
nights
Mom
would
hand
out
bricks
that
had
reposed
on
top
of
the
stoves
all
day,
and
we'd
wrap
them
in
newsprint
and
put
them
in
the
foot
of
the
bed.
I
can
still
remember
how
cuddely
(that's
decidely
a
faminine
term,
but
can't
think
of
anything
more
appropriate),
these
bricks
w e r e .
Plus
piles
of
blankets
and
comforters,
some
kept
over
from
the
Civil
War.
The
house
was
not
well
built,
and
I'm
sure
Grandfather
Martin
really
got
cheated
by
various
workmen
when
he
had
it
b u i l t ) .
I'm
sure
e
was
busy
being
governor,
and
the
workmen
got
away
with
things.
The
house
was
originally
equipped
with
gas
lights,
and
little
gas
jets,
with
their
lines
on
hinges,
jutted
out
from
varous
wallfof
the
house.
By
the
time
I
came
along,
the
house
had
been
wired
for
electricity,
with
wires
many
times
running
across
ceilings
and
down
walls.
The
plumbing
was
also
rather
crude,
and
pipes
would
freeze
in
winter,
bursting
at
times.
It
was
a
yearly
ritual
to
wrap
them
with
paper
and
rags,
and
yet
they'd
still
burst
at
times.
The
roof
would
also
leak,
but
by
the
time
I
came
along
it
was
a
very
old
house.
We
couldn't
afford
a
roofer,
so
my
brother
Ernie
and
I
would
go
up
on
the
roof
with
a
tar
bucket
wa
got
at
J.C.
Penney,
and
patch
the
shingles.
I'm
digressing
a
b i t ,
but
while
on
the
subject
of
roofs,
the
old
barn
had
a
tar- paper
roof
in
two
levels,
and
it
was
old
and
rotten,
and
always
leaking.
So
we
gook
great
pride
in
getting
sheets
of
muslim
at
J.C.
Penney,
a
bucket
of
tar,
and
patching
that
roof,
sometimes
in
fairly
large
areas.
That
method
worked
beautirully,
and
in
later
years
I've
patched
roofs
in
that
matter
at
a
cost
of
cents
in
stead
of
hundreds
of
dollars.
By
and
large,
all
this
maintenance
and
repair
taught
Ernie
and
I
a
great
deal
about
maintenance
and
repairs,
plumbing,
brick
work,
electricity,
and
all
sorts
of
things
to
meet
the
challenge
of
kepping
the
place
functionin
and
livable.
ricks
were
also
always
bulging
in
one
spot
of
another,
and
we'd
get
030
some
cheap
oortar
and
patch
em
them
in
place,
sometimes
improvising
braces
to
keep
the
walls
from
bulging
too
much
further.The
kitchen
was
the
real
center
of
the
household,
on
the
west
side
of
the
h o u s e ,
almost
then
entire
width.
In
the
northwest
corner
was
a
sink
with
one
faucet.
In
h
those
day s,
if
you
wanted
hot
water,
you'd
heat
it
on
the
stove
in
a
tea
kettle
mainly .
This
tea
kettle
was
a
backbone
of
the
household,
usd
for
cooking
making
tea,
coffee,
hot
soup,
and
a
myriad
of
other
uses.
it
sat
on
an
old
black
gas
tove
south
of
the
sink,
and
I
can
still
remember
the
tea
kettle
whistling
when
it
got
h o t .
The
stove
was
Mom's
pride
and
joy ,
as
it
had
four
gas
burners
and
a
large
oven.
I
remember
w
very
young
and
running
around
with
Papa
and
we
found
it
in
a
shop,
and
bought
it
as
a
surprise
for
Mom,
for
$ 5 .
Leavin
the
oven
door
open
would
heat
the
kitchen,
also.
X&XXKKXXXX soagh
of
the
stove
was
a
window,
and
a
small
desk
where
Mom
had
her
typewriter
and
writing
materials,
and
usually
an
album
she
was
always
working
on.
Almost
to
the
wall,
in
the
southwest
side
of
the
kitchen
was
a
staircase
to
the
second
floor,
with
about
four
steps
in
the
room,
then
a
door,and
then
the
stairs
curving
to
the
east
upstairs.
To
the
east
of
this
desk
and
staircase
was
a
large
table,
where
we
ate
all
m e a l s ,
and
whilch
I
would
guess
would
seat
up
to
eight
eaters.
I
remember
that
Dad
was
a
very
friendly
fellw
and
would
often
bring
home
a
customer
from
the
print
shop,
a
supplier,
or
visiting
pastor,
always
aaying
that
Mom
could
add
another
cup
of
water
to
the
soup.
Mom
was
a
mervelous
cook,
and
as
Dad
was
of
German
ancestry,
we
ate
a
great
deal
of
German
dishes.
Like
sauerdraut,
sausage,
German
pancakes,
potato
pancakes,
hogs
jowls,
and
even
brains
for
breakfast,
with
es.
I
must
have
been
very
young
when
we
had
chickens,
and
got
daily
eggs.
The
chickens
wee
kept
in
a
fenced
part
of
the
yard
between
the
houea
and
the
barn.
I
also
have
a
very
dim
memory
of
a
nanny
goat
that
Mom
was
forever
forbidding
me
from
riding.
But
in
later
y ears,
the
only
anomals
were
cats...lots
of
cats,
and
an
occasional
dog.
I'll
get
to
the
barn
in
more
detail,
but
in
reference
now
to
the
animals,
I
was
crazy
about
cats,
and
we
had
one
old
calico
cat
that
I
swear
had
lw
or
15
kittens
every
six
weeks.
These
kittens
would
often
disappear,
and
I
remembe
having
dreams
of
making
a
cat
refulge
in
the
barn,
where
I
could
keep
doxens
of
them.
Sort
of
a
cat
orphanage.
But
I
guess
I
figured
ont
what
Mom
was
doing.
Her
pride
and
joy
as
a
Singer
sewing
machine,
really
abeauty,
and
she
was
shocked
to
find
scratch
marks
down
the
front
of
the
center
drawer.
She
nailed
me
for
doing
it,
and
I
told
her
I
did
that
in
revengs
for
her
drowning
my
kittens.
To
feed
her
large
family,
Mom
was
always
baking,
either
pies
of
cakes,
and
as
I
showed
a
fondness
for
pie
crust,
she
would
always
bake
a
little
dab
of
pie
crust
separately
for
m e .
And
I
usually
got
to
lick
the
bowl.
By
the
sink
in
the
northwest
side
or
corner
of
the
room
was
a
dipper
with
a
long
handle,
and
i
one
wanted
a
drink,
one
would
runse
it
out
and
drink
whatever
he
or
she
wanted.
At
one
point
we
had
a
person
living
or
vising
there
I
didn't
like,
and
I
always
dreaded
drinking
from
his
spot,
so
I'd
get
in
one
of
the
corners
by
the
handle.
I
was
horified
one
day
to
see
him
carefully
drkin
out
of
the
same
spot.
I'm
jumping
ahead,
but
in
my
teen
y ears,
neighbor
kids
and
I
would
make
fudge
and
divinity
in
her
kitchen,
and
she
kingly
furnished
the
ingredients.
We
tried
popcorn
bills
one
time,
and
cound
mekt
them
stick
together,
but
we
ate
the
popcorn
any
Remember
much
later,
ohosting
a
taffy
pull,
with
half
a
dozen
kids
from
school.
As
we
were
pulling
the
tafffy,
mine
came
out
sort
of
grey.
That
was
after
I
started
working
in
the
print
shop,
and
I
can
remember
how
embarrased
I
w a s ,
as
I
had
parinters
ink
imbedded
in
my
skin.
I
dn't
getting
teasing
for
this,
but
that
was
the
first
and
last
taffy
pull
I
ever
hosted.
of 00

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