Missing details of a father's life

By Joseph H. Cooper

Financially, my dad was a remarkably good provider. He made only a modest salary, but we were able to live comfortably (in Germantown and then Cheltenham) and to vacation in the summer (in Atlantic City).

He was a remarkable saver, as well. From his modest salary he scrupulously socked away enough to stake me to 14 semesters at the University of Pennsylvania. After his death in 1987, I was able to provide quality care for my mother thanks to the savings-account balances that had their origins at PSFS, Western, Germantown and Beneficial savings banks.

What he didn't save were the trappings of his youth and young adulthood. What he didn't provide was a record of what he did and thought about as a youngster, as a bachelor, as a serviceman, as a newlywed, and as an expectant father.

He was not given to reminiscing; he didn't regale people with recollections of the old days. What little I know about my dad came from an older cousin, now deceased.

Dad ran track at Germantown High School. What events did he enter? How fast did he run? What did he look like in his GHS uniform? I don't know.

He got an associate's degree in accounting at Temple University in 1928. What kind of student was he? How did he travel from school to his parents' place behind and above his father's tailor shop at the corner of Gratz Street and Wingohocking?

Dad worked as a bookkeeper and then as a traveling motion-picture salesman for Warner Bros. Distributing Co. I was told that, before the war, when he wasn't on the road selling pictures, he played handball at the Broadwood hotel's athletic facilities and enjoyed a Manhattan or two at the Walton Roof nightclub.

I try to imagine him driving from his Vine Street office up Broad Street to his parents' place. In a late-model Olds or a Buick?

From March 1941 to August 1945, the U.S. Army documented his life: Two years and four days "continental service" plus two years, four months and 22 days "foreign service." He was an Administrative Specialist 502, qualified as a Marksman Rifle 03 Carbine, who was awarded (among other decorations) the European/African/Middle Eastern Service Medal with three Bronze Stars. His battles and campaigns are designated: GO 33 & 40 WD 45, (General Order of the War Department, 1945) Normandy, Northern France, Rhineland. He never spoke of any of this.

At the end of August 1945, at Indiantown Gap Military Reservation, Staff Sgt. David M. Cooper was honorably discharged from 2512th Army Air Force Base Unit. Three days later, in Harrisburg, he married the woman who would be my mother.

He documented my early years in snapshots and 8mm films: There I am excavating sand at the Jersey Shore; toodling around the back driveway of the Weston Court apartments in a spiffy blue pedal-car; braving the wild frontier of the apartments' Chew Street courtyard in my Davy Crockett coonskin cap; sitting cross-legged behind the controls of my Lionel train set; showing off in swimming pools; posing as Richie Ashburn or Del Ennis in my Cheltenham Little League uniform; flexing in my high school track team uniform; trying to look calm and cool in my white junior prom tux; trying to look confident and nonchalant in my madras senior prom tux; trying to appear accomplished in my high school graduation cap and gown.

Why hadn't I asked him about his childhood, his school days? Wasn't I the least bit curious? Perhaps I was too timid or self-absorbed to ask.

Perhaps I'm rationalizing, but I think I had the feeling that such probings would have made him uncomfortable. It is my impression - or was my assumption - that he wasn't inclined to talk about his history. He didn't have anything to hide; he just didn't think his personal history was important.

I can't explain it, but I think he would have opened up with a grandson on his knee. Like him, I married later than most. He passed away before his only grandchild was born.

My father was a truly fine provider in many ways. He left no debts, liens, or encumbrances. But I wish he had seen the value of leaving me with more than FDIC-insured balances.

For my son, there will be photo albums and scrapbooks. There will be clippings from the Olney Times, the (Montgomery County) Times-Chronicle, the Breeze Newspapers, the Cheltonian, the (U. of P.) Daily Pennsylvanian, the Bulletin, and The Inquirer. Maybe I'm overdoing it, maybe I'm feeding my ego - but I am providing it all so my son won't feel the regret that I'm feeling.