Carole Kennedy Robeson
I’m not sure what looked Mr. Davy like. He was a dark shadow of a figure when he opened the door of his home. It was very dark inside and everything about the house seemed to be leaning toward the earth. But I loved going across the street to his house on Sunday, carrying his dinner that Mom had fixed for him.
As a 5 or 6 yr. old, it seemed like such an important errand and he always seemed so delighted to see me – as an adult, I realize it was the food. I always tried to peek inside, but he never asked me in, so my imagination took hold.
Who was Mr. Davy?
He wasn’t a very big fellow and he never frightened me, but he never really talked to me either. Just a “Thank your Mom.” Until one Sunday, as the usual, I was skipping over with his dinner, excited to be so important, I presented him with his dinner. But this time, he told me to wait a minute. As I stood in the doorway, he disappeared into the shadows of his house for a few seconds and then reappeared with something in his hands. He said, “This is for your Mother and told me what a wonderful, kind woman she was.”
He handed me the finest, most delicate pale lavender cup and saucer I had ever seen. It looked like an orchid when the cup set on the saucer. Fine porcelain in the hands of a 6year old! I don’t think I said a word, just grabbed one piece in each hand and ran as fast as I could. Picture this scrawny, little kid, so excited to have such a treasure for her Mom.
Well, I made it home without breaking it. We wondered how Mr. Davy could have acquired such a beautiful piece of porcelain. Was it his Mother’s or Grandmother’s that he managed to save amidst all this rubble all these years? I guess I’ll never know. I don’t even know what happened to Mr. Davy. I don’t know if he had any family or anyone to care about him, but I know that the time he lived on Walker Street that he had a friend who made sure he had Sunday dinner.
Caring for Others
Yes, I am 81 years old and I have the “orchid” cup and saucer – a treasure in so many ways. And yes, I still want to peek into Mr. Davy’s house! Will I be the last person to remember Mr. Davy and still not sure what he looked like? But for a small child, the lesson of caring and giving by my Mother has lasted all these years.
Braidwood Beginnings 
Tom and Carole,As you know, my Mom and I thoroughly enjoy your Braidwood stories, and last week I was in Braidwood with my Mom and read your story of “Mr. Davy”. Several memories came back including research I had done for my Dad years ago about Davy Nelson, whom your story is about. If you recall my Dad was born in 1923 on Division Street and lived just through the field from Davy. As a boy he would often visit with Davy Nelson and he would always share a bowl of soup with my Dad. If I recall correctly he said it was the best beef barley soup he ever had. He described Davy as someone who was always in his long underwear, not the cleanest house, but a really nice guy. In fact he had a hole in the floor board which was convenient for spitting….another memory my Dad shared. My Mom told me last week that in addition to the soup, my Dad would visit for likely two reasons. If you recall my Dad’s father passed away suddenly, one month before my Dad was born. This traumatic event was a direct link to my Dad’s stuttering which is something he never was able to overcome. However, when a stutterer is in a one on one situation, sometimes it is easier to speak. And the fact that my Dad may have been seeking out a father figure may have brought him to Davy’s house. We will never know for sure. The following information is all readily available on Ancestry.Com and maybe there lies a clue in finding the origins of your orchid cup and saucer. Davy was born in 1879 in Braidwood on School Street. According to the 1900 census he was already living in the home on Walker Street. (there are no US Census records from 1890). Robert and Ellen were his parents; his father was Scottish and mother was Irish and their home was owned outright, with no mortgage. They immigrated to America in 1874 and it appears moved straight away to Braidwood. Robert was born in Canada and Ellen was from Illinois. Davy had a sister Nellie who was born in 1884. She was a dress maker, like your mother. Davy held several jobs including as a RR worker for the Chicago & Alton, coal miner, ditch digger, and at the paper mill. He attended elementary school through the 3rd grade; never married; and stated that the value of the home on Walker Street was $1,000 in 1930 and $300 in 1940. (guessing the impact of the depression?) Enough for now, hopefully a few more pieces to your puzzle. I am constantly searching for clues to my Dad’s life and maybe this is another one? I found a treasure-trove of information about his life-long attempt to overcome the issues with his speech…if you have any interest I can share with you. All the best, heading to Denver later this week to visit our son and his family. John Kalec
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John, this is fabulous. Do you mind if I repost some of the information as a continuing story about old Braidwood? My sister and I would love to hear more of stories from you and your mom.
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Tom and Carole,
I have no problem if you repost.
John
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Tom and Carole,
Below is a summary of my Dad’s journey that I mentioned yesterday. I hope you find it interesting. Funny, but I never paid much attention before, the buildings in the picture were likely on Walker Street!
John
In Braidwood, Illinois, on May 23, 1923 my grandfather Mathew Kalec died from a sudden heart attack. My grandmother was 8 months pregnant with my Dad and upon receiving the news, she fainted and collapsed. The doctor could not detect a heartbeat of the baby for three days. The unborn baby did survive and my Dad, John Joseph Kalec, was born one month later. My grandmother would raise her newborn son and her six other children, by herself, on the 5 acre Kalec farm on Division Street.
The emotional stress and trauma of the birth directly and indirectly led to my Dad suffering a severe stuttering problem throughout his life. Just last year, in 2023, (it would have been my Dad’s 100th birthday if he were still alive), I received a 60 page transcript of my Dad under hypnotherapy and a video from a Dr. John Butler in London. He has conducted seminars all over the world and consulted with companies like Goldman Sachs and other Fortune 100. In 1983, a hypnotherapist in front of over 100 professionals in Chicago and later Los Angeles took my Dad back to before he was born and had him relive the reasons he felt caused his stuttering.
It is a fascinating and emotional journey that my Dad took for almost his entire life to try to overcome his stuttering. In addition to several sessions in Chicago and Los Angeles, he moved to Texas for a year after high school; traveled to Toronto after he was just married; and made numerous visits all over the country looking for a cure.
The bottom line consensus reached by the doctors was that my Dad went through life blaming others for his speech issues. He blamed his Dad for dying; blamed his Mother for never allowing him to speak in front of others because his stutter was too embarrassing; blamed his sisters for various things; and the transcripts go on and on.
My Dad could not say his name Kalec because the K sound is difficult to say if you stutter. There are many other “problem letters”. He may have been the valedictorian of his class if he had not stuttered; his career would have been different; and his social and family life different. He couldn’t say “I love you” because L words were extremely difficult. But strange as it may sound, stutterers can talk to animals free of speech impediment. (thus the picture below of him hugging his goat). And stutterers are also able to swear and cuss without a trace of a speech issue!
Through hypnosis the doctors were able to stop my Dad from stuttering…..but only for a short period of time. Until he was able to really stop blaming others for his troubles, he sadly continued with his challenges. Later in life he was much better, but never really able to overcome the issues with his speech. I was recently able to contact a former classmate of my Dad who lives in Florida. She now practices hypnotherapy in Gainesville, FL. She had an incredible recall of him and described him in these words: “poignant, pithy, old school, and sweet.”
The transcripts and video have helped me to not only understand my Dad better, but also myself, and many of the mysteries of our incredibly connected lives. Charlie Munger (former Vice-Chairman of Berkshire Hathaway), has many times been quoted to say that the secrets to success in life can be boiled down to a few things: 1) Pick the right spouse, 2) Avoid excesses in your life, and, 3) Never blame or envy others. The lesson is that only we can control our own lives.
Below is a picture of my Dad as a young boy growing up in Braidwood. He no doubt had little trouble speaking while with his pet goat. Before my Dad passed away in 2013, he gave me the little bell that had hung on the goat’s collar. I don’t really think I understood the true meaning of the bell when my Dad gave it to me, ……. until now.
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John, can you send the picture to tkennedy@braidwoodguy.com?Sent from my iPhone
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John, once again let me say that this story is remarkable. When I was talking with my brother Kenny, he mentioned that your dad would sometimes bring sewing to my mother, Adele. My brother would sometimes be drawing something (Kenny is an artist) and your dad would usually say, “How about that,” referring to the artwork. He was the nicest guy they knew.
Your story about his stuttering is remarkable. One of my granddaughters, Mattie, is a speech pathologist having studied at the University of Colorado and living with us for 2 years. She studied different speech issues, including stuttering, and would discuss it with us. I will share your story with her. I also think that your story would be enlightening for others to read…if you think that it is ok. Please resend the picture because it didn’t come across. Couldn’t open it.
I will understand if you would rather that I not publish your story.
Hello to your mom and ask her to relate other stories. We learn more about each other – along with respect – when stories like these are shared.
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John, I am leaving on Wednesday for England and Ireland and won’t be back for about 10 days. I would love to see you again. Maybe next time you’re in Colorado?
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Let’s make it work. I’ll let you know when we are back in Denver.
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Tom and Carole,
I will send the picture tonight. I am convinced it is Walker Street in the background as I looked at an aerial view of Braidwood from 1938 and the buildings match up. In fact it is likely a barn next to Davy Nelson’s or a cluster of buildings which included his home. My Dad would be very pleased to hear that his story is shared….hopefully it can help someone suffering with the type of issues that he did. Thanks, John
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Your dad was, and is, a hero.
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