William Edward Grubbs, Jr. 

Life as I remember or as I have been told,

Mother provided details of my early life.

Birth and Early Childhood

Earth life began on January 5, 1945, at the Ragland Clinic in the small East Texas town of Gilmer. More specifically, it was Friday at 11:10 AM. Weighing 9 pounds and 14 ounces, I made a good size first child for William E. Grubbs (22 years old) and Evelyn Joye Hamberlin (19 years old).

Daddy was stationed in the Coast Guard at Freeport Texas at the time. As soon as he heard the news, he took a ten-day leave and hitchhiked to Gilmer. Three days later, on January 8, I was taken to Grannie’s home at Free’s Lake on Montgomery Street in Gilmer. Due to some complications with pleurisy, my mother went back to the hospital, but I stayed with Grannie. Vaughn, Lela, and Grannie took good care of me for 3 or 4 days.

On January 14, Daddy returned to Freeport for duty, and the next day Mother, her sister Vaughn and I moved to Kelsey, a small Mormon community about seven miles from Gilmer. Vaughn’s husband, Jimmy, was in the service also. My grandparents had bought a home in Kelsey that belonged to the Mormon Church. The Kelsey School Principal and his family had lived there. Grannie, Papa, and Lela came out to visit often. It was great to live in a Mormon community. We lived there for a few months then my grandparents moved there from Gilmer. We rented a house just down the road from Grannie’s house. While living here Grannie Hop came from Atlanta and spent a month with us.

Being the first grandchild I was spoiled rotten. With Grannie, Lela, and Vaughn helping to take care of me they didn’t think I should ever be allowed to cry or be displeased. If I cried just a little Grannie would say, “Don’t abuse that baby”. Mother would try to wash the clothes with the old washtub and rub-board outside. She would rub the clothes on the rub-board and at the same time have her foot on the buggy rocking it while I wailed loud and clear for attention. Grannie would call out from her house to ours across the garden, “Pick up that baby”. Mother says the first nine months were the rough times for her, but I made up for that by being so good later. I just wanted to eat all the time. I gained weight very fast and could not wear any of my baby clothes. The doctor said to put me on a schedule, but because of my demand for more food to eat, Mother just fed me more.

It was really cold that winter and we had a kerosene heater to heat the house. So much of the time water would be in the kerosene we bought and it would cause our eyes to burn terribly. It was impossible to stand the burning and they would turn out the fire and wear coats. To freeze was a relief from the burning eyes. So I spent much time in a coat, sitting in the middle of the bed with a big quilt wrapped around me.

Four eggs for breakfast was just an appetizer for me I am told. From some of the stories I have heard, I would guess I was spoiled rotten. It has been said that Mother walked me in the rain with an umbrella just to keep me from crying.

Since Daddy was not a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, Moroni Hamberlin, my grandpa’s brother, blessed me on Sunday, February 4, 1945.

About three months later, on May 31, 1945, Daddy came to Kelsey with a friend who had a car. Mother and I went back to Freeport. The car had a flat, which caused a real problem. Tires were rationed then and he didn’t have any more stamps to get another one. I don’t know what happened, but we did make it to Freeport and moved into one side of a family home downtown Freeport on second Street close to the Showboat Theater. Many people rented part of their homes during the war where servicemen were stationed and companies were producing war materials. There were many sailors and soldiers plus the big Dow Chemical Plant close by.

I was pushed up and down the streets of Freeport, many nights in a mosquitoes-covered buggy with my parents slapping at the mosquitoes so I would not disturb the family who was sharing their home with us.

Sometime in September of that year, we moved to Surfside Island next to the Coast Guard Station. While living there, a friend and I got into some green paint and painted the back of the Coast Guard Chief’s house. By the time we were through you can guess that we had our share of paint on us also. We even painted my little red wagon green. Many days were spent on the beach since it was so close. I also enjoyed the opportunities to ride in the Coast Guard jeep and boats.

This December was my first Christmas. We had our tree all decorated and ready and Daddy was transferred to Pensacola, Florida. He had to take a large boat from Freeport to Pensacola. Mother was very disappointed. She suddenly decided to take a bus home to Grannies in Kelsey. The bus was so crowded with Christmas travelers that she had to stand up all the way to Houston. We had to transfer to a different bus in Houston and the bus driver said we could not get on because the bus was too crowded. Mother told him there was no way she was going to spend Christmas alone and got on the bus anyway.

The next summer, May 1946, Mother and I moved to Kelsey and lived with Grannie for a while. Daddy was discharged from the Coast Guard in New Orleans and then came to Kelsey.

Mack was born soon after we came back to Kelsey, on June 22, 1946. As can be expected, I enjoyed helping take care of him. Daddy started working for the Civil Service and was gone all the time. He came home on the weekends as often as possible. While living there, I established my reputation for having a wild curiosity. Helping with the housework, I tried sweeping the heater in the back bedroom. It was one with an open flame and I quickly caught the straw broom on fire. Knowing I would get into trouble if someone found out I had created a problem, I threw the broom down and ran into the other room, not telling a soul. Fortunately, someone smelled the smoke and put the fire out before much damage was done.

While no one was looking I would frequently slip into Lela’s room and mix up some wild potions with all the perfumes and powders she had sitting on her dresser. On another occasion, Mother and I were in Otis’ car while he was in the finance office trying to get a loan on the car. Sticking a coin in the cigarette lighter caused a fire under the dashboard. You can imagine the excitement that generated. On another occasion, Otis and I were having a pillow fight. Somehow I was able to knock out one of his teeth. I have no idea how that happened.

During August of 1946 Mother and I went to Baton Rouge, Louisiana to see Mona Ray and her family. We traveled there and back on the train.

The summer of1948 we left Grannie’s and started moving from one place to another with Daddy. He worked with the Civil Service crew that put up power lines across the country. We bought a trailer and over the next several years lived in the following places:

El Paso, Texas

Lawton, Oklahoma

Las Cruces, New Mexico (Went to White Sands – the dunes)

Little Rock, Arkansas

San Antonio, Texas

Gatesville, Texas

Leesville, Louisiana

New Boston, Texas

Hooks, Texas

Arlington, Texas

Lawton, Oklahoma was our home during the winter of 1948. While playing outside in the ice and snow I fell and injured my left leg. A few days later as I was getting up one morning I put my feet on the floor. I screamed and crumpled to the floor with pain in my knee. My mother took me to the doctor but he could not find the cause for such pain. Mother took me to several other doctors but no one could find anything wrong.

Sometimes it hurt so much I couldn’t walk on it and many nights I cried myself to sleep because of the pain. I was taken to many doctors in several states, but none of them could find any evidence of a problem. We were living in Gatesville, Texas in the Maxwell House. Mother was going to the hospital for her third child (Debby), so she sent Mack and me with Fayrene and Ray to stay with Vaughn, Mother’s older sister, who lived near Tyler. We were going to stay a week or two. Vaughn heard about a crippled children’s clinic being held in Tyler and called for permission to take me there.

It was June 1950 when Vaughn took me to the clinic where Dr. Friberg, a bone specialist, was holding a special free clinic for children. After a brief examination, he concluded that I had a rare disease of the hip called Legg-Perthes. An injury to the joint had caused it to slowly start deteriorating. The injured leg would not grow properly and would eventually be much shorter than the other one. Although little was known then about the disease, I have copied the following detail from the Mayo Clinic to explain what is known today.

Legg-Calve-Perthes (LEG-kahl-VAY-PER-tuz) disease is a childhood condition that occurs when the blood supply to the ball part (femoral head) of the hip joint is temporarily interrupted and the bone begins to die.

This weakened bone gradually breaks apart and can lose its round shape. The body eventually restores the blood supply to the ball, and the ball heals. But if the ball is no longer round after it heals, it can cause pain and stiffness. The complete process of bone death, fracture, and renewal can take several years.

To keep the ball part of the joint as round as possible, doctors use a variety of treatments that keep it snug in the socket portion of the joint. The socket acts as a mold for the fragmented femoral head as it heals. The cause is still unknown today.

Children who have had Legg-Calve-Perthes disease are at higher risk of developing hip arthritis in adulthood — particularly if the hip joint heals in an abnormal shape. If the hipbones don’t fit together well after healing, the joint can wear out early.

In general, children who are diagnosed with Legg-Calve-Perthes after age 6 are more likely to develop hip problems later in life. The younger the child is at the time of diagnosis, the better the chances for the hip joint to heal in a normal, round shape.

The usual solution to the problem when I was young was to put the patient in a body cast from the chest down and keep them on their back for 2 years or longer. A more recent approach was to put the patient on crutches and keep all the weight off the joint until it healed. The doctor decided to try the latter approach and I was given a pair of crutches. Daddy had a shoulder strap made to help me keep my leg off the ground but I never used it. I was the second person the doctor had tried this option on. He thought it would take about two years for the hip to mend and the leg to grow back to normal.

Not wanting to be confined to bed in a cast, I was careful to never walk on the injured leg. I adapted quickly to the crutches and was able to do most of the things other boys did. Once in Lawton, Oklahoma while running in the trailer court, I was pushed and did not get my hands off the crutches quick enough to stop my fall. I landed right on my face and my bottom teeth cut deeply into my lower lip. Luckily, I did not lose any teeth but carry the scar today.

As a 5-year-old, I really didn’t know what a miracle was, but looking back as a 75-year-old; I realize I have been the receiver of several miracles. Probably starting when I was about four years old I began experiencing a great deal of pain in my left leg – primarily around my knee. I had started to limp because the painful leg was shorter than the other one. Mother would massage it sometimes and put rubbing alcohol on it to help relieve the pain, but it kept coming back. There was no physical evidence of a problem, but my knee continued to hurt.

I am sure it was stressful for Mother to have her young child crying in pain, limping as I walked, and not knowing the cause or how to stop it. She took me to several doctors, but no one could determine the cause of my pain. Vaughn, Mother’s older sister heard about a children’s clinic in Tyler and suggested Mother take me there to see if the doctor could determine what was causing so much pain. We went to see Dr. Friburg at the clinic and he immediately diagnosed my problem as Legg-Calve-Perthes disease. The cause is unknown, but it causes the ball joint of the hip to die and start to fragment. Previously, the treatment was to put the patient in a full-body cast for a long period of time to give the hip time to heal. Dr. Friburg wanted to try a new procedure on me – perhaps it was experimental. It required me to walk with a pair of crutches and a strap to keep from putting any weight on my leg while it healed.

The pictures below are of my crutch and strap for my leg. If you look closely, you will note the crutch was hand-carved and 35 inches long.

As a young, active child it slowed me down a little, but Mack still remembers that I could outrun him on my crutches. We went to see Dr. Friburg every few months for check-ups and he was convinced the prescribed treatment was working. He was very convincing about not putting any weight on my leg. He told me if I didn’t follow this strictly I would be crippled for the rest of my life. The strap was cumbersome and I stopped using it. I just held my leg up as I walked on the crutches. After a year and a half, just in time to start school in the first grade I was pronounced healed and was allowed to walk on both legs again.

The following two pictures were taken about 1950 in front of our trailer, which was home for several years as we traveled from state to state with Dad’s job.

It is amazing to me how the body has the ability to heal itself. My injured leg was about 1 inch shorter than the other when I started using the crutches. During the healing process, my injured leg grew to catch up with the other leg. Today, I do not walk with a limp. Both legs are the same length and I have never been bothered with the pain in my knee again.  I am happy that so far, I have no problems with has never been a problem for me. I know my healing was a miracle and I am grateful that I walk without a limp or pain. Doctors who have examined me as an adult say there is no evidence that I ever had Legg-Calve-Perthes. I owe a debt of gratitude to Mother for continuing to take me to doctors until finding someone who could help; to Dr. Friburg for his knowledge and ability to diagnose my problem and try a new procedure; but mostly to Heavenly Father for the miracle of healing.

I drew lots of attention on crutches at the age of five from children and adults. They were such small crutches compared to what most everyone had seen. We lived in Lawton, Oklahoma, Las Cruces, New Mexico, Leesville, Louisiana, and El Paso, Texas again after I was on crutches. I can vaguely remember going around one of these abandoned Army bases and finding lots of coins on the ground.

We moved to Longview, Texas in May of 1951. I was six years old and it was time for me to start school so Daddy decided to change jobs so the family could settle down. We moved the trailer the last time to the Longview Trailer Park on Highway 80 (Marshall Avenue). The Lord blessed me greatly and before I started school my leg had mended in one year and one month and I was able to walk on it again.

I had broken a record for the doctor. I was only the second person they had tried the crutches on. The first one had been on crutches for two years and was still no better. They knew he had not been faithful to himself to stay off his foot. It would have been difficult going through the first grade on crutches and I was thankful I didn’t have to. My exercises were to walk backward, ride a bike, and swim.

My own memory starts to kick in here and I can remember many experiences while living in the trailer. I don’t remember them in chronological order but will relate some of the things that come to mind.

Across the blacktop road from the trailer was a vacant lot with an old chinaberry tree. I can remember many days of playing army and throwing china at each other to defend ourselves. There was another vacant lot behind the trailer park where they had dumped many loads of dirt into mounds. It made a great place for playing army in the mountains.

Daddy was trying to work and go to school at Letourneau at the same time. Mother was also working at night as a waitress in a cafe across town to pay the hospital bills from Mack’s rheumatic fever. I can remember her telling of all the policemen that came there to eat and how they used to tease her.

While living in the trailer we had two rather eventful days. Once lightning struck a tree next to the trailer and split it. It then went through our trailer causing all kinds of fireworks. You could see sparks around the silverware on the cabinet. I don’t know if it was because of that experience or not, but Debby has always been afraid of thunder and lightning. Another time the oil-burning oven was turned on but failed to light and when it did it blew both doors on the trailer wide open. It really gave everyone a scare.

My only time to ever be in the hospital was to get my tonsils out. Mack and I had ours out at the same time. We always had problems with sore throats and it was decided best to have the tonsils removed. When we came, we were both given wind-up balsa wood airplanes that would really fly. Mother had put us on the bed in the back of the trailer and told us if our throats started to bleed to call her quickly. We decided to wind up our airplanes really tight and call for help. When Mother came frantically running to the back of the trailer we let our planes fly right at her. The joke was quickly over because she was not smiling. We found out that a bleeding throat was nothing to play around about.

Brothers will fight and one day Mother took Daddy to work and left Mack and me to do the dishes. We eventually started arguing about who was doing to get to use the high chair. Determined to win the argument I pulled a butcher knife from the drawer and started for Mack. He quickly retreated to another room and came back with the broom to defend himself. Of course, as we were swinging knife and broom, in walked Mother. Needless to say, the rest of the day was not very pleasant. Because we couldn’t agree on who started the fight, we were made to sit in a corner. I can’t remember getting a whipping, but I sure hated sitting in that corner.

In September 1951 I started school at First Ward Elementary School. It was an old two-story building about a mile away from our trailer park. The building was later used for band and shop classes for the high school I attended. I usually walked to and from school, which involved crossing Highway 80, the main highway through Longview where Mother would meet me.

We had to take naps in the first grade after lunch, which I did not really enjoy. Reading was fun and I enjoyed taking a “Dick and Jane” book home to read to Mother. Of course, I had a girlfriend in the first grade. Her name was Karen Strunk and I can remember every time she would hold the door open for us to march into the classroom, I would fight another guy to be last in line so I could kiss her as I went into the room.

Grannie always had a large Christmas tree and all the family would gather at her home on Christmas day to open presents. Mack and I got our first bicycles (Christmas 1951). I guess we had spent the night on Christmas Eve at Grannie’s. After everyone opened their presents we took our bikes out to ride them for the first time. There were trainer wheels on the bikes, but they didn’t seem to do much good on a dirt road that sloped toward the ditch on each side. Every time Daddy would get us started, we would pile up in the ditch. We soon learned after a few bumps and bruises that trainer wheels were not the answer. Without the trainer wheels, we quickly learned to ride.

One year we spent Christmas with Papa Grubbs in Atlanta. He was a Baptist Preacher and lived in an old house close to the church that was provided by the church. I remember he also had a “Nigger Mammy” who lived with them and took care of their son Don. Mack and I were so proud of the electric train we got for Christmas. The only problem was it would only run backward. Daddy and Papa Grubbs worked and worked with it and finally got it to run forward.

I started second grade in 1952 and Mack started in the first grade. All I can remember is my teacher’s name was Ms. Buie and the classroom was in the same building I had band all through high school.

On January 13, 1953, I was baptized by Elder Donald J. Ellis and confirmed a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints by Elder Jay T. Richman. These were two full-time missionaries serving in the Longview area at the time.

In the spring of 1953, Daddy gave up finishing college at LeTourneau Tech and went to work for Skelly Oil Company. Daddy sold the trailer and we moved to Kelsey and lived in Uncle Don Lindsey’s house. This was quite a change for us. It involved changing schools in the middle of the school year, which of course required some adjusting. We now had to ride a school bus seven miles to school in Gilmer and back every day. Of course, we had Nelson Barksdale to show us around.

The house was about a mile down the dirt road from Grannie’s house. It was made of stone and didn’t have all of the modern conveniences of today. We had a two-hole outhouse for a bathroom that seemed miles away from the house when I had to go after dark. I never understood why there were two holes. I don’t know anyone who would like to go to the bathroom together except Mack and me.  The only water we had in the house was a cold faucet in the kitchen. Baths were given in a round washtub that was placed on the back porch or yard when it was warm outside and in the kitchen during the colder months. Mother would heat the water for our baths on the stove.

I wasn’t aware of it at the time, but I guess financially, we weren’t doing too well. I remember having to wear some of the military school pants that Don Grubbs (Daddy’s younger half-brother) had outgrown. I felt out of place because they were grey with a black stripe down the side. I remember the seat splitting out one day at recess and I sat there in the sand all the time so no one would see the hole.

Along with the house we had a few acres that were already planted in peanuts and peach trees. Behind the house was a large chicken house for raising fryers commercially. Part of the plan in moving there was to raise and sell chickens to help support the family. I don’t know how much help I was, but my job was to fill the good and water containers, clean up all the chicken manure and throw out all the dead baby chicks.

I was promised that if I worked hard in the chicken house, Daddy would buy me a Cub Scout uniform and I can remember how elated I was the day that promise came true.

Mother was the den mother and all of the Cub Scouts would get off the bus at our house on Cub Scout Day. One day when we were all running in the door, our talking parakeet we had grown so fond of flew out and was never seen again.

Besides our chickens and parakeet, we inherited a mother collie with 9 puppies and seven cats when we moved in to Uncle Don’s house and Daddy bought a pig. I imagine that Mother took care of most of the animals, but one of my chores was to mix the slop in a bucket and feed the pig. I would mix it in the smokehouse, carry the bucket down to the pigpen and pour it over the wooden fence into the old trough. One day as I was standing barefoot on the fence so I could reach over the top to pour in the slop, the pig bit me on the foot and “impressed” me enough that I can vividly remember my fright.

For some excitement, we rode the pig when it got bigger. We were planning on having lots of good ham and bacon from that pig, but when we had it butchered, we salt-cured it and the weather turned warm causing too much salt to go into it. We tried to eat it anyway even though it made us gag. We had big plans for our own country ham but were very disappointed.

During the short time, we had all of the puppies a mad dog came to our house. The first I knew about it, Mother and Daddy were rushing us into the house with the puppies. The runt was shy and stayed under the house where the mad dog had gone. Mother and Daddy seemed very frightened and we realized that there was a serious problem. We could hear the little puppy yelping loudly and the mad dog growling under the house. Daddy ran out the back door with the twenty-two rifle and climbed on top of the smokehouse. When he was in position he signaled to us and we started stomping on the floor and hitting it with sticks and pans to scare the mad dog out. When it came running out Daddy shot and apparently hit it in the tail because it spun around and around chasing its tail then started running across the field when Daddy shot it again. It ran on across the peach orchard close to the road and fell over. We were all rushed into the car and driven up the road to find it. When Daddy stopped the car, the dog got up to run again and Daddy shot and killed it. It was a sad experience. Daddy buried the putty and the mad dog together there in the field where it had died.

This was a very common occurrence in the country then. I had already taken the shots to keep from getting rabies several years earlier because I had been walking barefoot where a rabid dog had frothed on the ground. I can remember that Mona Ray, my cousin got the shots also and I always let the “lady” go first. There were ten shots given once a day in the stomach.

There was usually a long wait after school before the bus would arrive and I usually spent it playing with Nelson either on the monkey bars, in the dirt looking for doodle bugs, or making roads in the sand under the building. One day we got carried away and missed the bus. There were no teachers around and there were no telephones. It didn’t frighten us at all. Nelson knew the way home so we just started walking the seven miles to Kelsey. It was a lot of fun walking down the highway, kicking cans, and throwing rocks. A few miles out of Gilmer a man stopped in his logging truck and asked if we wanted a ride. We had been taught not to ride with strangers, but Nelson knew the man so we climbed in the big truck. He dropped us off on the corner up the hill from John Ault’s store. We played around just taking our time until it started getting dark. I don’t know if we got all the way home or not, but I do remember one irate mother. She had been worried to death. At the time I could not understand her being so upset. We had been having such a great time, but we never missed the bus again.

Living in Kelsey was a lot of fun for a kid. We had a big hole dug in the side of the hill across the road where we could stand to wait for the bus. In the back of the house was a high swing and a flying Jenny, which was like a see-saw except it was mounted on a post and would go around like a merry-go-round (click the link to see one being used:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xOTelq0W-C0

We had a smokehouse out back that was used for storage. I can remember how much fun it was to go through all the things when Mother was cleaning them out. Mack and I had both been given an old World War II bayonet and I can remember finding them one day. It was a big deal to own one. It was fun imagining all the Germans it had killed. I have no idea what happened to those bayonets.

There was a large vegetable garden in the back of the house we all had to help plant, weed, and harvest. Although I did not really care about working in the garden, I did like the closeness of working together as a family. Mother and Daddy were not experienced gardeners and I think the weeds won. (This was my first exposure to gardening. Little did I know it would be one of my favorite activities.)

During the summer we wore cut-off pants and went barefoot and shirtless all the time. I think the only time we wore shoes in the summer was when we went to church. There were many snakes and spiders there but they never bothered you. One day I was walking to Nelson’s and almost stepped on a tarantula about three inches across. It made a lasting impression on me. Mack and I spent many a day wading Kelsey Creek where I am sure there were many snakes and spiders. We just did not let them bother us.

I am not sure how old I was, but about this time Mack and I were down at the far end of Grannie’s pasture damming up the creek when we were horrified to notice we had tiny sand ticks crawling all over us. We ran as fast as we could to the house yelling for help. Fortunately, Granny was home that day and came running out the back steps to see what was happening. There might be a better solution, but she had us strip off all our clothes in the garage. She took rags soaked in gasoline and washed off the ticks.

One summer while playing with Nelson behind the house, we were running across the pigpen-playing chase. I was playing my harmonica and accidentally tripped over a wire and fell face down in the stinking mud puddle where the pigs wallowed. I ruined my harmonica as well as any pride because I was covered in mud you could only appreciate if you have been in a pigpen.

There were two major events that made a lasting impression on me from my Cub Scout days – the Wizard of Oz and a cub day camp. The Wizard of Oz stands out vividly in my mind because of the part I played. Of course, everyone wanted to be the lion or the tin man, but what Cub Scout would want to play Dorothy? Well, since no one would do it and Mother was the Den Mother, guess who was the lucky cub? I will never forget having to wear that dress and go skipping across the stage. I do remember a lot of time being spent on the paper mache lion head that turned out to be too heavy for the lion to wear. I think the smell of mildew in the head was pretty bad too.

We worked hard as a den to prepare for the cub day camp. We were going as an Indian Tribe. Many hours were spent making a large teepee out of feed sacks draped over a set of poles. It was big enough for all of us to get in at once. We painted Indian signs on the sides. We each had a handmade costume and a drum or other noisemaker to play while we performed our Indian dance. The day consisted of relay races and games. We took first place in everything including activities such as climbing trees, costume, dance, teepee, costume, and dance competition. Our dance was a big hit in the program. Our costumes were loincloths and a lot of war paint on our bodies.

Mother wanted us to take music lessons so Daddy bought a piano. I thought it was great fun to pick out a tune. I started taking piano lessons in Gilmer from Mrs. Pearl who was either an old maid or a widow. She lived in a large, scary-looking house and expected you to be very quiet while you were there. She was very strict and formal. I didn’t care for it, but I really enjoyed the piano.

Raising chickens while holding down another job in Longview at Skelly Oil Refinery must not have been easy for Daddy. A few times the lights went out at night in the chicken house during a bad storm. The small chickens panicked and all crowded on top of each other killing many of them on tee bottom. It was sad to see so many little dead chickens that we had worked so hard to feed and take care of. I gave a lot of them to Penny, our white Eskimo Spitz for his meals.

Every weekend there was a dance at the old Kelsey School house just up the hill from Grannies. I attended many dances at the old Kelsey School when I was growing up. The dances were a fun place to have a great time with friends. I wasn’t old enough to be interested in dancing except when they played the “Bunny Hop”. My favorite partner for the “Bunny Hop” was Nelson Barksdale. There was always a live band by Heber Jones and several others who played each week. I know he played a string base and others played fiddle, guitar, and steel guitar.

My grandmother, Myrtle Hamberlin or Lela collected the entrance fee and managed the cold drinks which were kept in a big chest of ice water. There may have been candy for sale too, but I don’t remember for sure. My grandparents bought the old school house years earlier and continued to make it available to the community for things such as the dances. Perhaps they did that because they always loved to dance so much when they were younger. I recall hearing that they danced all night at their wedding reception.

Not being interested in girls, we younger boys could be found climbing in and out of the tall windows or playing chase around the cars parked around the building. Every once in a while we would discover some boy and his girlfriend kissing in a car. Of course, everybody knew each other and we would blab the news.

It was the social event of the week and was designed for the whole family. Parents would bring their small children and put them to sleep on blankets on the floor so they could continue to dance and visit with friends and family. In my mind’s eye, I can see the cars parked all around the building and even hear the music as you come up the road to the dance. The music included here is an actual recording I got from Heber Jones’ daughter of the Heber Jones band playing, “Corina, Corina”.

Kelsey, Texas has quite a history, being settled by Mormons starting in the late 1800s. Grannie’s family had moved to the area from Alabama and Papa and his family moved there from Mississippi. Both of their families had joined the Mormon Church and moved there to avoid persecution and to gather with like-minded members of the church. About the time I was born, Grannie and Papa bought the house that had previously belonged to the church. It was where the principal of the Kelsey School lived. They also bought the old Kelsey School House. Going to Grannie and Papa’s house was always a treat. Everyone always received a warm welcome there and there was always good food to eat. I loved my grandparents and I always knew they loved me.

They worked hard but always had time for fun games with us kids. The one I remember the most was, “Going to Heaven On An Ironing Board”. I am not sure I can explain it effectively, but I will try. You put an ironing board or other board on the floor and had a person stand on it facing sideways. They were blindfolded and told to put their hands on the shoulders of a person standing in front of them. Two other people would take the ends of the board and slowly start lifting it off the floor. They would only lift the board a few inches off the floor, but at the same time, the person in front of the blindfolded person would slowly start squatting down. I would give the impression that the blindfolded person was being lifted up to the ceiling. Then you would tell the blindfolded person to jump off the board. They were always surprised to find they were only a few inches off the floor because the impression was they were about to hit their head on the ceiling. (See video example https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCcDFQx9tqw).

The one game the adults enjoyed but scared all of us kids was the slim witch. As kids, we would be playing in Grannie’s backyard after dark. Around the corner of the house would come this tall, witch-looking thing that scared us to death. Grannie took a pillow and tied it to a broom. She draped a sheet over it and attached largemouth, nose, and eyes. She held the broom up high over her head so it looked very tall and the sheet covered her. All we saw in the dark was this tall ghost-looking witch coming at us.

The other game I can remember was looking at the stars through a coat sleeve. They would have you put your head in a coat and look up through the sleeve as someone held it up to the window. As you were trying to see the stars someone would pour a glass of water down the sleeve. They thought that was really funny, but I didn’t.

We loved to play “Annie Over” but Grannie’s house didn’t have a good roof for the game. We would go down the dirt road to Nelson’s house to play it. You would divide everyone into two groups and one group would be on each side of the house. Someone would yell, “Annie” and the team on the other side would yell, “Over”. Someone with the ball would throw it over the house and if you caught the ball you would run around the house and try to hit someone with it. If you hit someone they had to come to be on your side. If you didn’t catch the ball you just repeated, “Annie” and the other side would again yell, “Over”. We could play for hours.

Fireball was always a favorite game we would play on July 4 or New Years’ Eve in Grannie’s pasture. She would make several balls for the game. Initially, she would take a small stone and wrap a cotton rag around it and sew it. Then she would start winding cotton twine around them, sewing them frequently so they would not come unraveled. Once they were about the size of a softball or baseball she would soak them in kerosene for several days before the game. At dusk, we would gather in the pasture with family and friends for the game. People would come from miles around to watch or play the game. Someone would take a ball out of the can of kerosene and light it on fire. Once it was burning really good they would pick it up and quickly throw it across the pasture. Someone would either catch it or pick it up and throw it back. This would go on until the fire went out. Then we would light another one. It was a scary thing to pick it up and throw it. You had to be really fast or it would burn you. Even if you were fast it would usually singe the hair on your arm.

Papa loved to play the harmonica and was really good at it. He could make it sound like two instruments playing at once. He also taught all of us a song that I still remember. It was called, “Me and My Wife and a Bobbed Tail Dog”. It is a nonsense song, but I have passed it on to all my kids.

Papa milked two cows every morning and evening. We would go to the barn in the evening and visit with him as he milked the cows. He would sometimes squirt a stream of milk at the cats and they would lick it up.

Fay and Ray had some Shetland Ponies that were bad about biting you. We didn’t ride them very much because they were not very tame. One day Mack mounted one of them that had been saddled up and it took off running. Mack fell off and his foot hung in the stirrup. He finally got his footloose after being dragged quite a ways down the road.

One day a stray white Eskimo Spits dog showed up at our house. He was a beautiful, white dog and we fell in love with him. We named him Penny and kept him for several years.

n June of 1953 we left the farm in Kelsey and returned to Longview where Daddy was working. We moved into a small frame house at 614 Idlewood Drive that we rented from the Metcalf family who lived next door. One thing I remember most vividly about this house was the cockroaches. We had stored potatoes we grew on the farm under the house where it was cool. When we came home after dark and turned on the light we saw roaches running everywhere. Mother switched off the light and had us prepare for battle. We took off one shoe and stood ready for the light to be turned on then we would start smashing the roaches as they darted across the floor. It was bad! The next day we found the reason for the roaches. It didn’t take long to realize it was the potatoes. We threw away all the potatoes after working so hard to raise them.

There was a screened-in back porch where Mack and I slept in bunk beds. Although there was a tarp that covered the screen,, it would get very cold out there. One prized possession we did have was a jukebox that played old 78 records. You just pushed a button and it would select the record and play it.

One day Mack took some coins from a coin collection a kid brought to school for show and tell. Mother found out about it and told him he would have to return them. He said he wouldn’t return them and he would run away before he would take them back. Mother told him to go ahead and I think she even helped him pack a few things and put them in a sack. He left the house with his sack of stuff and soon it began to get dark. Mother thought sure he would go a block or two and come back so we waited for some time before deciding he was not going to return. Mother began to get worried so we all got in the Hudson to go look for him. We couldn’t find him anywhere and after driving up and down all the streets in the neighborhood we returned home to find him in his bed. We came in the back door to see if he was there. He reached out and touched Mother in the dark. He had learned his lesson.

Daddy was working at The Texas Eastman Polyethylene Plant and started bringing home samples of plastic they were producing. Mack and I found that it would burn really well and flaming drops of plastic would drip from the plastic strips. One day we were under the house burning a long piece of plastic when a flaming piece dropped on my hand. It was a painful burn, but it was one of those problems that you didn’t tell your parents about for fear of getting a spanking. It was impossible to keep such a bad burn a secret and they eventually found out. I am not sure what the consequence was, but I am still alive to tell the story. Obviously, having a fire under the house is not very smart either. You can see from the picture that the right side of the house was raised off the ground. That is where the incident occurred.

We had a catalpa tree in the front yard. It was a good climbing tree and Mack and I loved to climb as high as we could. One day he and I were jumping from one limb to another and he missed and broke his arm. It was traumatic for everyone, but Dr. Dingler was able to patch him up and put his arm in a cast. That tree also provided income for us because fishermen would pay us to collect the large, green catalpa caterpillars from the tree.

We were attending school at South Ward, which was about half a mile from our house. We always walked to school. I don’t know why I remember this, but every school morning Daddy would look out the window and say, “There goes Sue Calk and Sue Calk’s sister. You guys need to get to school.

I think I was in the fourth grade that year and we both got a Red Ryder BB Gun for Christmas. We took them to Grannie’s and went out to the pasture to shoot them. The only problem was Mack could not cock his gun with a broken arm. Each time we shot, I would have to cock my gun, and then cock his gun before we could shoot again.

We had grown to love the country so much while living in Kelsey that a lot of our summer was spent at Grannies. We would go and stay a week or two at a time and still not want to go home. Lela would take us fishing or whatever our hearts desired. She or Grannie would bring us treats and do many special things for us. We would fill our days with hiking through the woods, wading in Kelsey Creek, helping Papa milk the cows, riding the Shetland ponies at Ray and Fay’s, etc. We could get up when we wanted to, and go to bed when we wanted. Life at Grannie and Papa’s was carefree and full of excitement. Most Sundays we went directly to Grannies when we got out of Sunday School. Vaughn and Fayrene’s family would all be there. It was always fun to spend time with our cousins.

The Yamboree was held on the square around the courthouse in Gilmer every year. It was the local version of a county fair with several rides and side booths. One year Papa bought a large cooler for the milk house. As he was transporting it home one of the round lids blew off. He offered Mack and me $5 if we found it. He thought it had blown off somewhere along the highway between Gilmer and Kelsey. He took us out to the highway and we each took a side of the road and started walking toward Gilmer. We found the lid, collected our $5, and had lots of money to spend at the Yamboree, which continues annually today.

Another fond memory is shelling purple hull peas. We would sit around the kitchen or the dining room with a bowl in our lap and shell the peas for canning. There would be several people sitting together and shelling and talking. No one does that anymore, but I enjoyed it. We canned several things like peaches and green beans.

We went to Georgia every summer on Dad’s two-week vacation. We would go to Grannie Hop’s (Dad’s mother) house for a week then to Papa Grubbs’ (Dad’s father) and Tommie’s (Papa Grubbs’ second wife) for a week. It was always a lot of fun to visit. We would usually have a watermelon bust at Grannie Hop’s and have all the relatives over for the evening. One year we went fishing for catfish and caught a whole mess of them. I wasn’t too excited about helping Hop (Grannie Hop’s second husband) clean them when we got back. Catfish are rather hard to kill. He would put a nail through their head to hold them down while he pulled their skin off with a pair of pliers. We also went to Grant Park where we had a picnic and went through the cyclorama where a manikin portraying a battle in the Confederate War wore one of our grandparents’ Confederate uniforms. This was a huge park-like we had never seen before. There were lots of animals.

We always spent a lot of our time at the Goodwin’s (Dad’s sister Louise) because Rene’, Johnny and Jane had many things to do at their house. They had some woods out back and a Ping-Pong table in the dug-out basement.

After Papa Grubbs moved south of Atlanta to Lakeland, Georgia sometimes we would go to Fernandina Beach, Florida, and rent a cabin on the beach for a week. Of course, I have many great memories of the beach. We would swim early in the morning and late in the afternoon to keep from getting burned. One year Tommie, our grandma, brought a jar of homemade green tomato pickles and I can remember how good they were on a bacon and tomato sandwich.

One summer while running down the beach at dusk, Mack and I jumped over what we thought was a log only to discover it was a huge sea turtle that had come to shore to lay her eggs. We went back and got everyone else and watched the turtle dig a hole, lay her eggs and cover them up again. It was interesting to watch the eggs drop into the hole and bounce like golf balls. She laid 105 eggs.

I don’t recall how old I was, but one summer while we were at Papa Grubbs’ house, Don (Dad’s half-brother), Mack, and I went out into the woods behind the house. Don had stolen a pack of his mother’s cigarettes and he taught us how to smoke. Mack wouldn’t have anything to do with it, but I tried it. That evening Mother found out about it (Mack probably told her). I don’t know how old we were, but Mack and I were taking a bath in their tub of stinky sulfur-smelling water. Mother came into the bathroom and yanked me out of the tub stark naked and wore me out with a belt. She started after Mack and I had to verify that he did not smoke. That experience made a lasting impression on me. There were many times I had the opportunity to smoke, but I always remembered how serious a problem Mother considered it to be. Daddy and many of our relatives smoked, but I never had the desire to try it again after that experience. We had lived in many motels, apartments, duplexes, and houses of all sizes plus we had owned two mobile homes (trailers). In March 1956 I was eleven years and we finally moved into the first real home of our own. It was a popular model of a ranch-style home at the time. It was on the north side of Longview at 126 West Ann Drive. I can remember how neat it was when we first looked at it. It was a drastic improvement over the little home we were renting on Idlewood Drive on the south side of Longview.

I was in the fifth grade and I found this move very difficult. I had a hard time making new friends at school. I was never exceptionally outgoing and this was a difficult adjustment for me.

There were woods across the street from the house and Mack and I spent a lot of time there. We built the platform for a tree house way up in an ironwood tree. In fact, it was so high that none of the other kids in the neighborhood could get to it.

I am not sure why Mother, who had grown up as an active member of the Mormon Church chose to marry the son of a Baptist Preacher, but she did. I don’t know how active Dad was in his religion, but about this time we started going to the Baptist Church with him on Sunday mornings. We had always attended the Mormon Church prior to this time, but now we would go to the Baptist Church with him Sunday mornings and with Mother to the Mormon Church Sunday evenings. I wonder what the teacher thought about having two Mormon boys in her Sunday School class.

I am not sure what happened, but we eventually quit attending the Baptist Church. I think Dad stopped attending about this time too. Church was always a constant in our lives and the only reason for missing church was a high fever or death. I was not always attentive in Sunday School or Sacrament Meeting, but I guess some of the teachings stuck with me. I remember about this age while saying my prayers one night I was overcome with emotion to the point of tears because we would not be able to be an eternal family because Dad was not a Mormon. I always prayed that someday he would join the church, but never thought it would happen.

It was about this time Mack and I took swimming lessons at the Longview City Pool. I have always loved the water and learning to swim came naturally to me. As an eleven-year-old, I was able to join the Boy Scouts at Valley View (the grade school we attended), which met weekly in the gym. They were very organized. Campouts with the troop were the ultimate in fun. We had an annual pancake dinner to raise money and I remember Daddy helping cook the pancakes. All the scouts sold tickets and served dinner.

I also joined the school choir while in the fifth or sixth grade. As a kid, I could carry a tune and enjoyed the choir. We visited various places to perform with the choir. One of my favorite songs was “Oklahoma”. During this same period of time, I remember two occasions when I was asked to sing a solo for a church function. I had a solo in a play put on by the stake. I sang, “The Lord Is My Shepherd”. I was also asked to sing a solo at a stake conference and I got so scared when I stood up that I forgot part of the song.

The high point of the Valley View Scouting experience was the summer camp at Camp Tonkawa. We spent a whole week there working on merit badges, swimming, and hiking in the woods. I attempted to pass my swimming merit badge but didn’t make it. After the class, we would have to swim 20 laps in the pool. The spring that fed the pool was soooo cold that it made me numb. I was so tired one day after the laps that I couldn’t get out of the pool. Someone had to help me out. We all referred to the drink at the mess hall as bug juice.

Charles Milton Shirley, a friend of the family who lived in Kelsey, Texas, ordained me a deacon on June 2, 1957. Having watched other deacons pass the sacrament for years, I had looked forward to the day I could participate. We decided that since I was a deacon now and old enough to attend mutual that I should stop attending the scout troop at Valley View and start going to mutual.

Although the church did not have its program organized very well, I can recall several great times. We spent many weekends camping out at the “Old Mill Pond” which was close to Hallsville. We would always take our swimming suits and between hiking and swimming, I was happy as a lark. A. J. Muse was our scoutmaster. He didn’t know much about scouting, but he knew how to show us a good time. He also lived on our side of town and since my dad was not a member of the church he always picked me up for priesthood meetings on Sunday mornings. He and I were also home-teaching companions and he taught me a lot about service to others.

One summer A. J organized a trip to the Gulf for us scouts. We were excited to go and for some crazy reason, Mack and I shaved our heads for the trip. I am not sure what all we saw, but I do remember going through the Battle Ship of Texas, which was anchored around Galveston. We didn’t have a place to camp so we camped out in a park close to the ocean. There was a storm out in the gulf that weekend and the waves were crashing high over hour heads. I had been to the ocean before but had never seen waves like that. We had a blast body-surfing those huge waves for several hours, maybe all day. This was before sunblock had been invented, but it was clouded and we didn’t think we would get sunburned on a cloudy day.

Can you imagine how blistered we were especially our baldheads with no hat? We were miserable riding home in a crowded car. We got home late Saturday night and Mother was ready to kill A. J. for letting us get burned so badly. We had huge swollen blisters on our heads, back and shoulders. It was so bad the skin pulled off on the sheets where we slept that night. The next day was Sunday. Mother’s rule was if you weren’t throwing up or didn’t have a high fever you went to church so we went to church. I can vividly remember how painful the white shirt and tie were for our blistered bodies. I don’t know for sure, but Mother probably got A. J. fired for that little adventure.

A. J. loved basketball so instead of working on merit badges every Wednesday night at Mutual, we played basketball behind the church. A. J. could whistle as you have never heard anyone whistle. I asked him to teach me and after a lot of practice, I finally started to learn his technique. I have whistled ever since and still enjoy whistling a tune much of the time. He also introduced me to the great game of “Got You Last” that I still play today with my grandkids.

A. J. always picked me up for Priesthood Meeting on Sunday Morning. One year he bought a brand-new Volkswagen. It was probably the first year they were sold in the U. S. I got out of his Volkswagen the first time I rode in it and shut the door like I usually do on a car. He barked at me, “What are you trying to do, cave in my car?” I was embarrassed and learned not to slam the door to his new car so hard. He would pick me up to go home teaching each month. One of the families we visited had a very smelly home and A. J. would always ask me if I remembered to bring a close pin for my nose. He had a good sense of humor and taught me a lot. He took more interest in me than my own dad.

I graduated from Valley View Grade School and in September 1957 started the seventh grade at Forest Park Junior High, the new junior high school. In the sixth grade, rumors were continually passed around that the big guys at junior high would catch all of the new kids, pull down their pants and hang them on the flag pole. I took it very seriously and was cautious for the first few weeks until I found it was not true. I can even remember dreaming once that my pants were flying on the flag pole. Thank goodness it was only a dream.

I joined the band and although I wanted to play the trumpet, Melvin Marshall the band director said my bottom lip was too big to play the trumpet. I had injured my bottom lip while I was on crutches. When I fell I cut my lip open. The doctor said I needed seven stitches but he could not stitch my lip. It finally healed with the gash laying wide open. Mr. Marshall suggested that I play a bass horn. A base had no class and we compromised on a trombone. Having taken piano, I knew quite a bit about reading music and found the trombone was easy for me. You only had to play one note at a time and you had to play several keys at a time on the piano. After the first year, I moved up to the first chair position. Mr. Marshall was a great teacher. He showed real interest in each of us.

One summer I stayed at Grannies for a while to help her with some work. She had paid me about $10 for my help then I took the bus from Gilmer back to Longview. I knew Mother and Daddy were both at work when I arrived at the bus station in Longview so I started walking home, which was about five miles. A police car pulled up beside me, rolled down his window, and told me to get in the car. He informed me that a gas station close by had been robbed and I matched the description of the thief. I knew I hadn’t robbed any gas station and was not worried. He drove me to the gas station and told me to stay in the car while he went in and talked to the owner. Then he and the owner came out of the station and the policeman told me to get out of the car and turn around slowly. I thought this was such a waste of time until the station owner said, “Yes, I think that is the guy”. I knew I was in trouble then so I told the policeman I had just gotten off the bus from Gilmer. To verify my story, he took me to the bus station, and fortunately, the bus driver was still there. He confirmed that I had just gotten off the bus and the policeman was nice enough to take me home.

Charles Milton Shirley ordained me a teacher on March 1, 1959. I am not sure why my grandpa or uncle didn’t do my ordinations or baptism, but it was always a ward member. I don’t even think any of them came to these events in my life.

In May 1960 I graduated from Forest Park Junior High. My class was the first one to complete all three years there. During my time there some of us would cross the street behind the school and go into the woods at lunch and have a dirt clod fight. One day at noon during a big dirt-clod war, I slipped and fell into the creek. I started walking home through the woods and got lost on some back roads. It took me so long to get home that it was too late to return for the afternoon.

One other pastime I enjoyed there at Forest Park was running through the big storm drain pipes in the back of the school. As kids, we could stand up in them and walk up high enough on the sides to stay out of the water.

In September 1960 I started the tenth grade at Longview High School. Forest Park was close enough to walk or ride a bike, but Mother had to start taking me to school now. Continuing with my interest in the band I joined the Longview High School Band under the direction of D. J. Rotondo. By my junior year, I was good enough on the trombone that I was asked to play in the stage (jazz) band, which played jazz music for shows and school assemblies and competed in several contests during the year. Although I didn’t practice much, I found that it was easy to play the music. I realize now how much better I could have been if I had put some time into practicing.

During the summer of 1962, Bishop Barksdale asked if I would go on a two-week youth mission. I was not very excited about it but said I would. Mack and Nelson went to Marshall and I went to Kilgore with another boy from Longview. We lived with the two full-time missionaries for two weeks and got a real taste of what missionary life was really like. I really enjoyed the experience.

The full-time missionary I was assigned to work with was from South Carolina and was very jovial. I can remember walking down the street tracking and just laughing our heads off about something. He really made it a lot of fun. We taught several families and I baptized one girl during this time.

I didn’t really date much prior to my junior year in high school. There were no girls in the church that I was interested in. I had dated Joan Prince, a church member, and Sherry Tilly, a member of the band a few times. I met Patsy Walker, a sophomore majorette in the band, and really hit it off with her.

Patsy was going steady with Ronnie Brown, which caused a few problems. After a while, she broke up with him and we started dating. We would meet before and after school, between classes, and for lunch. She had a red Chevy Monza with a stick shift that I really enjoyed driving. Mack and I never had a car while living at home. In fact, I never had a car until Helen and I had been married for about six months.

Ronnie Brown was not happy that Patsy broke up with him and started dating me. He told everyone I was a family breaker. He was a short guy, but worked out at a gym a lot and may have been tough. He kept threatening me and one day wrote some nasty things about me in the restroom. I don’t recall the incident, but Mack got into a fight with Ronny Brown at school and got expelled for a few days.

I was not afraid of heights and Dick Day, Mack, and I had climbed several abandoned oil derricks just goofing off. There was a huge water tower about 100 feet high and close to Patsy’s house. I got Dick Day to join me one night. I climbed the tower with a paintbrush and a gallon of paint. Dick refused and stayed in the car at the bottom of the tower. I painted “PATSY” in great big letters so that she could easily see it from her house. Fortunately, we didn’t get caught. She didn’t notice it until I pointed it out to her. Mack did the same thing for his girlfriend, Karen Young, but he included her last name and the police eventually tracked him down. He was given the opportunity to remove the paint.

In the eleventh grade our jazz band played in several contests and won trophies everywhere we went. Mr. Rotondo was a very strict person and I did not care for the way he dealt with the students, but he was an excellent musician.

This might not make much sense if you were never in a marching band. One day when we were on the practice field going through our routine for the next football game half time I was standing at parade rest where you are to put your left hand behind your back while holding your horn in a down position with your right hand. I had a habit of holding onto my trombone behind my back. Mr. Rotondo had caught me doing that and me not to do it.  He caught me doing it again and came up right in my face like a Drill Sargent and yelled, “How many times am I going to have to tell you to stop doing that?” I am sure he expected me to say, “None”, but I said one more time. I don’t remember his response, but I am sure it was not worth repeating.

At the end of my junior year, 1962, the band went to Memphis, Tennessee. We marched in some big parade. One evening while we were there the stage band went to a dance at a large outdoor pavilion where the famous Les Brown and his band were playing. Mr. Rotondo arranged for us to play some of our music during his intermission. Of course, we thought that was a real privilege. Les Brown conducted one of the songs we played. We also had a fun time imitating all the drunken people around us. I don’t think I had ever seen someone drunk before then.

Mr. Rotondo arranged all of the music we played in the jazz band and adapted it to our individual capabilities. By the twelfth grade, I was playing lead trombone which gave me the opportunity to play several solos.

Close to the end of my senior year, we had been practicing hard in preparation for the annual Jazz Band Contest in Brownwood, Texas. Mr. Rotondo had been to this contest several years in a row and had never won first place. He was determined to win this year. For one of the evening practices, I decided to go to my girlfriend, Patsy’s house instead of going to the practice. I never dreamed that Mr. Rotondo would call my home asking where I was. Needless to say, I went to practice a little late and was grounded for a month.

The day for the contest finally came. Brownwood, Texas was about 300 miles from Longview and we left early in the morning on a school bus for the long drive. I spent part of the time sleeping in the aisle, bouncing down the road. As soon as we arrived at the school in Brownwood, Mr. Rotondo told us to get our horns and warm up because we would be going on stage for our performance soon. That was when I realized I had left my trombone in the band hall in Longview. I was frantic and didn’t know what to do. I had a solo in both of the songs we were to perform and the band wouldn’t be able to participate in the contest without me. I knew Mr. Rotondo would kill me, but I told him my dilemma. I am sure he would have killed me right there if people were not watching. He told me he didn’t care how I did it, but I better beg, borrow, or steal a horn and warm up.

I went into the auditorium where a band was performing. I could see the lead trombone player had a horn just like mine. As soon as they finished their turn I ran up to the stage and explained what had happened and asked to borrow his horn. I had never seen this guy before and he certainly didn’t know me. These trombones cost several hundred dollars and asking to borrow someone’s trombone and mouthpiece would be like asking a stranger if you could borrow his toothbrush. I guess he could see the desperation on my face. Fortunately, he let me borrow his horn, or I would not be here to tell the story.

Our jazz band consisted of:

• First Row – Saxophones: Carolyn Cooksey, Patsy Post, Pat McCamy, John New, John Case
• Second Row – Trombones: Thad Tatum, Bill Grubbs, Robert James, Bill Fletcher
• Third Row – Trumpets: Ronny Suber, John Day, Mike Frazer, Rob Barr, Dan Reed
• Drum: Sonny Fletcher
• Piano: Susie Graham
• String Bass: Dennis Axberg
• Flute and vocal Soloist: Pam Rotondo

I have been trying to find someone in the band who still had the record of the two songs we performed for over two years. I finally tracked down Mr. Rotondo’s daughter, Pam, through FaceBook who had the old 33 1/3 vinal records. She sent me a copy of the two songs we played that day for the contest. I have included the recordings here:

• My Funny Valentine – my solo starts after the flute solo.
• A Foggy Day – my solo starts after the trumpet solo.

We won first place and I was selected to the all-star band, which is a group of outstanding performers across the entire group of 38 bands from 5 states that participated. Stan Kenton, a well-known jazz band leader at the time, was the honorary judge who selected me to be in the all-star band. I was very proud of the trophy I won at Brownwood. The picture below is not very clear but it includes Pam Rotondo and me standing beside Stan Kenton holding our trophies.

We also performed at a contest at Steven F. Austin College and Southern Methodist University (SMU) in Dallas and I won a trophy there. After our performance I had recruiters from SMU and the University of Texas (UT) tell me that if I would join their school jazz band they would assure me I could get a good music scholarship. I was very impressed because I knew both schools had great jazz bands.

I never expressed my thanks to Mr. Rotondo for such a great experience and if he were still alive I would thank him. Looking back now, playing in the jazz band was one of the highlights of my high school experience.

I was ordained a priest on February 26, 1961, by Nelson Arley Barksdale who was my bishop for many years.

Sometime during the tenth or eleventh grade, I met Dick Day who played trumpet in the band. We started running around together. Dick was a very clean-cut kid and we really seemed to hit it off. Dick had a cabin at Lake Cherokee, just outside Longview and he, Mack, and I spent many weekends from Friday after school until Saturday evening at the lake. Dick had a barge and a small fishing boat that we used in the water. We would take the barge out to the middle of the lake and swim from it. We would dive from the top or tow along behind on a rope or anything else we could dream up. Dick was very handy and rigged up an old Maytag gasoline engine from an old washing machine and a generator to the barge. He had car headlights on the front and back of the barge so we could take it out at night and swim. The fishing boat was not fast enough to pull you on skis, but we had an old piece of plywood we would sit or stand or kneel on as we were pulled behind the boat.

With Dick’s engineering ability, we were always trying new and interesting experiments. He removed the compressor from an old refrigerator, which would pump air instead of Freon. He mounted it on a board and attached it to the Maytag engine with a pulley. When the engine was running, it would pump this terrible Freon-smelling air through a long garden hose he attached to it. Once out in the lake, we would tie weights around us, hold the hose in our mouths and jump off the barge. We could go down the length of the hose and stay down as long as we could stand the awful-tasting air.

Going on to bigger and better things, we got a large sheet of plastic (probably something Dad brought home from work), tied rocks to all four corners, and took it down under the water. The idea was to pump enough air under the plastic for all of us to go under there at once and play around. We were never successful in our many attempts at this ingenious idea. There was a problem with our design, but we couldn’t figure it out. The weights kept pulling loose from the corners. We needed a more experienced engineer to help us. I still keep in touch with Dick Day (Richard now).

On May 30, 1963, I graduated from Longview High School. There were 298 students in my graduating class. We had raised money in the band to attend the Lion’s Convention in Miami, Florida. As soon as school was over we loaded the buses and took off. We stayed in a hotel right on the beach and just had a ball. It was very hot as we marched in the Florida sun with our long wool uniforms, but we placed third out of all the bands there.

I graduated long before the schools were integrated. I was aware that there was a Negro High School in Longview, but never knew anything about it. It was on the other side of Longview. The Longview Negro High School was called the Mary C. Womack High School. It had a staff of 20 teachers, one full-time principal, and an enrollment of 486 students in grades 9-12. Following the total integration of the schools in 1970, the Womack High School building was eventually closed.

Knowing that I would be leaving for BYU when school started, Patsy and I were never out of each other’s sight. She went with us to lots of places. I even took her to Grannies and showed her around the farm.

I was in love with Patsy Walker and didn’t want to leave home.  I had been offered a music scholarship to Southern Methodist University (SMU) and the University of Texas (UT), but because of Patsy I just wanted to go to Kilgore College and live at home. My Mother was determined that I was going to BYU and said I could go to college anywhere I wanted, but they would not help me financially unless I went to BYU.

I was not sure what I wanted to do for a career, but because of my Mother’s persistence, I decided to try for a music scholarship at BYU. I applied too late and didn’t get one. I applied for a dorm but was told they were filled. I was signed up in an off-campus house (Bartholomew) owned and supervised by the university. We had a kitchen but had meal tickets to eat at Cannon Center, which was a few blocks away.

I did not want to go to BYU, but looking back now, I can now see that this decision to go to BYU has had a great impact on the rest of my life. Had I stayed in Longview and gone to Kilgore College I probably would have never gone on a mission or graduated from college. I can look back and be thankful for a mother who had much more foresight than her 18-year-old son.

Mother drove me out to Provo to get started. We took Paula Kay Tefteller, Carolyn Lloyd, and Sandy Johnson who were also going to BYU that year. I was assigned the Bartholomew house, which was north of campus. We were to eat our meals at Cannon Center in Helaman Halls. I had to go to BYU early for freshman orientation. My mother stayed at my campus house because my roommates had not arrived. She kept intending to leave and I told her if she left before my roommates came I was going home with her. The group of kids from home got together at my house before Mother left. I played my guitar and we sang, “500 Miles” which we had sung all the way from Texas. We were all very homesick. My roommates were John Beck, Keith Becker, Jon Gregory, Jim Hattley, and George Tauffer.

I didn’t know what field I wanted to go into, but chose engineering since it was a fast-growing field. Jon Gregory was going into engineering also so we signed up for many of the same classes. We had a 7:30 AM college algebra class five days a week, which almost killed me. I bought a bicycle because it was quite a way to go from our house to Helaman Halls for breakfast and then to class. Jon Gregory would ride on the handlebars since we had the same schedule.

I had dated a little, but was writing Patsy regularly and looked forward to going home for Christmas to see her again. I got a ride home for Christmas with some older students who had a car. I called Patsy and arranged a date as soon as I could get the family car. I picked her up and took her to a movie at the only downtown theater. During the movie, three big guys went down the aisle on the far side, around the front, and back up the aisle on the side where we were sitting. All the time one of the guys was calling out my name very loud and saying I was to meet him after the show. I didn’t know the guy, but obviously, he knew my name and was very upset about something.

Patsy then informed me he was the captain of the Longview High School football team and son of the coach and she had been dating him. I wasn’t anxious for the movie to end, but it finally did and we walked out to find these three big football players waiting for us. He wanted to know why I was dating his girlfriend and I told him I didn’t know she was his girlfriend. He said to meet them at Teague Park and we would settle this matter. I had no idea she had been dating someone else and was not happy with this turn of events. Like an idiot, I drove her to the park and got out of the car. Patsy was crying and asking him not to fight. He was steaming, but I told him I was not going to fight him over her. I told him he could have her. I don’t know who took her home, but I don’t think I saw her again that Christmas break, and I didn’t write to her when I got back to BYU. I was done with her foolishness.

I had many fun times as a freshman. My classes were hard and I really had not developed good study habits during high school. My commitment to the school was not very strong and I did not do very well. I found that there was a lot of hard work involved. One of our roommates had an old 1949 or 1950 Chevrolet. I had never seen much snow and when the roads and parking lots were covered we would each put a quarter in the pot for gas and take turns with two or three of us hanging on the back bumper while the driver spun donuts in a parking lot or just going down the road. None of us had enough money to ski but we could afford to go to the tubing run at Sun

Dance Resort. We would rent a car inner tube, hike up a steep hill and slide down the tubing run they had created. Once it got a little colder and several people had made the run, it would get slicker and faster. I feared for my life in that place. I have been back to Sun Dance recently and it is no longer there. I imagine someone got injured or killed and sued them.

A returned missionary moved in with us in the middle of the year and I had several talks with him about his mission. I had talked about a mission for years but was not really committed to going. For some reason after talking to him and observing the type of person he was I started developing a desire to go on a mission.

I loved to dance and started going to the stomps at Helaman Halls and met Carol Hatch from American Fork. We dated for some time. She had a little, two-seat Nash Metropolitan car that

needed new brakes I had never put brakes on a car, but really, how hard could it be? I put the new brake shoes on it and took her for a test drive. I was making a U-turn to return to our apartment and was going a little too fast. I hit the brakes and they went to the floor. I ended up running the front of the car up on a stabling wire for a telephone pole. The front of the car was completely off the ground. I think that is when I decided I better get someone who knew something about brakes.

Carol’s dad owned a jewelry store in American Fork. We drove there one Saturday and her parents took us water skiing at Willard Bay for the day. I may forget to tell this story so I will mention it now. Right after I got out in the mission field, our phone rang one day and when I picked it up Mother was on the line. I knew it had to be something serious because we were not supposed to call home. I asked why she was calling and she said she didn’t call. I realized Carol Hatch who worked for the telephone company had connected both of our phones from the Provo office. She knew better. It was a good trick but I asked her not to do that again.

My roommate, Keith Becker, had a motorcycle and every night we would flip coins to see who would go to Mcdonald’s and get everyone hamburgers. We ate 4 meals a day. I had been skinny all my life. In fact, J. J. Muse, my scoutmaster always called me bones and made me quite self-conscious about how skinny I was. I was determined to gain weight so I took a weight-lifting class and ate and ate and ate. I finally went from 155 to 160 pounds. I decided if all that work only put on 5 pounds it wasn’t worth it so I gave up trying to gain weight.

At the end of the year, everyone had gone home from the Bartholomew house except John Beck and me. We had been cleaning the house and found a can of silver spray paint that Keith Becker had used on his motorcycle. For some reason, we decided to paint the fire hydrant on the corner. Some man saw us and reported us to the police. We were picked up, taken downtown, booked, and put in the Provo jail for the night. I had enough money to post bail for myself, but not for John so I stayed with him.

That is the last jail I ever want to see. It was very depressing. We were separated and I was locked up with an old man. I didn’t sleep at all that night. The next morning they opened our cells and let us into a big room for breakfast. One of the prisoners was complaining that they were serving us Wheaties, the breakfast of champions. They certainly weren’t champions. That morning we were taken to the judge and fined five dollars each. It was a lesson I’ll never forget. Every time I filled out a job application there would be a question about trouble with the law. I was never sure if I should mention this incident or not. I would always list this event in my life.

That summer I got a job across town at the new Gibson’s Discount Store. It was my first full-time job and I wanted to do a good job. The manager gave me a broom and told me to sweep the parking lot. I guess I misunderstood him, but I started at one side of this huge parking lot and started sweeping. After a few hours, the manager came out and asked me what I was doing. I told him I thought he said to sweep the parking lot and my mother had taught me to sweep, not leaving anything behind. He explained that he only wanted me to sweep the areas of the parking lot that really needed it – not the whole lot. At the end of the summer, the manager tried to talk me into staying and working for him.  He even offered me a nice raise. I had received my mission call to the Western Canadian Mission and was preparing to leave. He took me to lunch on my last day and I had an opportunity to tell him about the church and my mission.

The Longview Ward had not sent out many missionaries and it was a big occasion when someone left for a mission. At my farewell sacrament meeting Dad, who was a non-member, spoke. I can remember how proud I was that he even came much less agreed to speak.

Getting ready for my mission, Mother suggested I get my patriarchal blessing so I drove to the home of my great uncle, Moroni W. Hamberlin in Kelsey, Texas August 12, 1964, and received my patriarchal blessing. On August 23, 1964, I was ordained an Elder in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints by Harry G. Nimtz, a long-time friend of the family in Longview.

Mack and Nelson were going to BYU in September 1964 and I left with them because I would be going into the mission home a few days after school started. The three of us had arranged to ride to Utah with Beverly Rogers. We left either late one night or early in the morning. When we all met to load up we found that we had too much luggage to load in the car. There were no trailer rental places open that early so we just piled everything into the car and sat on top of the suitcases. We traveled until we came to a town where a trailer rental palace was open. The car was so loaded that the springs were right on the axle. Once we got everything loaded in the trailer we were fine. Beverley’s friend asked what her mother thought of her taking three boys to Utah. She said, “Oh I told her it was Billie, Mackie, and Nellie.

September 21, 1964, I entered the mission home in Salt Lake City. It was not like the MTC they have today but was an old home just north of the Temple. President and Sister Richards were in charge of the mission home and were very gracious hosts. It was a little frightening for me because I really didn’t know what to expect. I soon met my roommates who were also going to the Western Canadian Mission. I was officially set apart as a missionary by Milton R. Hunter a General Authority of the church in his office in the church office building.

On September 25, 1964, we all went to the Salt Lake Temple. All of my roommates had already been to the temple prior to coming to the mission home, but it was the first time for me. I knew I would be going through the temple, but no one had ever told me anything about it. Mother had never been to the temple and Dad was a non-member. Because I was not prepared for the temple, it was not a very spiritual experience for me the first time. At the beginning of the endowment session, after going through the initiatory I was already having second thoughts about the temple. When they said if anyone didn’t want to proceed with the endowment to raise their hand I wanted to raise my hand and get out of there, but I was too chicken. I looked around the room to see if anyone else raised their hand, but they didn’t. If anyone else had raised their hand I would have gone out with them.

Having attended the temple many times since I have learned to appreciate and understand the importance of the endowment in my life. I’m very thankful we are allowed to return and review the covenants as often as we like.

Mission

There were six of us going to the Western Canadian Mission with headquarters in Calgary, Alberta. *** list of missionaries in my group Snelling, Moon, Davis???***. We boarded an airplane at Salt Lake City Airport. This was the first time I had ever flown in an airplane so of course, I wanted to sit by a window. We were picked up in Calgary by two missionaries who drove us to the mission home where we stayed for a day or two. We met our mission president, J. Talmadge Jones, and his wife, Vera. I had no idea at the time that he would become a very influential “father figure” for me since my Dad was not a member of the church.

After a day or two in the mission home, we were sent to a training area. Two of the other missionaries and I were assigned to Elder Bill Baker who was from Utah. He was a very seasoned missionary with the responsibility of training us on how to serve as a missionary. We had six missionary lessons that we were to memorize word for word and as soon as we could pass them off we would be transferred to our first area. Elder Baker would take one of us out with him in the morning, one in the afternoon, and one in the evening while the other two stayed in the basement apartment memorizing the discussions.

I have a few memories of my time with Elder Baker who had grown up on a farm. There were lots of flies in the apartment and he taught us how to catch them in the air and throw them against the wall and kill them. It seems gross now, but we all learned how to catch flies. We had to cook our own meals and he taught us how to make what he called “Bloody Mary Soup”. We would get a pot of tomato soup boiling then crack and drop raw eggs into it. I don’t believe I have ever made it since then.

I learned a few lessons while tracting (going from house to house knocking on doors). One day I hopped over a wooden fence around someone’s front yard and he quickly informed me that as a missionary, I should not do that. He also told me that if I didn’t start talking faster the people were going to slam the door shut before I told them who we were. As a result, I tried to talk faster and also lost a lot of my Texas accent.

I didn’t think I would ever be able to memorize all those lessons, but with a lot of prayer and determination, I was the first one in my group to memorize all six discussions. Elder Baker told me I had the potential to be an assistant to the mission president someday. Although I was surprised at his comment, it was a real vote of confidence in my ability as a missionary.

I was soon transferred to Hinton, Alberta North West of Edmonton, the farthest North any missionaries were serving in the mission. The only thing north of here was the Northwest Territories. Why the mission president thought this guy from Texas needed to experience such a cold place seemed strange to me, but I would not have had it any other way. The Lord knew where He needed me.

It was October or November by then and the weather was already cold. My new companion was Elder Gertz who was close to the end of his mission. On the first day there Elder Gerts said he had an appointment set up with a new family and he wanted me to give them the first discussion. I was still pretty rusty, having only recently memorized the lesson. I was struggling through it and the father jumped up in the middle of the discussion and said he wanted to be baptized right then. I was completely taken by surprise only to find out they were already members and this was all a setup for me. Of course, they all got a good laugh and I was relieved that I had not messed up too badly.

We were living in a church member’s camper trailer in a trailer park. There was already more snow on the ground than I had ever seen and ice was forming on the inside of the walls from condensation. The water lines were already frozen and we used the common showers and bathroom in the middle of the trailer court.

Elder Gertz slept on the bed in the back of the trailer and I slept on the fold-down kitchen table in the front. I had several blankets but was still too cold to sleep. I started putting the electric heater under my bed to keep warm at night. This was not a very safe situation and President Jones told us to find another place to live.

We then rented a small three-room house from a member family by the name of ???????*****. It was about 50 yards from the member’s house. There were three small rooms in a row – a kitchen and two bedrooms. There was no bathroom, but a small cut-out closet with a toilet. We drove a 1962 Rambler. It had an engine block heater that you plugged in at night to keep it warm. Unfortunately, when the temperature got down below minus 20 degrees the car would not start and we would have to push it down the hill to get it started.

There was an oil-burning stove in the kitchen that heated the place. If the flame was not set just right it created fumes that burned our eyes. We had no refrigerator so we kept our refrigerated food outside in the snow. Because we were so poor we would turn the heater off at night. We would take turns getting up early in the morning and lighting the heater. Mother had sent me an electric blanket by then and it kept me toasty warm. One Saturday evening the heater ran out of oil so we had no heat the next morning. Unfortunately, the place to buy oil was not open on Sunday so we were without heat until Monday. Fortunately, we were able to go to church and then were invited to a church member’s house for dinner.

In about the middle of December 1964, my companion and I were getting ready for bed and reading our scriptures when we heard a pinging noise on our window. We looked out and the landlord was shooting his bb gun at the window to get our attention. I opened the door and he yelled that I had a phone call. We didn’t have a phone and I had no idea who would be calling the landlord asking for me. I quickly dressed and put on my snow boots. I ran through the snow to their house and found it was my dad on the phone.

Our parents were not supposed to call us while we were on our mission so I just knew someone had died. He asked me if I was sitting down and I sat down. He said he was going to be baptized into the church. I was completely surprised and could not believe what he was telling me. No one had any idea that he was even considering the idea. He had taken the missionary lessons several times, but never joined the church. His dad was a Southern Baptist Minister and Dad could not accept the fact that his dad didn’t have the authority to baptize him. I guess he had been contemplating his decision for a long time. I will let him tell of his conversion in his own words as recorded many years later.

I could not have asked for a better Christmas present. Mack baptized him on December 21, 1964, while he was home from BYU for Christmas. I had longed for him to join the church but had given up on it ever happening. This was a real shot in the arm for me. As a missionary, I knew now that you never knew when someone might be receptive to our message and to never give up on anyone.

I left Hinton that winter and transferred to Lethbridge which was on the southern end of the mission. It was warmer than Hinton, but still bitterly cold compared to where I grew up in Texas. My new companion was Elder Palmer. Lethbridge had a high concentration of members of the church. Growing up in Texas where there were few church members, I couldn’t understand why I would be sent to serve among so many members of the church. At the time there were no missionaries serving in Utah or Idaho where there were lots of members.

Pincher Creek

Calgary with Elder Porter

Edmonton with Elder Ukena and Elder (dad at BYU)

Mission Home with Elder (married older woman) Pres. Jones

Return to BYU

I decided to return to BYU and continue my education after my mission. On ****date*** I left the mission and all of those wonderful people and experiences of the past two years behind as I boarded a plane for the second time in my life. I wanted to go home and visit my family but I was already a week late getting into the current semester. I didn’t want to wait until the next semester so I flew straight to Salt Lake City where John Porter, my previous companion picked me up. We had planned to room together at BYU and he already had reserved a place for me in the Le Chateau apartments just south of campus.

John took me to the Stake President’s house where he officially released me from my mission. From there John, who was always a real prankster, took me to a party that was already in progress and as he had pre-arranged, his sister, Ann, and some of her roommates threw their arms around me and commenced to give me great big kisses. I was terrified! I had not been closer than a handshake with girls for the past two years and was very uncomfortable. I would have been more comfortable with some quiet time to decompress and adjust to my new place in life. This experience certainly helped to speed up my adjustment to “Civilian”  or post-mission life. Of course, they all had a big laugh at my scared response.

Email to Ryan Eggett, choir director for the missionary choir for general conference, October 1, 2022.

I did not get a chance to sign the book for you but wanted to take a minute to thank you for such a wonderful experience. At the age of 77, I never dreamed I would ever get to sing for General Conference. My wife who passed away from breast cancer 30 years ago was singing in the Tab Choir when we met while going to BYU. I hope she was able to watch us perform from heaven yesterday. I know your hope was that our music would motivate those watching to rise up and serve a mission. I just got an email from a friend who recently lost her husband. She said our music motivated her to schedule a meeting with her bishop and volunteer to serve a mission. I hope many others felt the same way.