One Artist's Reality Chapter III, Lessons From My Mother

One Artist’s Reality
Chapter Three
Lessons from my Mother

“Josie” Chessé
1928

Fast-growing understanding of the human genome has recently made it clear that both sides are partly right. Nature endows us with inborn abilities and traits; nurture takes these genetic tendencies and molds them as we learn and mature. End of story, right? Nope. The "nature vs nurture" debate still rages on, as scientist fight over how much of who we are is shaped by genes and how much by the environment.”

Nature vs. Nurture
Are We Really Born That Way?
By Kimberly Powell

My father’s world was “Art” and he would share that with you “ad infinatum” but always on his terms. Art was his reason for living, through it he created the world as he wanted to see it and it was a world he could control. It was through his art that he dealt with a real world that frightened him. Nature endowed both he and my brother Dion with talents that allowed them to leave behind an enormous legacy of accomplishment but it was my mother’s nourishment that fueled and protected them from a world they distrusted and felt hindered their desire for recognition. Acting was a wonderful vehicle in which they could do and experience the emotional things in life which they could not come to terms with on a personal level. In life we must trust people to gain the trust of others and then their are no guarantees it will be reciprocal.

Josephine Dupree

Josephine Dupree Chessé was born in New Orleans (her family was originally from Mississippi). She came from an average dysfunctional family(alcoholic father who deserted them and a mother who was married 11 times). She never went beyond the sixth grade. The Chessé family lived down the street from her on Burgundy and early on she formed a tight bond with my fathers sisters Leslie, Vonnie and Ding. They were were so tight a group that she was all but adopted into the family where my father was at the center.

The Chessé Girls
Leslie, Josephine Dupree, Ding & Yvonne

Like my father, my mother worked all her life with her hands and she too was an artist in her own right. Having to work as soon as she was old enough, she began in her teens working with her mother at New Orleans largest department store Maison Blanche on Canal street. Maison Blanche (White House in french) was part of a a chain of department stores. It was founded in 1897 by Isidore Newman, an immigrant from Germany and had its landmark flagship store on Canal Street.

She quickly made a name for herself as a seamstress working in the drapery department and specializing in lamp shades (with interior decorators.) She was a perfectionist and highly valued for the quality of her work. She made her own clothes and served a kind of apprenticeship that left her with in demand skills. When she followed my father to San Francisco in 1924 and then to New York in 1926 she worked at Bergdorf Goodman’s on 5th Avenue, an upscale apparel store who’s founder Edwin Goodman was the first to introduce retail ready-to-wear clothing. These skills she acquired soon led to good positions at stores in each of the cities she and Ralph settled in.

When my father married her and moved back to San Francisco in 1927 (his whole family following in 1928) she worked at Gumps in their interior decorating department assisting decorators with drapes and lampshades. There she was so appreciated by her employers at Gumps that they offered to pay to have an eye (it was turned out from birth) fixed for her.

My mother was beloved by all she came in contact and her generosity was unbounded. Their first years in San Francisco were difficult and it was a struggle to keep food on the table especially when she became pregnant. In 1927 she had her first set of twins who died at birth, one, a girl, lived briefly and her death deeply disturbed her. An article in the daily newspaper credited it it to her own malnutrition. Later pregnancies led to abortions due to their impoverishment and my fathers reluctance to take responsibility for more children. He needed her to work.

When my father’s entire family followed them to San Francisco in 1928, they all lived together on Blackstone Court in the Marina off Franklin and Lombard streets. Their old house is still to be seen there and is now an historical landmark. After the arrival of his family abortions were not an option. Even after the children arrived her working was an important part of the household income while my father freelanced and began to earn a reputation as an artist and actor/ puppeteer with his puppet theaters. His sisters, brother and my mother were all a part of those adventures.

In 1929 My brother Dion was born. In 1931 with his brother Roland, my father shipped out as a bellhop on a transport ship and toured the far east. When he left he gave my mother $28 dollars and she moved in with the Interior Decorator, she worked with, at Gumps, and her husband until his return. To his credit he returned with his entire pay packet and they again set up house with his returning to working in the theater and starting his puppet theaters up again. The depression years were a struggle and more children were still not an option. A later pregnancy was terminated when I was about ten. My father told my mother he could not risk having another child as troublesome as myself. The sacrifices she made for him were considerable.

She was the glue that held our family together. In the course of her life with my father she was a supportive bread winner as she was when she followed him from New Orleans to San Francisco to New York and back to San Francisco again always supplementing what meager income he received as a freelance artist. She never demanded that he be a practical working husband. Her patience with him was unending.

Her whole life throughout their marriage was devoted to my father’s lifestyle. It wasn’t until the WPA was formed that my father realized a steady income of sorts. In 1935 she had a second set of twins and it was then that my sister and I were brought into the world. WW II improved their income. Even then my mother took care of babies, sewed, did upholstery always supplementing the family income all through our younger years, always giving my father time to devote his life to his art. She protected him from the outside commercial world he feared. His family too was an important concern for her and she was extremely important to them as well.

In 1953, at 53, through the success of his television program Brother Buzz, my father was finally able to support the family solely on his weekly income. By this time however, my sister and brother were married and I had begun college and was on my own. It ran from 1953 to 1969 and the income we received from working with him financed the college education of both my brother and myself

During these years of struggle she built a circle of devoted friends by her gentle giving and supportive nature. While serving my fathers needs she managed to maintain her own life nourishing others and being emotional cared for in return by those who loved her as unconditionally as she loved them. I received the benefit of that love even though I led the family on a merry chase with my tumultuous, contentious, behavior that sometimes knew no bounds.

I could do very little that would meet the expectations of my sister, father, brother or my teachers. They all shined as students and artists and comparisons were always made and used to prod me to follow in their shadows, an impossible task for me. The more my feelings were ignored the more I acted out and sought their attention. The need to establish my identity was greater then my need to change my behavior. My mother understood this intuitively and the years she spent with my self obsessed father made her recognize the futility of the demands I made for my share of my fathers attention.

From early on she tried to make up for the inattention my father gave my sister and I. Once we moved back to San Francisco and the house on the top of 17th street a new world was opened up to us. Because she recognized my need to physicalize things she would took us down to the Stanyan Street Cyclery and rent bikes. We would ride them behind the Emergency hospital (I was to become a regular there) in the parking lot of Kezar Stadium and the Kezar Pavilion.

It was a two wheeled, fat tired, children’s bike which at first sight I jumped on and began whizzing around the lot furiously expending my endless energy as Renée struggled to find her balance. Afterwards we would walk to Golden Gate park and play for several hours on the slides and swings next to the Merry-Go-Round and if we were lucky and mom had some change we would get a ride on it.

Golden Gate Park became my home away from home during my childhood. We had no car until I was 19 so my feet were my primary means of locomotion unless I happened to have enough for carfare. As we got older we had school bus cards and they allowed us to go all over the city. My mother took every means at her disposal to make us independent.

During the WW II we would stand in line with our ration cards for the scarce goods. To us, Fleers bubble gum was the rare item and we would pay dearly for one little piece. My mother was a bargain hunter and she would regularly take us to the downtown stores to shop and then have lunch. She followed the sales religiously.

As our dentist was in the 450 Sutter building, by the time we were 8 my sister and I could take the 33 bus, transfer to the K, L or M car and then the Cable Car up to Sutter street. If we had time we would explore all the stores and when my father was doing puppet shows at the City of Paris during Xmas we would spend a lot of time there as well and take the streetcar downtown on our own to see the shows. Our aunt Florence would sometime meet us for lunch downtown, again something we did on our own. It was different world then.

Since my father would have nothing to do with exercise or outdoor activities my mother tried to expose us to new experiences whenever possible. One summer she enrolled me the Jewish Community Center summer camp. It was there at Camp Tiyatta that I went overnight camping for the first time and slept in a sleeping bag. During the course of those weeks at the JCC on California Street we had a festival where we all took part in decorating the center. I was asked to paint a mural and told the Director I didn’t know how to do it. Her response was to ask me who my father was. When I said Ralph Chessé. She said, “ The artist?” and I replied, “Yes”. “Well then you are an artist. Get started” And so I did. That was the first time anyone told me that. I believed her.

Another thing my mother got me started on was cooking. I loved to eat and I loved to watch my mother cook and bake. She taught both my sister and I to cook and sew by the time we were 8. She always bought the Pillsberry-Bakeoff prizewinning contest recipes so when Wayne, at the local grocery store, held a baking contest, for men only, I entered it using a prize recipe that you had to cream and mix with your hands. To everyones surprise, I won the first prize which they wouldn’t give me because it was a fifth of whisky. Instead I was awarded the 2nd prize, a cigarette pencil lighter. My first acknowledgment. From then on I baked whenever I could. Popovers were my favorite and the hardest to get right. I had a real knack for it which my mother fostered and encouraged in me. It was the one thing I could compete with my sister on and win.

My mother was a great seamstress and she was always sewing something. She knew everything there was to know about fabric. A perfectionist she taught both of us the art of sewing. My sister talks about how hard she was on her, ripping out anything that wasn’t perfect. Renée was taught the “art of sewing” which was harder for me to learn because I was sloppy. She started me on darning socks with a darning egg and sewing on buttons. Skills that would serve me well through my 74 years. Well into my 20’s and 30’s I would make things to impress girls and during the 60’s I made leather purses and sold them. Like my mother I was good at using my hands. My mother taught me about patterning. By ten I was using a sewing machine.I was also able to put those skills she taught me towards costuming my puppets when got a job with the Vagabond Puppet Program in Oakland. From both my mother and father I learned how to focus on doing something well and with passion. The work ethic of both may parents was something I was able to build on.

But more than that was the trust she placed in my sister and I with respect to being able to travel around the city on our own at a very early age (7-8). It also extended to handling ourselves with respect to strangers and weirdos. We were considered old enough to handle any situation which is not the case today. For example we lived behind the Engine 40 firehouse and we knew all the fireman. When my sister was approached by one of them (a potential molester) she told him to get lost and the kids soon knew he was someone to avoid. I don’t think anyone thought it important enough to tell our parents about it since we handled the guy ourselves, something that would probably not be done today.

Living between the Castro and the Haight and within a 20 minute walk of Golden Gate Park as kids we had a multitude of people, places and things to experience and explore. Unencumbered by fear my sister and I took full advantage of that. Next to our house was a large vacant lot with a large billboard we could climb on. On top of the lot was a large fallen down apartment building with trees where it fronted Clayton street. That was our immediate playground and jungle gym as well.

I was once picked up by the police for playing there, put into a police car, and taken around the block to the front of our house and warned, in front of my mother about climbing around in that vacant building. Across from it was an apartment building that was still in tack and rented by Bertha Gardiner. She was a single exotic lady who had lived in China before the war and would ride everywhere around the city on her bicycle and every so often she invited us over for wonderful Chinese meals. It was a large building built on the hillside and as such underneath her was a large unfinished cavernous unlit basement. That too was a continuing playground for the kids in the area. In this pitch black cavern we would crawl on our hands and knees on the wooden basement framework without a floor and play spooky games for hours.

Mount Olympus 1927

Within a short walking distance up a large flight of steps was Mount Olympus or what as kids we called Statue Hill. Once reputed to the geographical center of the city, during the WW II there was an airplane spotting center there which was a object of interest to us kids. It was also a great place to fly kites in the Fall and it had a tremendous view of the city.

North East of Mt Olympus was Buena Vista Park the oldest park in San Francisco. built in 1867 (see the Wikipedia listing) at Haight and Buena Vista Avenues it was explored endlessly by us as kiids. Particularly inviting was “the Traps”. This was where bushes and shrubbery bordering on Buena Vista east that as kids we would walk across until falling into a gap which led you into a labyrinth underneath through which you could crawl along until you came upon the next opening. Then you could pop out scaring others on top of the traps and disappear once again. The problem for us was the fact that it was scratchy and sticky and when we got home we were very dirty.

Looking down upon us our house on Uranus Terrace was Twin Peaks, which aside from Golden Gate Park, gave us our largest playground. In the 40’s the Portola Drive side was for the most part unimproved with a horse stable down from where Midrcrest Way is now. There was no housing on that side of Twin Peaks blvd. You could rent a horse there and ride up the hill to the Sutro mansion.

Going up from Clayton on Twin Peaks Blvd was a rocky hill which we tried to climb and often got stuck and one of us would have to run to the fire house and have them get them down. We climbed every part of Twin Peaks and often packed a lunch. Ed Moffit the unoffical Mayor of Twin Peaks and one of those wonderful San Francisco eccentrics. had built a wood and brick house for he and his kids as well as several apartments and a woodworking sudio that has full view of Downtown SF and the East Bay. Easter Sundays he would lead a group of us up to the top of the Twin Peaks as the sun was rising and deliver a sermon complete with a scraggly band to counter the religious ceremonies on Mt. Davisdson which was followed by a brunch for free thnkers. After we got our first car in 1955, a 1936 Plymouth, and when my mechancial emergency brake went out on me Ed Moffit had me buy a replacment and showed me how to install it. Something I could not have done had he not talked me through it nor would I hae even thought of trying it had not Ed encouraged me.

In 1953 my father had rented the studio from him when he began to work on TV creating The Wonderful World of Brother Buzz on Channel 5 as part of the Captain Fortune show. Since he was builiding a show a week he needed somewhere to spread out. Once again he had a maginificent view of San Francisco to fuel his muse

And of course there was Golden Gate Park the ultimate playground for us and a chief source of entertainment along with the De Young musum, Acquarium, Arboretum, Beach Chalet and much more. Later on we went furher in our explorations topped by the Presedio and Fort Winfield Scott at Fort Point under the Golden Gate Bridge. For most of my youth it was closed and we would break in and run around inside with wild abandon. How none of us were injured there was a miracle indeed. It is now a part of the Golden Gate National Recreation Area where it is used for overnights for Bay Area school groups.

My mother following her instincts would always find new experiences and places for us to visit. Swimming at Fleishhacker Pool, Sutro Baths (in its heyday), the SF Zoo, dance lessons at Arthur Murrys and ferry boat rides. When the United Nations held their first sessions at the Opera house we were there. In addition, she took us to all the major downtown hotels to see the various delegations and get autographs. I remember seeing Molotov and Mikoyan. Ibn Saud with the Saudi Arabian delegation, all as they strolled through lthe lobbies of the Mark Hopkins, Fairmont and St Francis hotels. If there was something happening like as not we were there hand in hand with my mother.

I had always listened every Saturday to the Met Opera broadcasts as a kid and was in love with opera. When at thirteen I joined the SF Boys Opera Chorus she was there along with all the mothers helping out. After my voice changed I continued that interest by being a super in their performances and in High School I was a permanent usher at the Opera House and the Curren and Geary theaters. Music, Opera and theater became a passion that never left me.

Another broadening experiece was the Spanish War Releif Parties Lawyer Vincent Hallinan would hold every year in Marin County which my family and all my extended family would attend. This was the annual "left wing" get together with many colorful personalities such as Harry Bridges, controversial head of the ILWU.

After I was retained in the 5th grade I began to put on weight so that by the time I got to High School I was about 200 lbs. My sister had her own set of friends and left at 16 to marry and moved to Pacific Grove. I had to explain it all to her friends and mine. Since I was basically a loner I had very little social life and sang in choirs to feed my need for music.. As a freshman I asked 10 girls to a dance and was turned down by each in turn. I didn’t ask anyone out again until my junior year and then she was the girl with the worst reputation in the school. I had a great time. My mother by then decided that i needed to lose weight. She herself suffered from weight problems. Every day she would pack a lite lunch, mostly tuna salads with carrot and celery sticks and when I grew 5 inches in my senior year I began to slim down and by the time I graduated I was dating with some success. I could also talk to my mother about anything at all and she with me. Often it was about my father explaining why it was so difficult to communicate with him.

My father couldn’t handle illness or any kind of traumatic incident. As I was accident prone up through grammar school I made many trips to the Emergency room the first when as a child I swallowed ant poison three times (she was to embarrased to take me the third time I did it and administered the epicac herself), two times for stitches when at four my sister hit me with my cap gun and a split my lip, a week later falling down the stairs. More stiches were require living on Uranus Terrace, when I put my head through a window, fell cutting my palm on a broken bottle and when I was about 12 I was looking over the cliff down onto 17th Street outside our house and kids began throwing rocks at me and one hit me between the eyes.

I ran home with blood streaming down my face. My father took one look at me and told me to go to my mother and then went into his room and shut the door. My mother was furious. She wanted to run after the kids that did it but my father would not stay with me. Instead she took me down to the emergency at Kezar.

I owe every thing to my mother. She was the only one who never lost hope in me, understanding in her own way that I was different from the others and had special needs, one of them being that I had to rise and fall on my own efforts and to test waters for myself. Unlike the others I too was a nurturer and the most in need of care and understanding. Her love was unconditional and always maintained a belief in my abilities to succeed.

I have always lived at an emotional level that few understood, filled with so many ideas the it was often hard to keep track of them all. She lived long enough to see me marry and succeed educationally. What I was able to give her was lots of love and affection as a child, which was not forthcomng from my dad. She saw me married to an intelligent an caring woman, Jeanne Leicester, which pleased her no end and gave her another person to share her love with. The love she had in her was for everyone. Something she lived to share with her grandchildren and expecially Matt and Damon Chessé, my brothers children. Very independent and creative they taught her a few things themselve as she endeavored to grace them with the kinds of experiences she shared with us as children. On of their more humerous encounters is desctibed here by Damon in a letter which personifies her openess:

Bruce,

To the best of my recollection,it was 1973 and Matt and I were staying at grandpaand grandmas for a couple of days .it must have been in the summertime because i'm pretty sure that it was on a weekday ,like a tuesday and grandma offered to takeus to the movies..I was 10 and Matt was 7. So we went and got the chronicle and poured over the movie listings checking every listing from Millbrae to Serramonte. We finally decided on a double feature at the Strand theater on Market street. We went back to watching the TV while grandma, who was still walking around in her slip, ironing, cooking, doing laundry and looking through her bulb catalogues,began to dress for the trip downtown.As i remember it, she had gloves, and a hat, scarf, overcoat and a large hanbag with extra bloomers in it in case she had an accident. Anyway we all took the bus down to Forest Hill station,on the back side of Twin Peaks,which was used as a location in Dirty Harry,and caught the Street cardown to Market Street. I can remember the sparks of the tracks lighting up the dark tunnel and the smell of creasote that they used to treat the pilings.the street car emerged into the glaring sunlight at Castro street and continued down town picking an ever more interesting array of kooks as it went.We got off at powell street and had lunch at the Woolworths store by the cable car turnaround. the lunch counter at Woolworths seated ike a hundred people, or at least it seemed that way.Grandma probably made us go shopping while we were there.anyway we finally made it to the theater.the double feature we had chosen was "Scream Blacula Scream" and "The Legend Of Boggy Creek".Rated R. The Strand was on Market between 7th and 8th and it was as close to Times Square as the West Coast ever got .It smelled like Piss and there were people sleeping in there.The staff smelled of piss. The girl who sold you the tickets, did so with a look of strungout disinterest. The older woman behind the concession stand, wore a wig that looked like she cleaned out the pop corn machine with it. The third balcony, there were three, was was for street hustlers and hookers who didnt want to mess with a hotel room.You could smoke in there and masturbate .Remember grandma is wearing gloves and a vail. God knows where they stored the popcorn but we settled down in our seats.The film opens with a ghetto voo doo ceremony with some flashy brother with a process calling Pam Greer a "Jive Ass Bitch!". At this point grand ma announces that shes going to take a nap. We sat there for three and a half hours.People were yelling at the screen and at each other.People came in and out of the theater looking for people yelling into the dark sitting down and watching for 10 minutes and leaving. One guy way down in the ront got very excited, raised his hand to get permission to speak and told one of the characters on the screen to "SLAP HER!" We went to the Strand on our own quite a few times over the years but theres never really anything like the first time.I loved Grandma so much and I sure do miss her.

Take care,

Damon

Finally she always told us that when her time had come she would lie down on her bed and go to sleep. She did precisely that. Before passing she had my fathers dinner ready for him and had even done her Xmas shopping months in advance. We don’t know the cause of her death other then it had to do with her heart. My father and brother asked the doctor and were told that it was something between him and his patient. They wouldn’t push the envelope which was probably why because I was not there to do it for them. There was no memorial and I think that was more for him than her. My fathers response to her death was very dramatic with many tears. My nephews who stayed with him that night said he paced the room crying and crying out “What’s going to happen to me now?”. He needn’t have worried because he was perfectly capable of doing everything for himself and always was.

My parents 50th Anniversary

Interestingly this natural love for everyone extended to our entire family. She was always there for her sister-in-laws and in the many summers we 12 cousins spent together over the years through adolescense at my grandparents in Camp Meeker on the Russian River. It was Josie who took on the major caretaking. Her love embraced us all and whereas my father was the artistic male role model my mother was the female role model, having the time to nurture us all, she showed us the value and warmth of loving.


Bruce K. Chessé
11/2/09