When my brother and sister and I talk of our childhood, it’s our years in Hot Springs we call the happiest. Why were they, I wonder. Had the shared pleasure of our parents’ travel in Europe somehow carried over? Did the prominence of Jim’s church, bolstered by the wealthy northerners who “wintered” there, temporarily relieve his professional itchiness? (No less a figure than Bill Clinton, in his memoirs, spoke of “Reverend Overholser…a remarkable man, who produced two remarkable daughters.”) Or was it Hot Springs itself, an unpindownable place, offering whatever you happened to hanker for. If by chance you think “slow lane” when you hear “moved to Arkansas,” read David Mariness’s delicious portrait of this singular town. That’ll cure you.
As Maraniss says, “Hot Springs gets you somewhere.” What it got us, Grace’s letters show, was many good times and very busy lives:
November 17, 1952, letter to her mother: “The leaves are fast fading now. Yesterday we came back from church over the mountain and saw only a few reds with dull browns. But we can see more of the city now as we ride along above it, and that is interesting, We took the children for a hike to one of the highest points here last Thursday. We went to the Mason’s Pancake shop first for out-of-this-world pancakes for breakfast. The views from the hike later were outstanding, too, and our whole day proved a memorable one. I started picking grasses in various shades and the others became interested so that now we have an arrangement of dried things on our black coffee table in shades of brown, red and yellow, set off by a moss-encrusted branch in a different shape and several beautiful rocks. It looks like fall has come to our room, the children say.
“Our basement is now fixed up in to a sort of playroom-den and we even served enchiladas to the Earl Greens down there Saturday night. He had come over to help fix our sink and we asked them to stay. It was a lot of fun. I got the tortillas canned here and also the enchilada sauce, Ashley’s from El Paso. Not as good as fresh, but better than no Mexican food at all. (Remember, she was a Texan.)
“Yesterday we had Marie Thomas from Blytheville who is here getting the arthritis cures and treatments. I cooked a pork loin roast Saturday and then Sunday morning fixed sweet potatoes and hominy puff and put the automatic control on in the oven. When we got home at 12:40, the dinner was done except for cooking the limas and making gravy.”
April 1953: “Jim is heart, soul, mind and strength buried in the formation of this new church in South Hot Springs. It is an outstanding piece of work which he has done in organizing it. We are giving 48 fine people, every one an outstanding leader and citizen, and there are 20 other charter members gained from that section of town.
“I am one of a team of 5 who will teach 4 Vacation Church School Institutes on four consecutive days. Jim and the children will manage, he insists, so I accepted. You can see how much Jim is doing when you know that not only did he insist that I go but he also volunteered our car. I’m thankful he has bought three tires — not new, but very good, he says.
“Today he is in Anderson for Presbytery meeting. Friday he preaches at the Synagogue. Thursday we see our star perform (N is the lead in her junior-high play). Saturday we are invited to the lake home of one of our members to spend the day away from a telephone; she feels Jim has been working too hard. Monday I go with the Cub Scouts for a picnic at the Gorge, then to the Civic Music Supper meeting at 5:30. Tuesday is luncheon meeting of Women of the Church; that night Jim teaches the Scouts in our basement. And of course Wednesday night prayer service and choir practice and…need I go on?!”
September 1953: “With which shall I begin of the O’s? Perhaps the smallest. Geneva started to kindergarten September 8. She goes at 8:30 each morning and we are in a car pool. Jim picks her up and brings her home for our lunch. Yesterday, she said to me in utter seriousness when I went in to help her find a book to rest, ‘Mother, I believe kindergarten is really worth it; I believe it is.’ Last week on Saturday N had four people in the back yard playing badminton; A and 7 boys were in the side yard playing football; Geneva and 3 little girls were in the play house cleaning it out and playing ‘house.’
Money remained a worry. Jim was considering trading in their car for a newer used one, but the deal fell through. Grace wrote: “The Lord was looking after us all right. The car had already been sold while Jim was polishing up ours. When we found out the next day how much N’s dental work was going to cost ($600), we knew we couldn’t have paid $25 for the piano, $27.50 for the refrigerator, $27.50 for N’s dentist, $13.50 for Geneva’s kindergarten and $18 for N’s music, and had anything left to make car payments. So — we hope this thing holds together until three years are up (and N’s dental work is finished). And by that time she will be ready for college practically!
“Jim leaves this Saturday for a week’s special services in Monroe, La. The invitation itself is indicative of their attitude toward his preaching since it was in Monroe that he preached twice while we were ‘sitting out our time in Dallas.’ It will be a stimulating experience for him and then, he realistically points out, it will enable us to pay some of the first-of-the-month items! Jim has gotten to be quite a favorite invocation speaker for conventions. Last week it was the State Telephone Convention; today it was the Arkansas Automobile Association; and then he’ll have the teachers to pray for.”
In 1955, Grace and Jim flew to Grosse Pointe to be wined and dined by Ralph and Teena Wilson (one of those couples who came for the baths each winter). Grace had the time of her life. Jim couldn’t quit thinking about how many pounds of bacon, pairs of shoes or income tax payments could have been bought by all the lavish spending.
In 1955, Grace was elected president of the local YWCA and sent as its delegate to the national convention in New York. The Y’s resources were scant, but friends and relatives pitched in — including the Wilsons. Ralph sent “show money.” Teena sent high-fashion hand-me-downs: The likes of “a pink and black silk linen suit trimmed with black velvet by Milgrim, a Hattie Carnegie black raw shantung.” Grace’s flight out was “bumpy but fast.” She left Hot Springs at 8:34 AM and arrived at LGA at 5:30: Hot Springs to Little Rock to Memphis, change of planes, then Nashville, Knoxville, Washington and New York. (Fast?!) Sporting Teena’s fancy duds, Grace lit up the town. She attended Y events at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Radio City Music Hall and the UN. On her own, she saw a Steichen exhibit at MoMA and a Japanese film “that had taken Cannes by storm.” She ate at the Stage Door Deli and went to Bus Stop, Pajama Game, Teahouse of the August Moon and (courtesy of some ticket taker who let her in to standing room only at the very last minute) topped it off with Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, with the original cast starring Burl Ives as Big Daddy.
Back in Hot Springs, Grace was starring in a community theater production. After her first performance, she wrote to her mother: “ I wish, wish you had been here. I believe I can say that I have never done anything I had more real satisfaction in doing, and I received far more compliments than for anything I ever tried to do.”
She was already looking forward to her next role, in Anastasia. But the good times in Hot Springs would end soon.