T.O. Davis was a difficult man to research and I am deeply grateful for the helping hands of Linda Stufflebean, genealogist extraordinaire, and Sharon Cauley, a very kind librarian at the Waynesboro Public Library. Because of them, I was able to discover Otto Davis and share him with you.

Thomas Otto Davis—always known simply as Otto—came into the world in 1916 as the sixth child of Powell and Lula Davis. He was the third to survive. Between the births of his older siblings and Otto, Powell and Lula endured the heartbreaking loss of three babies, a grief that left a wide age gap in the family. By the time Otto arrived, his sister Delphina (“Dell”) was eleven and his brother Berry was nine. Powell, a Mississippi‑born farmer, owned his own land in Beat 5 of Wayne County. In Mississippi, a “Beat” was the local supervisor’s district, similar to a ward or precinct elsewhere. These beats shifted over time, so although the farm appeared in Beat 5 in one census and Beat 4 in another, the land itself never moved.

Otto grew up working that farm, and by age fourteen he was already listed in the census as a farm laborer. Even so, he managed to finish high school and complete two years of college before entering military service. In May 1941, Otto enlisted in the Army and served throughout World War II. His registration card described him as a slim young man—5 feet 9 inches tall, 139 pounds, light complexion, blue eyes, brown hair.

He began his service at Camp Shelby, Mississippi, and the Army recorded his civilian skills as “Stenographers and Typists.” He served until September 1945, earning an honorable discharge and returning home as a Master Sergeant.

Back in Waynesboro, Otto took over the family farm. The 1950 census taker referred to his road as “No Name Road,” which indicates how rural the town was at the time. Powell and Lula still lived there with him. Powell, aging now, worked only part‑time as a helper. Otto, remembering how vital blood supplies had been for wounded soldiers, joined the many WWII veterans who donated blood regularly at local Red Cross drives.

It was after the war that Otto’s lifelong love of contests began to show. In February 1948, he became a monthly prize winner in Pepsi’s nationwide “Treasure Top” contest. Pepsi had hidden forty‑eight different U.S. Army shoulder‑sleeve insignia under the cork liners of bottle caps, turning an everyday object into a patriotic scavenger hunt. Participants mailed in the caps along with a slogan beginning “Pepsi-Cola hits the spot because…” to compete for cash prizes. Otto won again in April 1948—this time a $100 check, worth about $1,300 today.

Then came 1949 and Pillsbury’s first Grand National Recipe Competition. Pillsbury opened submissions in August and closed them on October 31, advertising across the entire country and even in Alaska, Hawaii, and Puerto Rico. Otto sent in his recipe for a marshmallow‑strawberry pie, which Pillsbury christened “Strawberry Social Pie.” He won $200 as the regional champion—remarkably, the only Mississippi man to win a regional Bake‑Off prize until 1994, a distinction he treasured. And one of only three men who made it to 1949 Bake-off finals, despite the 20,000 recipes submitted by men.

As a finalist, Otto received a new electric range, a spice chest, and an all‑expenses‑paid trip to New York City to compete at the Waldorf‑Astoria. Pillsbury even covered his train fare from Mississippi.

When he returned home, he wrote about the experience for the local newspaper under the pen name T.O. Davis, describing everything down to the luncheon menu—Stuffed Avocado Pear Royale, Crabmeat Topped with Caviar, Guinea Hen or Sugar‑Cured Ham with Wild Rice. He remained a devoted Bake‑Off fan for the rest of his life, later claiming he owned every recipe booklet ever printed. In his column, he explained the contest rules to readers and even offered to mail entry forms to anyone who wrote to him.

In 1951, Otto’s mother Lula passed away, leaving him and his aging father to manage the farm alone. By then, farming was no longer their primary income. Otto had taken a job as an operator at Masonite Corporation, one of Waynesboro’s major employers since the 1920s.

A kind man with a fondness for his community, Otto occasionally appeared in local social columns. In 1953, Rose Budd Stevens of the Clarion‑Ledger publicly thanked “T.O.” for sending her a hummingbird nest, which she sealed with hair spray and displayed on her hat rack. The gesture shows the gentle, thoughtful personality that made him beloved in Waynesboro.

Powell Davis died in 1964, leaving Otto alone in the home where he had lived since childhood. Other than his military service, Otto had lived with Powell his whole life.

Three years later, in 1967, Otto added “journalist” to his résumé. Already working at Masonite and running the farm, he began writing a food column for the Clarion‑Ledger called A Man in the Kitchen. The title came from a 1953 TV comedy skit about a writer who takes on household duties while trying to finish a novel. Otto’s column debuted in November 1967 with fall recipes—apple pie, stuffed ham slices—and over the years he developed a lively side career as a columnist. Writing as T.O. Davis, he shared cooking tips, recipes, stories from cooking competitions, and his annual adventures at Mardi Gras, which he described as a “seamy and dreamy” celebration. This gave him the opportunity to get to know Rose Budd Stevens as a colleague.

His column ran from 1967 until 1995, when the newspaper reduced its staff and eliminated several lifestyle columns, including his and Rose’s. Readers across Mississippi wrote letters protesting the decision, but Otto—nearly eighty by then—may have welcomed the rest.

Contests remained a lifelong hobby. In 1961, he won a Channel Master radio in a WSLI contest. He competed in the National Chicken Cooking Contest in Delaware in 1969, bringing Mississippi‑style barbecue made with “quick‑mix” ingredients. He returned in 1971 with a diet‑friendly entry called Dieters’ Chicken Broil, marinating chicken in grapefruit juice overnight. In 1976, he won his weight in ice cream in a Bush Dairy word game. In 1986, he earned $50 in a local chicken‑and‑egg recipe contest with his “Snacking Eggs with Savory Sauce.”

In his later years, Otto moved into Whispering Pines Care Home in Waynesboro, a small, privately owned assisted‑living facility. He had never married or had children, but he had a devoted niece and nephews who visited him regularly. He died there in 2007 at age ninety, having lived his entire life in the town he loved.

Let’s Make Pie!

This pie is so much a product of its time. Otto uses chopped marshmallows as a sweet base beneath fresh strawberries which are then covered with a sweetened whipped cream, studded with even more marshmallows. Marshmallows surged in popularity during the 1940s because they solved several wartime cooking problems at once. With sugar and many baking staples tightly rationed during World War II, home cooks increasingly turned to commercially produced marshmallow crème and marshmallows, which were made largely from corn syrup and gelatin and therefore remained more available than traditional sweeteners. Marshmallows melted smoothly, added sweetness without requiring ration coupons, and created creamy textures in refrigerator pies, molded desserts, and other “quick” sweets that fit the era’s need for economical, reliable recipes. Their versatility and non‑rationed ingredients made marshmallows an ideal solution for wartime dessert making, helping them become a staple of 1940s American sweets.

The marshmallows at the bottom of the pie keep the strawberries from softening the pie crust, shielding the pastry from the moisture. They also complement the acidity of the strawberries, eliminating the need to macerate or sweeten the berries first.

Verdict: I really wanted to like this pie. I read so many of T.O.’s columns while researching him that I grew to really like him. So, I wanted to like his pie. But honestly, it was just kind of odd. The flavors went together well but the textures all clashed and made eating the pie awkward - the flakiness of the crust, the sponginess of the marshmallows, the soft juiciness of the strawberries and the creaminess of the topping… it all just didn’t go together well. Sorry, Otto.

If you want to try this pie and see if it pleases you more than it pleased me (and honestly, I think it would be a hit with kids), here’s the recipe:

(Recipe published in the 1959 edition of “Pillsbury’s BEST of the BAKE-OFF Collection”)

Makes one 9-inch pie

Prepare:
One 9-inch pastry shell, pre-baked
Cut:
10 marshmallows into quarters. Arrange in bottom of cooled pie shell.
Place:
1 c. sliced strawberries over marshmallows
Beat:
2/3 c. whipping cream until thick. Gradually add 1/4 c. light corn syrup. Beat until mixture is very thick.
Blend in:
1/4 tsp. almond extract
10 additional marshmallows, finely cut.
Spread over strawberries; seal to edge of pastry.
Chill for at least 8 hours. Decorate with strawberries.

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Sources:
Pillsbury Mills, Inc. (1959). Best of the bake-off collection: Pillsbury's best 1000 recipes. Consolidated Book Publishers, Chicago; distributed by Grosset & Dunlap

Jackson Family, Meridian Man make inroads on the recipe contest circuit. (1994, January 19). Clarion‑Ledger, p. 44.

National Contest gets cooking. (1983, June 9). Clarion‑Ledger, p. 44.

Readers go nuts over Pecan Pie Cookie recipes. (1989, December 13). Clarion‑Ledger, p. 58.

Winners in the Word Game. (1976, July 27). Sun Herald, p. 2.

Along the R.F.D. (1953, September 21). Enterprise‑Journal, p. 3.

Captivated by stories of 1983 Mardi Gras. (1983, February 28). Clarion‑Ledger, p. 10.

Our Man Davis Again Signs Up for Contest. (1969, June 5). Clarion‑Ledger, p. 35.

Winners Named in Chicken, Egg Contest. (1986, May 22). Clarion‑Ledger, p. 33.

Mississippi Finalist to Compete for $10,000. (1971, April 29). Clarion‑Ledger, p. 63.

Entertain at Bridge. (1934, October 4). Sun Herald, p. 6.

Crown-Cap Liner Archive. (2026). Pepsi-Cola “Treasure Tops” Sweepstakes and Contests, 1948 (USA). The CCLA: Crown-Cap Liner Archive.

WorthPoint. (n.d.). Vintage 1948 Pepsi Treasure Top contest papers letterhead envelope.

More Soldiers Discharged. (1945, September 14). Hattiesburg American, p. 7.

Pepsi-Cola Prize Award Presented. (1948, April 12). Hattiesburg American, p. 9.

Blood Givers Really Pour It Out. (1950, September 29). Hattiesburg American, p. 11.

The Pay-off At Pillsbury Bake-off. (1949, December 22). The Wayne County News, p. 1.

Winners in WSLI’s Radio Contest. (1961, July 13). Clarion‑Ledger, p. 39.

Video News. (1953, July 23). Clarion‑Ledger, p. 18.

Durkee-Mower. (2025). The pre‑WWI origins of Marshmallow Fluff. Tasting Table.

Linda Flesh was the second child of Arnold and Mathilda Flesh, born in October 1879. Her parents’ lives were steeped in the industrious German‑American world of late‑nineteenth‑century New York. Arnold, born Amschel Flesch in Frankfurt, had immigrated to the United States as a young man and become a naturalized citizen in 1868, adopting the name Arnold Flesh. He built a thriving pearl button and dress‑trimming manufacturing business—at one point the largest in the country. Mathilda Loth, born in Connecticut to German immigrants, came from a similarly entrepreneurial family; her father owned a ribbon factory in New York City. With such deep German roots on both sides, the Flesh household moved easily between English and German, with all of the children growing up bi-lingual.

Linda grew up with three siblings: William (1876), Irving (1883), and Beulah (1887). Their early childhood was comfortable, but the family’s fortunes shifted dramatically in the 1890s. Arnold declared bankruptcy in 1890, and although he tried to keep the business afloat, the economic downturn and increasing competition made recovery difficult. In 1893, tragedy struck when Mathilda died suddenly while traveling in Austria. Arnold was left with four children and a failing business. Mathilda’s father and brothers stepped in, taking the children into their prosperous household, where they were shielded from the financial strain their father faced. Linda lived with the Loths until her marriage in 1903.

Arnold, living at the Hotel Peletier, visited his children often, though his relationship with the Loths deteriorated sharply. Long‑standing tensions—exacerbated by Arnold’s claim that the Loths owed him a dowry—led to open hostility. The Loths accused Arnold of domestic violence against Mathilda, and during one contentious visit, they claimed he struck Linda when she tried to calm him. Whether this was true or part of the family feud is impossible to know, but it marked a low point in an already fractured relationship.

In 1894, the repeal of the McKinley tariff and its replacement with the Wilson bill dealt the final blow to Arnold’s business. Luxury imports flooded the market, and his once‑dominant enterprise collapsed. Still, he rebuilt a decent living selling goods on commission, maintaining a respectable reputation in the city.

Then came the shocking events of September 18, 1896. Linda, age sixteen and preparing for her Normal College entrance exams, awoke to news that her father had been shot four times in his hotel room. Her brother William, who often stayed with Arnold after late nights in the city, was found leaning over him with a revolver nearby. Both were arrested—Arnold for suspected suicide attempt, William for suspected attempted murder. Since neither man would explain the events, the police weren’t sure whether this was an attempt at suicide or murder, so they went with both. Arnold, once stabilized, exonerated William and blamed the Loths for provoking him the day before. After weeks of conflicting stories and no clear evidence, the court dismissed the case.

Despite this turmoil, Linda pressed forward with her education. She attended School No. 46 and, in her senior year, passed the competitive entrance exam for the Normal College of the City of New York. In 1897 she began her studies, one of only 600 young women admitted annually. She excelled, earning honorable mention in psychology and graduating in 1901 with a Bachelor of Arts, her diploma handed to her by President Thomas Hunter himself.

Linda never pursued teaching. Instead, in 1903 she married Edward Born, a German‑born immigrant and president of the Seaboard Trading Company, an exporter of salt fish. They settled in Manhattan, welcoming their son Leonard in 1906 and daughter Helene in 1914. The Borns lived comfortably, maintaining two live‑in servants and later moving to a West End Avenue apartment. Leonard became a junior executive in a department store before relocating to San Francisco, where he married Cecile Katz in 1932. Helene attended Wheaton College, worked as a laboratory assistant at Harvard Medical School, and in 1936 married David Kadane, a Harvard‑trained lawyer who later became general counsel for the Long Island Lighting Company.

Soon after Helene’s wedding, the Borns made a major change. Whether inspired by their trip to California for Leonard’s marriage or prompted by Edward’s declining health, they moved to Santa Barbara in 1936. By 1940, Edward was retired and known locally as a philanthropist and arts patron. The couple joined the B’nai B’rith temple and employed a live‑in nurse. But Edward died in 1941, ending their 38‑year marriage.

Widowed at sixty‑two, Linda remained deeply engaged in community life. She was a member of the National Council of Jewish Women, serving as Corresponding Secretary and chairing the Red Cross Committee, where she helped coordinate support for hospital patients and others in need. She sold the family home and moved into a small, centrally located apartment that allowed her to walk easily into downtown Santa Barbara. Then, in 1942, she traveled east to visit Helene in Washington, D.C. and reconnect with friends and relatives in New York and Philadelphia.

She, like so many other people across the country, saw an ad for the Pillsbury Grand National Recipe and Baking Competition in October 1949. Linda entered her grandmother’s Tomato Spice Muffins, updating the old family recipe with modern ingredients. When she found out she won a spot in the finals, she must have been thrilled with the all-expenses-paid trip back home to New York.

Poor Linda’s location was misidentified everywhere. In the New York newspaper coverage of the event, she was located in Freeport, Illinois. In Pillsbury’s cookbooks, she was located in Freeport, NY. I promise you she lived in Santa Barbara, California at the time of the competition. She didn’t win any awards but, like all contestants, she came home with a fully modern kitchen—Pillsbury, GE, and Hamilton‑Beach appliances included—and a wide circle of friends and fellow congregants who surely benefited from her baking.

The 1950s saw Linda expand her civic involvement even further. She volunteered for Operation Skywatch, part of the Cold War Ground Observer Corps, taking weekly shifts scanning the skies for unidentified aircraft. In 1957 she received a certificate recognizing 100 hours of service. She also played in the American Contract Bridge League, participated in charity events, and became a persistent, effective advocate for local improvements. Her letters to the Santa Barbara News‑Press and her appearances before the City Council led to the installation of a streetlight near her home in 1957. If you are near Garden and Lloyd in Santa Barbara, you can thank Linda for this streetlight. She also contributed to discussions about seating requirements for retail clerks in 1958, which was already law in California but was inconsistently applied. She continued to champion public safety, urging the city in 1961 to install better traffic signals at a hazardous intersection. Her letters to the editor were frequent and spanned local issues like streetlights to national issues like conscription during peace time.

Even into her eighties, Linda remained a force. She served as a precinct election judge at eighty‑three, continued her work with B’nai B’rith, and co‑hosted Sabbath receptions at eighty‑seven. She wrote letters to the editor advocating for the needs of the elderly and stayed connected to her New York roots—winning $5 from the New York Daily News in 1960 for a household tip, proving that she still received and read the New York papers.

Linda Flesh Born died in 1967, just months after hosting a Sabbath reception, at age eighty‑seven after suffering a brief illness. Her life crossed so many historic milestones: she was 38 when the U.S. entered WWI; 40 when women got the right to vote and in her later years, she was a registered Democrat; she was 48 when the Great Depression began and recently widowed at 63 when the country entered WWII. She never looked away, never stopped engaging with the world around her. At 70, she boarded a train for New York City to bake her grandmother’s muffins on the national stage, and at 83 she checked in voters at her local election office, knowing full well what a privilege it is to be able to vote.

Let’s Make Muffins!

Tomato spice muffins were very much of Linda’s generation. Tomato‑based spice breads first appeared in American cookery in the 1870s and 1880s, when home bakers used stewed tomatoes to create moist, dark spice cakes flavored with cinnamon, clove, and nutmeg. By the early 1900s, these cakes evolved into early “tomato muffins,” still made with stewed tomatoes and leavened with baking soda to balance the acidity. The modern form of the tomato spice muffin emerged between 1910 and 1915, after the 1899 introduction of condensed tomato soup made it easier for home cooks to incorporate tomato flavor and moisture into quick breads. Recipes from this period—often titled “Tomato Soup Muffins” or “Spiced Tomato Muffins”—are the earliest clear ancestors of the version Linda submitted to the 1949 Pillsbury Bake‑Off, placing her grandmother’s recipe among the earliest generation of tomato‑spice quick breads in American culinary history.

This recipe uses the Quick Mix technique of mixing your dry ingredients and wet ingredients separately, then putting them together. It lives up to its name; it took me about 5 minutes to get the muffin batter ready. If you’re a little stuck on the onion juice part, just take an onion and scrape it across a microplane until you have about a tablespoon of grated onion. By using a microplane, you get a lot of the juice out at the same time. The resulting muffins are subtly flavored and light as a feather.

Verdict: Let’s put it this way. I made this to go with our dinner but between us, we polished off three before I even started cooking. They are light and just a little sweet but with a hint of savory in and around that flavor. They aren’t like any muffin we’ve ever had, and I will be making more tomorrow.

If you are looking for a nice change of pace from regular dinner rolls, try serving these instead. Here’s Linda’s recipe:

(Recipe published in the 1959 edition of “Pillsbury’s BEST of the BAKE-OFF Collection”)

Makes 1 dozen

Sift together and set aside:
1 3/4 c. sifted all-purpose flour
1/4 c. sugar
3 1/2 tsp. double-acting baking powder
1 tsp. celery salt
1/2 tsp. dry mustard
Make a well in the center.
Combine:
2 well-beaten eggs
2/3 c. condensed tomato soup
1/2 c. milk
1 tbsp. onion juice or grated onion
1/3 c. salad oil (I used canola oil)
Add to the dry ingredients; stir until all dry particles are moistened.
Fill:
well-greased muffin cups two-thirds full (don’t forget to use your fingers to grease the muffin cups!)

Bake at 400 degrees for 20-25 minutes. Serve hot.

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Sources:
Bankrupt notices. (1890, June 6). The New York Times, p. 7.
Mathilda Loth death notice. (1893, October 9). The New York Times, p. 5.
Many girl graduates. (1896, June 23). The New York Times, p. 3.
Who shot Arnold Flesh? (1896, September 19). New York Herald, p. 5.
Young Flesh released. (1896, September 23). The World, p. 8.
Arnold Flesh’s statement. (1896, September 28). New-York Tribune, p. 2.
Flesh attacks the Loths. (1896, September 28). New York Herald, p. 3.
Flesh and son go free. (1896, October 22). The New York Times, p. 9.
Class honors. (1901, June 19). The New York Times, p. 14.
Graduates of academic department. (1901, June 19). New-York Tribune, p. 5.
Industrial Welfare Commission. (1919). Wage Order No. 7: Mercantile industry. State of California.
Miss Katz to be bride of Winter. (1932, December 18). The San Francisco Examiner, p. 46.
Channel City deb betrothed. (1936, September 14). The Los Angeles Times, p. 29.
Candlelight ceremony installs new Jewish Council officers. (1942, June 11). Santa Barbara News-Press, p. 8.
Matron goes East on autumn visit. (1942, August 30). Santa Barbara News-Press, p. 11.
Civil Defense Administration. (1952). Operation Skywatch: Ground Observer Corps training manual. U.S. Government Printing Office.
United States Air Force. (1953, July 27). Skywatch volunteers pass 750,000 mark. Air Force Times, p. 12.
Dark street. (1956, February 17). Santa Barbara News-Press, p. 26.
Skywatcher awards to be presented. (1957, May 14). Santa Barbara News-Press, p. 6.
Young patient needs help. (1957, September 17). Santa Barbara News-Press, p. 24.
Skywatch schedule. (1957, September 26). Santa Barbara News-Press, p. 18.
Mrs. D. K. Kadane, UNICEF observer, visitor here. (1957, November 3). Santa Barbara News-Press, p. 24.
Bridge party nets $200 for Boys Club. (1957, December 18). Santa Barbara News-Press, p. 22.
Hawaii-bound travelers get acquainted. (1959, May 13). Santa Barbara News-Press, p. 30.
$5 for household help. (1960, July 17). Daily News, p. 77.
Traffic signals change asked. (1961, June 1). Santa Barbara News-Press, p. 27.
Meyers, F. (1964). Labor standards and the Industrial Welfare Commission of California. University of California Press.
B’nai B’rith services Friday. (1967, March 2). Santa Barbara News-Press, p. 19.
Linda Born obituary. (1967, September 5). Santa Barbara News-Press, p. 28.
Probate hearings. (1967, September 20). Santa Barbara News-Press, p. 63.
Futrell, R. F. (1989). Ideas, concepts, doctrine: Basic thinking in the United States Air Force, 1907–1960 (Vol. 1). Air University Press.
Winkler, D. F. (1997). Searching the skies: The legacy of the United States Cold War defense radar program. U.S. Army Construction Engineering Research Laboratories.
Storrs, L. R. Y. (2000). Civilizing capitalism: The National Consumers’ League, women’s activism, and labor standards in the New Deal era. University of North Carolina Press.
The Normal College of the City of New York, 1870–1914. (2017). Hunter College Libraries.

Mirabel Marvel came into the world in October 1910 in the small town of Owensville, Indiana, the youngest child of Nellie and Adrian Marvel. Her father worked as a telegraph operator for the railroad, steady work in a community still adjusting to the speed of modern communication. She grew up with two older brothers—Adrian Jr., born in 1907, and Wilson, born in 1908. Wilson and Mirabel were close from the beginning. Their bond, forged in toddlerhood, lasted their entire lives.

Adrian Sr. eventually left telegraphy to buy a car repair business, stepping into the brand‑new world of automobiles. But Mirabel didn’t get to know her father well. In 1920, when she was just ten years old, Adrian died suddenly of a cerebral hemorrhage.

His death changed everything. Adrian’s parents—comfortable, affectionate, and eager to help—stepped in to support Nellie and the children. They brought the grandchildren to social gatherings, treated them generously, and in 1925 took Wilson and Mirabel on a road trip across the western United States. Mirabel was fifteen, Wilson seventeen, and the country was still transitioning from horse‑drawn vehicles to cars. For two teenagers from Indiana, it must have felt like the world was opening up.

Left widowed with three children, Nellie remarried. Her new husband, Eugene Walter Anderson, was a farmer twenty years older who had recently lost his first wife in 1926. He married Nellie quickly and took in Mirabel, who was still living at home. Walter would later die in 1959—also of a cerebral hemorrhage, eerily echoing Adrian’s death. Nellie lived a long life, passing away at age 88 in 1974.

Mirabel’s interests blossomed early. At thirteen, she was already organizing and hosting meetings of the Girls’ Canning Club in Owensville. She graduated from Owensville High School in 1928 in a class of 33 seniors, having played in the orchestra and acted in the senior play Leave It to Dad.

After high school, Mirabel headed to the University of Indianapolis to study nursing. She joined the Lambda Chi Omega sorority and was elected Historian, keeping the official record of the group’s activities and decisions.

Her life changed in 1937 when she married Horace Drue Alexander—“Drue”—at age 27. Drue, two years older, had been born in Logan, Ohio, and was living in Detroit at the time. His parents lived in Russells Point, Ohio, and the wedding took place in their home early in the morning, followed by a buffet breakfast, as was customary at the time. Mirabel wore her mother’s wedding dress, and Wilson walked her down the aisle. The wedding announcement came from her grandparents, and her stepfather did not give her away—small clues hinting at complicated family dynamics. As a wedding gift, Drue’s father sold the couple a parcel of land in Russells Point for one dollar.

The newlyweds didn’t stay in Detroit long. They soon moved to Russells Point and took over The Wedge Resort on Indian Lake, a popular summer destination since the early 1900s that boasted many resorts and hotels. The Wedge offered cottages, rented boats, and kept the place humming with seasonal visitors. Drue regularly sold off older rental boats through newspaper ads. Winters were quiet, and Drue supplemented their income with motor repair work. When asked what they did all winter, Mirabel famously said, “mostly, we go fishing,” drilling holes in the ice to catch crappie once the lake froze thick enough.

Mirabel ran the on‑site restaurant and managed guests and rentals. During the war years, food shortages hit the area hard, and she had to be clever in crafting meals from whatever ingredients were available. Like many women of the time, Mirabel had already lived through rationing and food shortages during the first World War and the Great Depression. So, while difficult, the food rationing of World War II was familiar territory. Mirabel and Drue were deeply involved in their community. They belonged to the Indian Lake Community Church, and Mirabel was a member of the Order of the Eastern Star.

In 1942, Mirabel and Drue welcomed their only child, Kathy. Kathy grew up around the resort, adapting to the ebb and flow of seasonal visitors and her parents devoting their summers to the tourists who came to the resort.

Then came the 1949 Pillsbury Grand National Recipe and Baking Contest. Mirabel entered with her family’s Bob Andy Pie—a spiced custard pie passed down from her Aunt Mary, Nellie’s sister in Indiana. Bob Andy Pie is a traditional Amish custard pie that Mirabel remembered Aunt Mary making her whole life. Before heading to New York City, she bought new clothes in Dayton. Drue teased her about how he’d travel to celebrate depending on her winnings: hitchhike if she won $1,000, take the train if she won $5,000, and “drive to New York in the car I haven’t bought yet” if she won the top prize. She didn’t win the big awards, but like all contestants, she came home with a brand‑new kitchen and the joy of meeting fellow home bakers.

Life at the resort brought its share of humor—like the day in 1955 when she came home to find the bathtub full of bluegills, left there by friends who had caught more fish than they could store and happily made use of Mirabel’s empty tub.

By the mid‑1950s, after nearly twenty years running The Wedge, the Alexanders began simplifying. In 1955, Drue sold Wedgeport, his boat landing facility, and resigned from the board of education.

In 1957, they leased The Wedge Resort to Hubert and Pauline Ivey, who renamed it Ezzy Lodge. With more free time, Mirabel registered floats for the Indian Lake Parade and wrote lighthearted fishing columns for The Lima News.

But trouble followed. The Iveys violated liquor laws, causing the lodge’s license to be suspended for 14 days. Drue and Mirabel sued in 1961 to regain possession. The case dragged on until 1964, when the court ruled in their favor. By then, they were ready to leave the resort business and began selling off pieces of the property.

In 1962, they celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary with 150 friends, with Kathy organizing the reception. But the mid‑1960s were difficult for Mirabel’s health. She was hospitalized multiple times, with admissions becoming more frequent than in the 1950s when she had a couple of health scares, one requiring an ambulance to come get her and transport her to the hospital. It’s possible that one reason the Alexanders were getting out of the resort business was to alleviate Mirabel’s health concerns.

Like her parents, Kathy became active in Masonic organizations, joining the Order of the Rainbow. She excelled, earning the Grand Cross of Color Degree upon graduating from Indian Lake High School. She attended Bowling Green State University, then Ohio State University, where she met Daniel Gilmore. They married in 1963, with Drue walking her down the aisle, and eventually settled in Texas.

Despite 35 years of marriage and a shared history in Russells Point, Mirabel and Drue couldn’t continue to make it work. They divorced in 1973 in Logan, Ohio—the same town where they had married. Just eight days later, Mirabel married William Powe, a retired Air Force civilian who had earned the Meritorious Civilian Service Award and was now living on Wedge Island. The timing of their nuptials makes it safe to assume that their relationship was the reason for the divorce. I can only imagine the depth of a love that would spur you to leave a 35-year marriage at age 63 and a life you had built over those three decades.

Their marriage was tender but short; William died in 1977 after a period of illness, just four years after marrying, passing away at home with Mirabel by his side.

In 1978, Mirabel attended her 50th high school reunion. Only about half of her classmates were still alive, and fifteen members of the Class of 1928 gathered at the Masonic Temple to reminisce. The world had changed dramatically since their youth—when your memories of childhood pre‑date television, interstates, commercial jet travel, electric kitchen appliances, dishwashers… reunions like this offered comfort and connection.

With William gone and little tying her to Ohio, Mirabel moved to Texas to live with Kathy, Daniel, and their three children. Even in her seventies, though, she traveled back to Indiana and Ohio yearly to visit friends and family. Drue died in 1976 in North Carolina, where he had been working as Chief Engineer for the L.S. Starrett Company. He was buried in Logan, Ohio.

Mirabel lived out her final years surrounded by family. She died in 1994 at age 83 at her daughter’s home in Texas.

Let’s Make Pie!

First, let me tell you that this pie smells heavenly when it’s baking. The warm spices in the custard just swirl their aroma around your kitchen. Having said that, this is a very confusing recipe. I have made custard a lot - by itself, in pies, as filling for cake… and I have never actually separated the eggs. Eggs are the key ingredient in custard. They act as an emulsifier, giving the custard structure as well as flavor. Egg whites and egg yolks coagulate at different temperatures so it’s important to beat them together very well before adding them to the rest of the mixture. Most recipes for Bob Andy pie instruct you to do just that.

But not with this recipe. In this recipe, you separate the eggs, mixing the yolks in with the sugar, milk and spices first. Then beat the egg whites until stiff and fold them in. It’s really crucial to beat the egg whites to just the right stiffness in this recipe. My first attempt failed because the egg whites were too dry to blend properly with the rest of the filling. My second attempt was better, but I had to bake the pie a good 15 minutes longer than instructed to get it to set (I live at altitude, so I’m used to adjusting moisture levels and/or baking times to accommodate that). Pillsbury often took liberties with contestants’ recipes, changing ingredients and instructions in an editorial process. I wish I could see Mirabel’s original recipe to see if the egg separation was in there or if Aunt Mary made a more traditional Bob Andy pie.

But fear not - the result is a smooth, creamy filling with a light crust on top. The spices are such a light touch that it’s almost like the custard is infused with the flavor. The custard forms a light crust on top, giving it an attractive finished look.

Verdict: We loved this pie - we couldn’t stop talking about how good it was in between bites. The custard is creamy and the spices keep it from being bland. The crusty top complements the creaminess of the filling. It’s so easy to make and uses ingredients that are commonly found in most kitchens or pantries. It may look simple, but it could easily be an impressive dinner party dessert once your guests taste it.

If you’re looking for an impressive dessert that is simple to make and doesn’t require a run to the grocery store, give this pie a try.

(Recipe published in the 1959 edition of “Pillsbury’s BEST of the BAKE-OFF Collection”)

Makes one 9-inch pie

Prepare:
One 9-inch pastry shell, pre-baked
Combine:
1 1/3 c. sugar
3 tbsp. flour
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. nutmeg
1/4 tsp. cloves
Blend in:
4 slightly beaten egg yolks
3 tbsp. melted butter
Beat until stiff but not dry*:
4 egg whites with 1/2 tsp. salt
Fold gently into egg yolk mixture.
Pour into pie shell.

Bake at 350 degrees for 40-50 minutes, until set. **

*Dry egg whites break up like styrofoam and lack enough moisture to emulsify the custard. It’s important to keep an eye on your egg whites and make sure you stop beating them when they can hold peaks but are still shiny.

**I let mine bake for 65 minutes until set. I live at altitude, which may have affected the length of the bake.

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Sources:

Pillsbury Mills, Inc. (1959). Best of the bake-off collection: Pillsbury's best 1000 recipes. Consolidated Book Publishers, Chicago; distributed by Grosset & Dunlap
Santa Claus. (1912, December 17). Evansville Courier and Press, p. 11.
Owensville. (1922, July 16). The Evansville Journal, p. 16.
On motor tour. (1925, July 1). Evansville Courier and Press, p. 4.
Senior play. (1928, April 1). The Evansville Journal, p. 43.
Owensville. (1931, April 3). Princeton Daily Clarion, p. 2.
Lambda Chi Omega to fete rushees. (1935, October 31). The Indianapolis Times, p. 10.
Sorority chooses business delegate. (1936, June 14). The Indianapolis Star, p. 55.
County recorder. (1937, October 31). Springfield News-Sun, p. 64.
Wedding party. (1937, November 28). Evansville Courier and Press, p. 30.
If Cinderella’s pie gets transformed to cash, prince’ll be there—thumb, train or car. (1949, December 9). The Journal Herald, p. 29.
Area briefs. (1955, February 9). Sidney Daily News, p. 6.
Major Marine has added new lines. (1955, June 15). Sidney Daily News, p. 17.
Outdoor notebook. (1955, July 3). Dayton Daily News, p. 7.
Winter only time natives get to fish. (1956, February 19). The Lima News, p. 44.
Indian Lake parade will accept floats. (1957, July 21). The Lima Citizen, p. 27.
Kathy Alexander is honored. (1960, December 7). Springfield News-Sun, p. 18.
Logan. (1961, December 7). Sidney Daily News, p. 8.
Two owners sue to regain lodge. (1961, December 7). The Journal Herald, p. 13.
Anniversary celebrated. (1962, November 8). The Lima News, p. 20.
Katherine Alexander married. (1963, March 31). The Lima Citizen, p. 31.
Drue Alexander. (1976, March 6). Springfield News-Sun, p. 12. (Photos and background information credited to IndianLakePostcards.com.)
William B. Powe, Jr. (1977, August 19). Sidney Daily News, p. 2.
Owensville class of 1928 reminisces golden memories. (1978, August 18). Princeton Daily Clarion, p. 2.

Margaret Cullinane Grenier’s story begins in Boston in 1892, the third of five children born to Daniel and Mary (Lyons) Cullinane. Both parents had crossed the Atlantic from Ireland—Daniel as a young man who found work as a laborer, and Mary as a young woman who married him in 1882 when he was twenty‑seven and she was twenty‑three. They built a life in a working‑class Boston neighborhood, raising children who, to their credit, all attended school long enough to become solid readers and writers—no small achievement for immigrant families of that era.

But like so many children of first‑generation immigrants, the Cullinane siblings went to work early. Sixteen was the turning point: schoolbooks were set aside, and wages became the priority. Margaret first found work as a waitress in a hotel restaurant, but as telephones spread rapidly through Boston—faster than in most American cities—she secured a better job as a telephone operator. By 1920, when roughly a third of U.S. households had a phone, Boston’s adoption rate was even higher, and Margaret was part of the workforce making that new technology run.

Life shifted abruptly in 1913 when Margaret’s mother, Mary, died at just fifty‑three. Her death certificate listed heart failure. Her death certificate has an ominous line break that makes one pause… I’m guessing the doctor was conjecturing about the actual cause of death, not whether it was natural causes… but I will admit that I thought for a moment that this would be a really interesting story.

Margaret was twenty‑one, still living at home, and like her siblings, she remained there well into her twenties, helping keep the household together.

Marriage came later for her than for many women of her generation. At twenty‑eight, she married Frank Grenier in Roxbury in 1920. Frank, a year younger than she was, had just returned from serving in the Army during World War I. He was tall, with dark brown hair and light brown eyes, and ready to build a civilian life. The newlyweds rented a five‑bedroom house in Dorchester, a home large enough to accommodate family—something that would become a defining feature of Margaret’s adult life.

Their only child, Frank Jr., was born in 1921. Margaret’s younger sister Josephine moved in with them, continuing her own work as a telephone operator while Margaret shifted to full‑time homemaking. Frank Sr. worked as an accountant for a candy company, providing a steady income, and the household functioned as a cooperative unit, each adult contributing in their own way.

Frank Jr., who went by Fran, grew into a bright, artistic young man. He earned admission to Boston Latin School—an elite, academically rigorous institution that is widely considered to be the oldest public school in the United States—and distinguished himself in both dramatics and music. He graduated in 1939 and went on to Harvard College, a remarkable achievement for the son of two parents who had left school at sixteen.

By 1940, the family had moved into a larger six‑bedroom rented home in Dorchester. With more space came more family: Margaret’s brother Daniel joined the household, and Josephine remained as well. Daniel, also a World War I veteran, worked as the chief clerk for a wholesale tea company, adding another solid income to the home. Frank Jr. was still living there too, attending Harvard. It was a bustling, multigenerational household, the kind that kept expenses manageable and family bonds strong.

Like so many young men of his generation, Frank Jr. enlisted during World War II. He served from 1943 to 1946, then returned home and completed his final year at Harvard, receiving his degree in 1947. He entered the banking industry and helped with the household expenses.

Meanwhile, the Dorchester household continued its familiar rhythm. With three well‑paid men contributing—Frank Sr., Daniel, and eventually Fran—both Margaret and Josephine focused on keeping the home running smoothly. Josephine left outside work sometime before 1940, and Margaret remained the steady center of the household. Fran pursued professional advancement, earning certifications through the Boston chapter of the American Institute of Banking.

In 1949, Margaret stepped briefly into the national spotlight. At sixty‑six, she entered a Pillsbury Mills recipe contest with her “30‑minute yeast‑raised biscuits,” a recipe she had guarded as a family secret for years. Pillsbury renamed them Pinwheel Dinner Rolls, and the judges found them good enough to send her to the finals in New York City. She didn’t win the grand prize, but she did come home with a brand‑new kitchen—an extraordinary gift for the Dorchester home she had tended for decades.

The family’s streak of good fortune continued when Josephine won $1,000 in a shoe‑polish company contest in 1952—roughly equivalent to $12,000 today. It surely helped with household expenses and must have been a moment of delight for a woman who had spent her life supporting others.

Continuing the family’s streak of celebratory moments, Fran married Kathy Costello, settling in nearby Attleboro and eventually had two daughters, Kathleen and Margaret.

Loss returned in the late 1960s. Josephine died in 1969, and Daniel followed in 1971. With both siblings gone, Margaret and Frank moved to Dedham, where Fran and his family lived. It allowed them to spend their later years surrounded by grandchildren and supported by their son.

Margaret died in Dedham in 1978 at age eighty‑six. Her life had stretched across eras—she was born before electricity and telephones were common in homes, lived through two world wars, and saw her son graduate from Harvard, a triumph for the daughter of Irish immigrants who had left school at sixteen. Frank lived two more years, passing away in 1980. After fifty‑eight years of marriage, he was buried beside Margaret at Mount Calvary Cemetery.

Hers was a story of an immigrant daughter who kept a household running through decades of change and sent her only child into a future she herself could never have imagined.

Let’s Make Rolls!

The first thing you need to know about this recipe is that it makes a stiff dough. This is not the puffy elastic dough we expect when making bread, most likely because it has a pretty low hydration. There is only ¾ cup of liquid for the 3 cups of flour. It’s just enough hydration for the dough to come together but don’t expect a puffy dough after it proves. This could be why Margaret refers to these rolls as “yeast-raised biscuits” rather than rolls. Brushing the dough with melted butter not only adds a slightly salty richness but also helps soften the dough, much like brushing the tops of biscuits with melted butter does.

I made this recipe twice. The first time I followed the instructions provided by Pillsbury in the cookbook recipe, which said to cut the rolls and arrange them on a cookie sheet for the final prove and baking. The rolls were okay, but the second proof allowed them to expand without limits, which changed the ratio of dough to butter and lost some of the definition that they originally had in their jelly roll cuts.

Then I found the newspaper photo of Margaret shaping these rolls in muffin tins and I decided to make them again, using that technique. After rolling the dough out thin, brushing with butter and rolling back up, I cut 12 rolls and placed them in muffin tins for the second proof. I am positive that this is the outcome Margaret intended. They have a biscuit-like flavor and texture with the buttery whirls but a roll-like feel. Pillsbury often changed the recipes of the contestants, usually to make the ingredients more accessible or the techniques simpler. But sometimes they modified them to keep them from being too similar to other recipes in the collection. I suspect the latter is the case here where so many of the dinner rolls in the 1949 Bake-off were risen and baked in muffin tins. Whatever their reasoning, it did a disservice to Margaret’s contribution.

Verdict: We were only lukewarm on the first version of these rolls but definitely liked this second version better. They are a unique addition to the dinner table rather than the usual dinner roll or biscuit. Baking them in muffin tins provides them with a tighter structure and keeps the melting butter within the roll rather than leaking out across a cookie sheet.

If you’d like to give these rolls a try yourself, here is the recipe from Pillsbury’s cookbook (I recommend using muffin tins though, rather than following the instructions exactly).

(Recipe published in the 1959 edition of “Pillsbury’s BEST of the BAKE-OFF Collection”)

Makes about 1.5 dozen (I got about one dozen out of it)
Soften:
1 packet of active dry yeast (or 1 cake compressed) in 1/2 c. warm water
Combine:
2 tbsp. sugar
3 tbsp. shortening (I used European-style butter)
1 1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 c. hot scalded milk
Cool to lukewarm, then add softened yeast mixture
Add:
3 to 3 1/4 c. sifted all-purpose flour gradually to form a stiff dough, beating well after each addition. Cover.
Let rise:
in warm place (85 degrees) until doubled in size, 45 to 60 minutes.*
Knead:
on floured board 20 strokes. Roll out into a 12x18 inch rectangle.
Brush with melted butter. Roll as a jelly roll, starting with the 18-inch edge. Cut into slices. Place on greased baking sheets 2 inches apart.
Let rise:
in warm place (85 degrees) until light, 30-45 minutes.
Bake at 400 degrees for 13-16 minutes.

*This took much longer for me. The first proof was about 2 hours and the second proof was an hour. Your mileage may vary, depending on humidity and warmth.

Sources:
Pillsbury Mills, Inc. (1959). Best of the bake-off collection: Pillsbury's best 1000 recipes. Consolidated Book Publishers, Chicago; distributed by Grosset & Dunlap

Latin School diplomas and prizes awarded. (1939, June 16). The Boston Globe, p. 7.

Mrs. Grenier wins $200 with recipe, chance for $50,000. (1949, December 7). The Boston Globe, p. 28.

97 women, 3 men cook up $100,000 tidbits at the Waldorf. (1949, December 12). The New York Sun.

Obituaries. (1950, January 19). Boston Evening Globe, p. 29.

Harvard confers degrees on total of 513 students. (1947, April 16). The Boston Globe, p. 10.

People of ability urgently needed on bank staffs. (1952, February 9). The Boston Globe, p. 2.

Obituaries. (1978, February 24). The Boston Globe, p. 38.

Rodrigue, J.-P. (2024). US household penetration of telecommunications, 1920–2015. In The geography of transport systems (6th ed.). Routledge. https://transportgeography.org/contents/chapter1/the-setting-of-global-transportation-systems/household-telecommunications-united-states/

Anna Jo Hawkins—always called Jo—was born in 1916 in St. Paul, Virginia, the only child of Charles and Lula Hawkins. When she was five, the family moved to Knoxville, Tennessee, where Jo grew up and spent the rest of her life. Her father worked for a lumber company, first as a salesman and later as a buyer, and Lula kept house.

As a girl, Jo threw herself into the Girl Scouts, joining Troop 12 and staying active through high school. In 1930, she even won a trophy for her outstanding work with the troop. She was the kind of girl who embraced every opportunity—and in 1931, that spirit carried her all the way to St. Croix.

Jo originally went to St. Croix to spend the winter with her aunt, who worked in public health, but the winter stretched into a full year. The island she encountered was in the midst of enormous change. The sugar industry—long the backbone of St. Croix’s economy—had collapsed by the early 1930s, plunging the island into deep economic distress. Conditions were so severe that President Franklin Roosevelt used St. Croix as a testing ground for bold New Deal reforms, replacing the failing plantation system with publicly owned agriculture, redistributing land to homesteaders, and channeling earnings into education and housing. These efforts drew national attention and sparked debate about whether the island was becoming a “planned economy” experiment.

Daily life on the island reflected both hardship and resilience. Homestead communities were being built, roads and wells installed, and small farmers supported through federal programs. Amid this backdrop, Jo attended school with local students, learned traditional embroidery from Crucian women, and explored the island’s layered history—including a visit to the hardware store where Alexander Hamilton had once clerked. When she returned to Knoxville, she brought home artifacts and displayed them at a church fundraising exhibit.

Back in Tennessee, Jo stayed active. She swam at the YWCA, earning a certificate in 1933 for completing twenty miles in a season, and performed in dance recitals featuring Spanish and Irish styles. In 1934, she underwent an emergency appendectomy, which sidelined her for a bit, but she recovered at home under Lula’s supervision.

In 1935, at nineteen, Jo married Charles F. Lowman in a ceremony at her parents’ home. She wore a Grecian-style blue dress draped with gold chains, and carried a bouquet of roses, lilies of the valley, and gardenias. After a Florida honeymoon, the couple settled in Knoxville. Their daughter, Nancy Ann, was born in 1937.

The marriage was turbulent. Jo filed for divorce in 1938 (although it was not granted - remember this was before ‘no fault’ divorce became the norm), and the couple lived apart for several years before reconciling and managing another twenty-five years together. Both Jo and Charles stayed in Knoxville during their separation, most likely to stay close to Nancy Ann, but they each lived in their own family home. Charles owned a car repair business at the time and the judge who heard their divorce case granted an injunction impounding his business, although ultimately, he did not grant the divorce.

We don’t know exactly when they reconciled and moved back in together as a family but it was sometime after 1940. Eventually, they found a roomy suburban home with a broad grassy yard, and lots of neighbors for Nancy Ann to play with.

Jo built a long career at the Tennessee Valley Authority, working there from at least 1943 into the 1950s. The Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA) was established by Congress in 1933 as part of President Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal, aimed at lifting the Tennessee Valley—then one of the most economically distressed regions in the United States—out of deep poverty. Its mission in the 1930s and 40s was sweeping: generate affordable electricity, control flooding, improve navigation, restore depleted lands, and stimulate economic development across seven Southern states. Before TVA, much of the region lacked electricity entirely, private utilities charged high rates, and recurring floods devastated farms and towns. TVA built hydroelectric dams, introduced soil conservation and reforestation programs, and created thousands of jobs during the Great Depression. By the 1940s, especially during World War II, TVA launched one of the largest hydropower construction efforts in U.S. history, supplying the enormous electrical demands of wartime industries. The agency became a national model for regional planning and modernization, and its headquarters in Knoxville placed Jo at the center of one of the most ambitious public development projects of the 20th century.

Jo also had a flair for contests, and in 1949 she entered the very first Pillsbury National Recipe Competition with her “Dixie Dreambrosia Cake.” The inaugural Bake-Off was a major national event—held at the Waldorf-Astoria in New York City, sponsored by Ladies’ Home Journal, and designed to celebrate the creativity of home cooks in the postwar era. Contestants cooked on gleaming new electric ranges arranged in long rows, while celebrity judges, food editors, and photographers circulated among them. The atmosphere was part cooking competition, part society event, and part publicity spectacle, complete with press coverage, recipe booklets, and corporate fanfare. Although Jo’s participation received little local coverage, simply being part of that first class of contestants placed her in a historic moment in American culinary culture.

1949 was an exciting year for Charles also. In October of that year, Charles won $100 in a weekly radio contest called “Americans, Speak Up!”. Also in 1949, in January, Charles was called as a key witness in a trial for illegal distribution of moonshine. In his job in the service department for a local auto repair garage, he testified that the defendants brought their car in for service on the same day they were supposedly manufacturing moonshine in an illegal still. The defendants were eventually cleared.

Then in 1950, Jo won $400 on a local radio show for her biography of Noah Webster that was read on the show. Contestants then phoned in to answer questions based on the biography. Not only did Jo win $400 for having her biography selected for the show, but she won an additional $25 for stumping one of the contestants with one of the questions. $425 in 1950 is the equivalent of almost $6000 today, not a bad prize purse to come home with.

Jo and Charles finally divorced in 1963. Charles later moved to Baton Rouge, where he died in 1975. Jo remained in Knoxville, active in Fountain City Presbyterian Church, which she and Charles had joined in 1949. She devoted herself to caring for her mother, Lula, who lived to 103. Jo celebrated Lula’s birthday each year with a big family party and was even highlighted with Lula in a newspaper article when Lula turned 100. Lula died only months before Jo.

Anna Jo Lowman died in 1997 after a battle with breast cancer and was buried in Greenwood Cemetery in Knoxville. She lived a life of adventure and independence, from Depression‑era St. Croix, dance recitals and radio‑show winnings, and even to the glamorous floor of the very first Pillsbury Bake-Off.

Nancy Ann attended Fairfax Hall Preparatory School in Virginia beginning in 1953, then the University of Tennessee, where she majored in Spanish and met Richard Fonde. They married after her 1959 graduation and eventually settled in Atlanta. Nancy died at age 82 after a long illness and was buried in Knoxville’s Greenwood Cemetery, resting next to her mother.

Let’s Make Cake!

Jo’s cake is a mildly sweet chocolate coconut layer cake, frosted with vanilla buttercream and topped with toasted coconut. Part of its lightness comes from separating the eggs and beating the egg whites until stiff, then folding them in at the end. While it creates a good rise, this technique often results in a dry crumb, which this cake definitely reflects. It is a common texture in cakes of this era, which often relied on egg whites for their rise. So, as with other cakes in this collection that have “fudge” in the name, don’t be fooled. It does not have the fudgy moist texture you’re expecting.

Verdict: This is a nicely flavored, not-too-sweet cake that we both enjoyed. My husband took one bite and said “This is my kind of cake.” I’m not a big fan of cakes with a dry crumb but I did like how all the flavors went together.

If you want to grab on to a little of the adventure Jo filled her life with and give the Dixie Dreambrosia cake a try, here’s the recipe.

(Recipe published in the 1959 edition of “Pillsbury’s BEST of the BAKE-OFF Collection”)

Makes two 9-inch layers

Sift together and set aside:
2 c. sifted all-purpose flour
2 1/2 tsp. double-acting baking powder
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. soda
Cream together:
1/2 c. butter or margarine (I used European-style butter)
1 1/4 c. sugar
Blend in:
3 unbeaten egg yolks, one at a time
3 oz. melted unsweetened chocolate.
Beat well.
Combine:
1 c. milk
1 tsp. vanilla
Add alternately with the dry ingredients to the creamed mixture. Blend well after each addition.
Fold in:
3/4 c. shredded coconut
Beat:
3 egg whites until stiff but not dry. Fold into batter.

Turn into 9-inch round layer pans, well-greased and lightly floured on the bottom.
Bake at 350 degrees for 30-40 minutes.
Cool, then frost with Coconut Butter Frosting. Top with toasted coconut.

Coconut Butter Frosting
Frosts two 8- or 9-inch layers
Cream:
1/2 c. butter or margarine (I used European-style butter)
Gradually add:
3 c. sifted confectioners’ sugar, creaming well.
Blend in:
4-5 tbsp. cream until of spreading consistency.
Add:
1 tsp. vanilla; beat well.
(You’ll notice that this frosting has no coconut in it. I don’t get it either - this is a Pillsbury mystery.)

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Sources:

Pillsbury Mills, Inc. (1959). Best of the bake-off collection: Pillsbury's best 1000 recipes. Consolidated Book Publishers, Chicago; distributed by Grosset & Dunlap
Living New Deal. (n.d.). La Grande Princesse Homestead Community – St. Croix VI.
St. Thomas Source. (2021, May 18). The first Green New Deal: VI Corp on St. Croix (Part 1).
Thurland, K. C. (2014). The sugar industry on St. Croix. AuthorHouse.
Ladies’ Home Journal. (1949). Coverage of the Grand National Recipe and Baking Contest. Ladies’ Home Journal, 66(11).
Obituary. (1997, November 15). The Knoxville News-Sentinel, p. 11.
Off to school for the first time. (1953, August 2). The Knoxville Journal, p. 27.
Miss Anna J. Hawkins is married at home to Charles F. Lowman. (1935, November 3). The Knoxville News-Sentinel, p. 28.
Radio biography wins her $425. (1950, June 1). The Knoxville Journal, p. 13.
Obituary. (1975, September 14). The Knoxville News-Sentinel, p. 31.
Divorces granted. (1963, March 5). The Knoxville News-Sentinel, p. 14.
Luncheon given for Miss Smith. (1943, March 19). The Knoxville News-Sentinel, p. 16.
Obituary. (1997, July 23). The Knoxville News-Sentinel, p. 34.
Five generations celebrate a century. (1994, January 15). The Knoxville News-Sentinel, p. 6.
For Mrs. Hawkins. (1984, January 15). The Knoxville News-Sentinel, p. 43.
Two wives ask divorces. (1938, October 5). The Knoxville News-Sentinel, p. 12.
Recipe contest brings check to Fountain Citian. (1949, November 27). The Knoxville Journal, p. 15.
News. (1949, October 9). The Knoxville Journal, p. 49.
Jury finds Estes guilty on 8-count moonshine charge. (1949, January 13). The Knoxville News-Sentinel, p. 2.
Personal. (1931, October 9). The Knoxville News-Sentinel, p. 8.
Personal. (1934, January 5). The Knoxville News-Sentinel, p. 8.
Personal. (1932, June 12). The Knoxville News-Sentinel, p. 26.
Girl Scout troop has farewell banquet of the year. (1930, June 1). The Knoxville News-Sentinel, p. 14.
Interesting antique auction at church will be continued. (1932, October 27). The Knoxville Journal, p. 6.
Billington, D. P., Jackson, D. C., & Melosi, M. V. (2005). The history of large federal dams: Planning, design, and construction in the era of big dams. U.S. Department of the Interior, Bureau of Reclamation. (Contains detailed chapters on TVA’s 1930s–40s hydropower and flood-control projects.)
Hargrove, E. C. (1994). Prisoners of myth: The leadership of the Tennessee Valley Authority, 1933–1990. Princeton University Press.
McDonald, M. J., & Muldowny, J. (1982). TVA and the dispossessed: The resettlement of population in the Norris Dam area. University of Tennessee Press.
Wheeler, W. B., & McDonald, M. J. (2013). TVA and the power of public planning. University of Tennessee Press.

Jane Hambley was born in 1908 in the iron‑mining town of Hurley, Wisconsin, the youngest child of Dr. Tomas and Elizabeth Hambley. Her father had been born in England and immigrated to the United States in 1884, eventually becoming a physician for the iron mines in nearby Carey. Jane grew up with an older sister, Mary, who was seven years her senior, and an older brother, Richard, born in 1904. Richard’s death at age six in 1910 cast a long shadow over the family; he had suffered from bronchitis, but the official cause of death was listed as an “affection of the brain.” I honestly can’t tell you what that is.

Despite this early loss, the Hambleys were a close, long‑lived family. Tomas lived to 92, passing away in 1956, and Mary lived to 90. Elizabeth was the only one who didn’t reach her nineties, dying in 1952 at age 73. The family belonged to the Hurley Methodist Evangelical Church, and even as a girl, Jane took part in church fundraisers and community events. By 1926, at just eighteen, she was singing at a fundraising performance for the church—an early sign of the musical talent that would follow her into adulthood.

Jane was a bright, engaged student at Hurley High School. She competed on the debate team, helping them win several competitions, but her heart belonged to the arts. In her senior year, she was elected president of the Hypatia Club, a literary society for young women, a role that suited her blend of intellect and creativity.

After graduation, Jane attended the Stout Institute (now part of the University of Wisconsin), a private arts‑focused school where she leaned fully into her love of performance. She sang in campus productions and earned the affectionate nickname “Stout’s popular songstress.”

In 1930, Jane began teaching home economics at Crandon High School, just two hours from Hurley. The short distance meant she could return home often, keeping close ties with her family. Crandon also brought her into the orbit of Harry O’Donnell, born there in 1906 and a lifelong resident. Harry hadn’t gone to college, but he held a solid job as a bookkeeper for the Forest County Highway Commissioner, a position he kept from 1925 until his death.

Jane and Harry married in 1932. By then, Jane’s parents had moved just across the state line to Ironwood, Michigan, only a mile from Hurley. Although the Hambleys now technically lived in another state, the two families remained only minutes apart. The wedding was attended by friends, followed by a celebratory breakfast at Harry’s parents’ home. After a short honeymoon, the newlyweds settled into married life, initially living as lodgers in another family’s home until they could afford a place of their own.

Jane’s teaching career ended soon after her marriage. Wisconsin, like most states in the 1930s, enforced marriage bars and pregnancy bars for women teachers. Many districts explicitly banned married women from teaching, and even in places where married teachers were tolerated, pregnancy required immediate resignation—often by the fourth or fifth month, and sometimes as soon as the pregnancy was disclosed. School board minutes from the era routinely recorded resignations “due to impending maternity.” When Jane became pregnant with her first child, Thomas, born in 1933, she would have been required to leave her teaching position.

Jane and Harry went on to have five children, four of whom survived to adulthood:

• Thomas, born 1933

• Mary Jane, born 1937

• Susan, born 1938

• Harry Jr., born 1946

A son, John, born in 1943, lived only one day—a heartbreaking loss tucked into the middle of an otherwise bustling family life.

In 1949, Jane’s baking talents took her far beyond Wisconsin. She wanted to create something unique for her bridge club one week and elevated the classic Northern Wisconsin cherry upside-down cake by adding a warm syrup to be poured over top. Encouraged by her bridge club friends—who loved her invention—she submitted the recipe to the Pillsbury Grand National Recipe and Baking Competition.

The form explained that there were multiple categories within which entries will be judged. She assumed it would be classified as a “cake,” but Pillsbury placed it in the “dessert” category, because the pour-over syrup made it more complex than a standard cake. Jane traveled to New York City with Lorraine Hartman, the other Wisconsin contestant, and she returned home $1,000 richer, having won Best of Class in the dessert category. Harry, proud of his wife’s accomplishment, assured her he would take good care of their four children in her absence. For Jane, it must have been a wonderfully luxurious break staying at the Waldorf-Astoria for three days. When asked what she would do with the prize money, Jane declared that it would go first to Thomas’ education (their oldest son).

Jane was also active in the Order of the Eastern Star, a natural fit given Harry’s membership in the Masons. In the 1950s, Eastern Star chapters in Wisconsin were vibrant centers of women’s leadership and community service. Members organized charity drives, supported hospitals and scholarship funds, and created social networks that anchored small‑town life. For Jane, membership signaled respectability, civic engagement, and a deep connection to her community.

In 1960, Harry fell ill and died just a month later at St. Mary Hospital in Rhinelander. He was only 54; Jane was 52. His funeral was held at the Methodist Church, with Masonic rites included. Jane lived another 37 years, passing away in 1997 at age 89.

Her sister Mary, who had also become a high school teacher, lived in Ironwood with their parents until their deaths. Mary never married and lived to be 90, dying in 1991.

Jane’s life was shaped by family, music, teaching, and community service in small‑town Wisconsin. She shared her talents generously—singing, teaching, baking, raising children, and serving her community.

Let’s Bake Cake!

The first ingredient called for in Jane’s recipe is a No. 303 can of cherries. Numbered can sizes were part of a standardized system introduced in the early 1900s to regulate can dimensions for manufacturers and commercial kitchens. By the 1930s–1950s, home cooks were expected to know these sizes, and a #303 can (about 16 ounces) was one of the most common for fruits like cherries. The system began to fade in the 1960s as federal labeling laws required net weights on packaging and manufacturers shifted to ounce‑based labeling. Today, numbered cans survive mostly in commercial food service, but they remain a hallmark of mid‑century recipes.

I made this recipe two ways - I’ll admit that I did a little off-roading the first time I made it, after interpreting the recipe the wrong way. That time I used a 16 oz. can of cherry pie filling instead of canned cherries. By doing that, the topping was thick and sweet with its own syrup. Pretty good, actually, but there was no juice to make the pour-over syrup with and no need for more moisture or flavor.

But as I did more research about Jane and her recipe, it became clear that the differentiator that elevated her cake from “cake” to “dessert” and won her Best In Class for her category was the pour-over syrup. So, I remade the dessert the way Jane intended.

The result was a far more elegant and refined dessert. The sauce has a significant amount of corn starch in it, so it takes very little time to thicken. The cake itself is a more classic upside-down cake, with the fruit absorbed into the batter during the baking and the brown sugar creating a nice crust on top.

Verdict: We couldn’t believe the difference between my ad-hoc version and Jane’s actual recipe. She created a really up-leveled version of an upside-down cake and we both agreed that we could see why she won Best In Class. It was delicious and suitable for everything from a candlelit dinner party to a backyard barbecue.

This cake is simple to make and has the creativity of post war-time home bakers. If you want to try Jane’s cherry cake, here’s the recipe.

(Recipe published in the 1959 edition of “Pillsbury’s BEST of the BAKE-OFF Collection”)

Makes 12x8 or 13x9-inch cake

Drain:
1 No. 303 can sour pie cherries; reserve juice (I could not find sour cherries and I love dark cherries so I used a 15 oz. can of dark sweet cherries)
Spread:
2 tbsp. butter or margarine on bottom and sides of 12x8x2 or 13x9x2 pan.
Sprinkle with 1/2 c. firmly packed brown sugar. Top with cherries.
Sift together:
1 3/4 c. sifted all-purpose flour
1 c. sugar
2 tsp. double-acting baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
Add:
1/3 c. shortening (I used European-style butter)
3/4 c. milk
1 tsp. vanilla
Beat:
1 1/2 minutes (With mixer, use a low speed.)
Add:
1 unbeaten egg. Beat 1 1/2 minutes.
Pour:
over cherries in pan.

Bake at 350 degrees for 35 to 45 minutes. Serve warm with Cherry Sauce.

Cherry Sauce

Combine in saucepan:
1/2 c. sugar
2 tbsp. cornstarch
1 1/2 c. juice (juice from cherries plus water to bring it up to 1 1/2 cups).
Cook, stirring constantly, until thickened.
Remove from heat. Add 1/8 tsp. almond extract and 1/8 tsp. red food coloring (I didn’t use the food coloring - everything was pretty nicely colored).

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Sources:

Pillsbury Mills, Inc. (1959). Best of the bake-off collection: Pillsbury’s best 1000 recipes. Consolidated Book Publishers, Chicago; distributed by Grosset & Dunlap

Southern Living Editors. (2023). A guide to standard can sizes. Southern Living.

Crandon woman will see New York as prize winner. (1949, November 29). The Rhinelander Daily News, p. 2.

Goldin, C. (1988). Marriage bars: Discrimination against married women workers, 1920s to 1950s (NBER Working Paper No. 2747). National Bureau of Economic Research. https://doi.org/10.3386/w2747

Milkman, R. (1987). Gender at work: The dynamics of job segregation by sex during World War II. University of Illinois Press.

Wisconsin Department of Public Instruction. (1933). Annual report of the Superintendent of Public Instruction. State of Wisconsin.

Strom, S. H. (1992). Beyond the typewriter: Gender, class, and the origins of modern American office work, 1900–1930. University of Illinois Press.

Jane Hambley wed May 28 at Crandon. (1932, June 4). Ironwood Daily Globe, p. 5.

About people you know. (1910, March 11). Montreal River Miner and Iron County Republican, p. 5.

Jane Hambley married at Crandon. (1932, June 10). Iron County Miner, p. 2.

Hold annual review. (1954, June 4). Iron County Miner, p. 7.

Prize winning tidbit a dessert not a cake. (1949, December 16). Iron County News, p. 4.

Harry W. O’Donnell. (1960, October 24). Green Bay Press-Gazette, p. 26.

Benefit program for M.E. Church. (1926, April 16). Iron County Miner, p. 5.

Hurley High wins both debates. (1926, March 5). Iron County Miner, p. 5.

Jane Hambley active in institute affairs. (1928, April 19). Ironwood Daily Globe, p. 5.

News. (1931, January 7). Ironwood Daily Globe, p. 4.

Hypatia Club holds election recently. (1926, January 28). Ironwood Daily Globe, p. 6.

Local items. (1942, January 9). Iron County News, p. 7.

Elizabeth Phipps Lightcap was the only child of Charles and Maude Phipps Lightcap, born in Yazoo City, Mississippi on September 1912 (5 years before the United States joined World War I, and 7 years before women were granted the right to vote). She grew up as both a bright student and a lively, sociable girl—just as comfortable making the honor roll as she was attending the teas, parties, and little gatherings that filled the social calendars of Yazoo’s young women. At one such party, when she was thirteen, she won a box of correspondence cards for triumphing in a game involving bowls of peanuts and hat pins. It was the sort of slightly absurd pastime that small‑town newspapers loved to report.

Her father, Charles, owned a men’s wear store and was well‑respected in Yazoo. He was also fascinated by new technology and proudly owned a Ford at a time when automobiles were still a novelty. That enthusiasm nearly cost the family dearly: one day, another driver sideswiped Charles’s car, flipping it over. All three Lightcaps were taken to the hospital—Maude with a shoulder injury after being pinned under the car, Elizabeth with a head wound requiring stitches. Charles recovered enough to take the other driver to court for reckless driving.

Elizabeth graduated from Yazoo High School in 1929. The local paper listed each graduate with a humorous “fictional gift,” and Elizabeth’s entry made it clear she was still known as both a strong student and someone with a good sense of humor.

That fall, she left home for Agnes Scott College in Georgia—the only time in her life she would live apart from her mother until Maude’s death more than two decades later. After graduating in 1933, Elizabeth returned to Yazoo briefly to teach sixth grade, but her ambitions soon carried her farther afield. Later that year, she accepted a position with the Public Welfare Department in Gulfport, Mississippi, beginning what would become a long and dedicated career in social work.

Her rise was swift. In 1934, she was promoted to manage the Welfare Office in Winona and awarded a scholarship to attend a four‑month social services program at Tulane University. The Yazoo Herald beamed with pride, calling her the “most brilliant student” at Agnes Scott and praising her “pleasant personality and most lovely disposition.” But the joy of that recognition was overshadowed by sudden loss. Just two weeks later, her father died of a heart attack at age sixty. He had struggled with a heart condition for several years, retiring from the store in hopes of regaining strength, but he never recovered.

When Elizabeth left for New Orleans to attend the Tulane program, Maude went with her—unwilling to live alone after Charles’s death. After completing her studies, Elizabeth returned to Mississippi to manage relief work in Copiah County, and she and Maude moved to Hazlehurst in 1935. The federal relief landscape was shifting rapidly: FERA was being dismantled, replaced by the WPA with its new work requirements. Elizabeth worried about families with no employable members and worked hard to coordinate with other agencies before leaving her post. She was soon transferred to a WPA position in Lexington, yet another move in a career shaped by the turbulence of Depression‑era welfare policy.

Mother and daughter settled into a long partnership—twenty‑one years of living together, moving together, and navigating Elizabeth’s career as a team. In 1937, Louisiana called her back. Elizabeth accepted a position with the Child Welfare Office, and the two women moved to New Orleans. By 1940, she was still working as a social worker there, sharing a home with Maude, now sixty‑three, and a Black live‑in caretaker named Millie Evans who helped manage the household.

Louisiana in the late 1930s and early 1940s was a demanding place for a social worker. The state was still shaped by the Great Depression and Huey P. Long’s populist revolution—an era of deep rural poverty, political patronage, and overburdened welfare offices. Caseworkers like Elizabeth traveled muddy parish roads, documented need in meticulous handwritten files, and navigated a system where political loyalty could matter as much as professional judgment. They worked within the constraints of Jim Crow, often pushing quietly for fairer treatment of Black families who faced harsher scrutiny and fewer resources. It was exhausting, essential work.

Then came the war years, and everything changed again. By the early 1940s, Louisiana was transformed by military bases, shipyards, and wartime migration. Families arrived with nothing but a suitcase; soldiers’ wives needed help; children required supervision while their mothers worked long shifts; and transient workers were stranded when housing ran out. Rationing, inflation, and overcrowded towns created new emergencies daily. Casework shifted from chronic rural poverty to managing the human fallout of wartime mobility—evictions, deserted households, neglected children, and families struggling to survive in communities that had changed almost overnight. For Elizabeth, the early 1940s demanded endurance, compassion, and a steady heart.

In 1945, Elizabeth and sixty‑eight‑year‑old Maude moved to Washington, D.C., where Elizabeth accepted a position as Assistant Regional Representative for the Federal Security Agency—a major federal body overseeing public health, education, Social Security, and welfare programs. It was a prestigious role, and one that reflected her long experience navigating the complexities of social work in the South.

One of the fallouts from two world wars, an economic depression, and the agricultural disaster of the Dust Bowl was a populace that was largely malnourished. World War II recruits were rejected in large numbers due to malnutrition and the government invested in enriched foods as well as domestic programs to help women devise menus using government-supplied recipes. In the middle of this effort, Pillsbury Mills hosted a national recipe contest in 1949 focused on easy-to-make, affordable recipes that they could distribute in pamphlets and cookbooks.

Elizabeth, who had seen so much of this suffering firsthand in her work, joined in by submitting her “Strawberry Sunshine Dessert,” a simple upside‑down‑style cake topped with strawberry whipped cream. She was the only contestant representing a jurisdiction that wasn’t a state—Washington, D.C.—which may explain the lack of local newspaper coverage. Still, the recipe earned her a place in the national competition in New York City, and it’s easy to imagine she brought Maude along for the adventure. She didn’t win her category, but she did win a full kitchen upgrade, including a new oven, mixer, and worktable. We don’t know what Elizabeth did with those appliances, considering she was renting an urban apartment at the time. Several contestants were in the same boat and ended up selling their new kitchen equipment; it’s easy to imagine Elizabeth did the same.

Maude died in 1956 in Washington, D.C. and was returned to Yazoo City for burial beside Charles. After forty‑four years of living with her mother, Elizabeth was on her own for the first time since college.

Four years later, in 1960, she married retired Army colonel Walter Oakes in a quiet ceremony at the Army chapel in Aberdeen, Maryland.

Walter had lived in Yazoo City at one point, so perhaps their paths had crossed long before they met again in Washington. After a honeymoon, they settled in Arlington, Virginia. Elizabeth was forty‑eight, Walter fifty. Whether she had chosen to focus on her career in her younger years or simply waited until after Maude’s passing to seek companionship, the marriage marked a new chapter.

Piecing together Elizabeth’s life has meant following the kinds of trails ordinary women often left behind in that era: public records, scattered mentions in small‑town newspapers, and the occasional family tree entry that confirms a date or a name. For years, those sources sketch a clear, steady picture of her—daughter, student, social worker, devoted companion to her mother. And then, as happens so often with mid‑century women, the trail simply thins. After her marriage in 1960, the trail goes cold and I was unable to get a picture of her life with Walter. What remains is a life reconstructed from the pieces that were recorded, and the understanding that the rest belonged to her alone.

Elizabeth Lightcap Oakes was a dedicated career woman who, like many of us, juggled the responsibility of family with the demands of work. While she cared for her mother after her father’s death, she obviously valued her independence. She died in May 1998, leaving behind a story that stretched from small‑town Mississippi to the nation’s capital, from Depression‑era welfare offices to a national recipe contest, and from a close mother‑daughter bond to a late‑in‑life marriage built on companionship and wisdom gained through age.

Let’s Bake Cake!

This is an incredibly simple and frugal recipe, suited to a warm summer day and backyard barbecue. It’s a fruit-forward cake, dominated by the flavors of pineapple and strawberries with the addition of whipped cream to cut through the citrus. If you’re looking for something fast, simple, and refreshing, this is your cake. No special techniques or multi-step preparation needed.

Verdict: We didn’t expect to like this cake, but we did. It wasn’t our favorite thing ever, but it was light and refreshing with enough sweetness from the fruit to be satisfying. There’s little chance I would make this again (sorry, Elizabeth) but we did finish the whole thing and found that it stayed fresh for days.

If you want to give this cake a go, here is Elizabeth’s recipe:

(Recipe published in the 1959 edition of “Pillsbury’s BEST of the BAKE-OFF Collection”)

Serves 6

Spread in well-buttered 8-inch round or 2-quart casserole:
1 1/2 cups (No. 2 can) crushed pineapple, drained
Combine:
1/3 c. sugar
1 tbsp. flour
Sprinkle over pineapple
Sift together:
1 c. sifted all-purpose flour
2 tbsp. sugar
1 1/2 tsp. double-acting baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
Cut in:
1/4 c. butter or margarine (I used European-style butter) until particles are fine.
Add:
1/3 c. milk
Mix to form a soft dough. Spoon over pineapple mixture.

Bake at 425 degrees for 18-22 minutes.
Turn upside down on serving plate. Serve warm with Strawberry Cream Topping. Decorate with whole strawberries.

Strawberry Cream Topping
Beat 1 c. whipping cream until thick. Fold in 1 c. sweetened, sliced strawberries. If you want to have this dessert last more than one day, you can stabilize the whipped cream by adding 1 tsp. of unflavored gelatin when you whip the cream.

Notes:

• - A handy tip when cutting in butter is to grate frozen butter into the flour mixture, then rub with your fingertips until the mixture is a fine grain.
  - For the sweetened strawberries (which is a vague instruction, to be sure), I macerated the strawberries with about 2 tbsp. sugar for about 30 minutes before adding to the whipped cream. That seemed to work well.

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Sources:
Pillsbury Mills, Inc. (1959). Best of the bake-off collection: Pillsbury’s best 1000 recipes. Consolidated Book Publishers, Chicago; distributed by Grosset & Dunlap

C.A. Lightcap died Monday. (1934, October 2). The Yazoo Herald, p. 1.

Society. (1925, December 4). The Yazoo Herald, p. 5.

Giftorian’s address. (1929, June 4). The Yazoo Herald, p. 4.

Yazoo City girl highly honored. (1934, September 18). The Yazoo Herald, p. 1.

Social and society. (1933, January 3). The Yazoo Herald, p. 4.

Society. (1938, November 15). The Yazoo Herald, p. 3.

Serious automobile accident Friday eve. (1920, July 13). The Yazoo Herald, p. 1.

Services Saturday for Mrs. Lightcap, former resident. (1956, July 26). The Yazoo Herald, p. 5.

Society. (1935, June 14). The Yazoo Herald, p. 4.

Resigns as teacher. (1933, September 29). The Yazoo Herald, p. 4.

Ninety eight families dropped from federal relief roll. (1935, February 1). The Winona Times, p. 2.

Former resident to important post in Washington, D.C. (1945, January 4). The Yazoo Herald, p. 1.

Miss Lightcap marries today in Washington. (1960, December 29). The Yazoo Herald, p. 2.

Miss Lightcap receives welfare promotion. (1934, September 15). Sun Herald, p. 2.

Relief director assigned to WPA. (1935, August 4). Clarion‑Ledger, p. 7.

Hair, W. I. (1991). The Kingfish and his realm: The life and times of Huey P. Long. Louisiana State University Press.

Williams, T. H. (1969). Huey Long. Alfred A. Knopf.

Brinkley, A. (1982). Voices of protest: Huey Long, Father Coughlin, and the Great Depression. Alfred A. Knopf.

Tunnell, T. (1992). Crucible of politics: The creation of Louisiana’s political culture. Louisiana State University Press.

U.S. Federal Emergency Relief Administration. (1934). First annual report of the Federal Emergency Relief Administration. U.S. Government Printing Office.

Trattner, W. I. (1999). From poor law to welfare state: A history of social welfare in America (6th ed.). Free Press.

Katz, M. B. (1986). In the shadow of the poorhouse: A social history of welfare in America. Basic Books.

Stern, M. J. (2015). The social welfare history of the United States: From the colonial era to the present. Routledge.

Louisiana Department of Public Welfare. (1936). Annual report of the Louisiana Department of Public Welfare. State of Louisiana.

This was one of Jane Baker’s favorite quotes and she lived a life that exemplified this sentiment. An activist, mother, church leader and homemaker, Jane lived a life full of meaning and purpose. She never wavered; she never broke. I’m honored to tell her story.

Harriet Jane Kimball was born in August 1918 in Seattle, Washington, the younger daughter of Ida and Herbert Wilbur Kimball. Herbert was a salesman of the versatile, old‑fashioned kind, selling whatever the moment required—art supplies, hardware, ship candles, canning supplies. His work was steady enough that the Kimballs owned their own home, and Ida kept the household running while raising their two daughters, Mary Louise and Harriet Jane, who was known simply as Jane.

Mary married Forest Sherwood Gibson in 1941, a Chief Warrant Officer in the Army, and eventually settled in Missouri to raise her son and daughter. Jane’s life would take a different shape, one marked by movement, community, and a growing sense of purpose.

Jane graduated from high school in Seattle but did not attend college. In 1937, at nineteen, she married Wallace “Bud” Baker at his family home in King County, Washington. Mary signed the marriage certificate as a witness. Soon after, Jane and Bud moved to Montana, beginning a period of frequent relocations as Bud built his career. Their first home together was in Helena, a charming four‑bedroom, 3,000‑square‑foot house. Bud worked as a manager for the Postal Telegraph Company—one of Western Union’s major competitors until 1943—and also as a ticket agent for Western Airlines. His work took them to Long Beach, Great Falls, Billings, and Idaho Falls before they eventually settled for good in Great Falls.

During their first stay in Great Falls, their daughter Kathy was born in 1942. Their son Douglas followed in 1945 while the family was living in Idaho Falls.

In 1949, Jane joined the quarter‑million Americans who submitted recipes to the Pillsbury Grand National Recipe and Baking Competition. Her entry—whole wheat dinner rolls—earned her a place in the finals in New York City in the Yeast Bread category. It was likely her first trip to the East Coast, and while she didn’t win, she returned home with a brand‑new kitchen and the knowledge that her recipe would appear in cookbooks for years to come. The following year she won a waffle maker in a White Magic dish soap quiz game, a small testament to her love of contests.

Life in Great Falls revolved around the Central Christian Church, where Jane became a pillar of the congregation. In December 1949, during a nationwide observance of “Woman’s Day,” she was chosen to read scripture during the service. She led the Fidelis Circle, a women’s Bible study group, and became active in the Great Falls Council of Church Women, an ecumenical group dedicated to shared Christian service. By 1953, she was its president, helping plan events for the World Day of Prayer.

She also participated in lighter‑hearted church activities; in 1963, when the Christian Women’s Fellowship held a style show and dessert luncheon to raise money for remodeling, Jane was one of the models. Every Halloween, she organized the UNICEF drive, marshaling neighborhood children to collect coins for global relief.

Then, as if things weren’t busy enough, after a decade‑long gap, Jane and Bud were surprised by the arrival of Elizabeth, called Libby, in 1955, and then Bradley in 1956.

In 1963, with two almost-grown children and two young children, Jane stepped into a new and transformative role. She joined a four‑woman committee within the United Church Women to address discriminatory housing practices in Great Falls. Their project, the Open Occupancy Program, challenged landlords to consider Black applicants equally rather than confining them to segregated neighborhoods. The group lobbied local lawmakers and members of Congress, and as the movement grew, Jane was appointed chairman of the Great Falls Fair Housing Committee.

Her passion and drive led the mayor to appoint her to the newly formed Great Falls Human Relations Commission in 1964. The work was difficult and often met with hostility, but Jane persisted. In 1966, as Congress debated the Civil Rights Bill, she led a campaign urging residents to demand that Title IV, the open housing provision, remain in the legislation. It is hard not to wonder whether she remembered the lone Black contestant at the 1949 Bake‑Off, Lillian Willis, and whether that memory fueled her determination to fight discrimination in all its forms.

In 1967, Jane became the presiding officer of the League of Women Voters, a remarkable milestone for a woman born just one year before American women gained the right to vote. She organized public forums, study groups, and educational programs focused on global development and economic justice. At the same time, she served as state leadership education chairman for the United Church Women and continued chairing the Fair Housing Committee. She was unafraid to take unpopular positions; when the Montana House debated whether women should be drafted, she used the moment to speak out against war itself and against drafting either sex.

In honor of her fearless advocacy, the Great Falls Tribune honored her in 1969 as a “Woman of Courage” for her steadfast defense of fair housing in a hostile climate. Her influence continued to grow. She became Montana’s vice president for denominational cooperation within the Montana Council of Churches, attended national action‑oriented gatherings like the Institute of Involvement in Kentucky, and in 1970 became the first woman to serve as state president of the Montana Council of Churches, representing nine Protestant denominations. She also served as president of the Opportunities Inc. board of directors and as a church school leader.

In 1972, she ran for and won a seat on the Great Falls school board. For many years, as the sponsor of the local chapter of the Christian Youth Fellowship, she led teens on two‑week backpacking trips into the Bob Marshall Wilderness, a place she loved deeply.

Bud retired in 1976, celebrated by coworkers and friends, and devoted his remaining energy to church service. He had spent a lifetime serving the parish and had been working already as a church schoolteacher and an elder. After retirement, he took on the roles of treasurer and board member for The Christian Churches, until January 1977 when he was diagnosed with cancer. The diagnosis came late and Bud passed away less than a year later, in December 1977.

Their children grew up in this world of faith and service, with a committed father and a fearless mother. Kathy attended Phillips University in Oklahoma, majoring in pre‑medicine, and served as state president of the Christian Youth Fellowship in 1961. She later married Benito Rodriguez, and together they worked with the United Farm Workers in support of Mexican‑American farm laborers before returning to Great Falls to raise their three children. Unfortunately, the marriage didn’t last, and they divorced in 1977 after almost 10 years of marriage. Douglas married Dorothy Jacobson in 1968 and studied architecture at Montana State University. Libby, like her mother, became deeply involved in church life and attended the National General Assembly of the Christian Church as a youth delegate in 1971. Bradley became a chef in Livingston, Montana and died of a heart attack in 2003, just months before his mother.

Jane continued her work as long as she could, but by the mid‑1990s, Alzheimer’s disease began to take hold. In 1997, when she could no longer safely live at home, she moved into Village Health Care in Missoula, where Libby lived and could be close to her. Jane died there in 2003 at age eighty‑five from pneumonia, having already lost Bud and her youngest son, Brad. She was survived by two daughters and six grandchildren. Despite her lifetime of leadership, activism, and public service, her death certificate listed her occupation simply as “homemaker.” Her family honored her by holding a memorial service in the Bob Marshall Wilderness, the place where she had found so much joy and renewal.

Let’s Make Bread!

I make a lot of bread. I find that making a nice, soft whole wheat sandwich bread at home is often difficult - whole wheat absorbs more water than white flour, which makes it harder to work with (especially at altitude, where I live), and can create a dense loaf. But Jane Baker cracked the code. I used 2/3 of the dough to make dinner rolls and the last third to make a sandwich loaf. Pillowy soft, slightly sweet, but malty with the whole wheat flour, this bread is now the only whole wheat recipe I’ll use. Her secret is the inclusion not only of butter and egg, both of which soften a dough, but also undiluted evaporated milk.

The rolls rose nicely in both proofs and held their shape throughout. Jane’s recipe encourages you to shape any way you want so I made two simple shapes for the rolls, and a basic loaf pan for the bread.

Verdict: Huge fans. The rolls were just as soft the next day and the bread toasted up beautifully for my morning toast. We both loved them, especially warm from the oven, with melted butter. Incredibly easy to make while still showcasing what soft nutritious dinner rolls should be.

If you are a home bread baker, I really encourage you to try these rolls.

(Recipe published in the 1959 edition of “Pillsbury’s BEST of the BAKE-OFF Collection”)

Makes about 3 dozen
Soften:
2 packets active dry yeast (or 2 cakes compressed) in 1/2 c. warm water
Combine in large mixing bowl:
1/2 c. sugar
1/3 c. shortening (I used European-style butter)
2 tsp. salt
3/4 c. boiling water
3/4 c. undiluted evaporated milk
Cool to lukewarm
Add:
1 unbeaten egg
softened yeast mixture
Blend in:
2 1/2 c. sifted all-purpose flour
3/4 c. unsifted whole wheat flour or wheat germ (I used whole wheat flour)
Mix until smooth.
Add:
2 1/2 - 3 c. sifted all-purpose flour (I used bread flour for this second addition of flour)
Knead:
on floured surface until smooth and satiny, about 5 minutes. Place in greased bowl and cover.
Let rise:
in warm place (85 degrees) until doubled, about 1 to 1 1/2 hours
Shape:
into rolls as desired. Place in greased baking pans or muffin cups.
Let rise:
in warm place until light, 45-60 minutes

Bake at 375 degrees for 20-25 minutes for pan rolls, 15-20 minutes for rolls made in muffin cups.

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Sources:

Pillsbury Mills, Inc. (1959). Best of the bake-off collection: Pillsbury's best 1000 recipes. Consolidated Book Publishers, Chicago; distributed by Grosset & Dunlap

Central Christian Church women to direct services. (1949, December 3). Great Falls Tribune, p. 11.

Mrs. Wallace Baker in line for $50,000 for prize recipe. (1949, November 28). Great Falls Tribune, p. 8.

Plan World Day of Prayer. (1953, February 15). Great Falls Tribune, p. 51.

Christian Church launches campaign of evangelism. (1954, January 11). The Great Falls Leader, p. 9.

Spray of the Falls. (1962, March 7). Great Falls Tribune, p. 8.

Church women propose open occupancy program. (1963, October 5). Great Falls Tribune, p. 14.

Church unit to sponsor style show. (1963, October 5). Great Falls Tribune, p. 14.

Baker named chairman of housing group. (1963, December 8). Great Falls Tribune, p. 9.

Mayor selects 14 commissioners to solve inter-racial problems. (1964, August 8). Great Falls Tribune, p. 18.

Civil rights housing discussed by committee here. (1966, July 16). Great Falls Tribune, p. 8.

Women’s draft proposal finds little support in Great Falls. (1967, January 11). Great Falls Tribune, p. 6.

LWV group to hear of job opportunities. (1967, April 10). Great Falls Tribune, p. 10.

Summer bride visits. (1967, August 20). Great Falls Tribune, p. 36.

Jacobson–Baker. (1968, March 24). Great Falls Tribune, p. 35.

Church women to attend state CWU assembly. (1969, September 18). The Great Falls Leader, p. 4.

World Bank official will speak in Falls. (1970, January 11). Great Falls Tribune, p. 8.

Mrs. Baker elected by church unit. (1970, October 9). Great Falls Tribune, p. 11.

Students find church listens, understands. (1971, October 30). Great Falls Tribune, p. 5.

Woman, 2 incumbents elected to school board. (1972, April 2). Great Falls Tribune, p. 1.

Helena man seated by church unit. (1972, October 7). Great Falls Tribune, p. 5.

Man pleads innocent to charge of rape. (1974, November 19). The Missoulian, p. 7.

Deaths and funerals. (1977, December 9). Great Falls Tribune, p. 8.

Obituaries. (2003, November 5). The Missoulian, p. 13.

Florence Schoenleber was born in 1891 in Rock Creek, Nebraska, to Louis and Charlotta Schoenleber. She was one of twelve children, all raised on a working farm. The household was large, the work constant, but the Schoenlebers clearly valued schooling. For several years in a row, the children—including Florence—received honors for perfect attendance at the Eureka School. Almost all of the Schoenleber children would eventually become farmers. Florence was the exception.

She graduated from Bethany High School in 1908 and then began the long, steady climb toward a college degree. She enrolled at the University of Nebraska–Lincoln and earned her Bachelor of Science in 1917.

It likely took her longer than four years because, like her siblings, she was also an ad‑hoc farmhand, expected to help with the work at home whenever she was needed. Even as a young woman, her skill in the kitchen was obvious. In 1915, while still a student, she won second place at the Nebraska State Fair for her chocolate loaf and another second place for her blackberry jelly.

After graduation, Florence stepped into the classroom as a Home Economics teacher at Wahoo High School. During the school year she lived in Wahoo, but she always returned to her father’s farm in the summers. Those summers were not idle. In 1918, she traveled several hours by car to Thedford, Nebraska, where she led a two‑day program on home canning and food preservation for local women—already functioning as a kind of traveling expert in domestic science.

In 1920, her career took a clear step up when she was hired to teach Home Economics at Hastings College in Hastings, Nebraska. Her annual salary was $1500, roughly equivalent to about $25,000 today. She didn’t just teach her classes and go home; she stepped into leadership. Florence helped lead the Third District Vocational Home Economics Conference, serving as co‑chairperson and also presenting at the conference. As early as 1920, she was already working with other Nebraska educators to develop rural night school curricula to serve both vocational workers and homemakers.

After a few years at Hastings, Florence decided to deepen her education. In 1924, she left Nebraska for New York to pursue a master’s degree at Columbia University. She completed her degree in 1926 and was inducted into Phi Beta Kappa, a mark of high academic achievement. A teaching degree combined with a master’s from Columbia gave Florence a ticket to live and work almost anywhere.

Her employment pattern in the years that followed was typical for ambitious women in higher education at the time. In the 1920s and 1930s, two‑year teaching appointments were entirely normal for women. Universities rarely offered women tenure‑track positions, especially in scientific fields, and instead hired them on short‑term, renewable contracts as instructors, assistants, or “scholars.” At the same time, Home Economics was a rapidly expanding but unsettled discipline, shaped by new federal funding, shifting curricula, and constant departmental reorganization. Colleges and Normal Schools frequently created temporary positions to meet immediate teaching needs or to staff grant‑funded projects, and women were expected to be mobile, moving wherever opportunities arose. Florence’s pattern of two‑ and three‑year appointments in various places reflects that standard academic landscape—not instability, but the normal career ladder available to women in a young and fast‑changing field.

In 1927, Florence moved to Lexington, Kentucky, to teach Home Economics at Hamilton College. Even then, she kept her roots in Nebraska, coming home to the family farm in the summers. Two years later, in 1929, she embraced the nomad life again and moved to Ypsilanti, Michigan, to teach Home Economics at the Normal College there. She rented an apartment and shared it with a roommate, Marjorie Pratt, who also taught at the college. While living “up north,” Florence took a vacation to Canada in 1930—another sign that she was comfortable traveling and exploring beyond the Midwest.

The next year brought yet another move. Florence took a position in the Home Economics Department at the University of Pennsylvania located in Indiana, Pennsylvania. As usual, she settled quickly into her new surroundings, even hosting bridge parties in the university’s Recreation Hall. Her life in these years had a rhythm: teach intensely during the academic year, build community wherever she landed, and then reconnect with Nebraska and the farm whenever she could.

When her two‑year contract in Pennsylvania ended, Florence’s academic pursuits took her to Madison, Wisconsin, in 1933. There she was employed as a “scholar” in the College of Agriculture at the University of Wisconsin. In this context, “scholar” essentially meant a paid teaching and research assistant. True to form, Florence dove in completely. In 1934, she presented a paper at the annual convention of the Federation of American Societies for Experimental Biology (FASEB) in New York City. In the 1930s, FASEB was still in its early decades, serving as a central forum for researchers in physiology, biochemistry, and pharmacology. Founded in 1912, the federation coordinated annual scientific meetings and helped member societies share research and develop publications at a time when the American biological sciences community was still relatively small. Its work focused on fostering collaboration and supporting the growing field of experimental biology. With her degrees in science, this world would have been right up Florence’s alley.

In 1935, Louis and Charlotta celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. All eleven of their surviving children and twenty‑four friends gathered at the farm just outside Lincoln, Nebraska, where the couple had lived for twenty‑nine years. Florence came back from Madison for the celebration and helped her sisters organize and serve. She had signed up for another two‑year contract after her first one ended, so she stayed in Madison until 1937. After that, she did a short stint of postgraduate work at the University of California, focusing on nutrition science.

Eventually, though, she came back to Nebraska, where most of her siblings and her parents still lived. By 1938, Florence was living at home again, perhaps to care for her ailing mother, who died in September of that year at age 73. Her family ties were strong. Florence seemed especially close to Emma, whom she visited or hosted every year as adulthood and careers scattered them.

In January 1940, Florence took on a new post as assistant professor of nutrition at Utah State Agricultural College, stepping in mid‑year to replace a departing faculty member. Even as she moved for work, the center of gravity remained the family farm and her siblings in Nebraska.

In 1943, the Schoenlebers joined the family reunion movement that had become so popular in the early 1900s. They elected officers to two‑year terms, responsible for organizing and managing funds and for keeping photos and guest lists for historical purposes. Beginning in the early 1900s, large extended families across the United States increasingly organized formal annual reunions, complete with elected officers, printed programs, and committee structures. This movement grew out of overlapping forces: rising genealogical interest, the spread of railroads and automobiles that made travel easier, and a cultural emphasis on kinship and stability during decades of migration and social change. By the 1920s and 1930s, many families—especially those with deep regional roots—held reunions that resembled small conventions, with presidents, secretaries, treasurers, and historians who recorded births, deaths, and marriages. These gatherings helped scattered relatives maintain identity and continuity, reinforcing the extended family as both a social network and a moral anchor. In many families, the reunions became entrenched traditions that continue today, including among the Schoenlebers. With her deep connection to family, Florence made regular appearances at the annual gatherings.

In August 1949, Florence’s sister Clara died at just 53. That same year, when she was 58, Florence submitted her recipe for Apricot Fudge Cake to the Pillsbury Bake-Off. By this time, she had moved back to the family farm and was acting as caretaker for her 93‑year‑old father. An all‑expense‑paid trip to New York City to stay at the Waldorf‑Astoria would have been both a welcome diversion and a familiar kind of adventure for Florence, who had already lived all over the country and visited New York before.

She took delivery of all the appliances she won for her farm kitchen in the house she had grown up in and still shared with Louis. Like all contestants, she had to keep her entry secret until Pillsbury began its promotional publications after the competition. In 1950, newspapers published her recipe with her name in bold.

In 1950, Louis died at age 94. He had been ill for five years before his death, and Florence had taken a break from her career to care for him. She was living with him in the farmhouse, serving as housekeeper and caretaker in his final years. After retiring from farming, Louis had poured his energy into the community, helping to establish the Walton Consolidated School and the Walton Grace Lutheran Church. As the unmarried daughter, Florence carried the responsibility of managing the home and caring for him.

With both parents gone, Florence gave in once more to the wanderlust that had defined the early part of her career. In 1952, she took a job in the Nutrition Research Laboratory at Iowa State College. She worked there for five years. While living in Iowa, she returned home for visits; in 1953, she attended her niece’s “Wise and Otherwise Club” and gave a talk about her trip to the Pillsbury Bake-Off in 1949.

In 1957, Florence decided to move back to Nebraska for good. She accepted a position at Coleridge School, teaching Home Economics. She traveled frequently to visit her siblings, but she also built a robust social life in Coleridge. She helped organize and serve at faculty holiday gatherings like the winter party and spring picnic. She joined the Arts and Crafts Extension Club, where members taught and learned new skills such as furniture refinishing and planned entries for county and state fairs. Florence, who had been competing at fairs since her youth, never stopped entering contests for her cooking and canning.

Devoted to her career, she attended professional conferences and meetings, often on weekends, and frequently spoke at them, sharing her expertise in adapting the broad Home Economics curriculum to high school students. Her commitment to education paid off. In 1959, after only a couple of years at Coleridge Public School, she expanded her responsibilities to include teaching General Science in addition to Homemaking, finally putting her Bachelor of Science degree to full use. Her personality comes through in the details: she sponsored the school Pep Club and led “play school” for the little children in Coleridge who were heading into kindergarten in the fall.

In 1959, Florence also led her students through the Betty Crocker Homemaker of Tomorrow exams, which must have reminded her of her own Pillsbury Bake-Off experience. By then, corporate home economist mascots like Betty Crocker and Ann Pillsbury had become powerful cultural figures. Though not real women, they were carefully crafted personas backed by teams of trained home economists who tested recipes, answered letters, and offered dependable advice to millions of homemakers. These mascots gave companies a warm, trustworthy voice at a time when packaged foods, standardized ingredients, and modern appliances were transforming the American kitchen. By presenting themselves as friendly, competent women who understood everyday domestic work, they shaped national tastes and helped define what modern home baking looked like for an entire generation.

In August 1962, the Seattle World’s Fair offered exactly the kind of spectacle Florence loved—a blend of innovation and exhibition not unlike a giant state fair. She and her sisters Dorothy and Emma took a road trip to attend. All three were in their senior years; Florence herself was 71, Dorothy was 58 and Emma was 76.

But just two years later In 1964, sister Dorothy died at age 60. In 1969, Emma celebrated her 50th wedding anniversary, and Florence helped with the celebration, including serving the guests, just as she had done at so many family events over the decades. Emma and her husband were farmers too, rooted in the same rural world that had shaped Florence’s early life.

Emma died in 1971 at age 85, a loss that must have left a large gap in Florence’s life. The two sisters had remained close for decades, visiting and hosting each other whenever they could. By then, Florence was 80 and had lived a full life, rich with family, travel, teaching, and community.

In her later years, Florence moved into the Tabitha Home, a senior living facility in Lincoln, Nebraska, now known as Eventide. She died there in 1986 at age 95—a farm girl who became a scientist, teacher, traveler, caretaker, and, in her own way, architect of how ordinary Americans learned to cook, can, and keep house in the twentieth century.

Let’s Bake Cake!

This is a pretty straightforward cake to make. Florence suggests in the recipe that you use dried apricots that have been re-hydrated and cooked. But it’s apricot season here right now and a friend gave me several pounds of apricots from her backyard tree, so I opted for fresh apricots. The apricots in this recipe serve multiple functions - they moisten a somewhat dry crumb, and their tartness offsets the fudginess of the cake. If it’s apricot season for you, I recommend the fresh apricot version, but Florence makes sure that you can make this cake year-round. Florence opts for a whipped cream filling and topping which is the perfect complement, cutting through the tart apricots and the dark chocolate of the cake.

Overall, the combination of these flavor profiles is delicious… and the kind of thing an experienced food scientist would come up with. I made both a cake and a set of cupcakes, injecting the whipped cream filling into the cupcakes. I used a stable whipped cream technique, which I’ll include with the recipe in case you won’t eat the cake all at once (although you’ll be tempted to). Stabilizing your whipped cream will let it last for days.

Verdict: Fudgy and just the right amount of sweet. We liked both the cupcakes and the cake version. With the stabilized whipped cream, the cake was fresh days later. You could also top the cake with halved apricots for an extra flair, but it doesn’t need it.

If you want to try Florence’s recipe, here it is - try it with fresh apricots like I used or her original choice of dried, cooked apricots.

(Recipe published in the 1959 edition of “Pillsbury’s BEST of the BAKE-OFF Collection”)

Makes two 8-inch layers (or one layer and six cupcakes)

Sift together and set aside:
2 c. sifted all-purpose flour
2 1/2 tsp. double-acting baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. soda
Cream:
1/2 c. butter or margarine (I used European-style butter)
1 1/4 c. sugar
Blend in:
2 unbeaten eggs, one at a time
3 oz. melted unsweetened chocolate
1 tsp. vanilla
Beat well.
Add:
the dry ingredients, alternately with 3/4 c. milk. Blend well after each addition.
Stir in:
3/4 c. cooked dried apricots, drained and cut. (Or chop fresh apricots if they are in season)
Turn into two 8-inch round layer pans, well-greased and lightly floured on the bottoms.
Bake at 350 degrees for 35-40 minutes. Cool.

Beat:
1 c. whipping cream until stiff. Sweeten to taste and spread between and on top of layers.
For stable whipped cream, add 2 tbsp. powdered sugar and 1 tsp. gelatin to the whipping cream.

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Sources:

Pillsbury Mills, Inc. (1959). Best of the bake-off collection: Pillsbury’s best 1000 recipes. Consolidated Book Publishers, Chicago; distributed by Grosset & Dunlap
Report of Rock Creek. (1900, December 28). Saunders County New Era, p. 1.
Along Rock Creek. (1901, March 29). Saunders County New Era, p. 9.
Culinary art not forgotten. (1915, September 12). The Lincoln Star, p. 21.
Home canning demonstration. (1918, July 18). Thomas County Herald‑Clipper, Mullen Sandhills Stockman, p. 1.
Local news. (1919, May 29). Wahoo Newspapers, p. 5.
City and country. (1920, April 23). Adams County Democrat, p. 1.
Nebraska women and girls to go to night schools. (1920, June 3). The Lincoln Star, p. 8.
Third District Conference here. (1920, December 8). The Hastings Daily Tribune, p. 8.
People you know. (1921, June 21). Lincoln Journal Star, p. 7.
Hamilton College will open Monday for older students. (1927, September 11). The Lexington Herald, p. 13.
Schoenleber‑Schulz. (1927, September 4). Lincoln Journal Star, p. 18.
Faculty news. (1931, March 14). The Indiana Gazette, p. 15.
Dove‑Schoenleber. (1931, June 28). Lincoln Journal Star, p. 16.
Society news. (1932, January 28). The Indiana Gazette, p. 3.
16 U.W. scientists at N.Y. convention. (1934, March 31). Wisconsin State Journal, p. 3.
Congratulations. (1935, June 23). Lincoln Journal Star, p. 27.
Mrs. Schoenleber is dead. (1938, September 30). Lincoln Journal Star, p. 10.
Nutrition teacher reports for duty. (1940, January 11). Student Life, p. 1.
Mrs. Clara Lipe of Waverly dies. (1949, August 22). The Lincoln Star, p. 8.
Louis Schoenleber of Route 3 dies. (1950, December 14). Lincoln Journal Star, p. 2.
Wise Club has afternoon meet. (1952, September 18). The York Republican, p. 7.
Coleridge society. (1957, October 10). Cedar County News, p. 5.
Teachers meet. (1959, February 12). Cedar County News, p. 3.
Homemaker of Tomorrow examination given here. (1959, December 10). Cedar County News, p. 5.
Play school held. (1960, May 2). Norfolk Daily News, p. 11.
Garfield. (1962, August 16). The Eustis News, p. 5.
Wed fifty years. (1969, January 6). The York Daily News‑Times, p. 3.
Deaths. (1971, January 29). The York Daily News‑Times, p. 10.
Rossiter, M. W. (1982). Women scientists in America: Struggles and strategies to 1940. Johns Hopkins University Press.
Palmieri, P. A. (1983). Here’s to the ladies: The rise of the women’s faculty club in America. Teachers College Press.
Solomon, B. M. (1985). In the company of educated women: A history of women and higher education in America. Yale University Press.
Inness, S. A. (2001). Dinner roles: American women and culinary culture. University of Iowa Press.
Shapiro, L. (2004). Something from the oven: Reinventing dinner in 1950s America. Viking.
Marks, L. (2010). When cooking was a job: Home economics in the early twentieth century. University of North Carolina Press.

When I inherited the 10-year compilation cookbook of Pillsbury Bake-off Recipes from 1949 to 1959, I was immediately intrigued by the uniqueness of the recipes - jam mixed in cake batter? gum drops in bread? chopped marshmallows strewn on the bottom pie crust of a fruit pie? - and also immediately frustrated by the way the married women were listed… under their husband’s names. It hardly seemed fair that their moment of glory was credited to someone else’s name. I had spent some time researching my family tree so had all the tools to satisfy my curiosity about these women.

It started with me tracking them down to find out who they were and some details about their lives, then regaling my husband with their stories while we indulged in their cakes. I can’t even remember what possessed me to start a blog about them, but it’s become such an important part of my life. It was my fifth post that made me realize there was something meaningful about what I was doing - that was a post about an independent woman named Aquina Shea who submitted a recipe for Minnesota Harvest Bars. A great-nephew of hers recognized her name but knew so little about her life. He was grateful to learn more and even attached the post to her entry in his family tree. I rode that high for a month.

Then there were more… someone recognized a picture of a friend’s aunt. Another, her great-grandmother about whom she knew little and was grateful for the deeper history. There was the woman who bought a contestant’s house and was baking in her same kitchen. And there were the cousins who were so excited to find their grandmother’s article. I was shocked at how many connections were being made for a little blog series with fewer than a hundred followers. But every connection moves me forward, keeps me baking and researching and sometimes falling in love with my subjects. One of those loves is Leona Funcke, an obviously happy woman in love with her husband and children, and with a deep love of baking.

Leona was in the Bake-off three times, starting with 1949, the year I’m currently focused on. And she kept scrapbooks for each one, which her granddaughter Jean scanned and shared with me. Both granddaughters, Jill and Jean, were generous with their time and memories, sharing stories about “Grandma Lee” over Zoom and email, all of which not only gave me a better idea about Leona but also about the Bake-off experience overall.

And that’s what I want to share now — a look back at what it was like to be a contestant in the 1949 Pillsbury Bake-off, which was unique among the bake-offs because it was the first and was actually intended to be the only. It also drew many middle-aged home cooks, most of whom learned to cook in their mothers’ kitchens during troubled times like World Wars, the Great Depression, the Dust Bowl. Their cooking often reflected those hardships, making do with what was available and affordable.

An enormous thanks to the Funcke family, especially Jill and Jean, for giving me such an intimate look at the inner workings of this iconically American event.

Applying

It was impossible to miss knowing about Pillsbury’s Grand National Recipe and Baking Contest. Pillsbury Mills was celebrating their 80th birthday amidst a push from the government for American housewives to use enriched flour in their recipes as a response to the rampant malnutrition afflicting the country. What better way to bring those two ideas together than to host a national baking competition for home cooks? They ran ads in just about every paper in just about every American city and town. Often the ads were accompanied by the rules. Many of these rules were tailored to home cooks of the era, many of whom learned to cook through oral tradition and through times of hardship and food shortages.

Basically, the rules were:

1. Keep the recipe neat and exact, using just one side of the paper you’re writing on. Use level measurements, not the more common notations of the day like “heaping” or “scant”. Indicate the exact oven temperature - not “medium” or “hot” - and how long to bake the item. In other words, translate the oral tradition and improvisation of home cooking into precision.

2. Keep it family-friendly and easy. No alcoholic ingredients were allowed. Pillsbury also insisted that ingredients be readily available in grocery stores. And most importantly, ingredients had to contain at least 1/2 cup of Pillsbury’s Best Flour, which was the brand name of Pillsbury’s enriched white flour.

3. Don’t just identify your name and the recipe title (although you need to do that on each sheet of paper) but also tell a little something about it. At the bottom of the recipe, tell where you learned it and when.

4. Include a seal from a Pillsbury Best flour package. This may seem trivial but, in the end, Pillsbury received 250,000 recipe submissions in that first year. That’s at least one bag of flour for each of them - not a bad way to influence sales. And if you wanted a chance at doubling the prize money, cut the “contest tokens” from the ad and put it in the envelope as well. You could also write to Pillsbury to ask for an entry form and contest token.

5. One entry per envelope, but feel free to send as many envelopes as you want.

Winning a spot

Regional Pillsbury representatives partnered with regional Department of Home Economics officials to read through the recipes and test the ones the complied with the rules. The test kitchen scored the recipes based on taste, ease of preparation, uniqueness, and general appeal. Interestingly, they also judged the “aptness of name”, which is ironic because Pillsbury almost always renamed the recipes before publishing. There were six categories in this first contest: Pies, Cakes, Cookies, Breads, Entrees, and Desserts. Pillsbury would place each entry into the appropriate category for competition.

Finalists were notified by phone or home visit by Pillsbury’s regional representative. In those days when not all homes had phones, it could be challenging to notify the contestants. Sometimes, the representative would arrive unannounced, with photographer in tow, to present the finalist with a $200 check and a congratulatory letter from Pillsbury. This not only surprised finalist Christena Ornburn but it also alarmed her to be caught unprepared for a photo opp. In another story, Pillsbury had trouble locating Erma Hamilton because she didn’t have a phone and lived on a rural farm road, they called the local police station for advice on how to find her. It turned out her father was the chief of police and ran out to the rice fields to tell Erma himself!

Importantly, Pillsbury was careful to point out that all the recipes became their property and would not be returned to the contestant. This paved the way for them to modify the recipe, recipe name, and cooking instructions as they saw fit. Finalists received congratulatory legal documents to sign that explained how the ownership worked, which included name and recipe changes, as well as instructions not to share the recipe or provide photos of the finished product to newspapers.

But Pillsbury Mills wasn’t the only company leveraging this event for promotional purposes. A flurry of congratulatory letters arrived in finalists’ mailboxes from all the other vendors, including General Electric, Hamilton Beach, and the Waldorf Astoria. For many of these women, modern appliances like electric stoves and food mixers were just things they had heard about but never used. The vendors were careful to provide avenues for them to learn what they needed to know before baking in the finals.

Competition Day

In 1949, air travel was not as ubiquitous as it is now. Contestants not only won $200 for making it to the finals, they also received an all-expense-paid trip to New York. However, for some, that included lengthy train travel to get there.

Once there, they had a detailed (and rather full) schedule for the weekend, including one full day of baking. Arrival day was the lightest schedule for the contestants, some of whom had traveled a long way before arriving at the Waldorf-Astoria. The afternoon was reserved for demonstrations of the equipment the contestants would be using and answering any questions they might have.

Some of the contestants took the offer to be in the audience for the Fred Waring show, but many retired to their rooms to get some rest for the next day, baking day. The next day started early and allowed for some additional time to get their questions answered before the baking began. Most ingredients were purchased by Pillsbury and were waiting for the contestants at their stations, but in some cases, contestants were asked to bring specific items that staff was unable to find.

By the time the doors opened on the morning of December 13, 1949, the Grand Ballroom of the Waldorf-Astoria no longer resembled a ballroom at all. Overnight, Pillsbury’s home economists and a small army of electricians had transformed it into something closer to a gleaming aircraft hangar of domestic ambition — one hundred General Electric Stratoliner ranges, each one squared precisely in rows that stretched from the stage to the far wall like a regiment of white enamel soldiers.

Baking began at 8:30 AM and ended at 5:00 PM, but this was a fairly loose schedule. Each contestant would be allowed as many attempts as they could fit into that schedule (I imagine bread bakers were feeling the pressure of this schedule more than cake or cookie bakers). Judges were ready to take submissions right away in the event that the contestant was satisfied with the first attempt, which several were.

Judges were sequestered from the contestants and were not allowed to meet or see the bakers before final awards. The judges were food editors from various publications and were isolated in a separate room. When a contestant was finished with their item, they would place it on a service cart and wheel it to the doorway of the judging hall. They were then free to leave the baking hall or stay to watch the others wrap up. That day in 1949, the first entry came to the judges at 10:45; according to Clementine Paddleford, Food Editor for the New York Herald Tribune and one of the judges, they had sampled all 100 entries by 5:30 PM. With so much sweet food to try, the judges balanced their palates by nibbling on green olives and dill pickles, along with lots of water despite the water shortage going on in New York City that weekend.

One judge later admitted that she felt the pies made the “poorest showing”, although she didn’t explain what that meant. All in all, the consensus among the judges was that the quality was good for all of the entries but there were few things that were groundbreaking. Many of the entries were variations of American standards; I look back with a historical eye and wish to disagree with those judges. Maybe we have become accustomed to having any ingredient available to us, either in our grocery stores or online, but it takes a certain creativity to make beautiful cakes and pillowy bread and multi-layer pies when so many home cooks had lived through decades of food shortages.

Exhausted contestants went right from the baking hall to a supper sponsored by LIFE magazine. For those with any energy left, Pillsbury whisked them off to either a show at Radio City Music Hall or to Arthur Godfrey’s show, “Talent Scouts”. This was undoubtedly a good way to keep your mind off how you did in the competition.

Awards Day

The next day started slowly, which was undoubtedly a relief. Contestants were treated to a room service breakfast, a luxury many had never experienced. Then they were taken on a bus tour of New York City. While the contestants were sightseeing, the press was beginning to gather at the Waldorf-Astoria’s Starlight Lounge for a noon cocktail party (it’s 5:00 somewhere!).

Contestants joined the press corps on the Starlight Roof at 12:30 for the awards luncheon, which was studded with A-listers, including Philip Reed (Chairman of the Board for General Electric), John Pillsbury (Chairman of the Board for Pillsbury Mills), Frank Stanton (President of CBS), Mayor Impelliteri, Otis Wiese (Editor of McCall’s Magazine), Arthur Godfrey, Art Linkletter, and Eleanor Roosevelt. As if all of that wasn’t exciting enough, the awards presentation was broadcast live (and later re-broadcast during prime time) on CBS, hosted by Cedric Adams, one of the best-known broadcasters of the time.

After the awards were announced, most of the contestants were free to leave while the top three award winners attended a press conference with Mrs. Roosevelt. The top awards went to Theodora Smafield for her water-risen bread twists (first prize of $50,000), Laura Rott for her chocolate mint cookies (second prize of $10,000) and Virginia Sprague for her chocolate layer cake (third prize of $4000).

No contestant went away empty-handed though. They all received brand new General Electric Stratoliner push-button electric ranges, which were delivered to their homes by their regional GE product suppliers. All of the ovens used on the baking floor of the Waldorf-Astoria were demonstration units and did not follow the contestants home. The same is true of the Hamilton Beach electric mixer, which were also demo models in the competition. Contestants received brand new mixers from local appliance stores in their area.

This past year has given me a new perspective on the lives of people, especially women, in the first half of the 1900s. It’s easy to trivialize the homemakers of the 1940s and 1950s, until you realize how difficult the path was to arrive at that place. Many of these contestants were born in the years before WWI. They said good-bye to lovers and brothers (and sometimes sons), and sacrificed food and household goods so the troops could have enough supplies. Immediately after the war ended and the survivors arrived home, the Spanish Flu swept the country, leaving people stranded and isolated, with continued shortages. There was a decade of calm in the 1920s and many of these contestants married during that time and had their babies. But then, while their children were small, the Great Depression took away their stability and again, food was scarce. Homemakers who had learned to make do with minimal ingredients went to work again, creatively feeding their families on whatever they could find and afford. The Dust Bowl overlapped the Depression, leaving America starved for fresh produce that was grown in that region. And just as farmers were rebuilding their fields, America entered WWII. Women once again said goodbye to lovers, brothers and sons, while also facing food rationing in a country already struggling.

The 1949 Pillsbury Grand National Recipe and Baking Contest, with its focus on female homemakers, was just 4 years after WWII veterans came home. Rationing and food shortages continued through this time while America helped to rebuild European countries. The Bake-Off might smell of patriarchy and condescension. But I’ve come to appreciate that it was also a way to celebrate the incredible feat of keeping families fed, of making beautiful desserts out of whatever was available, and of being the anchor in so many households.

Thank you for being part of the journey so far. I’m looking forward to finishing up my research on the 1949 contestants over the next year. Please join me!

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Virginia Elise “Bess” Johnson was born in December 1915 in Baxley, Georgia, the fourth of six children born to Henry and Victoria Johnson. She entered the world as one half of a pair—twin sister to Florine, called Florrie—and spent her childhood in the piney, rural landscape of southeast Georgia. Her father, Henry, was a farmer when the twins were born, but like many Southern men seeking steadier wages during the interwar years, he eventually found work as a repairman on the Steam Railway, a job he held for the rest of his career. Bess, as she was known in her youth, was just two years old when the United States entered World War I, too young to understand the upheaval but old enough to grow up in its shadow. She graduated from high school, though she did not attend college—an ordinary path for a young woman of her time and region.

Bess married at eighteen, taking her vows with William Atkinson Jr. in Savannah in December 1933. William, born in 1907 in North Carolina, had roots in coastal Georgia, and after a honeymoon trip through Georgia and South Carolina, the couple settled in Brunswick, where William had grown up. The Johnson family had maintained ties across Georgia and the coastal low country. Bess and Florrie visited Brunswick at least once as girls, staying with a family friend, Grace Potter. There, on Union Street—a tree‑lined suburban neighborhood of modest homes and grassy yards—William and Bess began raising their family. Over the next fifteen years they welcomed six children: William Harry (called Harry), Glenda, Moses Reed (called Reed), Neal, Boyce and Alex.

Henry Johnson died in 1943 while living in Ohio, and Victoria died the following year in Mobile, Alabama, leaving their adult children to navigate wartime America without either parent.

In 1944, the Atkinsons left Georgia and moved south to Bunnell, Florida, a small agricultural town in Flagler County. The 1945 Florida State Census captures them early in their Florida years. The page listing their household bears a header reading “Race: White,” a notation that reflected the segregated geography of mid‑century Florida rather than a segregated census system. Enumerators recorded households as they walked door to door, and because neighborhoods, rural settlements, and labor patterns were rigidly divided by race under Jim Crow, an entire census page often captured only the residents of a white area. Her appearance on a page marked “White” therefore situates the Atkinsons within the racially segregated social landscape of 1940s Flagler County—a world in which everyday life, from schools to neighborhoods to public spaces, was structured by legally enforced separation.

By the late 1940s, Bess had begun using her middle name, Elise, in daily life—a shift that marked her transition from her Georgia girlhood into her Florida adulthood. Yet when she entered the 1949 Pillsbury Bake‑Off, she reverted to her childhood nickname, submitting her recipe as “Bess Atkinson” and listing her hometown as Brunswick, Georgia, even though she had lived in Bunnell for five years. Her entry, a distinctive Candied Orange Bread sweetened with candied peel and fortified with whole wheat flour, stood out among the 1949 finalists. At a time when enriched white flour dominated American baking—its popularity driven by late‑19th‑century roller milling and its nutritional profile reshaped by WWII‑era enrichment policies—whole wheat flour was rarely used in recipe competitions. Pillsbury did sell whole‑wheat flour, but unlike enriched white flour, whole‑wheat flour was not enriched, since its bran and germ were never removed. In 1941, the United States government mandated enrichment for white flour to bolster nutritional elements and fight the epidemic of malnutrition facing the country. Pillsbury’s recipe competition was an effort to promote “Pillsbury’s Best”, an enriched white flour, so recipes were required to include at least 1/2 cup of this flour.

While Bess included the required white flour in her recipe, her choice of wheat flour placed her recipe at a fascinating intersection of tradition and modernity: a scratch‑baked quick bread rooted in older Southern home‑kitchen practices, submitted at a moment when milled enriched white flour was beginning to reshape American baking. She did not win her category but she still came home with a newly outfitted kitchen and bragging rights.

By 1950, the Atkinsons had established themselves in Bunnell. William worked as a salesman at an automobile dealership, and the family employed a live‑in maid—an indicator of both the size of their household and the economic structure of mid‑century Florida. Elise (as she now called herself, discarding the youthful nickname of “Bess”) became active in community life, joining the First United Methodist Church, the Colony Club, the XYZ Group, and the Church Friendly Group. In her later years, she served as a poll volunteer, acting as an Inspector during elections.

William died in 1962, after 29 years and six children with Elise.

That same year, another local car salesman, John Wescott, divorced his wife, Vivian. John, born in Glens Falls, New York in 1914, had served in the Navy during World War II and built a life in Florida as an avid fisherman and gardener. Given their shared social circles and William’s long career in automobile sales, it is likely that John had known Elise and William for years. Whether their relationship began before or after their respective losses is unknown, but the timing suggests a connection that deepened quickly. They married and remained together for the rest of their lives. John had no children of his own, but he formed close bonds with Elise’s children and grandchildren.

Elise remained deeply connected to her family. Her eldest son, Harry, stayed in Bunnell and eventually became the City Commissioner. He and his wife celebrated Elise’s 71st birthday by taking her out for dinner and cake. By then, she and John were living in Colony Park, a subdivision of Bunnell. Harry died in 2010 and is buried in Glynn County, Georgia. Reed married in 1965, served in the Air Force, and lived his entire life in Bunnell until his death in 2001. Boyce married Joanette Hauser in 1972, divorced her in 1989, and remarried her in 2001.

Elise and her twin sister Florene remained close throughout their lives, visiting each other often and supporting one another through the joys and sorrows of adulthood. Even in her senior years, Elise stayed active, bowling for a local team sponsored by the Ford dealership where John worked. She and John were known for their elaborate Christmas decorations, frequently mentioned in the local paper for their festive displays.

Elise died in February 1997 in Volusia County, Florida, leaving behind a large family that included nine grandchildren and ten great‑grandchildren. John Wescott died in 1997, just four months after Elise. He had been ill for some time, and Glenda’s daughter cared for him during his final months. Though he had no biological children, he left his estate in the hands of his stepson Boyce, a sign of the deep familial ties he had formed.

Across eight decades, Elise’s life traced the arc of 20th‑century Southern womanhood: rural Georgia childhood, Depression‑era marriage, wartime migration, mid‑century domestic life, community leadership, and the enduring legacy of a woman whose recipe carried her all the way to the Waldorf‑Astoria. Her story—rooted in family, shaped by place, and punctuated by a moment of national recognition—reflects the resilience and creativity of the women who defined American home cooking in the mid‑century years.

Let’s Make Bread!

The key ingredient that sets the flavor profile of this bread is the candied orange peel. I am not a fan of the chewy little stale nuggets that come in a plastic container in the grocery store. Candied fruit is pretty easy to make, and I encourage you to start there for this bread. I candied one orange (here’s the recipe I used) and it was the perfect amount for one loaf. This bread has a more modern flavor profile and texture than many of the recipes I’ve made so far for this project. While the whole wheat flour and candied fruit were probably throw-backs in 1949 to an earlier era, those flavors have come back around in popularity.

Verdict: This bread toasted and buttered, with a cup of tea or coffee in the morning, is heavenly. It is sweet but not overly so, and has a beautiful complexity from the whole wheat, nuts, and oranges. I don’t know why she didn’t win her category at a minimum, because this is one of the best things I’ve ever eaten.

Don’t be intimidated by making candied orange peel - it’s very simple. But also, the recipe doesn’t call for it so if you have a store-bought version you like, go for it. This is a bread worth trying, especially for Sunday morning or afternoon tea. Cheers to Elise/Bess for this great recipe.

(Recipe published in the 1959 edition of “Pillsbury’s BEST of the BAKE-OFF Collection”)

Makes one 9x5-inch loaf

Sift together:
2 c. sifted all-purpose flour
3/4 c. sugar
3 1/2 tsp. double-acting baking powder
1 tsp. salt
Add:
1 c. unsifted whole wheat flour
3/4 c. candied orange peel, thinly sliced (I used one orange, thinly sliced and candied)
1/2 c. pecans, chopped
Combine:
1 well-beaten egg
1 1/4 c. milk
1/4 c. shortening, melted, or salad oil (I used melted European-style butter)
Add to the dry ingredients all at once; mix until all dry particles are moistened.
Pour into well-greased 9x5x3-inch pan.

Bake at 350 degrees for 55 to 65 minutes. Cool before slicing.

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Sources:

Pillsbury Mills, Inc. (1959). Best of the bake-off collection: Pillsbury's best 1000 recipes. Consolidated Book Publishers, Chicago; distributed by Grosset & Dunlap

Johnson-Atkinson wedding is held. (1933, December 17). The Macon Telegraph, p. 16.

Social items. (1916, July 29). The Brunswick News, p. 6.

Atkinson-Cobb wedding. (1982, November 13). Flagler Palm Coast News-Tribune, p. 6.

Commissioner looking for more spending cuts. (1996, July 31). Flagler Palm Coast News-Tribune, p. 3.

Bunnell news. (1986, January 1). Flagler Palm Coast News-Tribune, p. 12.

Westside. (1987, August 1). Flagler Palm Coast News-Tribune, p. 18.

Deaths. (1997, February 26). Flagler Palm Coast News-Tribune, p. 2.

Flagler poll workers named for election. (1982, September 29). Flagler Palm Coast News-Tribune, p. 7.

Ten Pin Alley. (1983, February 16). Flagler Palm Coast News-Tribune, p. 20.

Bunnell. (1989, December 20). Flagler Palm Coast News-Tribune, p. 7.

Deaths. (1997, June 28). Flagler Palm Coast News-Tribune, p. 2.

U.S. Office of Defense Health and Welfare Services. (1943). War Food Order No. 1: Enrichment of flour and bread. U.S. Government Printing Office.

U.S. National Nutrition Conference for Defense. (1941). Proceedings of the National Nutrition Conference for Defense. U.S. Government Printing Office.

Jacobson, M. F. (1974). The enrichment of flour with vitamins and iron: A public health achievement. Center for Science in the Public Interest.

Levenstein, H. (1993). Paradox of plenty: A social history of eating in modern America. Oxford University Press.

Pillsbury Company. (1948). Pillsbury’s best home baking: Flour and flour uses. Pillsbury Mills, Inc.

In the gendered world of 1949, men weren’t immune from condescension about their expected roles. One headline from the inaugural Pillsbury Bake-off that year screamed “Man Slightly Conspicuous in Cooking Contest” when writing a story about Harvey, one of the three men who competed that year. It then went on to say that he looked “silly as all get-out” among the other contestants. Although Harvey created a pie that was judged good enough to rise above the 250,000 recipes Pillsbury received, this reporter was obviously not impressed. It’s interesting that Harvey felt compelled to inform the reporter that he had been married for quite a long time.

Harvey Burton Andrews was born in 1885 in Washington, Indiana, the youngest son of John and Tressa Andrews. John worked as a clerk in a grocery store, a humble living but one that could support his wife and children. Harvey’s oldest sister, Nellie, born in 1877, was nine years older than Harvey and married at just seventeen; by the time Harvey reached his teens, she was already raising children of her own. Another older sister, Gertrude, born in 1881, also married at seventeen in 1898. Harvey had two older brothers as well: Chauncy, born in 1883, who followed their father into grocery clerking, and Charles, born in 1879, who appears in early records but had died by 1900. While childhood deaths were more common in the 19th century, they were still tragic for the family who loved them.

Harvey’s mother, Tressa, suffered from chronic kidney disease, and when she contracted influenza in 1917, the illness proved fatal. John, who had served in the Spanish‑American War, spent his later years in declining health. In 1925, suffering from an enlarged prostate and partial deafness, he was admitted to the Disabled Veterans’ Home, brought there by his daughter Nellie, who remained his point of contact. He died of pneumonia in 1932. Nellie herself died in 1948 from colon cancer. Although Harvey himself had left Indiana years before, the deaths of those close to him must have hit hard.

Harvey’s own working life began early. In 1900, at just fourteen, he was already employed as a night porter, a job that was entirely legal under Indiana’s child labor laws at the time. The state prohibited factory work for children under fourteen but allowed boys fourteen and older to work in hotels, depots, and other service jobs, with no restrictions on nighttime hours. School attendance laws existed but were loosely enforced, especially when a family needed the income. For many working‑class Indiana families, it was common — even expected — for teenage boys to take on steady paid work, and Harvey stepped into adult responsibilities early. Census records indicate that he did not progress his education past the eighth grade.

By 1910, Harvey had moved far from Indiana, settling in Oklahoma City, where he worked as a chef at the Lee Huckins Hotel. That same year, at age 24, he married Retta (also called Rella) Norris, an eighteen‑year‑old Arkansas native. Confusingly, they have marriage records in three states - Oklahoma, Michigan and Ohio. Their daughter, Margaret Paltese Andrews, was born 10 months later in 1911; she later dropped the Margaret and went by her middle name, Paltese.

When the United States entered World War I, Harvey enlisted while still living in Oklahoma. In 1917, he trained at Fort Sill in Lawton OK, where he joined the Lawton Masonic Lodge. Before he could learn much about lodge life, he was deployed to France. He continued paying his lodge dues throughout the war and afterward, but he did not become active in the lodge until 1941, when he returned to Lawton from Ohio to “learn the ropes” and finally participate as a full member. Although he never lived in Oklahoma again, he remained affiliated with the Lawton Lodge for the rest of his life.

At some point after the war, Harvey and Rella divorced. Rella retained custody of Paltese and later remarried. Paltese grew up in Lima, Ohio, where she married in 1925 at age fourteen (although she claimed to be 18 on the marriage record). Her first husband died in 1950 after 25 years of marriage. She remarried in 1953, but that marriage was short-lived and, in 1958, they divorced. She lived in Lima for more than sixty years, raised two children, and worked as a professional baker and cake decorator until her retirement in 1972 — a striking parallel to her father’s later Bake‑Off fame. She even gave a cake‑decorating demonstration for the McKinley School PTA in 1962. She died in 1984 and there is no mention of Harvey in her obituary. Neither Harvey’s nor Rella’s obituaries mention one another, and Harvey’s estate was handled by a legal firm rather than family, suggesting that he had little or no contact with his daughter.

The year 1925 was turbulent for Harvey. In January, he was arrested and taken into custody for non‑support of Paltese. But by summer, his fortunes had shifted: he married Louise Groff in Monroe, Michigan. Why they married there remains unclear, as both lived and worked in Ohio at the time. Louise was ten years older than Harvey, though on their marriage certificate she shaved those years off and claimed to be the same age as Harvey. Louise worked as a teacher, a profession she continued after their marriage. Unsurprisingly, considering their ages when they married, the couple had no children together. They settled in Akron, Ohio, where Harvey worked as a restaurant manager.

Around 1945, Harvey and Louise moved west, returning to southern California and settling in Inglewood. There they built a small, combined home and walk‑up restaurant on a major thoroughfare. The building is still there and has been a walk-up eatery since they opened it.

In 1949, Harvey entered Pillsbury’s first National Recipe and Baking Competition with his “Million Dollar Pie,” which Pillsbury renamed Hawaiian Confection Pie. His easygoing manner made him a memorable contestant. While other finalists baked their entries multiple times to perfect them, Harvey baked his once, removed his apron, and went off to visit relatives, telling reporters he felt sorry for the women who were “in a tizzy.” Yet his nonchalance was partly performance — he arrived at the baking competition wearing pinstriped trousers, a white apron, and a chef’s hat. Louise did not travel with him, but Harvey joked to a reporter that he wouldn’t be surprised if she had married him for his cooking.

Louise died in 1957 at age eighty‑two. Harvey lived another decade, dying in 1967, also at eighty‑two. They had shared thirty‑two years together. In their final years, they lived in an apartment in Long Beach, far from the Indiana grocery store where Harvey’s life began, but still close to the kitchens and dining rooms that had shaped his long, wandering career.

Let’s Make Pie!

This pie starts with a blind-baked pie crust, like most cold pies do. Pillsbury includes a pie crust recipe in their cookbook, although they separate it from the contestant recipes. I have a favorite pie crust recipe, so I used that and baked the crust (weighted with dried beans) in a 450-degree oven for 25 minutes. (If you like eating pie and making pie, I highly recommend Sister Pie’s cookbook.)

Harvey’s pie calls for canned pineapple chunks, but my grocery store had some beautiful fresh pineapple, so I went with that. The pineapple and strawberries are encased in a filling made with beaten egg whites and a sweet syrup blended together. If you have never tried this technique (which is far too popular in mid-century baking), let me tell you it is not without stress. When the sugar syrup hits the room temperature egg whites, it solidifies and parts of it end up sticking to the mixing bowl in ways that will make you cry. I have decided that mid-century recipes factor that in when they tell you how much syrup to make.

The result is a fluffy filling that kind of resembles meringue and kind of resembles whipped cream. Harvey smartly seals the bottom of the pie with this mixture before adding the fruit, so the fruit won’t make the pie crust soggy.

Verdict: As is often the case with these recipes, I had my doubts. But we loved this pie. It’s light and summery, with the brightness of all that citrus fruit mellowed with the sweetened egg whites. The filling is so much lighter than whipped cream so you can enjoy your dessert without that full feeling.

Note that this pie doesn’t hold up well so best to bring it somewhere you can share it on the day you make it. The combination of fresh fruit with the meringue-based filling broke down by the next night. The pie was still good but had lost its structure.

If you’d like to try this pie for your next summer barbecue, here’s Harvey’s recipe:

(Recipe published in the 1959 edition of “Pillsbury’s BEST of the BAKE-OFF Collection”)

Makes 9 or 10-inch pie

Prepare:
recipe for one-crust pie pastry, using a 9- or 10-inch pie pan; bake as directed
Combine:
1/2 c. sugar
1/4 c. light corn syrup
2 tbsp. water in saucepan
Cook over low heat until syrup forms a thread (230 degrees).
Beat:
2 egg whites until stiff but not dry. *
Pour syrup slowly over egg whites, beating until filling stands in peaks.
Add:
1 tsp. vanilla.
Spread a thin layer of filling in the pie shell.
Combine:
1 c. (No. 1 can) drained pineapple chunks (I used fresh pineapple)
1 c. sliced fresh strawberries.
Arrange in pie shell; top with remaining filling.
Chill.

* Raw egg whites are not really safe to eat. However, the hot syrup is a technique used in Italian meringues and seven-minute frostings to pasteurize the egg whites enough to make them safer.

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Sources:
Pillsbury Mills, Inc. (1959). Best of the bake-off collection: Pillsbury's best 1000 recipes. Consolidated Book Publishers, Chicago; distributed by Grosset & Dunlap

Hindman, H. D. (2002). Child labor: An American history. M.E. Sharpe.

Trattner, W. I. (1970). Crusade for the children: A history of the National Child Labor Committee and child labor reform in America. Quadrangle Books.

Zelizer, V. A. (1985). Pricing the priceless child: The changing social value of children. Princeton University Press.

United States Department of Labor. (1939). Children in gainful occupations: 1900 to 1930. U.S. Government Printing Office.

They’re cooking with electricity at the Waldorf. (1949, December 12). New York World‑Telegram.

97 women, 3 men cook up $100,000 tidbits at the Waldorf. (1949, December 12). The New York Sun.

Beacon Journal society page. (1931, July 8). The Akron Beacon Journal, p. 6.

Mason returns to get instruction after 14 years. (1941, December 21). The Lawton Constitution, p. 14.

Vital statistics. (1967, December 20). Independent, p. 45.

Legal news. (1958, March 27). The Lima News, p. 4.

Deaths. (1984, May 8). The Lima News, p. 4.

Deaths. (1982, December 22). The Lima News, p. 4.

Prosecutor Long appeals to sheriff in probe. (1925, January 11). The Lima News, p. 8.

Obituaries and funerals. (1967, October 19). Press‑Telegram, p. 56.

Mary Grace Mathis was born on October 6, 1910, in Dallas, Texas, to Laura and Arthur Mathis. She grew up with an older brother, James, who was eight years ahead of her, and they all lived in a house that was rarely quiet. Her parents ran a rooming house, so Mary spent her childhood surrounded by boarders coming and going, the kind of environment where you learn early how to read people and hold your own in a busy household. Her father, Arthur, worked as a manager in a printing company and eventually became co‑owner of a small printing and book‑publishing firm called Mathis, Van Nort & Co. Although the company would only publish eleven books between 1939 and 2000, it became the family business—one Mary would later take over, listing herself as a book publisher even though the company’s work leaned more toward printing.

Mary attended Highland Park High School and then Southern Methodist University. She was strikingly beautiful, enough that in 1928 a Dallas newspaper featured her in a glamorous portrait. She joined Pi Beta Phi and formed friendships that lasted for years.

In 1929, when she was just eighteen and still attending SMU, Mary married Fritz Lanham Connor. Two years later, in 1931, she gave birth to their son, Fritz Lanham Connor Jr., at Baylor Hospital in Dallas. Fritz Sr. was working as a salesman for a brokerage, and Mary was keeping house. But the marriage didn’t last. In 1933, Fritz and Mary divorced, and Mary was back living with her parents, raising Fritz Jr. in the same bustling home where she had grown up.

Mary was an avid reader and amateur writer and was heavily involved in the Dallas literary scene. She joined the Dallas Writers’ Club, a group that shared their work and offered critiques. In 1937, she hosted a reception and book signing for a poet at her parents’ home—where she was still living after leaving Fritz Sr. The Dallas Area Writers’ Group (now known as D.A.W.G., of course) is still a vibrant group in Dallas, bringing authors in to speak and supporting members with their literary dreams. Also in 1937, the Mathis family—Mary, her young son, her parents, and her aunt—took a memorable trip to Mexico, a rare adventure during a difficult period of transition.

By 1940, Mary and Fritz Jr. were still living with her parents, and Mary had a job working for free as a public relations contact for her father’s publishing company, likely in exchange for room and board. Fritz Sr. remarried twice, though tragedy struck when his second wife died of lung cancer in 1968.

By 1945, Mary had remarried—this time to Lawson Dailey, a man four years younger than her and employed in the oil industry. Lawson had been born in Dallas in 1915 and named after his father, Lawson Dailey Sr., a prominent tax accountant and the son of a Texas state legislator. Lawson Jr. was tall—six feet—with brown hair, hazel eyes, and a sallow complexion. After college, he went into the oil business, working for the National Geophysical Company as a surveyor. His work took him all over Texas and Louisiana, moving from one oil field to another, often living in boarding houses or trailer parks. The itinerant nature of his work meant they were constantly packing up and relocating, often to unglamorous places that gave easy access to the oil fields. For a time, Mary and Lawson lived in Dallas and enjoyed an active social life, visiting friends and spending time with Lawson’s family in San Angelo.

In 1949, Mary entered a custard pie recipe into a national contest sponsored by Pillsbury Mills—the competition that would eventually become the Pillsbury Bake-Off. That October, Mary gave birth to their daughter, Marilyn Marlene, which means Marilyn was just two months old when Mary went to NYC to compete. Her recipe not only earned her a spot in the event, but also a new oven, worktable, spice cabinet, and chair. But she didn’t have much space to enjoy her prizes; the couple was living in a trailer park in San Antonio, so it’s hard to know whether she was able to use that new kitchen.

By then, Fritz Jr. was eighteen and away at college.

The family eventually returned to Dallas, and by 1961 they were living near Lawson’s parents. Lawson’s work history was always a bit fluid—sometimes he was listed as a “geophysicist lawyer,” other times as a “surveyor for an oil company”—but the through-line was constant movement. He spent his entire career traveling between Louisiana and various parts of Texas, renting rooms wherever the job took him.

Maybe this itinerant lifestyle was too much for Mary. By 1963, Mary and Lawson had divorced. Mary reverted to her maiden name, Mathis, and legally changed Marilyn’s last name to Mathis as well. Lawson continued his oil‑field life for decades, eventually drifting west and passing away in Pima, Arizona, in 1999.

Mary’s children went on very different paths. Fritz Jr. served in the Air Force during the Korean War from 1954 to 1957 and was released from service in 1962. He became a psychiatrist in Dallas County, married a local woman, and later divorced. His life ended tragically and ironically in 1980 when he died by suicide in his Dallas office. It must have been heartbreaking for Mary, who was 69 at the time and living not far away from her children, all of them centered in Dallas. Fritz’s ex‑wife, Barbara, completed the paperwork for his veteran’s grave at Hillcrest Memorial Park.

Marilyn stayed in Dallas and married John Spaulding in 1988. She became a writer and speaker and still lives in Dallas.

Mary spent her later years working for the family business, Mathis–Van Nort Publishers, continuing the legacy her father had built. She lived under her maiden name again and remained in Dallas. She died in 1982 at age 71 from a heart attack and is buried in Restland Memorial Park with her parents - not her son or either of her husbands.

Let’s Make Pie!

This is a surprisingly light pie, considering it’s filled with a custard cream. With the requirement of using Pillsbury flour in your recipe, Mary not only used flour in the pie crust but also in the custard, not an uncommon custard-making technique in the mid-twentieth century. The use of meringue as the topping is a surprising choice and adds to the lightness of the pie. The other unusual choice was to leave the coconut untoasted and to put it under the custard rather than mixed in.

If you aren’t a fan of meringue, you can substitute whipped heavy cream, which would complement the custard with a degree of creaminess that this pie lacks.

Verdict: We really liked the custard filling of this pie, despite my doubts when I read the recipe. The other components didn’t hold together well. We don’t love meringue and it really didn’t hold up well after a couple of days. The texture of the coconut competed with the other textures of the pie and created a bit of a division between layers. I would make this pie again, but with a couple of changes: I would use whipped cream as the topping, and I would toast the coconut and mix it directly into the custard rather than sprinkling it on the pie crust.

If you are looking for a light yet impressive-looking pie, this one might suit. Again, I suggest a couple of adaptations as it definitely had some weaknesses. But let’s honor Mary Grace Mathis by delivering this beautiful pie to a family dinner.

(Recipe published in the 1959 edition of “Pillsbury’s BEST of the BAKE-OFF Collection”)

Makes 8 or 9-inch pie

Prepare: recipe for one-crust pastry, sift 1/2 to 1 tsp. allspice with the flour, if desired. Use 8 or 9-inch pie pan and blind bake at 450 degrees for 10-12 minutes.

Sift together and set aside:
1/4 c. sifted all-purpose flour
1/4 tsp. salt
3/4 c. sugar
Beat slightly in the top of a double boiler:
3 egg yolks
1 egg
Add:
1 1/2 c. milk
Blend in:
dry ingredients
Cook over boiling water, stirring constantly, until very thick.
Add:
1 tsp. vanilla
Cool.
Sprinkle:
1 cup coconut in bottom of pie shell. Pour custard over coconut.
Prepare:
recipe for Meringue. Spread over custard.
Bake at 350 degrees for 12-15 minutes.

Meringue

Beat together until stiff peaks form:
3 egg whites
1 tbsp. sugar
1/4 tsp. cream of tartar

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Sources:
Pillsbury Mills, Inc. (1959). Best of the bake-off collection: Pillsbury's best 1000 recipes. Consolidated Book Publishers, Chicago; distributed by Grosset & Dunlap

San Angelo Evening Standard. (1945, August 23). Mrs. Porterfield honored at parties, p. 13.

Midland Reporter‑Telegram. (1963, October 25). Mrs. Lunette Cole back from Dallas, p. 5.

San Angelo Evening Standard. (1928, December 11). A flower among cactus, p. 5.

Dallas Journal. (1937, August 31). Keeping up with your friends, p. 6.

Dallas Journal. (1937, January 18). Writers’ Club, p. 6.

Dallas Journal. (1937, June 14). Visitors honored, p. 10.

When the regional representative arrived at her house to tell Christena Ornburn she’d been selected to attend the inaugural Pillsbury Bake-off, she admitted she “went all to pieces,” especially because she was sure her hair was “a fright” when the photographer showed up. She would be happy to know that all that is left for us of that photo is this rather indistinct version. We have no idea if her hair is a fright.

Christena May Durbin was born on May 4, 1877, in Clay, Missouri, the first of Benedict and Amanda Durbin’s six surviving children. She grew up in a household shaped by hard work and frontier grit. Her father, Benedict, had fought in the final year of the Civil War and later farmed the Missouri soil. Her mother, Amanda, had crossed into Missouri as an eight‑year‑old in a covered wagon and lived to the remarkable age of 93. Christena grew up watching her mother keep a bustling home and her father work through the aches and pains that eventually took his life in 1897, when Ben Durbin died of rheumatism.

Just a few months before her father passed, Christena married a young Missouri man named Ome Arthur Ornburn in September 1897. She was twenty, he was twenty‑three, and they started out the way many young couples of their time did—on a farm. Ome farmed at first, but over time he shifted into blacksmithing, and Christena found her own way of contributing by sewing for neighbors out of their home. They stayed in Clay Missouri until 1912, raising their growing family: Benedict, born in 1900; William in 1905; and Harry in 1911.

In 1912, the Ornburns made the move that would define the rest of their lives. They settled in Moberly, in a modest but sturdy house just shy of 2,000 square feet—not a spare inch to waste with three boys who surely shared a room.

Despite the tight quarters, Christena and Ome ran a boarding house, taking in two lodgers at a time, some of whom stayed with them for years. Christena carried most of the load: the cooking, the cleaning, the laundry, the endless churn of meals and linens. But the house had a yard, a sidewalk-lined street, and a sense of community that made it home.

Ome took a job as a registration clerk at a local hotel, and Christena continued to keep house. Somehow, amid all of this, she still found time for herself. She belonged to the Ever Busy Sewing Club—an apt name if ever there was one—and often hosted gatherings in her home. She also played cards with the Nonesuch Bridge Club, adding a little social sparkle to her otherwise demanding days.

In 1933, Ome took on a new job as custodian at Trinity Church, where the Ornburns were longtime members. Fourteen years later, in 1947, tragedy struck quietly. Ome went to work one morning but didn’t come home for lunch as he always did. Their sons William and Harry went to the church to check on him and found him in the basement, gone from a sudden heart attack at age 73. He and Christena had been married fifty years.

After losing Ome, Christena stopped taking in lodgers. She was seventy by then, and she had earned her rest. Her mother Amanda, now elderly herself, sometimes came to stay with her and William, who still lived at home.

Then came 1949—the year Christena stepped into the national spotlight. At age seventy‑two, she submitted her Millionaire White Cake to the very first Pillsbury National Competition. She was surprised to find out she had won a spot at the national competition in New York City. Ome had been gone two years, but William was still at home and insisted on accompanying her to New York. Christena worried about leaving her ninety‑one‑year‑old mother, but William encouraged her to enjoy the moment for once. And she did. It was the first trip to the East Coast for both of them, and Pillsbury treated the contestants like celebrities—luxury accommodations, fine meals, tours, radio shows, even television appearances. Christena claimed she wasn’t nervous once the competition began, though William, witness to the event, gently disagreed. After the awards luncheon, she even had time to visit an old Moberly friend, Mary Haden, who had moved to New York.

She returned home with a brand‑new kitchen—too late for her former lodgers, but perfect for cooking for herself, William, and the friends who dropped by. And in true Christena fashion, she confessed to the local paper that although Pillsbury made her sign an agreement not to reveal her recipe, she had already shared it with half of Missouri.

Her sons built their own lives. Benedict, the eldest (who went by B.J.), registered for both World Wars and became a design engineer for the Montana State Highway Department. In 1939, he won a national award for a bridge he designed over the Flathead River in Belton, Montana. It is now the main bridge for the West Entrance to Glacier National Park.

William, the middle son, never married and lived his entire life in the family home, eventually becoming principal at West Park School. He died in 1966 at age 61 from a heart attack. Harry, the youngest, married in 1940, served in WWII from 1943 to 1946, and later owned a butcher shop in Moberly. He served as executor of his father’s estate when Ome died.

Christena died in March 1964 of arteriosclerotic heart disease and kidney disease. Her longtime family doctor signed her death certificate, having cared for her for forty‑eight years. It noted that she never had a Social Security number. Social Security numbers were introduced in 1936, when Christena was already 59. They were originally designed just to track workers’ wages so they could collect Social Security benefits. It made sense that Christena would never have applied for one, since she was older and had never worked outside the home. Despite running a boarding house, the census never listed her as ‘employed’ but rather categorized her work as ‘keeping house’, disqualifying her for Social Security benefits.

She was laid to rest in Oakland Cemetery in Moberly, beside Ome, closing the story of a woman who spent her life caring for others and staying close to home, making her mark through family, community, and, in one glorious moment on the national stage, a prize‑winning cake.

Let’s Make Cake!

If there’s one kind of cake that stands out in these vintage recipes, it’s white cake. Lightly sweet and reliant on a lot of egg whites for its delicate sponge, white cakes were considered elegant treats for dinner parties or church gatherings. Christena’s version is one of the best from the Pillsbury collection. While she goes one step beyond most other contestants by creating a three-layer cake, the real difference with her cake is in the filling. She sets aside some of the frosting and mixes in maraschino cherries, nuts, and coconut. The result is all the elegance you expect from a white cake with white icing but with the richness of the luxurious filling.

Note: I used Luxardo Maraschino Cherries and I highly recommend them if you can afford the extra expense. Unlike the fire-engine red sticky sweet maraschinos most of us are familiar with, these are rich and dark in a smooth dark syrup.

Verdict: This cake was a big hit in our house. We both loved it. It’s got the lightness and mild sweetness of a white cake but with an up-leveled flavor profile from the additional ingredients in the filling. Note that the version shown above uses a vanilla buttercream icing applied lightly. Christena’s version uses a boiled white frosting, which would also be delicious.

If you’d like to recreate this excellent cake and impress all your friends and family, here’s Christena’s Millionaire White Cake recipe:
(Recipe published in the 1959 edition of “Pillsbury’s BEST of the BAKE-OFF Collection”)

Makes three 9-inch layers

Sift together and set aside:
3 c. sifted all-purpose flour
3 1/2 tsp. double-acting baking powder
1 tsp. salt
Cream:
3/4 c. butter or margarine (I used European-style butter)
1 1/2 c. sugar
Combine:
1 1/3 c. milk
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. almond extract
Add alternately with the dry ingredients to the creamed mixture. Blend well after each addition.
Beat:
7 egg whites (3/4 cup) until stiff but not dry. Gradually add 1/2 c. sugar, beating until stiff.
Fold:
beaten egg whites into batter.

Bake at 350 degrees for 25-30 minutes. Cool; fill and frost with De Luxe Fluffy White Frosting.

De Luxe Filling:
Remove one-third of De Luxe Fluffy White Frosting to small bowl. Stir in 1/2 c. chopped nuts (I used walnuts), 1/4 c. chopped drained maraschino cherries (see Note above), and 1/2 c. coconut.

De Luxe Fluffy White Frosting

Combine in top of double boiler:
2 egg whites
2/3 c. sugar
1/2 c. light corn syrup
3 tbsp. water
1/2 tsp. cream of tartar

Place over boiling water and beat until mixture stands in peaks. Remove from heat. Add 1 tsp. vanilla and continue beating until thick enough to spread.

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Sources:
Pillsbury Mills, Inc. (1959). Best of the bake-off collection: Pillsbury’s best 1000 recipes. Consolidated Book Publishers, Chicago; distributed by Grosset & Dunlap

Benedict Ornburn Wins First Prize on Bridge Design. (1939, July 31). Moberly Monitor-Index and Moberly Evening Democrat, p. 8.

News. (1897, December 10). The Monroe County Appeal, p. 3.

Mrs. Ornburn, 86, Dies; Mother of School Principal. (1897, December 24). The Monroe County Appeal, p. 4.
Mrs. Ornburn Has ‘Time of Life’ at ‘World Series’ Baking Contest. (1949, December 15). Moberly Monitor-Index and Moberly Evening Democrat, p. 4.

Mrs. Ornburn Off Saturday for National Baking Contest. (1949, December 6). Moberly Monitor-Index and Moberly Evening Democrat, p. 1.

Recipe Wins Valuable Prizes and New York Trip for Mrs. Ornburn. (1949, December 6). Moberly Monitor-Index and Moberly Evening Democrat, p. 1.

O.A. Ornburn Found Dead in Trinity Church. (1947, April 9). Moberly Monitor-Index and Moberly Evening Democrat, p. 1.

Social Calendar. (1938, December 20). Moberly Monitor-Index and Moberly Evening Democrat, p. 5.

Society. (1938, December 17). Moberly Monitor-Index and Moberly Evening Democrat, p. 3.

Ann Ruth Black (sometimes identified as Anna, like her mother) was born in 1896 in the little farming community of Riverton, Michigan, the first daughter but third child of Thomas and Anna Black. Thomas had come down from Canada and spent the early years of marriage working the land, raising his growing family in a rural life. When Ann’s younger sister Hazel arrived, Thomas made a bold move: he sold the farm and moved everyone to Ann Arbor so his children could have better educational opportunities.

By 1910, the Blacks were settled into a graceful two‑story home on Hill Street, with five bedrooms and a welcoming front porch, paid for by the lucrative sale of their farmland. The University of Michigan was just a short walk away, and that proximity shaped the family’s future. All four Black children—Joe, Thomas Jr., Ann, and Hazel—would eventually attend the University, something their parents had clearly hoped for when they uprooted their lives.

But the family’s stability was shaken in 1911 when Thomas died suddenly of a heart attack at just 50, so soon after moving to Ann Arbor. His wife, Anna, was left with four children, though the older boys were already young men and soon moved out on their own. Joe went to law school and became an attorney in Grosse Pointe, raising two sons. Thomas Jr. also became an attorney in Detroit, married, and became a stepfather before that marriage ended in divorce.

Ann’s mother stayed in the Hill Street house with her daughters. Ann and Hazel both attended Ann Arbor High School and then enrolled at the University of Michigan, which was booming in the post-WWI years. Hazel finished her university degree and went on to teach school in Grosse Pointe for decades.

Ann’s future husband, Edward Apple, was also a University of Michigan student—two years younger, born in Ohio in 1898, and part of the Students’ Battalion during WWI. After earning his degree, he went on to law school and became a Detroit patent attorney. It’s easy to imagine Ann and Edward meeting on campus, perhaps at a lecture or a student gathering. They married in 1919, while Ann was still in school and is listed in the University of Michigan as a “non-graduate”, having dropped out in 1920.

In 1921 Ann and Edward welcomed their only child - a daughter, Virginia (which may explain her dropping out of college). Ann settled into a comfortable life surrounded by attorneys—her brothers, her husband, and eventually her son‑in‑law. She and Edward lived in new homes around Detroit and Grosse Pointe, often with enough space to host Ann’s extended family. They were early car owners, too. In the early 1920s, when automobiles were still a novelty, the Apples regularly “motored” to Ohio to visit Edward’s relatives. It was a sign of both means and a sense of adventure.

Not everything was idyllic. In 1926, the family endured a disturbing incident when a Grosse Pointe patrolman shot and killed their dog after five‑year‑old Virginia tossed a stick into the street and the pup ran after it. Edward testified that the officer left the wounded dog to suffer, a memory that must have stayed with the family for years.

By 1930, Ann, Edward, and Virginia were living with Ann’s widowed mother and sister Hazel in a modest brick home on Grayton Road—just one bathroom and 1,300 square feet, but full of family.

Edward was becoming increasingly active in conservation work. As a member—and later president—of the Izaak Walton League of America, he fought fiercely to protect Michigan’s waterways. In 1941, he publicly opposed a bill that would have consolidated ownership of the state’s rivers and lakes, arguing for public access and environmental stewardship.

Ann had her own moment in the spotlight. In 1949, she submitted a simple gingerbread recipe to the Pillsbury Mills National Recipe Competition and earned a place in the finals in New York City. Like all contestants, she won $200, a trip to New York, and returned home with a brand‑new kitchen—an unforgettable adventure for a Michigan homemaker.

The Apples remained deeply connected to their roots. Edward served on the University of Michigan’s Board of Alumni and received a distinguished service award in 1960. Virginia married William Ditzler in 1954 and stayed close by in Grosse Pointe, eventually giving Ann and Edward a grandson, Thomas.

After Edward retired in 1957, he and Ann moved to Milan, Michigan—a leafy, quieter place where they could enjoy country life while staying close enough to watch their grandson grow. Ann lived there until her death in 1975. She is buried in Milan, sharing a headstone with Edward, her parents, her brother Thomas, and her sister Hazel. Edward followed her in 1980 after a long illness.

Let’s Make Cake!

Making this cake is very much like making gingerbread. I suspect it’s named “Ginger Tea Bread” so Pillsbury could distinguish it from the other gingerbreads in their recipe collection. There is a significant difference, however. The cake has very little spice, including ginger, compared to traditional gingerbread, and this makes the molasses the forward flavor. The cake is more like a moist molasses cake than a ginger cake.

Verdict: Well, it turns out we both prefer gingerbread to molasses cake. This is a nice snacking cake, for sure, but if you’re expecting the bite of a gingerbread, this cake will be a little disappointing. It’s an easy fix, though… just increase the spices in the recipe!

Here’s Ann’s recipe if you want a nice snack with your afternoon tea or the perfect dessert for lunchboxes:

(Recipe published in the 1959 edition of “Pillsbury’s BEST of the BAKE-OFF Collection”)

Makes 8x8-inch gingerbread

Sift together in large mixing bowl:
1 1/4 c. sifted all-purpose flour
1/4 c. sugar
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. ginger
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. cloves
Add, beating well:
1 unbeaten egg
1/4 c. shortening (I used European-style butter)
1/2 c. molasses
Blend in:
1/2 c. boiling water
Mix thoroughly.
Pour into 8x8x2-inch pan, well-greased and lightly floured on the bottom.

Bake at 350 degrees for 30-35 minutes. Serve warm

Note: I dressed mine up a little with some powdered sugar on the top.

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Sources:
Pillsbury Mills, Inc. (1959). Best of the bake-off collection: Pillsbury's best 1000 recipes. Consolidated Book Publishers, Chicago; distributed by Grosset & Dunlap

The Palm Beach Post. (2007, August 9). Obituaries, p. 17.

Detroit Free Press. (1926, July 13). Patrolman fined for shooting dog, p. 5.

Detroit Evening Times. (1941, September 28). Izaak Walton officer attacks water control, p. 7.

Flink, J. J. (1988). The automobile age. MIT Press.

The Ann Arbor News. (1924, July 14). Personal mentions, p. 8.

The Ann Arbor News. (1960, October 21). Alumni Association honors six graduates, p. 15.

The Ann Arbor News. (1949, December 12). Former resident is in baking contest, p. 10.

Dorothy Catherine Werkman was born in April 1919 in Louisville, Kentucky. Her parents, Catherine and John, were doing their best to build a life in a working‑class neighborhood—John an Austrian immigrant earning his living at a local tire company, and Catherine keeping the household running with two children: older brother John Jr., and little Dorothy.

Life shifted early for Dorothy. In 1929, when she was just ten, her mother died of kidney failure. Suddenly it was just the three of them—her father, her teenage brother, and Dorothy—living in a tiny one‑bedroom, one‑bath house. Money was tight, but John Sr. worked hard, eventually moving into car sales and managing to get the family into a larger home on a tree‑lined Louisville street. It wasn’t fancy, but it was stable, and that mattered.

Dorothy was bright and capable from the start. At thirteen, she won the Grade 8‑A spelling bee during a city‑wide competition.

That same year, her brother graduated high school and began carving out his own path. By 1940, he was working as a shop superintendent and had married Lillian Whelan, moving into her family’s home.

Dorothy stayed in Louisville, living with her father and working as a civil service secretary. By 1941, she was steady, responsible, and building a life of her own. Her father passed away in 1961 from emphysema, but by then Dorothy’s world had already expanded far beyond Louisville.

Somewhere around 1943 or 1944, Dorothy met a young forestry graduate named Eddie Raymond Wagoner. Eddie had a story of his own — born in 1918 in Riverside, Wyoming, the youngest of three children. His early life was marked by hardship: his mother died when he was still a baby, and he and his sister Mary were sent to Ohio to be raised by their maternal grandparents. It turned out to be a blessing in disguise—two unmarried aunts in the home, a grandfather who farmed, and plenty of space to grow up with a balance of responsibility and freedom.

Eddie eventually earned a degree in Forestry from the University of Georgia, served five years in WWII, and came home a Lt. Colonel in the U.S. Air Force. Living in Kentucky now, he met Dorothy Werkman and they married sometime around 1945. In 1947, he became supervisor of Kentucky’s Pennyrile State Forest.

Dorothy and Eddie settled into Kentucky, and in 1946 they welcomed their only child, Donald. Eddie’s career was on the rise—he set up a seedling nursery to restore the forest, earned a graduate degree from Duke in 1949, and soon moved into academia. By 1949, the Wagoners had moved to Bryan, Texas where Eddie was Chief of Education for the Forest Service at the Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas (what is now Texas A&M University). Over the years he worked for the Texas Forest Service, eventually serving 28 years as executive vice president of the Texas Forestry Association.

Dorothy, meanwhile, was carving out her own identity in their new Texas community. Petite, dark‑haired, and warm‑spirited, she threw herself into local life. She joined the First United Methodist Church, became president of the Lufkin garden club, chaired the state Conservation Committee for the Texas Garden Club, and even joined the Newcomers’ Club at Texas A&M to help welcome new families.

And then came her moment of national fame.

In 1949, Dorothy entered the very first Pillsbury Bake‑Off with her Sea Foam Nut Bars. She not only made it to the finals—earning a glamorous trip to New York and $200—but she won Best of Class in the Bar Cookie category. That came with an additional $1,000 and the entire kitchen workstation she’d used at the Waldorf‑Astoria.

In April 1950, she regaled the members of the Newcomers Club with an informal presentation about her experience in the Pillsbury Bake-off. She told the members that each contestant was allowed 4 tries to get their recipe just right. “It was the first time I’d ever won a contest,” she told them. While she was surprised, she also admitted that it was “a wonderful feeling.” That same year, Life Magazine featured her recipe among the top nine of the competition, praising it as “delicious as sea foam divinity, with a wonderful chewiness all of their own.” Pillsbury ads and recipe collections soon followed. For someone who had never won a contest before, it must have felt surreal.

Dorothy and Eddie raised their son Don, who went on to serve ten years in the Navy, marry, and have a large family of his own—four children and thirteen grandchildren. Dorothy lived a full life, rich with community, creativity, and the outdoors she loved so much.

She passed away in August 1999 after an illness that brought her to Lufkin Hospital. Eddie lived until 2006, spending his final years back in Ohio before being laid to rest beside Dorothy in the Garden of Memories Cemetery in Lufkin, Texas.

Let’s Make Cookies!

The “sea foam” part of this cookie is a brown sugar meringue topping with walnuts sprinkled on top. The bottom layer is a slightly chewy brown sugar cookie that gives the cookie a solidity that complements the sea foam topping. Don’t be daunted by the multiple steps - this is an easy and fast recipe to prepare. The recipe instructs you to sprinkle walnuts on top, but the cookies have a subtle flavor that gets overpowered by the extra walnuts. There are walnuts mixed into the meringue topping and I suspect that would be enough. Also, note that the recipe doesn’t specify what kind of nut to use. It’s possible that pecans would have less impact on the flavor.

Verdict: We liked these cookies, but they weren’t our favorite. The walnuts were an overpowering flavor and the overall effect of the meringue with the sugar cookie was a bit dry.

If you want to give these Best of Class cookies a try, here’s the recipe:

(Recipe published in the 1959 edition of “Pillsbury’s BEST of the BAKE-OFF Collection”)

Sift together and set aside:
2 c. sifted all-purpose flour
1 tsp. double-acting baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. baking soda
Cream:
1/4 c. sugar
1/2 c. firmly packed brown sugar
1/2 c. shortening (I used European-style butter)
Blend in:
2 unbeaten egg yolks
2 tbsp. water
1/2 tsp. vanilla
Beat well.
Stir in:
half of the dry ingredients. Add 1/4 c. milk, then remaining dry ingredients. Blend thoroughly.
Spread in 15 1/2” x 10 1/2” x 1-inch jelly roll pan or two 9x9-inch pans, well-greased on the bottom.
Bake at 350 degrees - 15-18 minutes for jelly roll pan; 12-15 minutes for 9x9-inch pans.
Remove pans and decrease oven temperature to 325 degrees.

Topping:
Beat:
2 egg whites until slight mound form.
Add:
1 1/4 c. brown sugar gradually, beating until mixture stands in stiff, glossy peaks.
Fold in:
1/2 tsp. vanilla
1/2 c. nuts, chopped.
Spread over baked layer.
Sprinkle with 1/2 c. chopped nuts.
Bake at 325 degrees for 25-30 minutes.

Sources:
Pillsbury Mills, Inc. (1959). Best of the bake-off collection: Pillsbury's best 1000 recipes. Consolidated Book Publishers, Chicago; distributed by Grosset & Dunlap

Dayton Daily News. (2006, April 6). Obituaries, p. 135.

Bryan–College Station Eagle. (1949, December 14). Mrs. Ed Wagoner rolling in dough at the Waldorf Hotel, p. 1.

Tyler Morning Telegraph. (1999, August 28). Dorothy Wagoner, p. 16.

Courier‑Journal. (1933, February 17). Two boys and two girls win places in public schools final match, p. 18.

Courier‑Journal. (1947, January 9). Louisvillian will supervise Pennyrile Forest, p. 8.

Courier‑Journal. (1949, December 14). Baker’s dough takes cake, p. 4.

Courier‑Journal. (1949, June 3). June grads, p. 40.

Bryan–College Station Eagle. (1949, November 29). Three days at the Waldorf, p. 1.

Bryan–College Station Eagle. (1950, January 19). New program plan voted Wednesday by Newcomers Club, p. 7.

Bryan–College Station Eagle. (1950, April 10). Mrs. Wagoner’s $1000 cookies worthy of “Life”, p. 4.

Times Recorder. (1949, December 16). Of interest to women, p. 26.

Elizabeth Jean Zitzman—“Betty” to everyone who knew her—was born in September 1922 in Hagerstown, Maryland, the only child of Lloyd and Helen Zitzman. Her father had returned from World War I just a few years earlier and, in 1919, bought a small grocery store in town. The family settled into one half of a sturdy, three‑bedroom duplex built in 1902, nestled in a tree‑lined working‑class neighborhood with sidewalks, backyards, and the iconic peace of early suburban life. It was a simple home, but a good one.

Betty’s childhood was mostly happy, though punctuated by a few medical scares. At age ten she was rushed to the hospital with acute appendicitis and spent a week recovering from surgery. Four years later she battled tonsillitis. But she bounced back each time, returning to the routines of school, friends, and church.

The Zitzmans were active members of Christ Reformed Church, which shaped much of Betty’s early life. She joined in Christmas programs, summer barbecues, Bible school, and later the Hoy Guild, a girls’ missionary group that raised funds for church missions. Church wasn’t just a place of worship—it was community, identity, and belonging.

In 1938, when Betty was sixteen, her best friend Mary Ann moved to California. Betty threw her a farewell party, and although the distance was enormous for the time, the girls kept their friendship alive through long visits that stretched for weeks.

Betty graduated from Hagerstown High School in 1940, having thrown herself into school life. She wrote for the school newspaper, sang in the glee club, and acted in drama productions. And through all those years, one constant presence was Tom Wolfe.

The Wolfes were a deeply rooted Hagerstown family, with ancestors in the region dating back to the early 1700s. The two families lived near each other, took weekend trips to Washington, D.C., and watched their children’s friendship deepen into a steady, serious romance.

After high school, Betty enrolled in Hagerstown Business College in 1941. Her mother, Helen—who had never attended school—must have felt enormous pride watching her daughter earn both a high school diploma and a business degree. During this time, Tom was studying at the University of Maryland, and Betty often visited him there.

Once she completed her studies, Betty worked at the National Youth Foundation, and later at Potomac Edison Company. But the world was changing quickly. War was reshaping everything.

Betty and Tom married in 1943 at St. Paul’s Methodist Church in Fayetteville, Arkansas, where Tom was training as an Air Force cadet at the University of Arkansas. Betty wore a brown‑checked wool suit with a corsage of gardenias—simple, elegant, and perfectly in step with wartime realities, when rationing made lavish white gowns impractical.

Tom served in the Army Air Corps, and like many young wives of the era, Betty returned home to wait out the war with her parents. When Tom finally came home, they began building the life they had long imagined.

They moved into a second‑floor apartment at 912 Hamilton Boulevard in Hagerstown, just a few doors down from Tom’s parents and his aunt and uncle. Tom went to work in Lloyd’s grocery store. In January 1948, they welcomed their first daughter, Ann Webb Wolfe.

Before their second daughter arrived, Betty made a decision that would become a defining moment in her life story. Pillsbury Mills announced a national recipe contest to celebrate its 80th anniversary, and Betty submitted a family favorite: Sadie’s Butter Sponge Cake, named for Sadie Davis, a Wolfe relative by marriage.

Betty was not a contest regular—this was only the second competition she had ever entered. She mailed her recipe the day before the deadline and was stunned when a regional representative called to tell her she had made the finals. Winning the regionals came with a $200 check and a trip to New York City to bake at the Waldorf-Astoria. A local appliance company installed the new GE Stratoliner oven she would use in the competition, and Betty practiced diligently for two weeks. Her mother, Helen, proudly told the newspaper, “Betty really can bake a delicious butter sponge cake.”

Tom accompanied her to New York, supporting her through the whirlwind weekend. Although she didn’t win her category, Betty was philosophical. “As far as my cake goes,” she told the local paper afterward, “it was really one of the nicest I have ever baked but it just wasn’t what they wanted.” Contestants were allowed to bake their entries up to four times, but Betty made hers only once. She enjoyed the experience, but she was relieved to return to normal life.

And tucked among Betty’s memories was a small, curious detail she shared about her time at the Waldorf: contestants were never served water unless they specifically asked for it—and even then, staff tried to steer them toward Coke or other beverages. It’s a tiny, vivid glimpse into a weekend that stayed with her for the rest of her life.

Her mother enjoyed a brief moment of local fame too, appearing in the newspaper demonstrating how to make corn soup in 1950, embellishing the Zitzman women’s reputation as talented cooks.

Tom and Betty’s second daughter, Amy, was born in 1951. With two small children, the couple moved into a newly built two‑bedroom home.

Betty stayed home with the girls, staying connected through church and her bridge club. She taught nursery school at church and served as president of the Rebekah Class, a Bible study group. In 1952, both girls came down with measles at the same time—a rite of passage for many families of the era.

In 1956, Betty suffered a devastating loss when her mother, Helen, died. She was buried in Spring Grove Cemetery in Pennsylvania, where she had been born and raised.

In 1959, Betty was invited to serve as an advisor for the Pillsbury Bake-Off contestants. At that time, the advisor role wasn’t formalized the way it is today. Pillsbury relied on trusted former contestants, home economists, PR staff, and regional representatives to help guide new finalists. They weren’t officially called “advisors,” and they weren’t assigned to every contestant. But they were the steady, experienced voices who helped newcomers navigate the rules, logistics, and nerves of the competition.

Then, surprisingly, in 1960, Betty and Tom moved to Shawnee, Oklahoma. I couldn’t find the reason for the move but it must have been compelling, considering the Wolfes’ 200-year history in Hagerstown, Maryland. They settled into a three‑bedroom, two‑bath home with a large yard.

Betty was quickly welcomed into the local Newcomers’ Club, part of a nationwide movement that helped postwar families build community in rapidly growing towns. Newcomers’ Clubs began appearing in American towns in the 1940s, just as the country was reshaping itself after World War II. Millions of families were on the move—following military assignments, defense jobs, new suburban developments, and the postwar economic boom. In many places, especially growing Western and Sunbelt cities, newcomers arrived faster than traditional community networks could absorb them.

To fill that gap, women—often through churches, YWCAs, or civic groups—began forming Newcomers’ Clubs: social, welcoming organizations designed to help new residents find friends, learn the town, and feel at home. Early clubs tended to be women-led and women-focused, reflecting the gendered social roles of the era. They were highly social, with coffees, luncheons, bridge groups, craft circles and formal teas, but most importantly, they were gateways to community life in these families’ new homes. In the 1940s and 1950s, these clubs were often quite formal—assigned seating at teas, dress codes, and structured activities. But they were also warm, bustling hubs of connection in rapidly growing towns.

Tom joined the Elks Lodge and became a Deacon in their church in 1963. Betty helped lead the local Campfire Girls group, which Ann and Amy belonged to, and continued her active involvement in the Presbyterian Church, leading discussions in one of the Young Matrons’ Circles.

Their home became a multigenerational one. Betty’s father, Lloyd—widowed in 1956—joined them, as did Tom’s mother, Cathryn, who had also lost her spouse. Lloyd later passed away in 1981 and was buried beside Helen in Pennsylvania.

Ann graduated from the University of Oklahoma and built a successful career with Oklahoma Career Tech after beginning as an editor for McGraw-Hill. She never married and passed away in 2016.

Amy married Bernie Boysen and continues to live in Shawnee.

Betty died in 1996. Tom followed in 2007. Both were cremated. They lived a devout, family-oriented life, contributing to their communities with affectionate energy.

Let’s Make Cake!

Despite having half the amount of butter that a traditional pound cake does, this cake tastes like a buttery pound cake. It uses an extraordinary number of egg yolks, so be prepared for all the extra egg whites it leaves behind. Because it has no egg whites in it, it has a dense heavy crumb. It was good plain, but it really perked up when we added fresh fruit.

Verdict: We liked this cake but didn’t love it. It is a fairly plain and dense cake, to be honest, so serving it with some chantilly cream and fruit really elevated it. A little goes a long way so it would be good for potlucks or church socials.

If you want to try this, here’s the recipe for “Sadie’s Butter Sponge Cake”, as it was originally known.

(Recipe published in the 1959 edition of “Pillsbury’s BEST of the BAKE-OFF Collection”)

Makes 9 or 10-inch tube cake

Sift together and set aside:
2 1/4 c. sifted all-purpose flour
2 tsp. double-acting baking powder
1 tsp. salt
Beat:
3/4 c. egg yolks (about 11) until thick and lemon-colored.
Gradually add:
1 3/4 c. sugar, beating thoroughly
Combine:
1 c. scalded hot milk
1 tsp. vanilla
1/2 tsp. lemon extract (I used 1 tsp. freshly grated lemon zest, added to the dry ingredients)
Gradually add to the egg yolks, better well after each addition.
Fold in:
the dry ingredients, one third at a time.
Fold in:
1/2 c. melted butter, blending well.

Turn into 9- or 10-inch tube pan.

Bake at 350 degrees for 50-60 minutes. Invert; cool.

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Sources:

Pillsbury Mills, Inc. (1959). Best of the bake-off collection: Pillsbury's best 1000 recipes. Consolidated Book Publishers, Chicago; distributed by Grosset & Dunlap

Circles meet in homes for mission study. (1963, April 25). Shawnee News-Star, 5.

Dinner party is held as farewell. (1938, November 3). The Daily Mail, 6.

General Mills. (2023). Pillsbury Bake-Off® Contest: Official rules and guidelines. General Mills, Inc.

General Mills. (n.d.). About the Pillsbury Bake-Off® Contest. Pillsbury.

Hoy Guild has meeting. (1936, December 9). The Daily Mail, 2.

It was all a great thrill, states Mrs. Thomas Wolfe. (1949, December 14). The Daily Mail, 12.

J. C. Seibert new head of church school. (1956, April 3). The Daily Mail, 5.

Larson, L. (2015). The Pillsbury Bake-Off. (Archived November 21, 2015).

Minnesota Historical Society. (2018). Pillsbury Bake-Off Contest records. Minnesota Historical Society.

Miss Zitzman and soldier married. (1943, May 4). The Herald-Mail, 4.

Mrs. Thomas Wolfe to compete in $50,000 for first prize in baking. (1949, November 28). The Herald-Mail, 8.

Mrs. Wolfe to be an advisor. (1959, May 14). The Daily Mail, 19.

Newcomers move to the city. (1960, April 21). Shawnee News-Star, 2.

O’Donnell, C. (2013). The history of the Pillsbury Bake-Off: America’s most iconic cooking contest. Clarkson Potter.

Personals. (1936, March 9). The Daily Mail, 6.

Personals. (1943, February 27). The Daily Mail, 5.

Presbyterians will install new officers. (1963, December 28). Shawnee News-Star, 3.

Shapiro, L. (2004). Something from the oven: Reinventing dinner in 1950s America. Penguin Books.

Social and personal. (1932, August 11). The Daily Mail, 7.

650 children at the Christmas treat. (1930, December 26). The Daily Mail, 9.

(This post comes with my gratitude to Adam and Jenny DuVander, my Portland contacts who cheerfully took pictures of Rose’s last house and searched the Oregon Historical Society archives for more information. It’s so good to have friends like them.)

Rose Marie Davidson Philp — always called Rose — was born in 1894 in Oakland, California. Her father, Pedro Espejo, had come from Mexico, and her mother, Theodora (Dora), was an artistic, independent woman who painted, wrote poetry, and loved to act. Rose was one of four surviving children: Sam, Juanita (Nita), Rose, and George, though another sibling died in infancy. George, just a year younger than Rose, died tragically at age twenty‑one.

Pedro and Dora eventually divorced, and in 1901 Dora married Walter Philp, a Canadian immigrant and shoe salesman in Oswego, Oregon. Rose was five. Walter adopted the three younger children and became the only father they truly knew. He raised chickens on the side, sold pullets and eggs, and adored Dora. She later said that in their forty‑five years of marriage, “never once was there an angry word between us.”

The Philp household was lively and creative. Dora hosted luncheons and after‑parties for the local drama club, and newspapers described her garden as a dreamy place full of vines and shade trees. Rose and Nita inherited her artistic streak. As teenagers, they joined the Lilliputian Stock Company, writing and performing plays for the community. Rose acted, sang, and even helped compose music.

She also had a mischievous streak. At fourteen, she and some friends were arrested after a late‑night snowball fight escalated and shattered a trolley window. The next day, the newspaper printed their names, ages, and even their fathers’ occupations — a very public teenage (and parental) embarrassment.

Rose grew up during the national debate over women’s suffrage. In 1912, she took part in a staged debate at school, arguing in favor of women’s right to vote. She was a strong student and even won a cash prize in an essay contest.

Life moved quickly. In 1913, Nita married Herbert Dairs, with Rose as her maid of honor. Rose caught the bouquet, and two years later, in March 1915, she married George Keep in a ceremony at her parents’ home. George had been born in Minneapolis in 1891 to English immigrants, but his family moved to Oregon when he was young. He was short, blue‑eyed, light‑haired, social, and ambitious — a Mason, a golfer, and a man who thrived in business.

George worked for Moreland Truck Company at a time when trucks were still new. His job was to convince businesses and government agencies to replace their horse‑drawn wagons with motorized trucks. Later, he became a distributor for Richfield Oil, again working on the leading edge of a burgeoning industry.

Rose and George lived with her parents during the early years of their marriage. In 1917, with World War I raging overseas, they welcomed their first child, Barbara — and her birth was dramatic. Barbara was delivered by C‑section at a time when the procedure was still considered a last‑resort, high‑risk operation. Fewer than one percent of births in 1917 were cesareans, and maternal mortality rates were shockingly high. Surgeons were still perfecting how to safely close the uterus, and poor technique could lead to hemorrhage, infection, or uterine rupture in later pregnancies. Antibiotics didn’t yet exist, so even a small infection could become fatal. For Rose to survive that operation — and recover well enough to go on with her life — was nothing short of remarkable.

America entered WWI that same year. Like most men, George registered for the draft. But he filed for an exemption, citing his wife and newborn daughter as dependents — a common and accepted reason at the time. The war ended before he was ever called up.

After that frightening first birth, Rose suffered the heartbreak of a stillborn child. But in 1920 she gave birth to another daughter, Rosemary, and in 1923, a son, George Jr. By then, the family had moved into their own home, a modest 1700‑square‑foot house with five small bedrooms and a big, treed yard perfect for children.

The Keeps were a golfing family. They belonged to a country club, and all of them — Rose, George, and the children — played in tournaments. George Sr. had been winning championships since the 1920s, including the Portland auto dealers’ golf tournament in 1927. George Jr. became a standout high school golfer, often mentioned in the local papers.

World War II arrived in 1939, though the U.S. didn’t join until 1941 when Pearl Harbor was bombed by Japan. Both George Sr. and George Jr. registered for the draft but George Sr., at fifty‑one, was unlikely to be called. George Jr. eventually served as a Navy radioman from 1943 to 1946.

George’s career flourished. After World War II, he earned his real estate license and specialized in commercial properties with Port Investment Company. The family moved into a handsome Tudor home built in 1932 in Portland’s Eastmoreland neighborhood — over 3000 square feet, tree‑lined streets, and the kind of stability that comes from steady success.

In 1946, Rose’s beloved stepfather Walter died, leaving Dora bereft. She lived with Rose and George for a time before returning to California.

In 1949, Rose wrote a letter to the editor protesting the removal of a billboard listing local veterans who had died in service. The city wanted something more aesthetically pleasing; Rose argued that the names deserved to remain until a replacement was ready. Her letter drew supportive responses.

That same year, she entered the first national Pillsbury Best Recipe Contest — the event that would later become the Pillsbury Bake-Off. She submitted an old family recipe called “Lickum Good Ginger Cake” (which Pillsbury naturally renamed), choosing it after George advised her to pick something simple that never failed. It worked. She was selected as a finalist — the only contestant from the entire Northwest. She won an all‑expenses‑paid trip to New York City, her recipe was published nationally, and she received a brand‑new electric oven at a time when electric ovens were still rare. In the 1920s–40s, most American households still cooked on gas, coal, or wood. Electric ovens were used by only about 5–6% of households in 1930. For a woman who had spent most of her life cooking on traditional ranges, the futuristic GE Stratoliner — with push buttons, a built‑in pressure cooker, and unfamiliar controls — must have felt thrilling and intimidating all at once.

(Note: Rose’s contest entry lists “Oswego, OR” as her hometown but she was living in Portland at the time. I suspect she answered a question like “Where are you from?” and she listed her childhood hometown.)

In 1951, George retired, and the couple moved to a charming 1907 home on NE Schuyler Street in Portland — the same house Rose would live in for the rest of her life. It was a large house on a tree-lined street, with plenty of room for their kids and grandkids to visit and stay. Today, the house is divided into duplexes but still retains its original character.

Rose was deeply involved in her community. She belonged to the Portland Manuscript Club, volunteered with the Red Cross, and served as a Grey Lady — part of a nationwide corps of trained volunteers who provided emotional and social support in hospitals. Grey Ladies weren’t nurses; they read aloud to patients, wrote letters for them, helped with crafts, and offered companionship in military and VA hospitals. They were civic‑minded, middle‑class women who often also belonged to Home Bureaus, Women’s Clubs, Extension groups, and church auxiliaries. It suited Rose perfectly.

George died in 1962 after 47 years of marriage to Rose.

Rose’s mother Dora, astonishingly, lived to 104. In 1968, she celebrated her 100th birthday in San Francisco, still painting, still writing poetry, still living independently at the St. Francis Hotel. Rose and Nita spoke to her every day and transcribed her poems so they wouldn’t be lost. Dora outlived both of her daughters.

Rose’s children built full lives of their own. Barbara graduated from the University of Oregon and married James Barnett in 1939, with Rosemary as her maid of honor and Rose and George hosting the reception at their Eastmoreland home. A year later, Rosemary married as well, with Barbara as her matron of honor and a rehearsal dinner at the family’s country club. George Jr. married in 1947 after returning from WWII and lived a long life, dying in 1998 and was buried in a veteran’s grave.

Rose died in 1970 in Portland at age seventy‑six from arrhythmia and atherosclerosis. She was cremated and laid to rest in Riverview Abbey; near the family she had loved so deeply. By the end of her life, she had three children, fourteen grandchildren, and one great‑grandchild.

Her life was full — of creativity, community, family, service, and the spirited resilience that showed up in everything from teenage snowball fights to national recipe contests. She lived through two world wars, the rise of automobiles, the birth of electric kitchens, and the transformation of women’s roles in America.

Let’s Make Cake!

There are many gingerbread recipes in the 1949 Pillsbury Bake-off. During the Depression and throughout World War II, American home cooks had learned to work around rationing and shortages, and gingerbread was one of the few desserts that didn’t require precious ingredients. It could be sweetened with molasses instead of sugar, made with shortening instead of butter, and flavored with spices that stayed fresh on the pantry shelf. Even eggs — often rationed or expensive — could be reduced or omitted entirely in many versions. Government pamphlets and women’s magazines promoted gingerbread as wholesome, economical, and comforting, and families embraced it as a dessert that felt old‑fashioned and reassuring during years when nothing else felt predictable.

It also happened to be a dessert that almost never failed. Most households in the 1930s and 40s still cooked on gas, coal, or wood ranges with uneven heat and unreliable temperature control, and gingerbread was forgiving enough to survive those quirks. It baked evenly, stayed moist, and could be served plain or dressed up for company. So when George suggested Rose choose “something simple that never fails” for the Pillsbury contest, gingerbread wasn’t just a safe choice. It was a recipe shaped by the era itself, one that spoke to the ingenuity of women who had kept households running through decades of change.

Rose’s gingerbread is one of the best - she liberally adds cinnamon to the spices, which combines with the ginger for a nice sharp flavor. But what made her gingerbread stand out from the others was the addition of “apple fluff”. This is really a Chantilly cream mixed with applesauce - incredibly easy to make - that you serve on top or on the side of the gingerbread. The cream was a post-war extravagance that made Rose’s recipe unique. Rose, who was an adult through WWI, the Great Depression, and WWII, understood the cyclical nature of shortages and abundance. This recipe makes good use of both.

Verdict: We both loved this cake in different ways. I’m a gingerbread fan so I liked it plain, without the apple fluff topping. It’s a moist, sharply spiced cake that is very satisfying. My husband is less of a gingerbread fan but loved it with the apple fluff.

If you’d like to enjoy this unique twist on gingerbread, here is Rose’s recipe.

(Recipe published in the 1959 edition of “Pillsbury’s BEST of the BAKE-OFF Collection”)

Makes 8x8 or 9x9-inch cake

Sift together and set aside:
2 c. sifted all-purpose flour
1 tsp. double-acting baking powder
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. soda
1 1/2 tsp. ginger
1 tsp. cinnamon
Melt:
1/2 c. shortening (I used European-style butter) in 2/3 c. boiling water
Beat together until thick and ivory colored:
1 egg
1/2 c. sugar
Add:
1/2 c. molasses and the shortening mixture
Blend in:
the dry ingredients. Beat well.
Pour into 8x8x2 or 9x9x2-inch pan, well-greased and lightly floured on the bottom.
Bake at 350 degrees for 35-45 minutes. Serve warm with Apple Fluff.

Apple Fluff:
Beat 1 cup whipping cream until thick. Fold in 1/2 c. sifted confectioners’ sugar, 2 tbsp. lemon juice, and 1 c. sweetened thick applesauce. Chill thoroughly, or place in refrigerator tray and partially freeze.

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Sources:

Names Make the News. (1949, December 5). The Oregon Daily Journal, p. 27.
Rose Marie Keep (Obituary). (1970, August 19). The Oregon Daily Journal, p. 7.
Williams, J. W. (1917). Obstetrics: A textbook for the use of students and practitioners (7th ed.). D. Appleton & Company.
DeLee, J. B. (1920). The principles and practice of obstetrics (3rd ed.). W. B. Saunders.
Harris, B. (2001). The health of the schoolchild: A history of the school medical service in England and Wales. Open University Press.
Loudon, I. (1992). Death in childbirth: An international study of maternal care and maternal mortality, 1800–1950. Oxford University Press.
Dunn, P. M. (1999). The evolution of caesarean section. Archives of Disease in Childhood: Fetal and Neonatal Edition, 80(3), F223–F225.
Reynolds, J. L. (1997). The history of caesarean section. Canadian Medical Association Journal, 156(11), 1697–1700.
Better than Nothing. (1949, July 2). The Oregonian, p. 6.
Keep Memorial. (1949, July 10). The Sunday Oregonian, p. 33.
Housewife Gets National Award. (1949, December 4). The Sunday Oregonian, p. 29.
General Electric Advertisement. (1949, December 4). The Sunday Oregonian, p. 28.
U.S. Census Bureau. (1934). Fifteenth census of the United States: 1930. Housing, volume II: General characteristics. U.S. Government Printing Office.
Kline, R. R. (2000). Consumers in the country: Technology and social change in rural America. Johns Hopkins University Press.
Cowan, R. S. (1983). More work for mother: The ironies of household technology from the open hearth to the microwave. Basic Books.
Strasser, S. (1982). Never done: A history of American housework. Pantheon Books.
General Electric Company. (1949). The new GE Stratoliner electric range [Product brochure]. General Electric.
U.S. Department of Agriculture. (1940). Household equipment: A guide to selection, care, and use (Miscellaneous Publication No. 405). U.S. Government Printing Office.
George A. Keep (Obituary). (1962, May 21). The Oregon Daily Journal, p. 5.
Miss Keep to Wed Mr. Windsor. (1940, December 19). East Oregonian, p. 2.
Grace Memorial Church to be Wedding Scene. (1940, December 18). The Oregonian, p. 20.
Church Rite United Couple on August 26. (1939, September 3). The Oregon Daily Journal, p. 29.
Society. (1947, March 3). The Oregon Daily Journal, p. 26.
Belford Tops Oswego Meet. (1941, April 16). The Oregonian, p. 28.
Wins Low Net. (1927, April 17). The Oregon Daily Journal, p. 54.
100 Years is Young. (1968, April 2). The Oregonian, p. 24.
Young East Side Girls Stage “Nino’s Revenge.” (1908, September 20). The Sunday Oregonian, p. 35.
Weddings: Dairs–Philp. (1913, May 18). The Sunday Oregonian, p. 39.
Merry Makers Arrested. (1909, January 7). The Oregonian, p. 3.
Suffrage Loses in Debate. (1912, June 8). The Oregonian, p. 7.
Pupils’ Essay Contest Winners Announced. (1912, June 9). The Oregon Daily Journal, p. 10.
Attractive Bride Whose Wedding Was the Event of the Week. (1915, March 21). The Sunday Oregonian, p. 40.

Name on the Recipe Card is a blog series about the unsung heroes of bygone kitchens, who competed and won a place at the national Pillsbury Bake-Off. Who are they? What are their names and stories? For many, they are only known by their husband’s names. Let’s shine a light on who they are and how they lived.

That’s what Ruth Maxwell said about her “Praline Butter Puffs”, the recipe that gave her passage into the first Pillsbury Bake-off. It was her husband, John, who insisted that she send in her recipe, a long-time family favorite. She had married John in 1940, and he was a stabilizing force in her life. But John had suffered from multiple myeloma for twelve years, and in October 1949, he died — just five weeks before Ruth learned she had been selected as a finalist for the Pillsbury Bake‑Off. Her notice of probate appeared in the newspaper only two weeks before she boarded the train to New York. Considering it had been John who pushed her to submit her recipe, the honor must have been both triumphant and painfully bittersweet. On her way to the competition, she stopped in St. Louis, where the Missouri Pacific Railway “brotherhood” gave her a personal tour of the city in John’s honor — a touching gesture for a woman still deep in grief.

Long before she was Ruth Maxwell, she was Margaret Ruth Moody, born in Fort Smith, Arkansas, the fifth of six children of Howard “Harry” Moody and Mary Sibyl “Sibyl” Moody. Her older siblings were twins, and her mother spent most of her days trying to keep house and keep track of six children. When Ruth was born, Harry was managing a milk plant, but by the time she was ten he had purchased a dairy farm and moved the family into a more rural life. School attendance wasn’t mandatory in Arkansas until the 1920s, and the Moody children’s education reflected that reality. They could all read and write, but only the youngest, Howard Jr., ever attended public school. Like many girls of her generation, Ruth grew up helping around the home until she was old enough to work, and as a teenager she took a job as a maid.

In her early twenties, she entered nursing school at Southern Arkansas University in El Dorado. She returned home to Fort Smith during winter holidays and summers, but the rest of the year she was immersed in the demanding, hands‑on world of hospital‑based nursing education. In 1930s Arkansas, a high school diploma wasn’t required. Programs functioned more like apprenticeships, emphasizing character, steadiness, and practical ability over formal schooling. Applicants demonstrated basic literacy and arithmetic through a simple entrance test, then spent weeks or months in a probationary period where their work ethic and capacity to learn were evaluated on the wards. Character references mattered, and many schools offered remedial instruction to help students meet the academic demands of nursing. It was a system designed for women like Ruth — women with limited formal education but strong practical skills and a willingness to work.

After her time at Southern Arkansas University, she continued her training at the Chicago School of Nursing — located, somewhat surprisingly, in St. Louis, Missouri. Once she graduated, she stepped into adulthood with a profession and a sense of independence that would shape the rest of her life.

In 1933, soon after graduation, she married Norman Hensley, a man three years her junior who had grown up in Webbers Falls, Oklahoma. Norman worked as a farm laborer, and although they married in Fort Smith, they returned to Webbers Falls afterward. It was a difficult place to get started in the 1930s. The town sat outside the core Dust Bowl region, but its main industry — potato farming — was hit hard by the statewide drought.

Jobs were scarce, and it seems the couple spent long stretches apart while Norman searched for work wherever he could find it. In 1935, Ruth was back in Fort Smith, waiting for stability that never quite materialized. Norman eventually found work in Yuba City, California, and she joined him there, but by 1936 they had moved again, this time to Council Bluffs, Iowa, where he found a job with a painting company. By 1939, Ruth had had enough. She returned to Fort Smith and filed for divorce. The marriage officially ended in 1940, and she reclaimed her maiden name — Moody.

That same year, she married John Holden Maxwell, a divorced man eighteen years her senior and a section manager for the Missouri Pacific Railway. John had been married before — in fact, he had married his first wife a year before Ruth was even born — and he had a daughter and two sons from that marriage. By the time he married Ruth, all of his children were grown. His daughter Grady was only two years younger than Ruth and had married just months before Ruth and John’s wedding. His divorce from his first wife must have occurred in the mid‑1930s, though the exact year isn’t known. What is clear is that John’s children maintained a positive relationship with him and with Ruth. His son, John Vester Maxwell, married in 1947 and visited the couple afterward, and Ruth and John traveled to California to visit him while he was stationed there with the Army.

In 1947, Ruth entered a contest sponsored by KFSA radio where points were awarded for household hints, unusual recipes, and trivia about Fort Smith’s history. One of Ruth’s suggestions for the contest was to distribute food baskets to needy families for Thanksgiving. The radio station adopted the idea and named her chairperson to coordinate the effort.

Ruth won the contest and a large electric ironer from Hotpoint, co-sponsors of the contest, valued at $300 ($4500 in today’s money) by collecting 569 points — more than 200 ahead of the second‑place contestant. Probably as part of the publicity agreement, she hosted an “ironing party” in January 1948, where friends and fellow contestants brought clean but un-ironed laundry for a demonstration by Fox Appliance Company. She even invited her pastor as the guest speaker, who joked that he was no stranger to ironing.

Also in 1947, Ruth opened the first licensed private nursing home in Fort Smith, the Ruth Maxwell Nursing Home, operating it out of her own home. She cooked for all the residents herself. It was there, in that kitchen, that she stumbled upon the idea that would catch the attention of a major cereal company. She had washed some rice and laid it out to dry near the stove, intending to cook it later. But a patient needed her, and the rice sat forgotten for days. When she finally went back to feed the old rice to the chickens, she found John munching on it. Being near the stove, the rice had crisped up as the stove warmed for cooking. John declared it delicious. Ruth gave some to her patients, who agreed — though they thought it needed to be sweeter. After experimenting with sweeteners, rice varieties, and methods, she perfected her recipe. Not one to wait passively for life to just happen, she sent it to four cereal companies. One responded with a $1,000 advance and royalties, on the condition that she not publish the recipe. She continued serving it in the nursing home, where it was a hit. While the exact cereal is unknown, her description strongly suggests it became the now‑discontinued Sugar Rice Krinkles produced by Post.

So, when John insisted that she submit her cookie recipe to the Pillsbury Recipe Contest, she already had experience with success in that arena. Her Bake‑Off recipe, Praline Butter Puffs, had been with her nearly her whole life. She invented the cookie when she was twelve years old in 1921 and revised it almost every year. Pillsbury’s request that she not publish the recipe was familiar to her after her experience with the cereal company, and she seemed to relish holding onto it until after the competition. When Pillsbury finally published it, they renamed it Praline Butter Nuggets, likely to distinguish it from other “puff” recipes in the contest.

In 1950, shortly after John Maxwell’s death, Ruth married Earl Dooley when she was 40 and Earl was 47. They lived in the same house out of which Ruth continued to run her private nursing home. Earl lost his first wife in 1949 also when she was just 47 after a long illness, which undoubtedly created a bond made of grief for the two of them. Both nursed spouses through long illnesses and understood the special grief mixed with relief when that suffering ends. He owned a garage in nearby Paris, Arkansas and added three more grown stepchildren to Ruth’s brood. Earl started off with a bang, throwing Ruth a surprise birthday party just a month after their marriage.

In 1951, the Dooleys were rear-ended by another driver, resulting in injuries to both of Earl’s eyes and his knee, while Ruth suffered injuries to her neck and shoulders. They sued for damages, claiming the other driver caused the injuries when they were driving on Highway 22. That same year, sorrow visited again when Ruth lost her father, Harry, who died from a heart attack.

Still grieving from the loss of her father, Ruth encountered tragedy yet again. In 1952, just 2 years after she and Earl were married, they were driving down that same Highway 22 with Earl’s daughter Maxine in the car. Earl was driving and sideswiped a poultry truck. A piece of steel from the truck pierced both the driver’s side door and Earl’s stomach. Both the driver of the truck and Maxine were uninjured. Ruth was treated at the hospital for minor cuts and bruises.

Earl, however, was pronounced dead on arrival.

Ruth was alone again.

But she was not a woman who stayed alone for long. Never one to let the grass grow under her feet, in October 1953 she married John King when she was fifty‑four and he was fifty‑five, her fourth and final marriage. In 1954, Ruth and John moved the Ruth Maxwell King Nursing Home to 700 Belle Avenue, a charming little house with a front porch on a quiet suburban street.

That same year, she became president of the statewide Private Duty Practical Nurse Association, later serving as treasurer for several years. This organization was an important community for her. She devoted enormous energy to it — attending out‑of‑state conferences, leading meetings, and presiding over ceremonies, some of which she designed. In 1959, she and two other officers were returning from a state convention when their car broke down on a high mountain pass late at night. Fortunately, they had a large purple candle in the car (don’t ask me why), which they used for heat, light, and eventually to flag down a passing motorist. The candle became symbolic to them — a source of comfort and rescue, much like the nurses themselves. In 1960, Ruth presided over the installation of new officers, and the purple candle was used in the December candlelight ceremony.

In 1957 and 1959, Pillsbury named Ruth as a Bake‑Off advisor for that year’s competition, leaning on her to guide new contestants in the contest rules and procedures. The role came with a commemorative gold pin and an all-expenses paid trip to the event.

Finally in 1964, Ruth retired and closed her nursing home. By then, more licensed nursing homes had opened in Fort Smith, following the path she paved. Perhaps in preparation for this chapter of her life, Ruth applied for a replacement birth certificate that year, signing it alongside her mother. Sadly, Ruth’s mother, Sibyl — who had been living with Ruth’s sister in Fort Smith after Harry’s death — passed away in 1967 at age ninety from cerebral thrombosis.

Ruth herself passed away at 81 in September 1991. She had been married four times, unafraid of taking chances or starting over. With no formal education before nursing school, she managed to invent a new cereal, open the first licensed nursing home in Fort Smith, hold office in the Arkansas Practical Nurses’ Association, and go to the Pillsbury Bake-off. And overcome grief more than once to embrace love again.

There is a certain poignancy in the fact that she is buried alongside her second husband John Holden Maxwell, her true love whose name she carried as her middle name in the next two marriages. They rest together in Oak Cemetery in Fort Smith, surrounded by many of Ruth’s relatives — a final resting place for a woman whose life had been full of reinvention, courage, and remarkable stories.

Let’s Make Cookies!

The first step in making these cookies is to make a very simple praline candy by boiling sugar until it’s browned then stirring in chopped pecans. Once you’ve spread it out and let it cool, you get to smash it to bits. So maybe make this recipe on a day when you need to smash something to bits. The cookie dough is dry and needs to be molded into balls rather than scooped into balls. Don’t be discouraged… this dryness does not translate to the finished product.

Think of a Mexican Wedding Cookie and you know what to expect from this recipe. But with the addition of the praline bits, these cookies have a warmth and depth that those cookies don’t have. Same velvety texture, but with uplifted flavor.

Verdict: Well, we ate these in about 2 minutes. I wish I could tell you how long they stay fresh, but honestly, they didn’t last long enough to tell. With a melt-in-your-mouth texture and the caramel undertones from the praline bits, these are both satisfying and addictive.

Ruth was amazing. Her cookies are amazing. If you want to tap into a bit of her joie de vivre and creativity, here’s her recipe for Praline Butter Nuggets.
(Recipe published in the 1959 edition of “Pillsbury’s BEST of the BAKE-OFF Collection”)

Makes 2 dozen

Melt:
1/4 c. sugar in heavy skillet over low heat until golden brown
Add:
1/4 c. pecan halves.
Pour on greased waxed paper (or a silicone mat, which didn’t exist in 1949). Cool. Chop fine when hard.
Sift together and set aside:
1 1/2 c. sifted all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp. salt
Cream:
1/3 c. butter or margarine (I used European-style butter)
1/3 c. shortening (I used European-style butter again)
1/4 c. firmly packed brown sugar
Blend in:
the dry ingredients
1 tsp. vanilla
the crushed praline candy

Shape by rounded teaspoonfuls into balls. Place on ungreased baking sheet.
Bake at 300 degrees for 20-25 minutes. Roll in confectioners’ sugar while warm.

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Sources:
Bits of News. (1947, April 17). Southwest American, p. 7.
Bits of News. (1953, October 27). Southwest American, p. 8.
Contest Winner Entertains at “Ironing” Party. (1948, January 8). Southwest American, p. 2.
Damage Suit Filed as Crash Aftermath. (1951, January 26). Southwest American, p. 2.
Deaths. (1949, August 28). Southwest American, p. 2.
Divorce Decrees Granted. (1940, January 3). Southwest American, p. 8.
Four Licenses Issued. (1933, February 26). Southwest American, p. 5.
Fort Smith Business News. (1957, May 25). Times Record, p. 2.
Local Baking Contest Winner to Take Place in Television Show at New York. (1949, December 8). Southwest American, p. 12.
Local Woman Invents New Food. (1947, October 24). Southwest American, p. 1.
Local Woman to Bake Cookies on TV Show. (1949, December 8). Times Record, p. 20.
Miss Zenaich Married to Maxwell. (1947, November 19). Southwest American, p. 11.
Mr. and Mrs. Dooley at Home Here. (1950, September 19). Times Record, p. 7.
News Events of Landing Folk Told in Items. (1935, August 13). Woodland Daily Democrat, p. 5.
Nurses Association Holds Business Meet. (1954, July 22). Southwest American, p. 11.
Nursing Home Started in 1947. (1986, June 1). Times Record, p. 224.
Paris Man Killed in Road Mishap. (1952, December 2). Southwest American, p. 1.
Social and Personal. (1931, December 17). Times Record, p. 3.
The Daily Slate. (1950, October 26). Times Record, p. 17.
Treasured Candle Is Used in Practical Nurses’ Rites. (1960, December 7). Southwest American, p. 7.
Mrs. Maxwell Wins Large Electric Ironer. (1947, December 25). Southwest American, p. 27.
Bullough, V. L., & Bullough, B. (1978). The care of the sick: The emergence of modern nursing. Prodist.
D’Antonio, P. (2010). American nursing: A history of knowledge, authority, and the meaning of work. Johns Hopkins University Press.
Melosh, B. (1982). The physician’s hand: Work culture and conflict in American nursing. Temple University Press.
Reverby, S. M. (1987). Ordered to care: The dilemma of American nursing, 1850–1945.

Rose Kolbe was born in 1899 in Glencoe, Minnesota, the first of three children born to Ernest and Rose Kolbe. The Kolbe children arrived almost exactly two years apart, first Rose, then Gertrude, and finally Ernest Jr. Rose’s father, Ernest Sr., served as the minister at the German Lutheran church in Glencoe, and his wife kept the home running smoothly while raising the children. Rose’s mother had grown up in St. Paul, so the family moved easily between the two cities, often staying for weeks at a time with relatives. Those long visits stitched the two branches of the family together.

Life in a minister’s home meant that church work spilled naturally into community life. During World War I, Lutheran ministers across the country—including Rev. Kolbe—encouraged their congregations to support the war effort by buying Liberty Bonds. When the war ended, the ministers turned their attention to their own futures. In 1919, Rev. Kolbe joined colleagues from the U.S. and Canada to raise three million dollars for a pension fund for aging ministers. He was about forty‑five then, old enough to be thinking about what came next.

Rose grew up steady and responsible, and after high school she followed a familiar path for a minister’s daughter: she became a parochial schoolteacher. Meanwhile, a young man named Albert Plagens was making his way toward her world. Albert had been born in 1892 in Wilkanowo, Germany—an area that would later become part of Poland. He immigrated to the United States in 1913 and settled in New Ulm, Minnesota, working as an architect while taking on projects in nearby Glencoe. Like all young men of the time, he registered for the World War I draft in 1917. The next year he filed his naturalization papers, and by 1920 he was still waiting for approval while launching his own architectural firm specializing in public buildings.

In the early years of the twentieth century, New Ulm, Minnesota still felt like a place where the Old World had simply picked itself up and resettled along the Minnesota River. You could hear it in the way neighbors greeted each other in German on the street, the hymns rising from Lutheran and Catholic churches, the brass bands practicing for summer festivals. It was a town built with intention, shaped by people who had crossed an ocean and brought their culture with them.

Most of the families who settled there had come from German-speaking regions—Prussia, Bavaria, Württemberg, Saxony—arriving in waves that began in the 1850s and continued steadily into the new century. By 1900, New Ulm wasn’t just influenced by German immigrants—it was a German town, one of the most German in the entire country. Children learned their lessons in German, newspapers printed the news in German, and families kept traditions alive with pride. What made New Ulm remarkable wasn’t just the number of German immigrants—it was the way they shaped the town’s identity so completely. Festivals, music societies, church picnics, and community halls weren’t just entertainment; they were the threads that held the town together. Even decades later, long after English had replaced German in the schools, the cultural imprint remained unmistakable.

Rose and Albert married in September 1920 when she was twenty‑one. The ceremony was small, held at the Kolbe family parsonage. Rose wore a brown traveling suit with a matching hat and gloves—practical, stylish, and very much in keeping with the era, long before white wedding gowns became the norm. The newlyweds boarded a train to Duluth for their honeymoon.

Not long after the wedding, Albert’s citizenship finally came through. Rose’s friends in New Ulm hosted a “miscellaneous” shower for her in 1922—almost certainly a baby shower, since their first child, Robert, arrived in 1923. The shower included a bridge tournament, which Rose won, as was the tradition at bridge showers - the honoree pretty much always won. At the time, the young family lived in a spacious 3,000‑square‑foot home on State Street, with four bedrooms and plenty of room for guests.

Eventually they moved down the same street to a smaller but newer 1,500‑square‑foot home on a corner lot in a well‑kept neighborhood. After Rose’s father died in 1935, her mother came to live with them there. But the couple didn’t stay put forever. As Albert’s architectural business grew, so did their means, and they moved to St. Paul into a large, elegant home with nearly 4,000 square feet and seven bedrooms. This was also when Albert’s business expanded to include New Deal projects like the Community Building in Sherburn, MN.

Then, in 1951, Albert designed and built a modern brick bungalow just for the two of them—clean lines, a contemporary feel, and a bright, roomy kitchen. With its classic mid-century aesthetics, the house was replete with windows and light. The fenced backyard had a sunny garden area too, living up to Albert’s reputation as an architect who loved natural light. And for the next 60 years, the house was continually lived in by Plagens family members until they sold it in 2011.

But it wasn’t all about Albert’s successes. Two years earlier, Rose had stepped into the national spotlight. In 1949, she submitted a recipe to the first Pillsbury National Recipe Competition, created to celebrate Pillsbury Mills’ 80th anniversary. Her chocolate coconut “Mission Sunday Cake” earned her $200 and a trip to New York City to compete with ninety‑nine other finalists. She later admitted she had sent the recipe in at the last minute. She didn’t win her category, but she was treated like all the contestants—feted, photographed, and sent home with a beautiful new kitchen, which Albert incorporated into the home he built in 1951.

Faith was woven through Rose’s life from beginning to end. Raised by a minister and later the mother of one, she was deeply involved in church work. She served as President of the Minnesota district of the Lutheran Women’s Missionary League, speaking at gatherings and traveling around the state. She and Albert also supported charitable causes and sponsored European refugees after World War II, living out their beliefs in practical ways.

Albert died in November 1964 at age seventy‑two. It must have been a lonely time for Rose, as her only child Robert was already living in the Philippines, serving as dean of the Philippine Lutheran Seminary. Robert had graduated from Concordia Seminary in 1945 then married Martha Ritz in 1946. After a few years in St. Louis, they followed the missionary path that had shaped his upbringing.

Rose lived a long life, passing away in August 1991. She was buried in Elmhurst Cemetery in St. Paul, the city that had been a touchstone throughout her life—from her mother’s childhood home to her own later years.

Let’s Make Cake!

The genesis of this blog project was the creativity and unique flavors of the first cakes we tried out of the Pillsbury Bake-off Cookbook, and the realization that so many of these creative bakers were credited under their husbands’ names and not their own. This is one of those cakes. It’s not just a chocolate cake - it’s a chocolate walnut coconut cake. It’s filling, it’s satisfying, the flavors blend beautifully without any one of them overtaking the others.

The icing is a chocolate marshmallow icing - Pillsbury instructs you to chop up marshmallows and add them at the end so they are still structurally sound, not melted. I’ve made this same icing before, and I felt it would not do this cake justice. So, my only modification to this recipe is that I melted the marshmallows with the butter and chocolate in the double boiler.

Verdict: Oh, delicious. Creative. Satisfying. I highly recommend melting the marshmallows in the icing - it complements the cake instead of distracting from it. Please make this cake. It’s incredibly good.

I really am begging. This is such a good cake and reflects a baker who knows how to take a flavor combination one step above. Here is Rose’s recipe:

(Recipe published in the 1959 edition of “Pillsbury’s BEST of the BAKE-OFF Collection”)
Makes 8x8 or 9x9-inch cake
Sift together and set aside:
1 c. sifted all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt
Cream together:
1/2 c. butter or margarine (I used European-style butter)
1 c. firmly packed brown sugar
Blend in:
3 eggs, beating well after each
Add:
1 1/2 oz. melted unsweetened chocolate
In separate bowl, combine:
1/2 c. buttermilk or sour milk
1 tsp. vanilla
Add alternately with the dry ingredients to the creamed mixture. Blend well after each addition.
Fold in:
1/4 c. walnuts, finely chopped
1/2 c. coconut, chopped, if desired (you do desire it, trust me)

Turn into 8x8 or 9x9-inch pan, well-greased and lightly floured on the bottom.
Bake at 325 degrees for 45-55 minutes. Cool, then frost with Chocolate Mallow Frosting.

Chocolate Mallow Frosting

Melt in top of double boiler:
1 oz. unsweetened chocolate
2 tbsp. butter
(This is where I modified it to add the 6 marshmallows to this mixture and stir until marshmallows are fully melted)
Remove from heat.
Blend in:
1 1/2 c. sifted confectioners’ sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
2-3 tbsp. cream
Beat until of spreading consistency.
Add 6 marshmallows, cut into eighths, if you didn’t melt them in the double boiler.

Sources:
Pillsbury Mills, Inc. (1959). Best of the bake-off collection: Pillsbury's best 1000 recipes. Consolidated Book Publishers, Chicago; distributed by Grosset & Dunlap

New Ulm Review. (1922, May 24). Social events, p. 7.

New Ulm Review. (1921, December 14). 34 granted citizenship, p. 1.

Minneapolis Journal. (1903, June 30). Personal and social, p. 8.

Minneapolis Journal. (1919, March 6). Lutherans seek $3,000,000 fund, p. 17.

New Ulm Review. (1920, October 6). Plagens–Kolbe, p. 6.

Minneapolis Journal. (1918, March 7). Lutheran ministers to aid in third loan, p. 15.

Star Tribune. (1964, November 2). A.G. Plagens, 72, architect, dies, p. 27.

Winona Daily News. (1955, November 18). State head to speak at Silo Lutheran banquet, p. 9.

Brainerd Dispatch. (1955, September 22). 13 refugees now on way, p. 16.

Bingham, E. (1986). New Ulm in the 19th century: A German town on the Minnesota frontier. Minnesota Historical Society Press.

Brown County Historical Society. (n.d.). German-American heritage in New Ulm. Brown County Historical Society.

City of New Ulm. (n.d.). History of New Ulm. City of New Ulm.

Graebner, A. W. (1976). German-Americans: From assimilation to ethnic revival. Indiana University Press.

Minnesota Historical Society. (n.d.). New Ulm, Minnesota: German settlement and cultural history. Minnesota Historical Society.

Tolzmann, D. F. (2000). German-Americana: Selected essays. Little Miami Publishing.