A Connecticut Love Story: Matt & Evelyn Lopes55 Years STRONG!

Prologue

This story begins in 1947 New Haven.  It tells of 2 New Haveners growing up around each other in the loving communities that were their environment. This was a thriving postwar New Haven with job opportunities for many of the returning veterans living in the City.  Neighborhoods were evenly segregated with Irish, Italian, Jewish and African American communities living separately throughout the city.  The African American communities included Dixwell, Newhall and the Hill areas of town. These communities were dotted with a myriad of institutions including churches, social and civic clubs, private businesses such as barber shops, beauty shops, corner stores and restaurants. There were multi-family homes to rent or purchase and public housing was being developed.  

Matthew Frederick Lopes Jr. and Evelyn Miller were both born in 1943.  Evelyn lived with her family in homes on Winter Street (behind the Elks’ Lodge), County Street and then Brookside.  There was her mom, dad and older sister. Matt was a preemie baby who spent several months in the hospital. At the time of their meeting, both Matt and Evelyn were 5 years old entering Kindergarten at the former Baldwin School. 

Evelyn’s Story

Before I started school I would be home with my mother and Grandmother.  My sister had started school a year before me.  When Eleanor got home we would play together, until Grandma called us in and gave us specific instructions as to what she wanted us to do, “Take this handkerchief; we could feel the money inside, Take it around the corner and don’t give it to anyone but Mr. Smitty”. When we grew older we found out that Mr. Smitty was a number’s runner. And he was always at the pool hall on Webster Street around the corner from where we lived on Winter Street. Later on in the day Grandma would send us back to Mr. Smitty and he would give us money to give to Grandma. That meant, Grandma had Hit The Number. When we got home Grandma would take the money and send us to the store to buy milk and bread.

I was 5 when I first met my husband, Matthew Frederick Lopes, Jr.  Everyone called him, Butch.  We were in kindergarten, Ms. Gilhooly,  was our teacher at Baldwin School, New Haven Connecticut. The year was 1948.

When it was time for us to go to the gymnasium to practice Square Dancing he would always make sure he was my partner, he would hold my hand as we walked, two by two, through the hallway.

The thing about it is, he would call me names. As we grew older I told my sister, Eleanor, and she would say, he likes you.  I couldn’t understand that.  

The last day of the school year was called Promotion Day.  Matthew would ask me weeks before if I would go to the Promotion Day Party at St. Luke’s Church, on Whalley Avenue with him.  Even though he called me names, I considered what my sister said, and I would say, yes.  

This went on for a few years until we both moved, the same summer of 1955.

I remember that summer because Eleanor and I went to visit our Grandfather in Stamford, CT.  Grandpa was a Deacon at Grace Baptist Church, he also was a barber and owned his own barber shop, Moore’s Barber Shop on West Main Street.  Eleanor and I would go to Summer Camp down the street from the shop.  We had a lot of friends there, so we didn’t miss being in New Haven for the summers.  

Grandpa often took us to visit his friend, Miss Pellman.  She was a very pleasant woman that owned her own home.  She would invite us to dinner.  I liked going there because she always had something good to eat, This time, I noticed she opened a drawer on the buffet and inside there were pretty tablecloths and cloth napkins and all the things she used to make the table so beautiful.  I was impressed.  We didn’t have such nice things at my house.  We had been invited to Miss Pellmans’ house many times before but I had never paid any attention to these things before.

We had moved to the Brookside Projects, on the outskirts of New Haven. I went to Katherine A. Brennan Elementary School for 6th grade.  I was a very good student and had lots of friends.  At the time I had 2 younger siblings at home and tried to help out where I could. I played with them and took care of them to help my mother and Stepfather.

The next year, 1956, going to school was going to be an adventure. Eleanor and I would be taking the bus together.  I was going to Sheridan Junior High School in Westville.  

It was scary going to a big school where you had to change rooms for different classes. Could I do it?  All my friends were going to be there so that gave me some comfort.  You’ll never guess who I saw the first day, Matthew Frederick Lopes, Jr., aka Butch.  Can you believe it?  He moved to the other side of West Rock,  I was on one side and he was on the other. What a surprise, right?

When we saw each other in school, we would speak, just say Hi, nothing more than that.  He moved again when we were in the ninth grade.  I never saw him again until we were 22 years old.

I would take the bus to downtown New Haven, in 1965, to go to the library.  My sister and I could not afford to go to college since my Stepfather was killed in a tragic car accident in 1958.  At that time my mother was pregnant with her 7th child.  So there were 5 young ones to take care of and no money for college. We had to work in order to help my mother financially. So, I thought going to the free public library was something that would be a good thing for me to do.  

One day on my way to the library I heard someone loudly call my name, Evelyn Miller, I turned and to my surprise again, y’all.  It was Matthew Fredrick Lopes, Jr, aka Butch. I said, “Hi, Butch Lopes”. He said, “Are you married”?  

I was surprised by that question.  I had no thoughts of marriage.  I had too many responsibilities already.  I worked, I helped my mother, I took care of my younger siblings, I had to keep myself sane by trying to have a social life. My sister and I would go to the clubs to listen to Jazz on the weekends and meet up with some friends and have a laugh or two.  

I didn’t have any special boyfriends, I dated once in a while to attend a dance or I asked a male friend to escort me to my Cotillion.  I was very independent and had never wanted to be serious with any of the men that were in my life at the time.  They were just friends.  

So, Matthew caught up with me and walked me to the library.  While he walked he talked, he brought me up to date as to what had happened in his life since 9th grade.  He’s still a talker.  When we got to the library he asked me for my phone number.  I gave it to him, not really expecting him to call.  I was indifferent, it was nice to see him as an adult. He was still cute.

The next day when I got home from seeing a friend and going to the library, my mother said, a fellow called you.  I said, who was it? She said he didn’t leave his name. This went on all week until I decided to go directly home from work.  I get in the house and the phone rang. I answered and said Hello.  Guess who it was, Matthew Frederick Lopes, Jr. Aka, Butch.  I was a little surprised.  The men that I knew in 1965 were not that reliable. So this caused me to pause and say, Hmmm.

He asked me if I would go to the Yale Football game and to dinner on Saturday.  I said yes.  He also said, he didn’t have a car and would it be alright if he came and got in a taxi.  I said that would be fine.  Hmmm

Well, we went to the football game, I think Yale lost but we had a good time any way.  He took me to the  Cape Codder Restaurant in Westville and we ate and talked and really enjoyed each other’s company. Hmmm

We talked on the phone when he didn’t make a mistake and dial the wrong number, if he did, that would be the end of my getting a call from him that week. After dialing the wrong bumber, he would be imbarrassed to call again. He had phone phobia.  We saw each other and went out when we could.  He was busy too.  He was working at Armstrong Rubber Co. in West Haven, 3 to 11 shift and he attended college.  So we didn’t have a lot of time to be with each other.  Which was alright with me because I had my life and responsibilities too.

He would come to my house to see me and my family.  I think my mother grew to love him more than she loved me.

In 1967 we were with our friends Marshall and his wife while they did their grocery shopping, they had gotten married the year before. Matt told me if I could guess the total of their grocery bill he’d give me a prize.  So, since my sister and I had been doing the grocery shopping for our family since we were 14 and 15, when our Stepfather died.  I had a good idea what the total would be.  

Of course I guessed correctly.  For the prize Matt gave me an engagement ring, I was surprised, I cried, I said yes and kissed him.  Marshall’s wife cried, the check out girl cried.  We all were happy and excited.  I did love Matthew Frederick Lopes, Jr.  

I loved him because I knew who he was, he knew me, he was generous with me, he acted like he loved me, he was a gentleman. He was fun and funny.  He wanted to take care of me, he would hold my hand. Plus, he sent me a Love Letter and asked me to be his.   No other man had ever done that.

My family was very happy when I told them we were engaged.  They had already accepted Matt as a member of our family but an engagement meant there would be a wedding.  The young ones, especially, were very excited.

After the initial excitement, life went back to normal.  I worked, Matt was working and still going to school.  And we saw each other when we could.

I didn’t find out until after I was married that some of my siblings friends were mad at Butch.  He was going to take me away from them.  I had been their big sister too.  I took care of them, I took them for walks to Nature Center up West Rock.  My sister and I cut their hair for fifty cents a head in the summers.  They  thought I belonged to them.

When I told the neighbors they were very happy too.  Mrs. Mays, Harry Ammons, the Perry’s, they all liked Butch.  My Grandfather was very happy too he considered Butch to be a doctor already.  He would call on the phone and ask to speak to, “Doctor Butch”.  

We were married in June, 1968.   I wanted to elope but Matt wanted a wedding.  We didn’t have a lot of money. We had to pay for school, buy a car, rent an apartment and furnish it.

Our neighbors came to our rescue with Love. Mrs. Mays had just finished a cake making class and she volunteered to make our wedding cake.  Harry Ammons worked at Keyes Funeral Home on Dixwell Avenue and he gave us, as a gift, every flower that I needed for the wedding and reception. My mother’s boyfriend, Bill, paid for the reception hall, my Uncle, a chef, gave us the reception dinner for $1.00 a plate.  There were 200 guests.  The band was paid for out of the monetary gifts our friends and family gave us. My wedding dress cost $99.00 and I paid for that, it was pretty.  My sisters’ and my Mothers dresses were paid for by my Grandfather.

Matt and I found a very nice one bedroom one bathroom apartment in West Haven.  We then had to shop for furniture.  We went to Bullard’s Furniture Store in downtown New Haven and laid away our furniture.  My employers gave me their credit card and told me to buy whatever I needed for my bathroom.

We felt so loved and fortunate. We had the best family and friends.

The last thing Father Guyer told me after the wedding rehearsal was, “Don’t be late tomorrow”.  The reception hall was not able to be decorated until the morning of the wedding.  So, Bill, my mother’s boyfriend, was the driver of the group of my younger siblings to decorate the hall. He also was my driver to the wedding. My younger sister Muriel, a Bridesmaid, was also in that group.  The time of our wedding was 11:00 a.m.  The time was ticking away and no Bill, no Muriel, no family.  I just sat down and read my Prayer Book that I would be carrying along with the flowers Harry had delivered to the house that morning.  I was fully dressed and could do nothing but wait.  The group returned at 11:00 a.m. My sister had to be dressed, hair done and since we lived on the outskirts of New Haven, it took us a while to get to St. Luke’s Church on Whalley Avenue. I was late.  We got to the church at 11:30 and I could see one of the Groomsmen looking out the door for me.  I felt sad because I had told Father Guyer I would not be late.  But I was still going to be married, I didn’t feel sad about that, I was okay.

When I got inside my father was there to walk me down the aisle. I could also hear some beautiful music playing. I was late and did not get to hear all of it.

We were married in St. Luke’s Episcopal Church.  A High Mass was performed for us, we were served Communion.  It was a beautiful service. The church was beautifully decorated with the flowers that Harry Ammons gave us, it was also packed with our friends and family.

Matt and I were happy to see each other, we wanted to kiss but we had to wait until Father Guyer told us to.  We were happy to hold hands while we said our vows.

And then, we were married.  We were so happy.  We could start living our own lives. We could spend every day and night together now.  Not like the first time I spent the night at Matt’s house, I was 24 years old and getting married the next year, My mother called his house the next morning, and she said, ‘What is your address?  Until you’re married you spend your nights at, 70 H Brookside Avenue. Get home now.” Remember, this was 1968 and the Sexual Revolution was not happening, according to my mother.

We finally kissed and held hands.  We walked down the aisle out the church doors, married and happy.  The sun was warm and shining brightly on us.  So different from the  rain the week before.

We got to the reception hall and everyone was there and
I was happy to see everyone since we had to find a new reception hall two weeks before the wedding, my mothers’ boyfriend had booked his club but when I took my Uncle, the Chef, to see the kitchen, we were told that the hall was booked by another member and we couldn’t have that date.  We found a new hall and new invitations had to be sent out.  It had been a stressful time.

The wedding cake Mrs. Mays created for us was beautiful.  The flowers that Harry Ammons gave us were absolutely beautiful.  The hall was decorated and we were proud to have our friends sitting at tables so beautifully prepared. The food, Matt and I cannot testify to the taste personally.
Every time we wanted to eat, the folks would tap on their glasses and we’d have to kiss.  We had headaches.
We got married on Matt’s fathers birthday.  Everyone sang “Happy Birthday” to him, he was embarrassed, but enjoyed himself.

We danced and did all the Bride and Groom traditional things we had to do.  We just wanted to get home so we could eat and rest.

My Grandfather and his friend. Mrs. Taylor, had been very helpful to us and Matt and I wanted them to see our apartment before they went back to Stamford on the train.
Somehow, word spread that everyone was invited to our new apartment in West Haven.

There were so many people in our little one bedroom one bathroom apartment that people were standing in our bath tub.  It was unbelievable.
 
We finally got rid of them by telling them we were going out west for our honeymoon and would be leaving early in the morning.  We had no plans of going anywhere.  We stayed in West Haven. We would go out to eat hoping not to run into any family or friends.  We had a wonderful Honeymoon in our little apartment, just the two of us.

At this writing we’ve been married almost 54 years. We had a son but lost him, he’s always in our hearts. We retired to Costa Rica and enjoy the warm weather and the many friends that visit us every year. We are happy and Matt still holds my hand.

Matt’s Story
                           
There is a saying, I often heard, while I was in graduate school, that maintained that the complexity of human behavior could be seen as being a product of  our “Nature or our Nurturing”. For me, the truth is that this saying encapsulated my development as an individual. I was born in my mothers seventh month.  Two months early via Caesarean Section and weighed less than two pounds. When viewed by the time of 1943 and  medical neonatal knowledge, my survival could be seen as a small miracle. My postnatal treatment required me to remain in the hospital for many months before I could be taken home. The fact that I survived without any noticeable deficits is a credit to my physicians. My wife, who was born at the same hospital but three months after me, would say that when she departed the hospital, I was still in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit trying to get to five pounds in order to go home.  

We lived in a time when there was segregation but we did not notice, as children, this fact of our societal life. We had a community where we had loving parents, vigilant neighbors, and true friends who cared about each other. Back in this time, doctors even made house calls and children were always under the watchful eyes of the neighbors to make sure we did not get into too much trouble. If we did anything wrong our parents would be told of our poor behavior. In short, It was a village.

Until I reached age 11, the fifth grade in public school, my world was bounded by a single city block called Orchard Street. I was free to travel this block, which was between Golf Street and Webster Street, but not allowed to cross the street. The grammar school (Baldwin School), that I attended, was on the opposite side of my block on County Street and in between were all my playmates, grocery and convenience stores. While not a playmate, my wife was always considered my friend. Call it Kismet, without any awareness on my part, she was  my soulmate. I would often walk, at lunchtime, with her and our mutual friends to the corner of County and Golf Streets. She would cross the street and go home for lunch and I would walk home the long way to my home on the other side of the same block. Daily, my father would walk from his job at Shiffrin’s Package Store on Dixwell Avenue, which was two blocks from our home. I would walk from grammar school and we would meet at the corners of Charles and Orchard. He would give me money to go to the grocery store, down the street, to get our sandwich for lunch. He would prepare the Campbell Soup to eat with the sandwich. We would divide the sandwich and eat our lunch and then return to school and work. My sister was in junior high school and did not come home for lunch.

 This was a time when family and friends quietly rallied behind me and my family to give us support. School became more important, as a means to stabilize my life, from the chaos of loss. All my friends were sympathetic and supportive during this time. Evelyn and her elder sister were part of my social network. At the end of the school year, I would ask Evelyn to be my date at the Saint Luke’s Graduation Party and she would always say yes.

Tragedy, at age six, when my mother suddenly died.
My eldest sister felt our mother’s loss more than I because she was thirteen, and more needing of a mothers guidance. Again, tragedy struck when my father was diagnosed with pleurisy and sent to a sanitarium. The result was that we had to move to the home of my aunt and uncle who lived several blocks away on Admiral Street. I was still in the same grammar school but now had to walk several blocks to school. Fortunately, my father was the lucky recipient of a new antibiotic medication, Streptomycin, which got him home early. Upon his return, we moved across town to public housing in Westville to West Hills Project and he returned to a new job at a private country club in Woodbridge, Connecticut.  

By the time I had reached my eleventh year of life, I had moved, from my home on Orchard Street, two times. The third move to West Hills eventually took me to Middle School at Sheridan Junior High School where my path would again cross with my future wife – Evelyn Miller. During this period, Evelyn and I began to move in different social circles and our paths would not cross again until many years later.  As Fate would have it, my family moved again, when I turned fifteen, to a new home at 459 College Street, in the middle of the Yale University Campus. My father became the Club Steward of the private Elizabethan Club at Yale. We lived in a small residence inside the Club which was a historic white colonial home and included a large stone patio, enclosed croquet court, and long manicured backyard. Crossing the backyard of the Club, took me directly next to the New Haven Public Library on the corner of Trumbull and Elm Street. I became a regular at the Library reading many books on science fiction. The New Haven Library would play an important part in my future but I did not know it then.

It was during this period of my life when I began to believe that I could also attend a  university such as Yale. The students, who were members of the Club, were very nice and seemed not too different from me, with the exception of our respective ages. I also recalled that while I was living on Orchard Street, a conversation my father had with one of his friends concerning the Rev. Ledbetter and one of the revered sons attending Yale. It seemed a big deal to them. Yale didn’t mean anything to me then but now It occurred to me that a member of our social circle could go to a school such as Yale, why not me or my friends?

A small group of friends emerged who had the same inspirations to go to college and eventually become successful in some profession when they became adults. The questions we all had to answer were: where, how, and when would we move on? Secondly, we had to ask ourselves – “What resources did we need or have now to make our dreams a reality?” Overtime, with encouragement from each other, we achieved our dreams.

In 1965, I again encountered Evelyn Miller on the New Haven Green. I had completed and served three years active duty in the U.S. Army. Fate had placed her in my path again. We had a shared history going back to our days in Kindergarten. Like me she was ambitious and trying to improve herself by self-education using the public library. We had chosen different paths to achieve the same aim of education and upward mobility. My goal entailed a long plan to attend college and possibly Yale. We talked briefly and I got her home telephone number which I quickly used.

The beginning of a courtship began with my asking Evelyn to attend a Saturday Yale football game and dinner at a local restaurant.  We laughed and talked about ourselves and our dreams and I realized that she was special. It was great! We saw each other again and I eventually told her that we were going to get married. I don’t think, in retrospect, that she believed me but I knew she was the one. Evelyn came to the same conclusion about me. It seemed natural that we began to plan our future together.

While we knew we had many friends and extended family, we could hardly have known then how much they were in our corner until we began to plan our marriage and future.The influence of the element of “Nurturing” on our individual choices would show its influence in our planning and its results. I wanted a church wedding, which spoke to my being both a romantic and traditionalist. Evelyn, being more conservative, wanted to simply elope. I suspect that these opposing views were a product of  the Forces of Nuture in our early development. I had come from a small family unit while she had been in a family of seven children which required a great deal of sacrifice and economy on her part to maintain a functioning home environment. Yet, in the end, our opposite viewpoints were resolved by Evelyn’s concession of a wedding at my Episcopal Church of Saint Luke’s. Being young, in-experienced, and low-income meant that we did not have wedding planners. Over time, we began to put the pieces of our life’s journey together. The answer to the questions of who, what, where, when, and how fell into place. In our preparation, we had both needed to learn how to drive and get our licenses, lay-away furniture, purchase kitchen utensils, completely stock our kitchen, find a residence, and organize a wedding and reception. We worked to solve these issues as a team.

We had never seen the need to drive since public transit and private cab services had been sufficient until now. Thinking about the future, our needs for mobility had changed. Driving school was required for us both and was a real challenge. Evelyn’s step-father had died in a car accident when she was young, which badly traumatized her, but we both did get our licenses. Having a car increased the area we could use to explore where we would eventually find our first home. My first new car, a Volkswagen Beetle, from the showroom cost $2,100, including the finance charges from the bank, and gasoline cost ten cents a gallon. A full gas tank would last one week and cost only $2.00 to fill-up.  Evelyn took to driving like a professional once she got her driver’s license but, compared to me, she had a heavy foot on the accelerator. Evelyn, being the more practical one of the two of us, was a master of buying things via the Lay-Away plan. The logic behind her thinking was that while in Lay-Away, we could secure the products, such as furniture, while keeping the price stable and not having to pay for storage until we needed it. In our pre-marriage period, I lived in a house with my eldest sister. Evelyn and I would work at our respective jobs weekly and on the weekends spend time together at my home. We continued to attend Yale Football Games with our friends during this period. Evelyn’s family took me in immediately as a new member of their family. My step-mother and eldest sister were slow to embrace Evelyn into the family. My father immediately saw Evelyn as my wife and member of the family. He probably remembered her from those early years on Orchard Street and the graduation parties at Saint Luke’s. In retrospect, Evelyn had always been a part of our lives.

 We did not know until we began to plan our wedding on how much support our friends would provide. As the date of the wedding approached, we discovered that a family friend, who had recently completed a training in cake making, would provide us with our wedding cake for free. Another friend volunteered to provide us with a reception site at his rod and gun club. Another friend said that they would provide all of the flowers for the wedding and reception. Evelyn’s uncle, a professional caterer, would provide us with 200 meals, for a cost of $1.00/plate. Another family member agreed to be the photographer for the wedding. The organist at Saint Luke’s said he would compose a special musical program of trumpet and brass just for us. My soon-to-be mother-in-law made me a very large pot of turkey soup since I had to take possession of our new apartment, one week before the wedding. I did not know how to cook. The soup lasted the entire week as I kept adding water to the pot.

Things were moving along smoothly, until disaster struck. Mike Tyson, when interviewed before a heavyweight fight, once said, “Everyone has a plan before the fight and before they get hit in the face”, so it was with us. Our reception site had to be changed two weeks before the wedding because they canceled our reservation for another member of the club. This meant that new invitations had to be made, sent out, and a response made by the recipients. In addition, a new reception site had to be quickly found for the wedding  and decorated. Evelyn became physically ill from all of the sudden stress. Our photographer, on the night before the wedding, was in a serious car accident. Which left us without any picture taker. Luckily, people took Polaroid pictures and gave them to us. In addition, because we had to change the location of the reception site, an Italian American Hall, we were delayed in decorating the hall due to its use that Friday night. The hall did get decorated but one bridesmaid, Evelyn’s baby-sister, helping to decorate was late in getting prepared for the wedding.  Her delay caused a delay in Evelyn’s arrival at the church. The wedding did take place and included a high communion service. At the reception, we had a special birthday cake made for my father who was celebrating his birthday on this same day. Evelyn and I did not get to eat any of the food prepared by her uncle because our guest kept clinking their glasses for us to kiss and we also had to make our rounds to each table. I had eaten the last of the turkey soup Friday night and was starving as was Evelyn. Making our table rounds did however help us in paying for the live band we had hired for the reception. The money we received in wedding gifts was used to pay the band.

We had told everyone that after our wedding we planned to go West for our honeymoon. Apparently, our plan to escape the wedding guest was not sufficient. Many came to our new apartment to see our new home, we had only invited Evelyn’s Grandfather, but so many people came to our one bedroom apartment that they were standing in the bathtub. When everyone had departed, we parked our car in a hidden location for the next week. That night, we went down to Jimmies Sea Food Restaurant and ate our dinner.  We stayed in West Haven which was West, as we had told folks. When people knew that we had returned, we had house visitors for the entire month.

We have been married now for nearly 55 years—June 2023. We have enjoyed great successes  and suffered great losses together. The binding force is our love for each other which has sustained us in life’s trials. I cannot believe that I would be the person I am today without the love and support of the girl that I met back on County Street in Baldwin School.