When We Were a Happier Country

: Jamie Stiehm on Dec 31, 2025

Scene: the Midwest in midcentury.

The Madison, Wisconsin, neighborhood lived through the 1930s and 1940s, depression, wartime and polio. President Franklin Roosevelt's radio fireside chats built morale.

My father's mother, Marie, a widowed nurse with four children, never missed Eleanor Roosevelt's column, "My Day." Her husband, Reuben, a University of Wisconsin doctor, died young.

"Father's death left me with shame. And I felt shame at feeling ashamed." At age 8, just before Pearl Harbor, Richard felt bereft.

Yet the 1940s were the best of times on the unified homefront. Here are excerpts from my father's memoir: "The Good Life in Madison."

"Art professor Jack Kienitz invited Steve, Jane and me to the University tennis courts: six clay courts, ten hard courts and a backboard. Jack wasn't much of a player, but he gave us tips and sent us to the backboard while he played doubles."

A photo of carefree lads hanging from a tree and jumping into a lake made the Life magazine cover.

Within walking distance was Randall School, the First Congregational Church (where teens flirted on the balcony during Dr. Swan's stern sermons) and a host of characters. Nearby was a grumpy economist, as well as a radical, Gerta, married to a congressman.

Richard's best friend was an Irish-born boy named Shannon. His father played the Saturday Metropolitan Opera broadcast while they played checkers.

One rub between now and then: Adults spent time with kids beyond their own. The "beloved community" concept played out.

"Mr. Stavrum helped us boys rig telegraph lines between houses."

"Late summer was canning time. Peaches, tomatoes and apples had to be 'put up' for the winter months. My part in the operation was to pick apples from the neighbors' trees. One stingy neighbor only allowed me to pick up fallen apples."

"(Then) the warm mix of apples, water and sugar was poured into sterilized Mason jars. Mother was adept at this, since she knew how to sterilize hospital instruments. Canning kept Mother and the neighborhood women busy for two weeks."

Meanwhile, on summer days, she shooed young Richard out of the house: Go out and play. Don't cross Regent Street, and be back for lunch.

"The first morning activity was to procure an ice chip from the ice truck. Then it was time to plan the day's activities. Some options included Vilas Park Zoo, Camp Randall and its Civil War cannons, or the University farm and junkyard."

"Shannon and I put on a backyard carnival for the younger children, with games of chance and skill. These included tossing a tennis ball through a hole in a sheet. Usually, we netted 5 dollars."

"My dollar allowance did not cover the tennis balls, milkshakes and movie double features required for my standard of living. So I signed up for a paper route."

"After supper was the best part of the day. The heat retreated, the crickets sang, a breeze kept the mosquitos at bay and darkness didn't descend until 9 o'clock. Grown-ups gathered on screen porches. The gang gathered on Van Hise Avenue for games like 'One o'clock and the ghost didn't come.'"

The school drama was "Our Town," written in 1938 by Madison-born playwright Thornton Wilder, a theatrical awakening.

"I found my athletic niche in tennis -- no need for speed or size. I went to West High's cement courts every day to pick up a game. My first partner was John Stuhldreher, whose father Harry was the UW football coach."

"Harry was the quarterback of the legendary 'Four Horsemen of Notre Dame,' immortalized by the sportswriter Grantland Rice. After tennis, we recessed to John's house to play hearts with Coach Harry."

"The coach, still a competitor, did not like to lose to kids. At summer's end, he announced he could not play anymore. Fall football practice beckoned. But he invited us to watch team practice."

"Dr. Schilling, a medical resident, lived across the street with his wife, the drama teacher, and played semi-pro baseball."

"He followed my tennis career and congratulated me when I did well enough to get my name in the newspaper. He became my hero -- maybe I too could become a doctor and a successful athlete!"

And so he did.

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The author may be reached at JamieStiehm.com. To find out more about Jamie Stiehm and other Creators Syndicate columnists and cartoonists, please visit creators.com.

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