In 1932 in Las
Vegas, I entered the 7A class in elementary school. In San Francisco, 7A was the
beginning of the 7th grade, but in Las Vegas, they had the unusual custom of
starting with 7B and finishing with 7A. Boy did I struggle. So when we went to
Azusa, I put myself back in the low 7th. It was still a struggle.
In Azusa, we lived just a couple of houses away from a theater which, later
on, had to close down when we had a real good earthquake. One side of the
theater had a 40-foot crack in it. I was running in a track meet at the time; we
had just started the 100-yard dash. The ground rose up like an ocean wave and
knocked me down. Four of the other runners also hit the dirt, but we all got up
and finished the race. Nevertheless, the officials canceled the meet.
About this time, mom used to send me down to the bakery for a couple of
loaves of bread. The loaves were about 4 feet long and by the time I got home
with them, they were a mess. Fresh bread would bend and stretch hanging over my
arms, so invariably I ended up dragging one end of the bread.
Our favorite pastime was to go swimming, then go into an orange grove, get
some oranges, and suck out the juice. We'd each have at least ten oranges.
In about 1932, at the age of 13, girls started creeping into my life. One of
them, Betty Blossom Bakenhus was really aggressive. She was always complaining
that I never kissed her when I had the chance. But my favorite was a little gal
whose last name was Waddel. Her family owned an electric refrigerator, which was
a rare commodity at the time, and whenever I walked her home, I always got a
Popsicle or a dish of freshly made ice cream. I sure knew how to pick 'em.
Six months later, we moved to Monrovia, California, about 10 miles from
Azusa. It was a lovely place with big wide streets lined with trees. I used to
ride my little red wagon whenever mom sent me to the grocery store; either that
or a two-wheeled scooter that I could pump like mad.
About 1932, one of our early thrills was to walk over to Arcadia where there
was an abandoned Navy blimp hangar at our disposal. Climbing all over the
rafters and breaking windows was real sport.
Stu and Max were in high school and Em attended Citrus Junior College. All
were heavily into sports. Stu was busy playing softball and football. Max was
heavily into football and baseball.
Winston (we called him 'Wince') wrote from Boulder City and said the job
prospects were great, so we all piled into the new truck that dad had bought
from the compensation money owed him. It was off to Las Vegas, Nevada where we
could rent very reasonably.
In June 1933, dad went to Boulder City and applied for work.
Mr. McAdams told him they would hire him probably the next week. Dad asked him
where he lived and he said "Over on A Street". Dad said, "Fine,
I'll be by for dinner tonight with my wife and six kids. Dad went to work the
next day and was given a house to rent over on I Street.