There is no picture of this guy. Well there is one of him in overalls standing in front of an orphanage. That was where he lived. See, many years before he met my mother, my father was married and had 5 kids. Two of them died of something called "Sand Pneumonia". A boy and a girl. Then his wife died. My father put the remaining 3 sons in an orphanage. Earl was adopted by a family named Siefert. Richard by a family named Nichols. Gene was never adopted and eventually left the orphange and went into the Army. Both he and Richard served in World War II.
Earl went to work at the power plant in Hutchinson and eventually retired from there. He had a lovely wife named Gertrude and we of course, called her "Gertie". They had a daughter, Lorainne, and two sons named Leon and Leonard ( I think). Earl was a part of our growing up years. Richard moved to Nebraska and then to Denver. He never really fit in with society. He was never married and came to visit us on rare occasions.
But Gene! William Eugene Bartholomew! There was a character. I first recall seeing him when I was 4 or 5 years old. He had just gotten out of the Army and came to our house in Nickerson. Then he disappeared for several years. Then he appeared again. Every time he came he went to the Arkansas River to stay alone for several days. Then, poof! he was gone again. By the time I reached high school I found out why he was disappearing . He had a wife. He had a son. He had a bad habit of writing checks on some one elses account. And of course, law enforcement had a bad habit of locking him up! Around this time of my life 2 things happened. Gene was locked up and the movie "Picnic" was made in our town. I took my brownie camera my brother Jake had sent me from Germany and went to take pictures. The assistant director took my camera and went and took pictures of Kim Novak and Bill Holden behind the scenes. He took 7 or 8 pictures. I was on cloud nine when those pictures were developed. I had pictures of movie stars! So I took my precious treasures and tucked them in an envelope and sent them to my dear brother, Gene, in care of the Lansing Prison there in Eastern Kansas. He wrote me lots of letters, you know. Wrote them in Calligraphy! Practicing his craft, I guess.
And for years after that I told people that I "used to have pictures of Kim Novak and Bill Holden that were taken on my very own camera". I never saw the pictures again. I do not know where the negatives went. I never saw my brother Gene after he got out of Lansing. We did search for him, but the last anyone saw of him was when he was in jail in Nebraska for vagrancy and they let him out on the edge of town headed west. Never a word after that. Like he walked off into the sunset and poofed. Earl and Richard have long since passed and I am sure Gene has also. But I will let you in on a little secret. Promise not to tell?
In that closet right over there not 12 feet away is a box. And in it are my treasures. I have my grandma's braid. I have Bret's ponytail. And I have letters from Gene Bartholomew to our father that were written by a 10 year old boy in an orphange. In one he is so proud because they got new overalls. And in one he pleads for his father to write. Somewhere in this world is a man named Billy Bartholomew. He may not be alive any longer, but I bet he has heirs that would like to read these letters. I know I would like to talk to him. Isn't it strange how we hide little pieces of our past and never pull them out or think about them and then when we least expect it, we wake up and find our selves recalling so much of the past that we can not even put it all down on paper? Life has a funny little way of catching up with us and bringing us to our knees.
And that is where you will find me this morning. I have lost so much in my life. Friends, family, pets, memories.... I want something to hold on to. If there is anyone out there who knows a Bartholomew let me know. My father, Ruben Floyd Bartholomew was born in Hudson, Kansas and is buried near there now with his son and daughter. And my brother Delbert Leroy Bartholomew.
