Lee Norton Goodliff Weaver was born May 15, 1893, in Columbus, Ohio, to Lemuel and Effie Lee Weaver. It did not take long after starting school that he would forever drop the use of the first of his middle names and become simply Lee Goodliff Weaver [something about being called Lee No Good Weaver by classmates was the factor in this decision]. Lee would grow up around the family homestead in Southfield, Michigan, and for a time his family lived with his maternal grandparents, Charles Norton and Esther Jenks Lee in the house built by her father, Morris Jenks. [Goodliff was the name of his paternal grandfather, Goodliff Weaver] The Weaver family eventually built a home on Tireman at the corner of Scotten in Detroit. At the age of 12, Lee was reported to have purchased the lot next door to the one purchased by his parents.
Lee would marry Florence Koontz on April 27, 1918, also in Columbus, but the young couple settled in Lee’s home in Detroit, Michigan. The Weaver home on Tireman was a duplex and Lee and Florence lived in the upper unit there until 1929. Both of the Weaver daughters were born in that home.
Grandpa was called Grandpa Lee not Grandpa Weaver, at the insistence of Grandma Florence. When my older cousin was born she defined that she was to be Grandma Florence, NOT Grandma Weaver. Grandma Weaver was her mother-in-law and she really did not care for her at all. So, to follow suit, Grandpa was Grandpa Lee.
Grandpa was a great friend and grandfather. Whether it was taking the whole family to the Masonic Temple in Detroit to watch first run movies in the Consistory Auditorium (a perk of Grandpa being a 32nd degree mason), flashing his Consistory ring in the eye of a policeman that pulled him over for speeding (the diamond was quite flashy) to let him know he was a high degree Brother Mason, or just taking his four grandsons to Camp Dearborn for the day whenever the Eastern Star had a card party and the boys needed to be “supervised”, or teaching us the fine art of poker when he was watching the boys during the evening when he had a chance, Grandpa was the best.
I still remember by last visit with Grandpa. My mother kept trying to get him to tell me good bye since I would be going back to college the next day. Grandpa refused, saying, that he wouldn’t do it because he was never going to see me again. He died a couple of days later on January 10, 1970.