Ms. Barbara Smith
• Born on April 26, 1923, in Hartford, Connecticut; died September 22, 2024
• Father: Alfred Detering Martens, born in New Haven, Connecticut, in 1890
• Mother: Lydia Magdalene Smith, born near Hamburg, Germany, in 1890
• Husband: Albert Ernest Smith, born in July of 1916; died in October 2000
• Married when she was twenty
• Children: Patricia, Bill
Barbara's Story
(First ten pages – rough draft)
Chapter 7
Centenarian
Barbara Brandt (Martens) Smith, 101
"I am not afraid of death as long as I’m involved. I want to find out what happens next.
Do I suddenly disappear when I go to sleep? Or do I have to do something?”
I’m wondering, now that I’m one hundred, what will I do with myself? I was working up to piano; I was going to play at my hundredth birthday party. I had a goal and was busy all the time with everything. Then, I got to be one hundred, and everybody made a big fuss about it. My granddaughter, Nikki, made a big fuss about it, and so everybody else did.
Then I woke up, and it was all over. And I thought, “OK, so now what will I do?”
During our first visit, Barbara and I sit across from each other at a long-legged, round glass dining room table. Her apartment is adorned with modern furniture and colorful artwork.
Barbara is strikingly tall and slim. And glamorous. And kind.
A beautiful black baby grand piano awaits nearby.
Did you play piano at your 100th celebration party?
I tried. I tried. But I couldn’t. My sight is going. I can’t see anything that small. I have both glaucoma[1] and macular degeneration.[2] Glaucoma, I guess, is the worst one.
I can’t see or read the music anymore, and my memory doesn’t take me there.
But they accepted me anyway, even though I didn’t play the piano.
Do you still sit down and play even though you can’t see well?
Oh, yeah. Yes. I do.
I’m still thinking maybe I’ll play it on Christmas Eve, where we have all the poor souls who are left alone here. There’s a party. And if anybody wants to do anything, they’re welcome. They’re allowed two minutes, I think. So, I thought, “Well, maybe I’ll play a Christmas carol then.”
So, did you play piano on Christmas Eve?
No.
Where did you learn how to play the piano?
All over the place.
My sister, Shirley, was four years older than me, and she took piano lessons. She was very good at, say, classical music. When I went to bed, she practiced her piano. I always lay in bed hearing her practice. I went to the piano and pushed the keys down. I could bang out something; I could make melodies and stuff. And so, I didn’t take piano lessons until my oldest son, Bill, took lessons. He turned out to be a musician. And when he was taking classes, I took those lessons at the same time.
Also, I took lessons to play different pieces using melodies and cords, like the man who plays piano in restaurants and bars; that kind of lesson is different from the typical type of lesson.
Did you also play guitar?
Yes. Yes, I played guitar. Bill also played the guitar, and so I took that up when he was chilling around. When we lived on a boat, we’d stop in different marinas, stay for a while, and I’d volunteer to sing, play, and entertain others who were also staying there.
While driving around, I used to listen to Barbra Streisand. I used to sing with Barbra Streisand, especially in the bathtub. I had a beautiful voice singing with Barbra. Well, I did have a good voice.
But I lost my voice to my respiratory disease. That’s the only reason I quit. That bothers me. So many times, I’ve wanted to burst out into song. Can’t do it anymore.
Here’s Barbara’s granddaughter, Nikki: Grandma Barbara has been one of my life's most important and influential people. I vividly remember hiking with her and singing one song, though it was more of a chant hunters would use to find each other in the wild. The first would sing out: “Hi-low inimini cha cha um papa pi wawa” while the other responded with, “Chim cham hillbilly ram tam tommy oooh.” Back and forth until they were back together.
###
They took pictures of everybody that came to say happy birthday to me. So, I developed them and gave a photo to anybody whose photo was taken; I gave them a print. And that took me all over this place. I had my friend, Dot, take me. She’s in a wheelchair, too. So, we wheeled around at eleven o’clock one night and passed them out.
Oh, yeah. I can go like a bat out of hell in that wheelchair.
Do you need bumpers on the side? Do you hit walls?
No. Oh, I’ve been doing it for so very long, this wheelchair. Well, ever since I’ve been here. About five years. Came just before COVID.
I've been living on this lake[3] since 1994.
I come from Long Island. I’m a New Yorker.
Never took the New Yorker out of me. My husband, Albert Ernest Smith, was a real New Yorker. I mean, when he spoke, people knew he came from New York.
But I don’t hear the New Yorker in you now.
You won’t find it in me because I was going to be an actress, and I took all sorts of elocution lessons and things like that in high school. I would be the second Katharine Hepburn if you know who Katharine Hepburn was.
I do.
So, I trained. Trained my voice, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
When I first came here, I came in October and was in the December show.
I wasted no time.
October of, what would that have been, 2018?
Yes, I think. Don’t ask me to figure out any dates.
The doctors ask me, “How long has this been bothering you?”
“Well, I’ll tell you. It’s been bothering me for quite some time.”
“But how long?”
It doesn’t matter.
###
Grandma Margarette
Ms. Barbara, please tell me about your family.
On my mother’s side, her mother, my Grandma Margarette Martens, committed suicide when my mother was two or three.
I never knew about Grandma’s suicide until just a few years ago. My mother never told me.
Mother Augusta
My mother, Augusta Elizabeth (Brandt) Martens, had problems with me. My baby book says, "Barbara lies on the floor, kicking and screaming until she gets her way. When I pick her up and love her, she stops."
I've done that all my life. I've worked at whatever I wanted until I got it.
I would come home from school as a teenager, and my mother would be lying on the couch, and my sister Shirley would be sitting on a chair behind her, rubbing my mother’s head because I gave her migraines. Mother was so worried about the life that I lived.
Father Alfred
My father, Alfred Detering Martens, was such a wonderful person, but he had nothing to do with raising the children. My mother did all that.
He earned the money. He did what you were supposed to do in those days; the mother raised the children, and the father earned the money and put us in places so that she could raise the children.
My father had cars back when they were just little things instead of horses. Model A’s or model T’s.
Everybody remembers when my father kept driving around the block, waiting for the speedometer to say all sevens. He was very superstitious.
Did you like to drive?
I guess I wouldn't say I liked to drive. It was just part of something I did. It’s not like I would go out to drive around. I was always driving to get someplace. I didn’t mind driving or wouldn’t have driven from Florida to Vermont for the music camps.
###
Alfred was born in New Haven, Connecticut, in the 1890s (exact year unknown). He married Augusta in 1917. They lived in Hartford, Connecticut, until 1927 and in Upper Darby, Pennsylvania, through 1930.
Alfred[4] was a big deal in the business world. He later became head of Whitlock Coil Pipe in New York. At Whitlock, he held two patents: one included a heat exchanger for recovering heat from waste process water.
He died in 1948 in Oyster Bay, New York.
###
Teen Years
In my teenage years, I learned to cope by forgetting anything I had to cope with. I blocked it out of my mind. That’s the only way I coped with the tragedies of teenage life, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
I’ll dare say life shares a tragedy for everybody. To anybody who goes through traumatic experiences, it may not seem like it to anyone else, but you do. My mother disapproved of how I ran my teenage life, and most of the tragedies were with her. And the way I’d get over that sort of thing was I’d forget. I kept it that way throughout all my life. And like I say, everybody goes through hardships; mine might be a lot less than yours, but to me, they’re hardships.
###
Barbara Marries
My parents were so glad when someone came along and wanted to marry me. Mother told me that when my future husband, Al Smith, came to ask if he could marry me – he asked my parents first – Mother warned him that I was a problematic person and that I gave her migraines.
My mother said, "She's not an easy person. She told that to Al. She said, "You sure you want her? She's a big problem."
I have a feeling I took after my mother. I have a feeling that she was the same because she more or less made a life for herself when her mother committed suicide. She was two and sent to an older sister, somebody to care for her.
I had no idea. I never thought of my mother as anything except a mother. Never occurred to me that she was a woman – I'm going to cry again, phew – fighting for her life, which she made for herself.
I wasn't interested in my mother. I was interested in Barbara. I am very interested in Barbara and nobody else. It's terrible.
Shirley is the one who raised me because, of course, I would be very upset that my mother would be having migraines because of me, and Shirley would help. That's when I learned to forget it. OK? I'll forget what happened yesterday. That's how I coped with life. Pretty lucky to be able to do that.
###
Al
There are two versions of Barbara and Al Smith’s story – his and hers.
Al remembered it this way:
“I would go to the docks,[5] crowded with enthusiastic fans, and join in the excitement and beauty of the sailboat race. But in particular, I would look for and follow one sailboat in which one of its handlers was a girl I fell in love with. Right then and there, I decided that when she was eighteen, I would ask her for a date and marry her.”
Here’s what Barbara remembers:
I, Barbara Martens, lived in Harbor Green[6] but went to Amityville High School, the center of my teenage life. I crewed on my steady boyfriend, Bill Thorn’s, sailboat during the weekend races. As busy and involved as that kept me, I noticed, and eventually always looked for, that handsome fellow in the cool Coast Guard uniform who was always there on the dock sitting, surrounded by girls, in his hot white convertible with the top down, watching the races and, I liked to think, watching me. He was a hot guy.
###
I was a junior in high school when I met Al. I came from Massapequa, Long Island.[7]
Being seven years ahead of me, Al had already graduated and worked for the Vintage Underwood Elliott Fisher Co.[8] But I didn’t know him at that time.
I met Al after he had joined the Coast Guard (stationed in New London, Connecticut[9]). He came home from boarding ships in New York Harbor[10] to visit his family when he'd go on leave.
I knew of him, but I didn’t know him.
Al would come to the docks to watch the sailboat races because that was a big thing. This went on for several years. I would see him, and he would see me. Before we dated, Al decided I was the girl he would marry. But he had to wait, of course, because I was too young even to ask out. And that worked. We waited until finally he could ask me out. This occurred in early August 1943.
###
When the U.S. joined Great Britain and the Soviet Union in World War II in 1941, Chief Boatswain Mate Albert Ernest Smith was assigned to a U.S. Coast Guard vessel, which he captained in New York Harbor.[11]
###
Dating
Here’s Barbara’s sister Shirley, from reflections written in 1945:
During the summer, Barbara wanted to marry Edward Mullen, brother of her best friend, Leila, and a person of charm where most ladies were concerned. Ed, who had recently been inducted into the Navy, was not ready to take the final step, and after an interlude, Ed was gradually forgotten.
Fate plays its pranks. While Chet Tuttle (a chap whose unusual vitality and goodness of heart were amazing to us all) was coming around more and more frequently (why, he had even put our boat into commission and launched it for us), and Bill Thorn had reappeared on the scene, Albert Smith dropped in from nowhere. Here was someone a little older. He was a Chief Petty Officer in the Coast Guard at the time and sported a handsome convertible sedan.
Things were happening quickly, but when my husband, Bill, and I left at the end of August for a week’s stay at a cottage on Jenny Lake,[12] we never expected to return to find Barbara and Al engaged!
An engagement party in September was closely followed by their wedding on October 10, 1943.
It was a movie wedding from start to finish. Barbara wore a lovely white satin gown. The groom was in uniform. Bill Thorn and Chet Tuttle acted as ushers while my husband, Bill, had the honor of Best Man.
It was my pleasure to serve as Matron of Honor.
Just as the little brown church had served as the setting for our wedding two years earlier, it was called upon once again to host Barbara and Al’s beautiful ceremony.
An elaborate buffet reception was held at the house in Harbor Green, thus culminating in a wedding that will always be well remembered by those who were present.
Barbara and Al honeymooned in Canada and then returned to make their home in Greenport, Long Island.[13] They were to stay there a little more than a year. We will never forget that first visit when the whole family made the trek. Their home was a bungalow radiating newlywed charm. Most unexpected was the oyster cocktail served by these new chefs, who went all the way to make the day a success.
###
Of course, Al was charming and quite a catch, although I thought he was lucky to catch me.
You courted for just three months?
Yep, yep, yep, yep.
Albert Ernest Smith.
When we got married, I was twenty. Al, who was born in July 1916, was seven years older than me.
We had a wonderful time.
###
Then, something happened.
Al was sent overseas on an attack transport; he made the Okinawa[14] invasion.
Yes. On the day of the invasion, he was in charge of getting the boats up and the men in the ships to storm the shores. He filled the boats that went out and then came back empty.
It affected him.
Very much so. Of course, Al hated the Japanese, and nobody could ever say that the Japanese were not barbarians.
__________________________
Footnotes
[1] Glaucoma, a broad term encompassing various eye afflictions, is a silent thief of sight. Its progression is devious, with symptoms creeping in slowly and slipping under the radar. The sole reliable method for diagnosis is through an all-inclusive dilated eye evaluation.
[2] As her eyesight deteriorates, macular degeneration slowly steals away her ability to see the world. The dry form causes the center of her retina to wither, leaving a hollow void in her vision. But it's the wet form that brings the most devastation – tiny blood vessels seep and spread like a dark stain beneath her already fading sight, blurring and distorting everything she sees.
[3] Lake Seminole in Seminole, Florida spans seven hundred acres and used to be an estuary before being transformed into a freshwater lake in the 1940s. The lake has a park on its east side, offering public water access for activities such as boating, jet skiing, water skiing, and fishing. The park also includes a two-mile trail, softball field, and volleyball courts for families and nature lovers.
[4] Barbara's father, Alfred D. Martens, was the inventor behind two patents for Whitlock Coil Pipe Company. This company was at the forefront of producing spiral-shaped pipes made from a variety of metals during the 20th century's rapid expansion of industry and infrastructure. These versatile pipes were in high demand for their ability to regulate temperature in everything from power plants to factories to building projects.
[5] The Amityville Docks in Long Island, New York are at the heart of a charming village known for its beautiful waterfronts and historic charm. The docks have played a crucial role in this community's culture and economic stability. The town gained notoriety from the famous "Amityville Horror" case, which has since inspired books, films, and other media forms.
[6] The luxurious neighborhood of Harbor Green boasted beautiful homes in the town of Massapequa, nestled on the idyllic South Shore of Long Island.
[7] Within the Town of Oyster Bay on Long Island, Massapequa embodies the heart and soul of the area's South Shore. It serves as the central spot for Greater Massapequa, drawing in residents and visitors alike with its charming atmosphere and local treasures.
[8] The Vintage Underwood Elliott Fisher Co. held a prominent position in the American industry, manufacturing top-of-the-line typewriters and business machines during the late 1800s. Their star product, the durable and cutting-edge Underwood typewriter, was a staple in offices across the country during the early 1900s.
[9] On the Connecticut coastline, New London is known for its port city history, which can be explored at the Custom House Maritime Museum. Nearby, Fort Trumbull from the 1800s looks over the Thames River. At Lyman Allyn Art Museum, visitors can view maritime paintings. Playwright Eugene O’Neill spent his summers at Monte Cristo Cottage, now a museum.
[10] New York Harbor lies at the intersection of the mighty Hudson River and New York Bay, leading spilling into Atlantic Ocean. It is also known as Upper New York Bay, surrounding the diverse regions of Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Staten Island within New York City, as well as Jersey City and Bayonne in neighboring Hudson County, New Jersey.
[11] The New York Harbor is where the Hudson River meets the New York Bay before spilling into the vast Atlantic Ocean. This area also goes by Upper New York Bay, including Manhattan, Brooklyn, Staten Island in New York City, as well as Jersey City and Bayonne in neighboring Hudson County, New Jersey.
[12] Jenny Lake, in Grand Teton National Park, was sculpted by ancient glaciers over twelve thousand years ago. These massive sheets of ice carved through Cascade Canyon and left behind a terminal moraine, creating this imposing body of water. Its depths reach two hundred and fifty feet, spanning 1,191 acres of pristine wilderness.
[13] In Suffolk County, New York, on the North Fork of Long Island lies the village of Greenport. With a population of around twenty-two hundred, it is the sole incorporated town in Southold. Once a port known for fishing and whaling trades, Greenport now sees just a handful of commercial vessels. Still, tourism has flourished in recent years, bringing new life to this community.
[14] Over one hundred-fifty islands dot the East China Sea, nestled between Taiwan and Japan's mainland. The brutal Battle of Okinawa, dubbed Operation Iceberg, raged on the Island of Okinawa as American soldiers and Marines clashed with Imperial Japanese forces during the Pacific War. In April 1945, a massive offensive was launched with more than sixty thousand troops from the U.S. Tenth Army descending upon the shore, bracing for an invasion of mainland Japan.
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