Follow
ALLGOOD ELLIS NEELY ‘Bud’ or ‘Ellis’ September 1, 1904 - May 24, 1982; 77 years old
By Robert Ellis "Bob" Neely and William Gene "Bill" Neely
- The major part of this text was written by Bob in the first person. Supplementary comments by Bill appear in italics.
Although endowing his mother with almost saint-like qualities, Dad did not speak much about his family for some never mentioned reason. We have heard that Dad and his father Will had some sort of fight. Therefore, leaving the family was not friendly, from which we infer that it was easier to avoid the subject than to dwell upon it. I recall Dad speaking fondly of many of his brothers and sisters. I think he was especially close to U.R. and Red. When we lived in Tempe we socialized fairly often with Uncle S.T. and Aunt Bonnie. I always thought it was funny when my Dad referred to Uncle T. as the mayor of Yaqui Town, (Guadelupe). We put many turns on the ice cream freezer there. Just an aside, I thought Joe Bob (their son) was a great guy because he was a pilot. He gave me my first airplane ride from the Tempe airport. I'll bet not many people even know that Tempe had an airport. I even remember that the plane was a surplus Navy trainer, a Timm.
Dad was born in Waxahachie, Ellis County, Texas but was fond of calling Maypearl his home, saying that "I can't spell Waxahachie."
We think Dad left home as a teenager. It was apparently during these years that he acquired the "Tuffy" moniker. In college he was nearly always called "Bud"; Tuffy was used a little. I think he was called Tuffy around Gilbert some.
We know little about daily family life when Dad was growing up aside from occasional references to the difficulties of living which have been written by others.
However, we do know that Dad and Otto drove livestock cross-country from Barstow, Texas, arriving in Gilbert on December 25, 1922. Dad was 18 and Otto was 22. The arrival was noted in a newspaper clipping shown me by Aunt Edna. Progress was slow because they had to move from water hole to water hole. In his words, "Sometimes five miles, sometimes ten miles per day." We have heard that they could not locate water one evening and had to make a "dry camp." A mule became restless sometime during the night. They cut him loose, which then led them to water. We recall Dad saying that they had to buy water for the stock in New Mexico, paying twenty five cents per bucket. "I've never seen animals so thirsty," he said. He never mentioned how many buckets they drank but considering the economy of the time, twenty five cents was a goodly amount of money. Dad told me that Grandad Neely put everything he owned - farm equipment, household goods, etc., on a train car he hired. Bud and Otto herded the animals across county and carried other things in a wagon. A stray dog took up with them somewhere west of El Paso. They let him tag along, figuring to feed him their leftovers. This plan went awry because there were no leftovers. Dad said they killed the dog to prevent it from starving. Dad laughed a lot about this. I don't think they killed him but kidded about it.
At some time during this period, Dad worked on Roosevelt Dam using a fresno scraper pulled by mules. Dad also worked mules building the original Lake Pleasant Dam. He told me that he was hired because he pointed out to a foreman that the mule skinner didn't know how to fit the mules' collars correctly, causing them to be injured. Apparently, this is how he got the job.
Dad must have traveled to Chicago after leaving Arizona. He was a lifelong supporter of the Salvation Army because it "saved his life in Chicago" by giving him a heavy coat during that winter when no one else would help him. It may also be assumed that the Salvation Army provided some shelter and food until he found work or moved on. He worked for some unknown time as an interpreter of Spanish. His was what we would today call "ditchbank conversation”.
Dad entered Decatur Baptist College in Decatur, Texas for the 1925-1926 school year. He was reputedly recruited to the college as an athlete by U.R., who was coaching there. We have a picture of him in a letterman's sweater. Bill holds Dad's college yearbook. The year book is well signed by many of Dad's classmates and teachers. Apparently he was well liked. There are several pictures of him in his atheletic uniforms. He was a very handsome fellow. This yearbook also has a good picture of Uncle U. R., who was on the faculty. My mother, Velma is also pictured in the faculty section.
Mother (Velma Love Cousins, born June 4,1905 and died September 2,1988) was on the college's teaching staff for voice and piano and it was there that they met. Apparently Dad was a dashing heroic figure who attracted the attention of many women. However, it seems that he paid little attention to them after meeting Velma, the daughter of Dr. Robert Duval and Missouri Elizabeth (Lawrence) Cousins. I asked Uncle U.R. about Dad's high school in Barstow, Texas, but he did not graduate. He qualified for college by passing some sort of entrance exam, possibly similar to today's G.E.D. test. U.R. was on the faculty teaching Spanish and Economics. U.R. introduced Dad to Mother who had, as had U.R., graduated from Baylor.
By her own admission, Mother was smitten by him. They married in 1927. Mother said that she got married in a Model T Ford. They drove to the preacher's house. Mother was so scared that she could not, or would not, get out of the car, so the preacher and his wife came to the car while the words were said. Dad concurred in this story. I imagine that this was a disappointment to Mother's parents because Dad had not finished college. I'll bet that Mom's fright was because of parental disapproval, real or imagined, but who knows?
His college football "career" and the injuries he suffered from the game led Dad to be reluctant for his sons to play high school football. I tried, just wasn 't good enough, so turned to music where I fooled a few people for a few years.
Dad's mother, Ulah, is reputed to have told the boys either to get a college degree or marry women who had one. An examination of their marital choices tends to support the accuracy of this statement.
They drove to Arizona sometime between their marriage and Bob's birth. Mother many times recounted her fright on the mountainous highways. She had never seen mountains such as these despite having spent some time at Camp Le Jeune, North Carolina. I believe they traveled over the old Apache Trail between Globe, Arizona and the Valley, via Fish Creek Canyon.
Our grandfather, Dr. Cousins, had a small office in his home as well as a regular office in downtown Beaumont. Bob was born April 24,1929 and Bill was born June 24,1933 in Beaumont, Texas. Both Bill and Bob were born in their Grandparents' (Cousins) home, delivered by another physician.
They lived in Beaumont when we were born. Dad was a self taught welder. He became deeply involved in a labor union while working at the Magnolia Refining Company in Beaumont. There was either a strike or an attempt to unionize Magnolia. Dad reportedly had armed men following him as a result of his activities. It may safely be assumed that these activities resulted in his firing. I remember accompanying him to Magnolia's shop on a weekend and watching him weld.
One of my pervasive memories regards the way we always seemed to be changing Baptist churches. Dad had some doctrinal disagreements or other with the preacher so we, along with other dissidents would go off and start a new church in some shabby, cold building. This may have some truth to it, but I will always remember my father, to his dying day as a strong Christian man. In his later years he took pride in the fact that he read the Bible completely through once a year. When his eyesight failed, my wife and I bought him a large print Bible. My feeling on this is he always liked to work for and with a small church. He was not impressed with the trappings of a fancy church. In most of the churches that my parents were involved with my mom usually was very involved in their music program, either playing the piano or directing the choir. Even into her later years she shared her music talent. Just before her death in 1988 she was volunteering to play for the folks at the Pioneer Home in Prescott on a regular basis.
After our parents lost their new brick home during the Depression, we moved into a "shotgun" house owned by Pappa (Dr. Cousins). Characteristically, Dad set about making the house more livable for our family. I remember when he unrolled large sheets of canvas on the grass to paint them with Linseed Oil. He turned this canvas into roll awnings for our sleeping porch. Although we used an outhouse, water was piped into the kitchen. Baths were taken in a galvanized washtub in the kitchen. I have many good and vivid memories about living in this little house.
Unable to find work, Dad did odd jobs for Pappa - clearing land, building fence, digging ditches, etc. Also during this period, Dad worked in Uncle Roy's grocery store in Kerrville. Texas, opened a barbecue stand in Beaumont, and worked on a pipeline in Luling, Texas. My own memories of Kerrville are limited: the destruction of our German Shepherd Pat; a "play doctor" adventure with a neighbor girl under the porch; being accidentally knocked to the ground by Mother when I walked behind the car while she was backing; catching my coveralls on fire while playing in a burning leaf pile; and most importantly, the extinguishing of the fire and removal of my clothes by a passing quick-thinking high school girl.
(Ed Note) Mary Frances' narrative, reporting on Red's family also living in Kerrville during those same depression years, quotes Aunt Ethel as remembering little Bob singing on the radio, billed as "The Four Year Old Wonder Boy".
The barbecue stand in Beaumont was opened after Dad designed a cool operating barbecue pit that did a smashing job of cooking and smoking with minimal meat drying and shrinkage. The rented stand was on its way to success when it burned down one night when closed. It could not be proved, but friction between the landlord's mortgage and the fire insurance policy was always suspected. I clearly remember how good the barbecue was.
Throughout this trying period Mother earned a little cash by teaching piano, accordion, and guitar. We also earned money by appearing together at lodge (American Legion and such) and C.C.C. camp entertainments all over that part of Texas - her playing, Bob singing. Bob also won kids' Saturday morning amateur shows singing at the Jefferson Theater. First prize was one dollar which somehow disappeared into the family coffers. We spent a lot of time at the Cousins during this period. This and distance explains why we did not develop close ties with Will.
I was bedridden with scarlet fever one hot summer, probably in 1935 when Will and Miss Anna visited us in Beaumont. This was the first and only time we would see them until we moved to Gilbert in 1944. My bout with scarlet fever was in 1941 and I vividly remember the quarantine signs that were required to be placed around the house.
Dad received a call from Murphy, North Carolina in the winter of 1938. A former co-worker told him about an opening with the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA) there. The caller said that the welding job was Dad's if he wanted it. Needless to say, he went. We followed in the summer of 1939.
One of Dad's trademarks was his willingness to take serious chances of injury or death doing jobs that others would not, or could not do. Examples include climbing out on the cable hundreds of feet above the Hiwasee River (where Murphy, his first dam, was being built) to weld ice-laden parts that were suspended from the wind-whipped cable. He also welded galvanized steel in ships' holds by hanging from his ankles. He theorized that he was not sickened by the welding fumes because all the milk he drank immunized him from the lead and zinc content of the smoke.
Although we do not have a good time reference for this period of TVA employment, we do recall returning to Beaumont in the fall of 1939 to enter school while Dad finished his work in North Carolina. (Over time, Dad worked on three TVA dams: Hiwasee, North Carolina; Wheeler, Tenneessee; and Norris, Alabama). Dad transferred to Norris Dam near the tri-cities area of Alabama sometime before the summer of 1940. After school was out we joined him and lived in a rented house in Killen, Alabama. We moved to the larger town of Sheffield, Alabama to enter school.
Our next move was to Knoxville, Tennessee where we continued to live in rented housing. WW-II broke out in December, 1941, of course. We were forced to move from Knoxville because Dad's temper got him into a fight in which a man was seriously injured.
It's important to note that our schooling was never disrupted during a school term. Moves always occurred between semesters or during the summer.
We believe that we moved to Houston, Texas in early 1942 to live with Mother's sister Verline and her husband Lester Zappe. Dad worked for MBM Pipe Fabricating Company, which was involved in pre-fabricating a 100 octane gasoline refinery. During the school year, I had a weekend job there as watchman. During the summer, I worked with Dad as his helper. He quickly moved from welder to federal inspector in a role that today would be called Quality Assurance. Every piece of metal that emerged from this plant bore his stamp of approval. Once again, I was his helper whose main job was to clean the welds before inspection and to hammer the approval seal into the steel pipe following inspection.
While we lived in Houston, Dad made a hunting knife that was quite nice. All of my life I have enjoyed knives. As a little kudo, I would sharpen them and Dad, to keep from cutting himself too badly, would very dutifully dull them up. Uncle Red either was in the Navy, or was joining up. I forgot to mention that I latched onto the hunting knife and basically took possession of it. To make a long story short, Dad gave Red the knife to take to the war with him. (It was so big I can't imagine Red wanting to even have it around). This really broke my heart and I knew I would never see that knife again. Well, the Gods were smiling down on me because after the war, Uncle Red returned the knife back to my dad and guess who has it to this day.
The Zappe's small two bedroom home was taxed for space. It was somewhat relieved when Zappe entered the Navy. After perhaps one year, we bought a house in Houston where we lived until once again Dad's temper forced us to move from Houston.
It is here that some explanation is due the reader. Never until we were well into adulthood can we remember when Dad wasn't plagued by painful ulcers. Immediately upon moving into the house, we built a small cow barn despite the house being in a residential neighborhood. I don't think any of the neighbors complained.
Milk and cream were his principle foods throughout these years but of course they did nothing to improve his health. Finally, in 1941, he underwent stomach surgery by a Dr. Singleton, renowned at the time, at the University of Texas John Sealy Hospital in Galveston. This surgery repaired the active ulcer sites and severed the nerve responsible for stomach acid production. Alas, the milk diet continued until after WW-II when the first anti-ulcer drug Banthine was produced. Despite this and subsequent improved versions of the drug, Dad continued to rely upon milk as his staple food. Dad carried three quarts of milk to work each day in Thermos bottles. He fabricated a steel carrying case for them and outfitted it with a leather shoulder strap. He later modified the box to also carry his large check book and other papers he needed while doing the custom harvesting. I have this box. Surgery to excise his stomach was performed later in Phoenix. Except for brief intermissions previously through the years, I believe this began the first pain-free period in his adult life. I believe that this almost constant pain resulted in Dad's general impatience and occasional loss of temper. We must also emphasize that his temper was never turned against his family.
I slept with Dad only one night in my life. A hurricane with 135 mph winds blew through Houston while we were living in the new house. Luckily, we had a 24 hour warning. This time was spent in cabling the cow barn to an oak tree to prevent it from blowing into the next county. Dad slept with me for reassurance. The house shuddered but held. I don't recall any damage to our house or the barn, but the wind caused the usual havoc elsewhere. I recall this stormy night very vividly also. The thing I recall the most was the ungodly noise from the high winds. I remember Dad securing the little barn. I wonder what the cow was thinking.
I'm uncertain whether Dad was working for MBM or a ship yard when he was fired for fighting with a coworker. The sheriff gave him a few days to "get out of Dodge." He rode a train or bus to Gilbert, probably in January, 1944, where he presumably explored the possibilities of doing some sort of work with Uncles Clyde and Otto. He may have made peace with Grandad at the same time. My recollection is that Margaret (now Weldon, Clyde's daughter) returned to Houston with Dad, I suppose just for the outing. I do not remember whether they arrived by train or bus. Dad bought a GI surplus truck either in Arizona or Houston (Houston, I think) and loaded all our belongings into it. With Mother and the kids in the car, Dad and Margaret headed to Gilbert, arriving in January or February, 1944. Marge told me that she really enjoyed this trip; Dad apparently sang a lot. This being winter, it was terribly cold through West Texas. The truck did not have a heater. They held a candle close enough to the windshield to defrost a peephole. Despite being cold, the truck vapor locked. At some point, Dad put me on the big, squarish fender with a Coca-Cola bottle filled with water to pour onto the fuel pump. Bob and I took turns lying on the big flat fender with the pop bottle keeping the fuel pump cooled. I can't imagine that we would have vapor lock problems since it was blistering cold, but the Coke bottle of water worked. I traveled in the car and helped Mother drive.
We spent our first night in Arizona in Uncle Clyde's sleeping room. This was a common farm building in those days. It was a square two-story tower whose second floor was screened. Swamp coolers were uncommon or even non-existent then and air conditioning was for the very rich and movie theatres. I think the first floor, which may have been dirt, was used for storage.
Margaret cooked pancakes for breakfast and served a food new to us, orange marmalade. We learned that Texas food choices were far more limited than those in Arizona. (Other items that were new: broiled meat, red onions, produce harvested from the highway including lettuce, cantaloupes, and watermelons; tossed salad; salad dressing other than mayonnaise. The list could go on for quite awhile. While I'm at it, I'd better include here a sidebar about Margaret and her effect upon me. I said the word "can't" while we were talking but I pronounced it "cain’t”. She very kindly asked me to say "ant". Of course I said "ant" in the usual way. She then asked, "Why then, do you say "cain't?" The point is that for the first time in my life, someone made me conscious of my speech's countrified nature. I set about correcting it. Thank you, Margaret.
We moved into the small house across the driveway from Grandad on Warner Road. Dad bought (I'm sure with financial help) an old Holt combine. Careful observers will still see one on old farms, abandoned and gathering rust, most notably in Utah. This combine was pulled by a tractor. The header was operated by one man. In addition, there was a jigger to fill the burlap grain sacks and a sack-sewer on board to close the filled bags. That was a most hateful job.
Because I had been accustomed to attending a large high school and the Gilbert school was small, the folks decided that I should live with old family friends in Phoenix where I attended Phoenix Union High School (now the Union Building, corner of Fourth Street and Van Buren). While I was being enrolled, we were shocked to learn that Arizona students graduated following 12th grade. Texas students at that time graduated following 11th grade, and I was a member of the last Texas class to do so. We planned to get me back to Houston during the summer of 1944. Personal note: I hated high school and didn't want to prolong it.
Bill attended 6 grade in Gilbert, at the school that now houses the Gilbert Historical Museum, and which had been purchased for that purpose by Uncle Otto and Aunt Edna. I had been playing in bands in Texas (tell the truth – honky-tonks) and soon sought out the same work in Phoenix. Often I would ride the last Saturday night Williams Field bus from Phoenix to the intersection of Gilbert and Williams Field Roads and walk home from there, to arrive around 2:30 A.M. It was a little scary to a kid, even a big one.
This is important to me. During our year in Gilbert, Uncles Otto and Clyde paid me much attention. Uncle Otto gave me a horse which I didn 't care about but which Dad liked. He also picked me up many times to drive to his ranch south of Gilbert. This was a treat because I got to drive a tractor and just hang out with him. He was very good to me during this year. Uncle Clyde did similar things. He'd pick me up to go see some of the things around Tempe. I saw my first cattle branded. A big treat was when he stopped at the "Whiz-Bang" (combination bar and sandwich shop) near Tempe. He always bought me a Coke. This was a big deal to me. He also showed me more or less how to drive his old red International pickup. I really treasure the memories these two uncles gave me; I recall vividly the many times they took me with them. They never treated me like a little kid. Another wonderful memory regarding Uncle Otto and Aunt Edna was when they took my family out to a place near the San Tan Mountains (close to their ranch) one moonlit evening. Uncle Otto had one of his sheep herders prepare a wonderful meal for us all. This was when I was first introduced to chilitepins. I still love them.
Uncle S.T. and Aunt Bonnie were also exceptionally nice to me. Our family had many nice visits with them also. Uncle Grover and Aunt Magabel invited me to spend the weekends at their home in Fabens, Texas while I was stationed at Ft. Bliss, El Paso. They were generous to me. These mini-breaks from the Army were both enjoyable and relaxing. I especially enjoyed listening to Uncle Grover telling stories about some of the local characters. They even arranged for me to meet a young lady in San Antonio when I went for primary flight training at Gary Air Force Base in San Marcos, Texas. I want to include Uncle Orville and Aunt Otie among those of my relatives who were very nice to me. I spent a fair amount of time at their home, and when I went to camp with Norman and Muriel (I think Uncle Otto paid my way, but I can't be sure). Anyway they all gave me wonderful memories. I especially remember Aunt Otie 's wonderful cooking. The Knox family really treated me like one of their own. They were wonderful people. I’ve remained good friends with the Knox clan to this day.
As I mentioned before, I feel that Dad enjoyed being with Uncle U.R. so our family drove to Casa Grande to share Sunday lunch from time to time. Little U.R. often gave me a dandy ride on a tractor. Uncle U.R. and Aunt Reedy were also very nice to me. These were great experiences for a city-type kid.
Dad didn't accept excuses for not arising reasonably early on Sunday morning. Despite our having gotten to bed late, he would get us up and off to church or to work. Those were the only acceptable Sunday morning activities during that period. I do not remember how I returned to Phoenix on those Sundays. It must have been by bus or perhaps I was driven back.
During the week, the family was busy working or going to school in Gilbert. Dad was always either harvesting a crop or getting the machine ready to harvest one. The combine was gone over carefully between seasons to minimize breakdowns.
I was going to P.U.H.S. and pursuing music. The KOY studio was favorite hangout in the evenings. We played for USO and other dances on Friday and Saturday nights. The pay was good for kids. I returned to Gilbert when school closed. Joined the harvest, stayed for the maize harvest before driving to Houston with some friends visiting from Houston.
It had been arranged that I would live in a glassed-in side porch at my grandmother's home. I will not record my activities during this period because this is supposed to be about the family.
Dad continued the custom harvesting business, characteristically learning the trade as he went along by applying his mechanical insights and common sense and by observing others. One of the ways he saw to differentiate his work from others was to work tirelessly to reduce grain waste during threshing. Having only one machine to work with must have created too much time to fill when not harvesting. And, I suppose, it was the wish to get closer to iron work that led to the purchase of an old adobe blacksmith shop at the corner of Kyrene and Baseline Roads then called Walton's Corner where a canal, now covered, crosses Baseline diagonally. Dad had a certain customer who would bring in a piece of wheeled farm equipment to be repaired. The man would come back after closing time and take his equipment. In this way, he could have his equipment without paying for the repair at the time. When Dad figured out what was happening after a couple of instances, he began to insert a long piece of steel through the wheels and to weld plates on each end so as to prevent the equipment from being moved until the additions were cut away - after the bill was paid, of course.
Looking back at this time, I feel that Dad had an affinity for working with metal and machines. He had the ability to fabricate whatever was needed by the ranchers and farmers of the area. Later on when he was working full time with his combines, he would take a new machine and often, before he put it in the field, make modifications to make it perform better. I honestly think he was happiest when he was working the long hard hours required of a man doing custom work. He treated his equipment with the utmost care, never sparing any expense to keep the machines healthy. A last comment, he could service all of his combines and remain nearly spotless, while all I had to do was just look at a combine and be covered from top to bottom with oil or grease.
As I remember, about the only thing they bought when first in Arizona was a small house, a lot large enough for a cow, and the rundown adobe shop with a little parking lot around it. The shop contained a forge, some smithy's tools, anvils and little else. Once more, other than having a little experience shoeing horses, I don't believe Dad knew much about blacksmithing. "If anybody else can do it, I can" was a governing motto. He soon purchased a gasoline powered welding machine and an acetylene generator. He built a sizeable clientele.
While this was going on, I graduated from high school in 1946. I was not awarded a diploma because I worked instead of attending commencement. Through high school I was playing piano, drums, or accordion 5-6 nights per week. After high school, I continued playing in bands until I had a life-changing experience that convinced me that I should go to college. In January 1947, I called my family to discuss this decision with them.They invited me to live with them while attending ASC. I was expected to work in the shop every day after school.
Dad required a second stomach operation sometime during this period. This time, his entire stomach was removed. The surgery was permanent this time. (I enjoyed the same surgery in 1966 and have benefited every day since).
The business continued to grow. Dad sold the shop and returned to the harvesting business. Each time he bought a new combine he would tear it down and make several modifications before ever using the machine. John Deere, taking note of these improvements, sent their factory engineers to see the modifications, which were then incorporated by John Deere into succeeding models. At first Dad had his equipment at a hay barn area just west of what is now the Peterson Home, a branch of the Tempe Historical Society. Later he moved about a mile east to Lyle Hana's dairy on Southern. He had a larger barn to work with. He kept his equipment at this location until he left the business.
He was a demanding employer but was fair and loyal. He was terribly proprietary about his work and demanded that a farmer stay out of the field while Dad was cutting it, the idea being that Dad knew far more about harvesting than did the farmer — and he was right. Tolerance for field waste was close to zero as measured by counting the kernels of grain found in randomly selected, measured one-yard squares of ground. He could be seen examining the ground on his hands and knees. His tolerance for wasting time was also near zero. He demanded that an employee always be engaged in an activity. When faced with a problem, he preferred that a worker do SOMETHING, even if it proved to be wrong. Dad had a nucleous of workers that he worked every year. He tried to keep most of them employed throught the year. Even when he probably couldn't afford it he would keep them busy knowing they needed a somewhat steady paycheck. He had a strong sense of allegiance to his workers. Naturally, he expected the same from them which they seemed to gladly give.
We built a home South of Baseline at about 43rd Street while I was attending ASC. This home was later replaced by the home South of Baseline at 41st Street. The home is still there and is the highest up on the hill. Bill was in the army. His quarters were built above the garage awaiting his return. Meantime I graduated in May, 1950 and married Mary Ruth Woofter, a fellow student, on May 25, 1950 during the barley harvest.
Dad lost the fingers of his right hand in an ensilage chopper accident. What happened was this: the ensilage was lying down because it had been irrigated just before cutting, and Dad was having to lift and feed some of it into the header by hand while the tractor was being driven forward. The operator, named Felix, most likely saved Dad from a more serious injury or possible death by alertly stopping the machine as soon as he saw Dad get caught in it, I rushed my mother to the hospital shortly after the accident and was with my father there.
This mishap was closely followed by the removal of a cancer on his vocal chords that left him voiceless. He is remembered by many as "Whispering Smith", a fictional character who lacked a voice. That personal loss was great because he could no longer sing. Personal communication was not a long term problem, though, because he learned to whisper really loudly, and people learned to listen really carefully.
A point worth including here ... Anyone knowing our mother most likely would think of her as always being well groomed and ladylike, which she was. During the times Dad had his injury and his bout with cancer, our mother kept the custom business going. She drove grain trucks, the service truck, and did whatever was necessary to keep things rolling along. Vve always felt badly about this time because I was in the Army, but found out later that I could have delayed things and stayed home to help, especially when Dad injured his hand. Asi es la vida.
Meanwhile, both Bill and I had families. Bill moved to Prescott. I moved to Idaho. While I lived in Idaho, Dad had a small stroke that affected his speech. He recovered almost entirely as time went on. I have a tape recording of him and Mother describing the stroke.
They moved into a long mobile home on a scenic lot in Prescott. Dad kept much of his welding equipment and tools from his working days. He continued to weld for friends and to make things for himself. He also hung around a small welding shop in Prescott and by default established himself as not just an old man hanging around, but as a person possessing unusual knowledge about how to make certain difficult welds. He knew how to make metal cooperate with him. He also dazzled the regular welders with his ability to move heavy equipment without help. He knew more about mechanical advantage and leverage than the average bear. He would send them off to get coffee or lunch and when they returned he would have moved something heavy – alone, He never told them how, but he told me.
Dad really enjoyed animals but didn't have many opportunities to keep them. He had many dogs over the years and the raccoon "Skipper. " He spent all of his time in Prescott helping others and gardening. I believe that he was a frustrated cowboy or farmer. He was known far and wide for his use of the expletive "John Brown“. At my place in Idaho, he "broke" a horse to saddle that many others had given up on. It took a little over a week of talking and petting to accomplish this.
Dad sold the business following the stroke and what followed was the happiest period in our parents lives - retirement and the freedom to move around. In addition to the Prescott home, they placed a travel trailer on a lot in a long-gone travel trailer park in Tempe near Baseline and Priest. They traveled to Idaho and Oregon to spend extended vacations with us.
I was living in Beaverton, Oregon when I received a call from Mom telling me that an inoperable cancer had been discovered impinging upon Dad's bile duct. The doctor advised that Dad would not live long. Luckily I had my own business and was able to leave the office for several weeks.
Claudine and I flew to Mesa and visited Dad in the hospital. He desperately wanted to go home. The doctor agreed to discharge him. We rented a hospital bed and obtained oxygen and moved Dad home in the car. Following a long night during which neither Mother nor our daughter Martha got much sleep, Dad called me to his bedside at 6 A.M. He said, "I can't subject Mother and Martha to this. I will return to the hospital if the doctor will permit me to eat or drink only as I wish." I called the doctor who came to the house. He granted this request after talking with Dad.
I think that sometime during the night Dad decided that he did not want to prolong his life until the cancer became painful and that he did not want a drug regimen that would render him vegetative. (I recall hearing from him that his mother made the same decision and starved herself rather than to die from the cancer). Settled into the hospital, he refused food and almost all liquid. (He requested buttermilk several times). Of course the dehydration process began immediately.
During this time I made many trips to visit Dad. We had many good moments and I recall especially how my dad expressed his strong faith and the fact that he had no fear of death. My mom was very strong through this difficult time. If I could attribute one word that fit both of them it would be "strength”. I've always been very grateful that my brother was with my father at his passing. I had that same experience with my mother in 1988.
Dad died ten days later. At his request, I stayed by his side every day until as late as he wished me to. We got all sorts of things talked out during this period. We continued to communicate until his final day. When he could no longer talk, we communicated for two more hours. He would point to letters in an alphabet that I had printed on a tablet. This laborious procedure became too frustrating when his poor condition resulted in nonsense. He simply gave up. I held him in my arms while he died.
I believe that Dad's greatest gift to me was that of having a strong work ethic and the will to do well whatever one does.
In a "closing out the generation note" note, Mother died in 1988, the day after suffering a massive coronary. Claudine and I visited her briefly by phone three hours after the heart attack. She urged me to wait to fly to Arizona until she was better. Of course, she did not get better. She died while I was still in the air.
I (Bill) married Sylvia Soderstrom on June 13, 1960, after which we lived in Mesa for seven years. I began my teaching career in Phoenix at that time, in 1959. Our daughters were born in Mesa. We moved to Prescott in 1966 and have lived there ever since. Lisa is married to Charlie Reyes and they have two children, Adam Neely Reyes, and Amy Leanne Reyes. Lisa is an office nurse for a physician in Prescott Valley, Arizona. Beth is married to Don Rantz. They are both artists. Our son-in-law, Charlie Reyes, is a fireman for Central Yavapai Fire District. We are very proud of our two sons-in-law.
I (Bob) and Mary had two children, Martha and Paul. Martha practices dentistry in Portland, Oregon. Paul retired from the U.S. Navy and lives in Pensacola, Florida.
Martha has three children: Heather, Aimee, and Jordan. Heather (Dennis) Craig lives in Hillsboro, Oregon and has a daughter, Alexa. Aimee (Brian) Jackson is a Physical Therapist and lives in Newburg, Oregon. Brian is an Emergency Medical Technician. Their two young sons are Colby and Blake.
Paul has two daughters, both U.S Navy, Phoebe (CPA) living in Washington, D.C., and Levie who is a Navy cryptographer stationed in Pensacola, Florida.
Bob and Claudine were married in 1970. Claudine has three children, William Smallwood, Julie (Thomas) Kaiser, and John Smallwood. Julie lives in the Chicago area, and John in Seattle, Washington. Bill lives in Mesa, Arizona and has a daughter Melissa.