Douglas - Riggs Photos, 1922 to _____

Mary Lyle Douglas - Riggs Photos & Memories, 1918 to 1979

Katy and David Stone, daughter and son of Sidonie Ellen Steel Stone (photographer; now Ellen Thomas); Mary Lyle Douglas Stephenson (back turned); Ellen Earle Chaffee ______ and daughter Kerry ________, about 1971.

1979 Letter from Mary Lyle Douglas Stephenson (formerly Steel) to her father, Stratford B. Douglas (D-Daddy):

January 16, 1979

Mary D. Stephenson
Duluth, Minnesota,

Dearest Dad -

Jack is out curling and Muffin and her children are tucked into their cute house about two blocks from here and I thought instead of scrubbing the kitchen floor which I ought to do, I'd write this long overdue letter.

I was thinking about the letter you wrote to me long ago, which I still keep and cherish - about our history and babyhood - and I thought I'd like to write one like that to you.

I remember Loudonville especially - playing fox & geese or building forts in the snow - your gardening - the little plot of California poppies which sprang up perennially (sp?) - the tent-worms on the choke cherries - Uncle Del's play house - Farmer Asparagus next door being angered at something - wild asparagus in the fields - lying on the concrete deck looking out at the stars on summer nights - and once at Northern lights - Muggins - dear Muggins on my bed - Ben's bunk bed and Bill Hume and he laughing in his room at Charlie Chaplin movies relived - the fantastic big tree outside my window and snow blowing in it in the winter - also Mother letting me decorate it in red & white and buying me the round mirror with the gold cord (where has it gone?).

I can see your twin beds and the tall dresser with laundered shirts with cardboards - and the OLD brown suit with droopy pants which was about your only in the depression - we all had clothes except you - you don't think children notice. Mother could MAKE ours and Aunt Emma and Catherine sent boxes of them - how she must have envied them but she always made them over - and was so proud of doing it for a nickel's worth of thread.

Then I remember going skiing with you - out to the Farrell's fence and way beyond until we got to the woods - I was so tired because your legs were so long and you were always with me, and we got home somehow - having seen the farmer's fields in winter and the weeds through the snow.

Then there would be the times I could curl up in your big lap in front of the fire and you would tease me by catching me in your legs or playing your handgames or telling me your frog story. I eventually grew out of that - then I was going to parties - but so ugly and shy - and you would tell me that "sugar catches more flies than vinegar." That was the time we were all learning to dance - we pushed back the oriental rug and Ellen and I would dance to the Saturday night radio - before that I remember marching around to the victrola - through the dining room and kitchen and hall - past Muggins' room.

Another thing I remember is Mother's bridge club - how all the members would call to thank her just at dinner time - she'd put on her social voice and talk about bridge hands ad infinitum.

I remember the ONLY time you left us alone to go on your only vacation - I think you said you were in Madison - anyway the parking lot flooded and you had to come home.

Then there were the Strand and Palace theatres and with 50 cent allowances we saw almost everything. I saw Frank Sinatra in his hey-day there. And we had the White Castle with the FIRST nickel hamburgers.

I remember going to Grandfather Riggs' on the Pullman - really an exotic experience eating in the dining car and trying to get undressed in the berth. That was such a beautiful Christmas with snow and Blue Jays in the pine trees, but Ben busted my wonderful kaleidoscope on Christmas Day. (He was always busting things.)

I expect I could go on forever remembering good things. I want to tell you that if anyone ever had a good Dad and Mother, we did. In this crazy world we had security and loving which we'll carry on for generations, I'm sure. Jack had the same security from his family and I hope in some extent we can project it through our children.

I'll HAVE to relive Little's Lake - the picnics there - the huge campfire - the row across the lake at dusk - the beach and raft - paddling while learning to swim the good old sidestroke and doggedly following you across great expanses of lake. You said once Miss Bessie at 55 had the figure of a 20 year old - at 56, I remember that. Dear Miss Bessie and Miss Edith and all the lovely times we had through them. Remember the weeping willows and the big old house - the saw mills etc.?

I also remember your going out to heat up the Hudson - the rides to school - the fence on the side of the garage where one summer Ben left for camp, leaving me white rats to care for - how I terrorized local builders by putting papa rats on their backs. Also, that summer a NEW balloon-tired bike on which I rode on "positively no-dumping lane" where Ben refused absolutely to teach me to drive the Franklin and Frewky Hughes tried to kiss me. (Both very angry.)

I think, all in all, we've had a beautiful life. These things are silly but as the world goes round, as history has been made, we've been awfully lucky and I APPRECIATE a father like you were every day - so gentle and good - a truly gentle man in every sense. I don't think many people can claim that....

Have to quit now as my writing hand is giving ou - I can't tell you how much I love you Dad - everyone does - life is worth while as long as there are people like you -

I love you
M' Lyle

(Found by Ellen Earle Douglas Chaffee at SBD's bedside table the day he died in Black Mountain, N.C.)