My great-grandparents Henry Austin Carringer (1853-1946) and Abbey Ardelle "Della" Smith (1862-1944) married on 11 September 1887 in Wano, Cheyenne County, Kansas. I told their life stories in ABC Biography of #12 Henry Austin Carringer (1853-1946) of Pennsylvania, Iowa, Colorado and California and ABC Biography of #13 Abbey Ardelle "Della" (Smith) Carringer (1862-1944) of Wisconsin, Iowa, Kansas, Nebraska, and California based on my genealogical and family history research over 38 years.
I don't have any "family stories" about their early life except what is in the records I have from family sources, books and periodicals, and online record collections. Fortunately, I have Della's scrapbook, my grandfather's photo collection from three generations, and a number of records about their life in San Diego.
This is a series of short stories. The earlier stories are:
- "Austin and Della: Life Stories - Part 2: New Beginnings" - AI-Assisted Historical Fiction
- "Austin and Della Life Stories - Part 3: Joy and Sorrow" - AI-Assisted Historical Fiction
- "Austin and Della Life Stories - Part 4: Second Chances" - AI-Assisted Historical Fiction
- "Austin and Della Life Stories - Part 5: Roots and Branches" - AI-Assisted Historical Fiction
- "Austin and Della Life Stories: Part 6: Life Happens" - AI-Assisted Historical Fiction
Part 7: The Golden Years (1937-1946)
The morning of September 11, 1937, dawned clear and bright in San Diego. Austin, now eighty-four, stood in his garden surveying the fruit trees and flower beds that had become his pride and joy in retirement. Today was special - he and Della were celebrating their golden wedding anniversary, fifty years since that September day in 1887 when they had pledged their lives to each other.
"Fifty years," Della mused as she pinned the blue and gold True Vow Keeper button to Austin's lapel. At seventy-three, she remained the organized, thoughtful woman he had fallen in love with in Colorado and Kansas, though her hair was now silver and her hands showed the wear of decades of gardening and homemaking.
The San Diego Union had sent a reporter, Forrest Warren, to interview them for what would become a touching tribute to their enduring partnership. As Austin loaded his wheelbarrow with tree trimmings - still unable to sit idle even at his advanced age - he reflected on the journey that had brought them to this moment.
"We came to San Diego on our honeymoon," he told the reporter, "and are just one month short of having been here fifty years. I had twenty dollars in my pocket when we landed here." The memory brought a smile to his weathered face. That young man with twenty dollars had built a life beyond his wildest dreams.
Della, ever practical, added their own perspective: "We have lived here on this block thirty-nine years. We built this house. On our lot we have planted and grown most every kind of fruit and vegetable that grows in California. Flowers have always been my hobby."
The reporter was particularly intrigued by Austin's second career. "Life as a skilled mechanic started at sixty-nine for Mr. Carringer," Warren wrote, "when he took a job as airplane repair man at Rockwell field." The article noted that Austin had witnessed the airplane develop from its primitive state to its present high efficiency, working with wood propellers that evolved into the more sophisticated aircraft of the 1930s.
On their piano sat one of Austin's proudest creations - a highly polished wooden propeller more than eight feet long that he had crafted for experimental purposes. It represented the intersection of his traditional woodworking skills with the cutting-edge technology of flight, a perfect symbol of his ability to adapt and grow throughout his life.
The reporter corrected one detail that had become confused over the years - Austin had actually worked at Rockwell Field for ten years, not fifteen, but his impact had been so significant that it felt like longer to his colleagues. When he retired on his seventy-ninth birthday, the superintendent E.G. Lupton, along with 114 employees, had signed a letter of appreciation and presented him with that comfortable easy chair.
"It's a nice chair," Austin chuckled, "but up to now I've been too busy to use it much."
The family had grown and prospered. Their son Lyle had "grown up" in the Marston store, starting work there at fourteen and now holding a position in the business offices. He lived with his wife Emily and daughter Betty at 2130 Fern Street, which adjoined the Carringer property. Betty, now in her second year at State college, represented the new generation of educated women that Austin and Della had helped nurture.
When asked about their philosophy of life, Della's response reflected the values that had sustained them through five decades of marriage: "We have worked hard as partners and tried always to be kind and helpful to others. After all, we are of the opinion that this is the best religion to make a happy and successful life."
The anniversary celebration was a testament to their deep roots in the community. The article noted that "some of their old time neighbors who have lived in the Brooklyn Heights district will felicitate Mr. and Mrs. Carringer today." These were people who remembered when the nearest streetcar was at Sixteenth and Broadway, and Austin and Della would load their horse-drawn surrey with neighbors - "crammed full of men, women and children" - to transport them to the Broadway car line.
(image from San Diego Union newspaper article, 11 September 1937)
The golden anniversary marked not just their personal milestone but the transformation of San Diego itself. The rural outpost where they had arrived with twenty dollars had become a thriving city. The Brooklyn Heights neighborhood, once accessible only by surrey, was now connected by streetcar lines and paved roads.
Austin continued his daily routine of property maintenance and garden work, wheelbarrow in hand, defying his eighty-four years with characteristic determination. The apartments they rented out provided steady income and kept them engaged with the community. Della's artistic talents, evidenced by her paintings, had taken a back seat to property management in recent years. "No, I have been too busy to paint," she told the reporter, but her creative eye was still evident in the beautiful home furnishings Austin had crafted to her designs.
The collection of photographs that Della had carefully preserved told the story of their neighborhood's evolution. These images would become treasured documents for future generations, showing how a corner of San Diego had transformed from agricultural land to a thriving residential district.
As their golden anniversary year continued, Austin and Della settled into a comfortable routine. The recognition they had received, the True Vow Keeper buttons they wore with pride, and the newspaper article that celebrated their partnership all confirmed what they had always known - that their marriage had been built on solid foundations of mutual respect, shared work, and dedication to family and community.
In 1939, recognizing the practical realities of their advancing age, Austin and Della made an important decision. On July 9th, they executed a power of attorney appointing their son Lyle as their legal representative. However, true to their cautious, methodical nature, they limited his authority, requiring written approval from both of them for any decisions involving their real property. Even in their eighties, they maintained control over the empire they had built together.
The arrangement reflected their confidence in Lyle's abilities while preserving their own autonomy. It was a practical acknowledgment that they might need assistance in the future, but not a surrender of their independence. The apartments on Fern Street, the duplex on 30th Street, and the gardens they had cultivated with their own hands remained under their direct oversight.
As the 1940s dawned, Austin and Della could look back on a life well-lived. From their humble beginnings in Kansas and Colorado, through their arrival in San Diego with twenty dollars, to their position as respected property owners and community members, they had embodied the American dream of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.
The airplane propeller on their piano, the True Vow Keeper buttons, the comfortable easy chair, and the carefully maintained gardens all told the story of a couple who had never stopped growing, learning, and contributing to the world around them. Austin's transition from carpenter to aviation mechanic in his late sixties remained one of the most remarkable chapters in their story, proof that age need not be a barrier to new adventures.
Their legacy was secured not just in the buildings Austin had constructed or the properties they owned, but in the family they had raised and the community they had helped build. Betty's success at State College, Lyle's advancement at Marston's, and the neighborhood that had grown up around their corner lot all bore witness to their influence.
As they moved through their final years together, Austin and Della continued to embody the values that had sustained them for fifty years of marriage: hard work, kindness to others, and the belief that partnership and service to community were the foundations of a meaningful life. The True Vow Keepers they had become were not just celebrating longevity, but the depth and quality of a union that had weathered all of life's storms and emerged stronger with each passing year.
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(Austin and Della in about 1940, from family sources, colorized)
The Final Chapter
The war years of the early 1940s brought changes to San Diego and to the Carringer household. The city that had been their home for over fifty years was now a major military hub, with Consolidated Aircraft and other defense contractors transforming the landscape. North Island, where Austin had worked on those early aircraft, had become a crucial naval air station. The quiet residential streets of their neighborhood now bustled with activity as servicemen and defense workers filled the city.
On 12 July 1942, Austin and Della witnessed the marriage of their granddaughter, Betty Virginia Carringer, to Frederick Walton Seaver in All Saints Episcopal Church in San Diego. They enjoyed seeing their granddaughter thrive and were fortunate to see Fred and Betty often before Fred’s enlistment in the U.S. Navy. Fred and Betty’s son Randall was born on 23 October 1943 and the great-grandparents were ecstatic.On 1 January 1944, at the age of eighty-one, Della's long and productive life came to an end. After fifty-six years of marriage, Austin found himself alone in the house they had built together, surrounded by the furniture he had crafted and the gardens she had tended. The woman who had designed their home's furnishings, held the lamp while he worked late into the night, and maintained correspondence with family scattered across the country was gone. Her collection of family photographs, carefully preserved letters, and the 1929 diary that captured their daily joys would become treasured links to her memory.
The loss of his lifelong partner was devastating for Austin. The man who had remained active well into his eighties, wheelbarrow in hand, caring for their properties and gardens, now faced each day without the woman who had been his constant companion since their courtship in Colorado. Their son Lyle and his family provided comfort and support, but the house on 30th Street felt empty without Della's presence.
Austin continued for two more years, maintaining his routines as best he could. The apartment buildings still required attention, the gardens still needed care, and the business affairs that he and Della had managed together still demanded his oversight. But at ninety-three, the combination of age and grief was taking its toll on the man who had seemed indestructible.
On a quiet November day in 1946, Henry Austin Carringer joined his beloved Della in death. He was ninety-three years old, having lived through the entire transformation of San Diego from a frontier town to a major American city. The boy who had arrived from Pennsylvania, Iowa, Colorado and Kansas in 1887 with dreams of California had exceeded every expectation, building not just houses but a legacy that would endure for generations.
The obituaries that appeared in the San Diego newspapers told the story of a remarkable life. Here was a man who had homesteaded in Kansas, built homes throughout San Diego's early development, and at the age of sixty-nine had begun an entirely new career maintaining the aircraft that represented the future of transportation. His ten years at Rockwell Field had made him a pioneer in aviation maintenance, working alongside men young enough to be his grandsons.
The community they had helped build mourned their passing. Neighbors in the Brooklyn Heights area remembered the couple who had provided transportation to the streetcar line in their horse-drawn surrey, who had transformed their corner lot into a showcase of California horticulture, and who had always been ready to lend a helping hand to those in need.
Their legacy was written in the buildings Austin had constructed throughout San Diego, structures that would shelter families for generations to come. It was preserved in the apartment buildings they had built and managed, providing homes for countless residents. Most importantly, it lived on in their family - their son Lyle, their granddaughter Betty, and the generations that would follow.
The True Vow Keepers buttons they had worn with such pride at their golden anniversary symbolized more than just longevity. They represented a partnership built on mutual respect, shared dreams, and unwavering commitment to each other and their community. In an era when marriages were often matters of convenience or economic necessity, Austin and Della had demonstrated that true love could endure and flourish over the course of nearly six decades.
The wooden propeller that Austin had crafted, still displayed prominently in their home, remained a symbol of his willingness to embrace change and growth at any age. The easy chair presented to him by his aviation colleagues stood as a testament to the respect he had earned from men who could have been his great-grandsons. The careful gardens that had provided both beauty and sustenance spoke to their belief in nurturing growth and creating something lasting.
As San Diego continued to grow and change in the years following their deaths, the neighborhood they had helped establish remained a testament to their vision. The corner of 30th and Hawthorn, where they had first built their modest home, had become part of a thriving residential district that balanced urban convenience with suburban comfort.
Their story - from homesteaders in Kansas to pioneers in California, from young newlyweds with twenty dollars to prosperous property owners, from traditional craftsman to aviation mechanic - embodied the American dream of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. They had lived through the transformation of the American West, the birth of aviation, two world wars, and the Great Depression, adapting to each change while maintaining their core values of hard work, family loyalty, and service to community.
The boxes of photographs, letters, and memorabilia that Della had so carefully preserved would continue to tell their story to future generations. These tangible pieces of their lives would help their descendants understand not just who Austin and Della were, but what they had accomplished together. In an age before modern record-keeping, Della's careful preservation of family history ensured that their legacy would endure.
Henry Austin Carringer and Abbey Ardelle "Della" Smith had kept their vows to each other and to the community they had chosen to call home. Their story was one of love, perseverance, and the belief that with hard work and dedication, any dream could be achieved. In the end, they had built more than houses - they had built a life that would inspire generations to come.
This is the period of their lives that they were "retired" but they continued working and enjoyed their life in San Diego and their family.
I want to believe the above fictional account and dialogue is realistic, but it is historical fiction based on my extensive family history research. The account is touching and heartfelt.
In all the photographs I have of Austin and Della, I don't have any with them smiling. I do have this image taken from the home movie of my first birthday in October 1944 after Della's passing:
This is a series of fictional short stories about the lives of Austin and Della (Smith) Carringer based on records and memories of their lives. Getting married in Kansas in 1887, the honeymoon trip to San Diego, raising a family, owning and building their own house, their son marrying, having a grandchild, and living out their lives for almost 60 more years!
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