Modern-Day Ann Arbor Pains 2 Elderly Sisters

The two elderly sisters clearly don't like the Ann Arbor of today, and they long for the days when women dressed modestly, men were polite to women, and ladies could walk the streets at night without fear. They still live at 140 Hill, these two unmarried sisters, in an ancient house maybe 100 or more years old. The house has one of those tiny "Michigan cellars," made of white, unfinisheti stone, that was plenty big enough for the shorter generations of those days. In the backyard, concord grapes planted ages ago grow profusely, and there's still an old cistern with a hand pump in which they once used to trap rainwater for the Monday wash. The1 cistern is connected to the eavestroughs. Inside the house, antiques and the scent of old Ann Arbor are everywhere. Ruth and Luella M. Weinmann have lived here since the turn of the century - never anywhere else - and from here they've watched Ann Arbor change with little enthusiasm. This used to be a quiet, treelined neighborhood, most of whose residents carried German-sounding names. The sisters' grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. William Weinmann Sr., came here from Germany in the early 19th century. Their parents, Mr. and Mrs. William Weinmann Jr. raised 12 children in this house. All are dead and gone now, excépt Ruth, 68, and Luella, 66. Not so long ago, the city limits of Ann Arbor ended at the nearby American Legión post on Main St, and everything south of that was country. Now, a lot of the1 sisters' old acquaintances have moved away from the neighborhood, and there are lots of students living nearby. Sirens - pólice, fire, ambulance - are often heard passing by. "It seems I he-ar them all day long," sighs Ruth Weinman, who has been crippled with polio since childhood. The sisters are worried about the increasing crime rate in the area, the muggings, the assaults. They are also conceïned about the loöks of their get into cars. It was safer then. When we wete young ladies, my, we'd come home from the movies or the skating rink at 11 p.m., and didn't think anything of it. There wasn't anything to be afraid of." "The boys we knew used to be full of the dickens," Ruth chimed in, "but they never did anything vicious." Both sisters agreed that men were kinder and politer to women when they were young. "Today the younger generation is too fast living," said Luella. "Half of the1 parents don't know where their kids are." "Seems you can't do anything with them," said Ruth. anyone else's husband. Besides, the way people live nowdays, it's safer not to be married." But in some respects, Ann Arbor pe'rhaps has not changed. Ruth still remembers the famous "Star Theater Riot" of 1908 during which University students roamed the downtown área throwing eggs, vegetables, and bricks. The Star Theater was a "nickel" motion picture1 house located on the south side of E. Washington St. between Main St. and S. Fourth Ave. One night, a University student who was whistling during a showing was ejected. A fight broke out, and a couple days later a thousand students descended on the borhood. "Feopie usea 10 Keep up their homes better," recalls Luella. "It's getting too expensive to live in Ann Arbor," says Ruth. "All these taxes, and the food prices." "I don't like it here anymore," says Luella. "I'd like to move, if I could." Luella used to work for the University. "When I worked there1, the students really looked nice. Now they look like a bunch of pigs. Honestly! They really do. And those coeds With those miniskirts. They look like they ran out of material. "Half of those girls, they ask for it - hitchhiking and getting I into cars like they do," Luefllai warmed to her subject. "When we were young, we were taught Inot to talk to strange men and Nêithërofthe; sisters ever gave much thought to marriage, and don't appear to regret not ha ving husbands. "I never had time to get married," said Luella. "Never gave it a thought. All my girl friends who married college students and left Ann Arbor came back here finally afteï their husbands left them. I don't want Theater and virtually 1 ished it. Eighteen students were jailed. Neither of the sisters belongs to a senior citizens group. "Those1 women talk too much," says Luella, who concedes that she's no Silent Sal herself. "They make me nervous. Besides, married women ought to stay at home."