Welsh Strawbridge White (1940 - 2005)

Born 17 Apr 1940 in Philadelphia, PA

Ancestors

Died 31 Dec 2005 at age 65 in Pittsburgh , PA

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Biography

He married, first, in Philadelphia on 15 May 1965, Joyce McElheny, who was called “Kate” by Welsh and his family. The marriage ended in divorce in October 1974. He married, second, on 1 June 1979, Linda May Timmons.

Welsh grew up in Philadelphia as a boy who loved sports. He excelled in soccer, tennis, and squash, and loved to follow professional boxing, baseball, and basketball. He also was an excellent student, starting at Chestnut Hill Academy and later transferring to the William Penn Charter School. For a short time in 1945, he attended school in San Francisco, where his family moved while his father was serving on a Navy ship. Welsh discovered Shakespeare at an early age, and loved to perform long passages he had memorized, for family members. He won prizes for English and French on graduation.

Welsh enjoyed going to his grandmother’s summer place in Camden, Maine, during the summers when he was younger, before he started going to overnight summer camps. Later in life, he wrote his recollections of those days, for inclusion in a family newsletter:

During the forties, I spent most of my summers with my grandmother (Mary Lowber Sailer) and some of her other grandchildren in her big house on Chestnut St. in Camden, Maine. My memories of the summers of l947–48 are fairly good; so I will recount some of them. One of my favorite parts of the summer was the train trip from Philadelphia to Camden. The train would leave 30th St. at Philadelphia in the early evening and would arrive in Rockland the next morning. We would have dinner on the train, sometimes in the restaurant car, and would sleep in a bunk bed. In l947, I went up on the train with cousin John Stokes; in l948, I traveled with Hattie, one of Granny’s two maids. When I traveled with Hattie, I remember that we could not eat in the restaurant car because they would not serve black people there. We had the dinner brought to our seats. I remember that my meal, which included steak, cost $4, which seemed an outrageously high price at that time. The house on Chestnut Street was a huge green wooden house. It had a somewhat spooky appearance and was wonderful for exploring. Even though I spent many summers there, I don’t think I ever saw all the rooms. Granny would sometimes have 7 or 8 grandchildren staying for most of the summers, 3 or 4 guests visiting for shorter periods, and always 2 maids sleeping in the maids’ rooms. Yet there always seemed to be plenty of space. During the summers of l947–48, I slept in a room that was at the very end of the house and had a nice view of the bay. You could see boats bobbing in the blue ocean. Other cousins also generally kept the same rooms. I remember that Priscilla, the oldest grandchild and Granny’s favorite, had the room next to Granny. The grandchildren, especially the younger ones, followed a regular routine. We always went to the beach in the morning and the lake in the afternoon. During those years, I especially liked the walk to the beach. It seemed as if we were on a path in the middle of the woods when all of a sudden a magnificent view of the beach appeared. Granny always drove us to the lake in her old green car, a 1926 [sic; actually 1923] Moon in excellent condition. The color of the Moon matched the color of the house.

The part of the day I least liked was right after lunch. All the younger grandchildren would have to take a nap. The nap probably lasted only an hour, but it seemed longer. Aside from going to the beach and lake, some of my favorite activities involved playing in the den. The den was totally child oriented. It had a wonderful supply of blocks and I used to spend hours building elaborate houses. We would also sometimes play croquet or other games outside the house.

Granny was strict. If you disobeyed, you were punished. But in those summers, I can’t really remember any punishments. Everyone knew that you had to do what Granny said. Certain basic principles were drilled into our heads: “No one says ‘no’ to Granny; no one says ‘won’t’ to Granny.” If you recognized that Granny was in charge, it was easy to get along. Granny was born in l875. At 73 and 74 (her ages in l947–48), she looked old because her hair was gray and her face was very wrinkled. Nevertheless, she was ramrod straight and vigorous both in mind and body. She would generally walk three miles a day for her “constitution” and she played competitive duplicate bridge until she was well into her eighties.

Granny was fair; but she did make mistakes. I remember in one of those summers my cousin Larry and I were at the Camden library. For some reason, I was waving my hand in front of Larry’s face; irritated, he gave me a little bite on one of my fingers. It was no big deal; but at lunch somebody asked me about the mark on my finger. Without thinking, I responded, “Oh that’s where Larry bit me.” Larry’s mother, Aunt Alice, said, “Oh Larry, how could you?” But Larry immediately said he hadn’t done it. Then, Granny looked closely at my finger and decided that the mark didn’t look like a bite. She thought rather it had been caused by a stone. During the regular nap hour after lunch, Granny interrogated me about the mark on my finger. For quite awhile I adhered to my story, since it was the truth. But Granny had a variety of effective interrogation techniques. I remember one central theme was that people who tell the truth are respected. If you tell a lie, you’re not respected. She told me some of the people who were respected because they told the truth. My father was one, cousin John Stokes was another. Then she came up with what was probably the clincher. She said, “You were somebody who was respected because you tell the truth. Until this incident, everybody thought you were an honest honorable person.” I was concerned about this and asked if people’s opinions about me were irrevocably changed. Granny said, “No. Its never too late to tell the truth. If you admit that you lied about Larry and say what really happened to your finger, then people will respect you just as they did before.” That was enough for me. I then admitted that I had lied about Larry and had really hurt my finger on a stone. After my admission, I had to apologize to Larry for falsely accusing him. Larry graciously accepted my apology.

Although Granny was certainly an honest and honorable person, in the interest of a greater good, she would occasionally tell a falsehood herself. During one of those summers, I asked her what happened to the maiden who fell off Maiden’s cliff. Granny told me that the girl was very badly hurt and was in the hospital for a long time. But she said that the young have remarkable recuperative powers and, in fact, the girl completely recovered and was now an old woman living in Camden. I completely believed this story. In fact, about 20 years later, I was telling some of my relatives and others about how the girl who fell off Maiden’s cliff went on to make a complete recovery and to lead a long productive life. I never finished the story, however, because it was interrupted by laughter. As I later learned, Ms. French, the girl who fell off Maiden’s Cliff died after the fall, which occurred during the l860s. I guess Granny didn’t want an eight year old boy to confront this grim reality.

Welsh went on to study at Harvard College, again with academic success. He continued with sports, though not at the intercollegiate level, playing squash and soccer. He started out majoring in mathematics, switched to economics, and ended up with English, because of his continued love of Shakespeare. He kept up a lively correspondence with his mother, often filling her in on the mundane details of college life, but occasionally bursting into youthful playfulness:

[postmarked 23 January 1960]

Dear Mom,

Thank you for your letter. It ran my streak to twelve. I have been studying very hard for the exams and everything seems very tense, though Dean maintains his customary good spirits. Yesterday I took the Physics exam and I think I did well; but I felt at times like a pitcher who had once had a great fast ball, but had lost it and had to rely on his cunning and wiles to get by. Well, well, I see I talk but idly and you laugh at me.

I still think I got a B on the exam and if I could [get] a B on it, I should be able to get B’s in my other subjects. Bob and I saw the fight last night; it was very poor and though neither man fought at all, I think the decision going to Pender was a mistake.

I have still not yet completely decided my major though I have officially changed in to economics, I can easily change again into anything I want to, that includes a dragon, a bear, or a lion, but not of course a hippopotamus.

Love,

Macbeth

After college, Welsh attended the University of Pennsylvania Law School, where he applied himself enthusiastically to his studies and did very well. After law school, he worked for a time in the law firm that had been his grandfather’s, and where his father and uncle were partners, White & Williams. He fairly soon found that corporate practice was not where his interests lay, and he went to work as an Assistant District Attorney in the office of District Attorney (later U.S. Senator) Arlen Specter.

After a few years in the District Attorney’s office, Welsh moved into the field of teaching, which turned out to be his true calling, and where his achievements earned him great respect and honors. He was a long-time professor at the University of Pittsburgh law school, where he was “a devoted teacher, who was beloved by his students, and a committed colleague, who always found time to serve as a thoughtful and caring mentor.” He published numerous articles and several books on the death penalty, and he worked steadily to save clients from death sentences and to work toward the eventual abolition of the penalty.

Welsh was a devoted family man, with children from two marriages. He continued a very active life until he was stricken with lung cancer in 2005 and died on the last day of the year.

Sources

• Strawbridge Family History
• Find A Grave: Memorial #91125829
• Alexander S. White, "Sailers and Strawbridges in America", White Knight Press, 2019.