My parents grew up in Atlanta long before it was the metropolis of today.
Patricia Ann Murphy, my mother, was the daughter of Joseph Robert Murphy, a Southern Railroad Accountant, and Madeline Boland Murphy, a home maker. Attending Sacred Heart Catholic High School, an all-girl’s institution located in the heart of Atlanta, Mom would generate friends that would last a lifetime. Loving to dance, she would often share that “the 1950’s where so much fun!”
One of her favorite stories was going to see a young man perform songs with some girlfriends before his career took off, “So few people were even there,” she remembered. “I could have reached out and shook Elvis’ hand!”
Mom would go on to attend Auburn University, pursuing a degree in art, but such was cut short after two years when she married my dad.
Harvey Enloe III, my father, was the son of Harvey Enloe Jr, a salesman, and Julia McGeever Enloe, a home maker and later a secretary.
On May 18, 1949, my grandfather would suddenly pass at 49 years old while conducting a speaking engagement in New Orleans when my father was only 11. My grandfather’s brother Sam would die on the same day at age 47 of a heart attack in Roanoke, Al.
Dad was the only son and the youngest of five children. With no male figure to help rear him, he had to go it alone, from fist fights as a kid to helping support his mother and older sisters with the eldest Claire having some mental challenges.
Dad too loved to dance – I still have memories of my parents “cutting the rug” in the living room as if teens later in life. He would attend Marist High School in Atlanta, an all-boy’s high school at the time. After which, Georgia Tech came calling but good grades did not, with him failing out after a brief period. He would then join the Army and serve for four years. “I needed the discipline, son,” he would later tell me; so proud of having served. Dad was within a few weeks of being sent overseas to join in the Korean War conflict when the cease fire transpired. Orders were then deferred.
Upon completing his service, he would then return to Georgia Tech, graduating in the top ten percent of his class with an engineering degree. “I didn’t want to let it beat me” he shared.
Dating off and on in high school, Mom and Dad would eventually pair up again and marry in 1961.
Saving penny after penny, they paid for 100% of their wedding and purchased their first home with no financial help whatsoever. “$28,000 was a lot of money for a house back then, “Mom recalled.
Within a few years, my oldest brother Harvey Enloe IV would say “Hello!” to the world. Just two years later, younger brother Joseph would arrive.
Having transferred silent 8 mm film to DVD recently, it shows my father and little Harvey jumping into a neatly raked pile of fall leaves with smiles a mile wide.
Another has the boys sharing a bath with older brother following his mama’s lead by putting soap suds on little Joe’s head.
So much happiness and excitement for what a future might bring…but never came.
The night of December 31st,1964 would spawn sorrow within my family for decades to come. At the request of her doctors, Mom would check herself into Emory University Hospital for some overnight heart monitoring. Tests had shown that there was a small hole within her heart which was of concern; especially if the family were to grow.
She would later tell me the last thing little Harvey said to her as she stepped off the porch headed to the car -” Don’t leave, Mama…” he pleaded. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I will be back tomorrow, and we can watch ‘The Munster’s’ together!” she comforted.
With New Years’ Eve always being a time to celebrate, my father and mom’s mother decided to welcome the new year in with some spirits. After the clock struck midnight, my grandmother left Dad on his own. To this day, I question why she did not stay the night until Mom returned the following day.
My father would fall asleep later that night in the den and their Atlanta home would catch fire in the early hours of 1965. Waking up to a blaze, he tried to reach the boys but failed.
Dad broke out a window to find exit and call for help but was overcome by smoke. Collapsing, he ended up with severe burns to his face and hands; slicing off the top of his right ear – firefighters pulled him out, rushing him to the hospital in critical condition. My two older brothers, Harvey / 2 and Joseph / nine months, would die due to smoke inhalation. The story would make page 12 – A of a small local newspaper called the Atlanta Journal / Constitution on January 1, 1965, as well as other publications…