Florence Broderick

By Kim Meinert and Nichole Lovrich

There are many stories about life during the Great Depression and World War II.  Many of these stories are told in various forms such as books and movies by those who experienced first-hand the pain as well as the victory.  Some of the tales have become famous.  Most of them, however, have not.  We are here to share with you one of those many untold stories.  It is the life of a woman who is seventy-seven years young, Florence Broderick, more commonly known simply as "Cookie Grandma."

When Florence sat down with us at the yellow table with orange chairs typical of a public high school, she had with her a bundle of papers browned with age and an old, tattered Sad Sack cartoon book, as well as more recent clippings all neatly stacked and arranged to fit into a sturdy red folder.  She carried with her the persona of a woman much wiser than us, yet one who welcomed these two teenage girls to look into her life as thoroughly as can be done in an hour and a half.  We leafed through those priceless fragments one by one, and soon it dawned on us that this was not going to be just your average interview assignment.  There was a paper signed by President Roosevelt, a telegram nearly sixty years old, as well as other antique documents not found in your average antique shop.

There were going to be emotions to be dealt with, as well as cultural barriers to cross.  Although the three of us sitting around the table are all from the same country, thus have very similar cultures, it was apparent just from looking at the memorabilia in front of us that Florence had struggled and overcome much more than we had anticipated.  We immediately threw aside our prepared interview questions, as it was quite obvious that they were not going to suffice.  Getting started was slow at first, but soon we were talking with each other a mile a minute about life "back then," and before we knew it, an hour and half had passed, and sadly, it was time to stop.  Here is just a small portion of the interaction between a woman and two girls who, based upon their experiences, hold very different perceptions of the world in which they live.

Born on May 10, 1924 in Bossburg, Washington, Florence Louise Peterson was the youngest of seven children born to Lena and Ole Peterson, Norwegian immigrants.  When Florence was just a toddler, her parents moved their family to Colville, Washington where she and her siblings attended public schools.  Although she grew up in the 1930s, Florence wasn't even aware that there was a Great Depression.  We must have had very obvious looks of bewilderment on our faces when Florence told us that, because she quickly gave us an explanation.

"When I was growing up, I just assumed that everyone was poor. It never occurred to me that it could be any other way."

Thinking back on it, we shouldn't have been at all surprised that she was unaware of the Great  Depression.  The fact that Florence hadn't realized she was living during a depression is the same thing as young people today not realizing that they have been in an economic "boom" until about a year ago, when there was no longer a surplus of energy.

On August 14, 1943, Florence did what every high school girl dreams of (including us!)  She married her high school sweetheart, Robert Lowry Keough.  With a smile on her face, Florence added that she and Robert had been good friends and then dated throughout their four years at Colville High School.  Only two months after Florence became Mrs. Keough, her new husband joined the U.S. Navy Reserve and became a member of the South Pacific Theater of Operations.  Robert served as an Aviation Machinist's Mate, Second Class while he was in the Navy.

On September 20th, 1944 Robert drowned at sea along with the pilot and crew on their torpedo bomber, SqadVC66.  The cause was a mid-air collision during the Halmahera Campaign.  Robert Keough was highly decorated and commended for his outstanding service in the Navy.  He received the American Campaign Medal, the World War II Victory Medal, Silver Wings with three Bronze Stars, and the Presidential Unit Citation Ribbon Bar and Star.  Also, Robert's unit as a whole was recommended for the Distinguished Flying Cross.  In an envelope dated September 30^th - ten days after Robert had died - Florence received a telegram from Randall Jacobs, Chief of Naval Personnel, informing Florence of her husband's untimely death. 

Florence also received in the mail a large parchment paper rolled and carefully placed in a tube that was signed by the President of the United States, Franklin D. Roosevelt.  This prestigious document was sent to her as a testimony to Robert's valiant efforts to defend freedom.

We were amazed to hear from Florence that there were never any anti-war feelings or disgust with the government from her or anyone she knew.  With a warm, reminiscent smile, she added, "Everyone supported the war.  There were no hard feelings, just pride and hope, mostly.  But, like I said, it was a different era."

On May 16, 1947 Florence got remarried to Robert (Bob) W. Broderick, and changed her name to Florence Louise Broderick. Bob had just finished serving in the Army for five years as a truck driver with the 161st infantry in Guadalcanal.  Florence discovered that Bob had been a friend of her first husband during high school.

Florence had been employed at the Signal Centers of both Fort George Wright and Geiger Field since graduating from high school in 1942, after she had spent three months in training at the Spokane Telegraph School.  Because her husband's job at the Harms-Rofinot Chevrolet Company, now Camp Chevrolet, was enough to support them both, Florence gave up her Chief Operator position in 1947 as soon as she was married.  Florence was finally ready to settle down and raise a family.

"I didn't have any children with Robert, my first husband, and I wanted a family. I was just happy to have another opportunity," she said. Between 1952 and 1961, Florence and Bob had four children, two girls and two boys.  In 1963, the Brodericks moved their family to the nearby city of Pullman, Washington, where Bob was employed at Brown and Holter Chevrolet as Parts Manager.  Bob had just recently taken a promising job at  Washington State University when he suffered a fatal heart attack on September 20, 1970.

Florence was left with four children to raise, ages ranging from nine to eighteen.  Being teenagers ourselves, we can't even begin to imagine having to raise four kids by ourselves.  But somehow, Florence managed to do it.  Because she was a single mother supporting a family of five, she took a job at Myklebusts in 1971.  Florence worked there as a sales clerk until the store closed in the late 1980's and she retired. 

Florence now has eight grandchildren and four great-grandchildren. 
Her oldest granddaughter enjoyed Florence's abundant cookie jar so much that she gave Florence the nickname of "Cookie Grandma," which now all of her grandchildren and many of her friends like to call her.  Florence has enjoyed many things during her retirement, some of which include crocheting, oil painting, being a member of the AARP (American Association for Retired Persons), and helping out with the local Senior Center scrapbook.

We discovered that just because someone has retired and raised all their children, it definitely does not mean they aren't busy.  Florence also has played an important role as a member of Women of the Moose, an organization that helps needy children living in the community.   While Florence worked as a teletypist transferring coded messages from one base to another, she asked various service men and women and civilians to write a short message, or even just sign their autograph in her book of Sad Sack political cartoons compiled from Yank magazine. 

"It [the purpose of Sad Sack cartoons] was a way to kind of take the tension off of everything and to put a little humor in the war," she said. 

When she allowed us to flip through the pages of the small red book, there was a satisfied glimmer in her eye as we giggled over the comics.  The people whose signatures cover the inside pages of the small book have come and gone. They all had their own story to tell, and Florence patiently listened to them.

"I've never really talked with anyone about my own history because it's very painful.  Bob and I didn't talk about our past much while he was alive but I thought it was time, and this interview seemed like a good idea."  

A good idea to put it mildly!  We enjoyed so much learning about just how hard Americans worked two generations ago to preserve freedom and to make sure their  grandchildren had an affluent country to grow up in. We now understand much more about why and how things worked, as well as the many aspects of our lives we take for granted. 

Many stories are forgotten, lost, or misplaced.  Florence Broderick's bittersweet story, however, is still alive and has now been told to be remembered forever. And just remember, Florence, you'll always have us as your second set of granddaughters.