The
place was called Vetville - and it housed the influx of married
World War II veterans attending Notre Dame. My parents, Redmond
and Donnis Allman, lived in Unit 35 A for four-and-a-half years.
During the l946-47 school year, 106 children were born to Vetville
residents. I was one of them.
Father Theodore Hesburgh baptized me in the summer of 1947 and
was invited back to our apartment afterward for a small christening
celebration. My mother relates to me that dinner was chicken a
la king from a canned chicken. Father H. was seated in a chair
with no back and drank his coffee out of the measuring cup. For
dessert my mother made her famous peanut butter cake. Little did
the Vetville residents know that Father H. would go on to become
president of the University.
Vetville, which was located near what is now Hesburgh Library,
was a cohesive little community. Everyone watched out for one
another. Upon arrival, my parents slept on Army cots for several
months until they purchased furniture. Groceries were available
from a little store down Bulla Road and were pulled home on a
sled in winter weather. This was supplemented by weekly visits
from our friendly milkman of the Suabedissen-Wittner Dairy. Families
took turns giving dinners while social occasions such as Halloween
and Christmas parties were celebrated in the Navy Drill Hall.
Many of the women planted gardens behind the units, with clotheslines
strung in between. Children often played in this area, as there
was only a rough dirt and gravel road in the front. Laundry was
done and children were bathed in the kitchen sink, as there were
no bathtubs. There was one telephone to every three apartments.
Only one couple had a television set -- its screen was the size
of an index card . It was no palace, but the price was right -
$27 per month for an unfurnished two-bedroom apartment.
When my father became the proud owner of a green 1947 Plymouth
Deluxe, I would frequently run to greet him when I saw his car
coming. He would wince as I often fell and skinned my knees in
my excitement. Little girls always wore dresses then, and my mother
had me dressed in the latest McCall's patterns.
My favorite day was Sunday. I got to wear my Mary Jane patent
leather shoes, and I got to have my Daddy all to myself. Make
no mistake; from the beginning I was Daddy's girl. We would go
to Mass at Sacred Heart Church together while my mother stayed
behind with my baby brother. I remember walking out of church
onto a blanket of magnolia petals. I thought we must have lived
in heaven. One of my most enduring memories was the Grotto of
Our Lady of Lourdes, where I was allowed to choose a candle to
light after Mass. To this day, whenever I see candles I think
of the grotto with its wonderful scent of wax and glittering flames.
How many children could boast having a college campus for their
playground?
My father completed his master's degree and Ph.D at Notre Dame.
We moved from Vetville to a house in the nearby village of Roseland,
where I became a big sister to a second baby brother. We lived
there until my father accepted a position to teach at Boston College.
Originally from Boston, he saw this as an opportunity for us to
become acquainted with the Boston side of the family.
In March 1960 I was a student at Sacred Heart School in Newton
Centre, Massachusetts. For our religion assignment, Sister Dorothy
required us to "adopt a priest to pray for." My father suggested
that I adopt Father Hesburgh. We were expected to write to the
priest of our choice and inform him of this adoption. Father Hesburgh
wrote back to me. The letter read:
"Dear Susan: May I just say that you can adopt me anytime
you want as long as there are prayers coming this way, because
I need them badly. I'm glad you enclosed a picture, because you
are quite a young lady compared to what you were the day I baptized
you. I am sending you a small picture, too. I hope we get a chance
to meet each other before too many years pass. Please say hello
to your mother and dad whom I remember very well from our Vetville
days together. With many thanks again, and all best wishes, I
am devotedly yours in Notre Dame. Father Ted H."
The day after I took the letter to school, I became aware that
I now held a position of privilege. The nuns were so impressed
that I was not given detention for the next year. I could do no
wrong.
* * *
Dedicated to my father, Dr. Redmond J. Allman
March 2003
