“This story didn’t involve me, but actually happened to my folks and my brother.
We had been transferred to Flagstaff from Prescott (Arizona) on election day 1948. It was a sudden transfer, one in which dad wasn’t even given a chance to consider before he was told he had the job. So, mom, my brother Everett, and I went to Flagstaff to find a house.
After several days of hard looking, all we found was a summer cottage south of town which had one bedroom, a wood stove, and a large sitting room. It also sported an outhouse, a woodshed, and two big wooden barrels for hauling water. We didn’t have any choice, and the rent was in our price range, so we took it.