On March 7, 1863, a
daughter, Dorothy Ann, was born to St. Louis actors, Jonathan and Millie Gael (Gale). As a sign of love for his new
daughter, Jack adopted a black Cairn terrier puppy from the local dog shelter
that he named Toto (short for Dorothy).
Toto and Dorothy became inseparable, lifelong friends.
In 1868, Jonathan divorced Millie, and
moved to New York to further his acting career with a merry tiny vaudeville
actress named Etta Jewell. In 1875, Millie died of Influenza. Millie’s only
sister and brother-in-law, Emma and Henry Gulch of Zeandale, Kansas, became the
legal guardians of Dorothy and Toto (both
were twelve at this time).
The same year Dorothy arrived in
Zeandale, she began having her Oz dreams on her Aunt Em and Uncle Henry’s farm.
Later in her seventies, she verbally told all those stories to her only child,
Carol Gattirez. At the age of 80, Old
Dot (or Dotty) was diagnosed with
Alzheimer’s, and placed in the Rose Lawn Nursing Home in Manhattan, Kansas.
Five years later Dotty passed away. This Ozniack (Oz for journal) found in her room. It covers the dates of September
1875 to September 1876.
September
1, 1875
Dear Journal,
When my dog, Toto, and I arrived in
Manhattan, Kansas, from St. Louis, Missouri, by train no one showed up
immediately to pick us up. Had Aunt Em and Uncle Henry forgotten to pick us up?
Eventually, a kind woman of tall stature named Miss Ellen Parker showed up in
her carriage to take us all to the Gulches home out east in Zeandale, Kansas.
We ate apples, fried chicken and cold
dumplings on white china plates at the train station. Our carriage ride to the
Gulches went quickly with my full stomach, all the talk, and the short nap I
took. According to the watch around Miss
Ellen’s neck it was 1:00 in the afternoon when I woke up as we arrived at 69
Emerald Lane in the country. The cottage before my eyes was small and dreary
looking. The landscape around me was dry, burnt grayish-brown, and flat.
A thin, tan woman with my mother’s
eyes (clothed in a grey dress with her
grey hair in a bun) arrived at the carriage. She looked tired, nervous, and
lacked momma’s eye twinkle as she introduced herself as my Aunty Em. She had
changed so much for the worse, when momma and I had visited her two years ago.
(I was ten then.) Soon a man with
plastered hair, a long uneven beard in a filthy striped shirt showed up. Uncle
Henry’s bright smile could not cover up the slight smell of manure that clung
to his skin. I hugged both of them as we said goodbye to Miss Elloen, picked up
our luggage and went inside the house (after
putting Toto in the barn).
The inside of the one common room
Uncle Henry and Aunty Em called home did not have the charm of our St Louis
apartment above the theater. In one corner was what appeared to be a kitchen (with a black cast iron stove, tables and
chairs), the other corner had a curtained off area with a bed and mattress.
In the furthest corner was a bed with a straw-filled mattress for me to sleep
on. The outhouse (or privy) was
between the house and barn outside. Dinner that night was runny beans and old
crusty bread. I hated here so far. I wanted my old life back. Why did momma
have to die, and papa have to leave me? I will write more soon as you, journal,
are my only true friend right now.
Dorothy
G.
September
7, 1875
Dear Journal,
As I sat in school today, I was having
difficulty keeping my mind on my studies. Our substitute teacher had the
strange name of Baum. I kept thinking of momma and papa, and how much I miss
them both.
His dark brown hair and beard
perfectly matched his kind eyes. The sweet smell of the smoke from his pipe
will always be a favored memory of him. He loved to perform on the stage of the
theater he owned. He had the gift of making people laugh, cry, or get angry as
he willed with only the movement of his face. Did he leave because I did
something wrong to make him not love us anymore?
Before momma got sick, her perfume
reminded me of roses and when she sang, I was happy and I knew for sure she
loved us. Her blond hair glowed and her blue eyes sparkled when all was right
as it should be in the world. I loved her hot oatmeal with brown sugar and
raisins on a cold morning. When I was nine, she bought me a sparkly white dress
to wear to papa’s theater.
I
wore that dress until it I grew out of it. Before Momma died she made me
promise to be good for her sister. She promised to always watch over and
protect us. The school day has passed in the midst of my daydreaming, and my
brother and I can finally go home to the new place we now call home.
Dorothy
G.
September
10, 1875
Dear Journal,
Something awful happened this morning
before I left for school. I went out to the barn to feed Toto dead. Uncle Henry
thinks my beloved dog died from old age at eighty-four. In human years, he was
twelve just like me. The two of us quickly buried him next to Aunty Em’s
previous dog, Rob Roy.
I’m not quite sure how I will make it
without my furry friend and protector who always adored me no matter what my
mood was. We grew up together as the best of friends. When I slept at night,
Toto was always next to me. When bad dreams sometimes scared me in the middle
of the night, a pat on the back or scratch behind his ears would assure me all
would be well.
When
momma died and we traveled to here, Toto was the one thing that kept my world
all right. How will things ever be the same without my wonderful dog?
Dorothy G.
September
24, 1875
Dear Journal,
I think maybe something good happened
today though it was embarrassing. Before momma died, she tried her best to tell
me that soon I would be entering womanhood where my body could make babies. She
said some women called it the curse or Mother Nature’s monthly gift. With her
as ill as she was, I heard little of what she said. (Papa had already left by then.)
At lunch as I sat at my desk to eat
the lunch Aunty Em packed me, I felt dampness soak my undergarments and dress.
I looked down, and it was blood. I told Mr. Baum I thought I should go home. He
agreed.
When I got inside the house and Aunty
Em saw my stained clothes, she immediately hugged me and kissed me several
times on my forehead, and kept telling me what an important day this was before
we went to change my undergarment, clothing and wipe me off.
After all this was done, Aunty Em
assured me my momma would be proud of me for entering womanhood. She explained
to me what my body was doing and showed me how to prepare for my time every
month. I felt confident I could do this by myself every month.
Dorothy G.
October
13, 1875
Dear Journal,
I believe I had a wonderful dream last
night of a magical, colorful, far away land called Oz. It all seemed so real.
In the dream, I was seven with pigtails, living here, and in my favorite
blue-gingham dress. Oh joy, my true friend, Toto was happy, alive, and with me.
(He would have been 49 in dog years.)
A cyclone took me, Toto, and the
Gulch’s house to Oz. Uncle Henry and Aunty Em were in the cyclone cellar that
was beneath the trap door in the house. Toto and I huddled together on my bed
where we both fell asleep (after I
grabbed Toto out from underneath my bed) since I could not get to the to
the cyclone cellar
Dorothy G.
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