LIFE-CHANGING CHOICES

LIFE CHANGING CHOICES!
It seemed good, in the spring of 1951, to be returning to Billings and the northwest. This is not to say that we hadn't enjoyed our stay in Nebraska. While living there it had been much easier to get to Jane's home for visits, and the work had been interesting. But I am a devoted Montanan, and wanted to live in my home state again.
The government picked up the tab for our move, which was again officially "for the convenience of the government." The Bureau of Reclamation crew at Indianola did most of our packing and loading. All we had to do was take our personal things needed for the trip. Off we went.
We had been forewarned that there would be no Bureau housing available for us. So we went to a motel, a very small and simple one, just a few blocks from the Region 6 office where I would be working. We lived in that motel two or three weeks, and then learned of a family that was looking for reliable house-sitters. We went to see them, and arranged to live in their very nice house for a couple months. We were to take care of the lawn and yard, keep the house clean, and, of course, pay for our own utilities.
While we were living in that fine home, David was learning to ride a bicycle. A little neighbor boy of about his age was willing to let David learn on his bike. David was not quite five years old, but fearless. He had a lot of help from me, trotting along behind him, holding onto the seat to keep him from tumbling. As soon as he had learned to balance fairly well, he took off on his own. He took many falls, but kept on trying.
Meanwhile, we were house-hunting. The new position I had paid well, and we were sure we could afford to buy a house. We found one, partially completed, and signed the contract for it. It was a bit small, only 970 square feet, or something like that, but we thought it would do us for the moment. The cost: $12,500! That was for the lot, and a brand-new house with attached single garage. Of course, we had to put in the lawn and trees, and fence the back yard. The land had formerly been part of an alfalfa field, and the soil was rich. Oh--something quite new to us--the gas furnace was in the attic; there was no basement. We bought the house under the provisions of the GI bill, so the monthly payments were low, less than $100 per month.
We moved into the new house in June, and I put in a garden, and lawn. The house was about two miles from the office, so I had to drive back and forth. Other Bureau people lived near us, so I sometimes shared rides with them. Most of our neighbors were very civil and friendly people.
In those days power lawn mowers were almost unheard of, so I bought a new push type reel mower. We had a dandy lawn all the time we lived there. I put in a strawberry bed, too, which did well, and planted some rhubarb out near the alley. A little honeysuckle shoot set out by our bed-room window grew quickly into a fine bush. When in bloom, the fragrance was great. We lived in that house, at 1611 West Yellowstone, until 1955, just a little over four years. Of course, while we were getting settled down, I was busy at my new job. At first I worked as assistant to the Regional Classification Officer, Betty McDonald, the lady who had asked for my transfer. She was a good instructor, and I learned a lot from her. I worked both on the classification of positions (deciding what title, grade, and pay rate was appropriate, based on the duties) and on the preparation of wage scales for our "bluecollar" construction and maintenance workers in Montana, Wyoming, and the Dakotas..
That part of the job was the most interesting, as I made many road trips, collecting wage data from contractors and large operating and maintenance organizations. We developed a wage scale accepted by all the federal agencies, and also some state and county agencies in our four-state region. That wage scale had to be reviewed at least annually, and was always a touchy matter.
The work took me out to the construction sites and maintenance operations of the region--clear over into the Dakotas, and down into Wyoming. The Bureau had many operating projects in all four states, and was also building a small dam near Devil's Tower, Wyoming--a very remote site. Much of my travel was with Bill Snyder, the Bureau pilot, in either the single-engined, or twin-engined planes he flew.
Only a few months after I came into the job, Betty left as she had planned to do, and I was promoted to her position, that of Regional Position Classifier, at GS-11. This was a middle management rank in the Federal civil service at that time. Journeyman level for engineers, economists, geologists, and other professional fields was GS-9. I was very fortunate!
With the new job, I made several visits to the district offices and to the field jobs, and quickly became acquainted with many fine men, specialists in all sorts of work. I got along as well as one could expect with such a wide variety of people. My boss, Howard Watts, was good to work for, and we men in the personnel office had many good fishing and hunting trips together. Also, now being close to my sister Jean's home, we frequently went there to visit, at Christmas and other times. We also saw my parents more frequently, though that was a considerable drive from Billings to Glasgow--about 350 miles.
As I have already mentioned in an earlier chapter, during the years while we lived in Nebraska, and now in Billings, my sister Jean wrote frequent and long letters, urging us to become Christians. We thought we were--weren’t we active in the Methodist church? I was very self-righteous, and thought I didn't need anything at all.
As I described previously, on the Friday after Labor Day, 1952, I made the life-changing decision to trust in Jesus Christ as my personal savior. We continued to attend the Methodist Church for a time, thinking that we could change things there, and bring people around to trusting in Jesus. However, after the pastor publicly belittled the blood of Jesus one Sunday, we began to attend the Church of the Air, an independent church with a daily radio broadcast. We learned a great deal about the Bible and Christianity there and in the home Bible study group. Our leaving the Methodist Church disappointed my mother. I think she never really understood our action. That winter I directed the choir in a little independent church in Laurel, 16 miles west of Billings. I also helped with daily services at the Salvation Army mission for transients in Billings. I sometimes went to the mission alone, though I was very green at the business of preaching. I often sang an old hymn or two, before speaking, trying to get the men to respond to the Gospel.
Those first attempts at leading a service were doubly difficult because of the horrible atmosphere provided for the services. The Salvation Army made no attempt to conduct evangelistic services. The many transients were housed in a damp, dark basement, equipped with double bunk beds. The latrine had a wide, open door, and the lighting was very weak. I stood in the doorway of the latrine to sing and speak, with men coming and going past me, often walking right in front of me. The men who cared to listen sat on a bench about ten feet away, facing me.
Because I felt that music was important--and partly because I was very much interested in sound recording at that time--we invested in one of the earliest tape recorders placed on the market. It was a Pentron, using the large reels of tape. I had Jeannette Sedlak, a fine pianist and member of our Friday Bible study group, help me record the piano accompaniment for several hymns and some solos, and used that machine to provide the background music. That helped a little bit, though not much. More of the men showed some interest in listening to the service. I did see a few decisions made, some of them very firm, with men's lives changed completely.
When the Salvation Army saw what success we were having down in the basement, they made a little chapel available to us, and even provided a piano. At the Church of the Air Jane and I enjoyed the fine Bible teaching and preaching.
Biggest event of early fall of 1953 was the birth of our daughter, Martha, on September 23rd. Everything went well with her birth. Jane's mother came up and helped again. Again we had a fine little one in our household.
In the fall of 1953 I was invited to join the radio choir, at the church, helping with the music for daily half-hour radio broadcasts over a local station. That was good, and I was intensely interested in the work. We rehearsed and recorded the broadcasts on two afternoons a week. I had to leave work early, and the recording took until six or later in the evening. Also we often formed groups from the church to go to nursing homes, and to the local jail to sing and speak. Both Jane and I passed out many tracts in those days.
Early in the fall of 1953, Jean's husband, Wayne, decided he would like to go deer hunting with me. He came down to the area near Harlowton, Montana, and met me on a ranch there. We had a good camping and hunting expedition, though Wayne didn't get a deer. Just a couple weeks later, Jean called one morning, saying that Wayne had fallen from a ladder while painting their barn, and was in a coma at the hospital in Havre. Two days later she called again--Wayne had died!
We went up to their town of Big Sandy for the funeral, leaving the older children in Billings with a friend. On the way we wondered what in the world we could say to Jean. She was now left alone with a big wheat farm and five children, one a baby just a few weeks older than our Martha. We hadn't decided when we arrived. Then on our way into the house we saw on the blackboard in their back porch the words Jean had written: "Rejoice in the Lord, always, and again I say, rejoice." Jean demonstrated the life of a true Christian during those very difficult days.
The big funeral was held in the high school auditorium in Big Sandy, because of the large crowd that was expected. It was a very sad time for all of us. Because of my mother's serious condition, she was not told of Wayne's death. We knew that it could only hurt her.
I haven't mentioned before that Jane's father passed away in 1947 or 48. Now it was my turn to lose a parent. My mother had been suffering from cancer for two or three years. She had a series of operations, the last one done in Great Falls. The last time I saw her was there, in midsummer, in the hospital. She went back home, dreadfully ill. Aunt Eckie, one of her sisters who lived in Wisconsin, came out and helped take care of her in her last days. Mom asked that we children not come to visit her, because of the condition she was in, so none of us went. How often since I've wished that we had gone, despite her request!
About three weeks after Wayne left us, Dad called one morning to tell us it was all over--Mother was gone. Again we set off, going by way of Jean's to take her and her baby, Faith, with us to Glasgow to the funeral. Robert came, too. Our sister Mary, ill with multiple sclerosis, and living at Jean's, was unable to make the trip. The big funeral was held in the old Methodist Church, where Mom and Dad had been so active for many years. It was a cold, miserable day, as I recall, and the time at the graveside was especially difficult. I was shivering so hard I could scarcely stand.
Afterward we went back to the church for a dinner provided by the women of the church. Several of our former school teachers and old neighbors from the homestead years were there, and that helped a lot. Dad was greatly distressed, naturally. A short time later he sold their little house, and went to live at Jean's. There he was a big help to her, raising chickens, and taking care of the livestock. We went back home to Billings, and then came back to spend Christmas with Jean and the children. We went again in 1954. We still have some photos I took that Christmas of 1953, and a fine stockman's pocket knife that Jean's boys gave me as a gift.
Another special event took place in late 1953. The Regional Administrative Officer asked me to move out of Personnel, and become a part of the Regional Director's staff. My new job title was "Organization and Methods Examiner," still at GS-11. Earlier I had passed up an offer to move to Washington, D.C., as a GS-12 in personnel work, simply because I didn't want to leave Montana. My new work was more difficult in some ways. I attended all regional staff meetings, and wrote up the minutes of those meetings, and the instructions given by the Regional Director to his district administrators and staff people. I shared an office with the Regional Information Officer, and we became good friends. Also, I now was assigned a secretary. I worked very closely with the Regional Administrative Officer and the Assistant Regional Director. One of my jobs was to go to the district offices and construction projects to advise on staffing patterns and organizations. One study I made was in the District Office in Bismarck, North Dakota, overhauling their whole central filing system. It was good experience!
Not all my recommendations were popular, of course, and in some ways I missed the work in personnel. Howard Watts, my former supervisor, moved to Washington, D.C., to the Postal Department, in 1954. I still fished and hunted with the men in personnel. Those were good years! I won't try to tell of my hobby of shooting and other activities! I know now that I spent an unreasonable time in those matters, not helping with the family as I should have done. In the spring of 1955, while much involved in work at the church, at the Salvation Army mission, and taking courses at the new Billings Bible Institute, a new thing entered my life. I was enjoying helping with the preaching at the mission, and on one occasion, had preached at a small Free Methodist Church in Billings.
On Easter morning, while helping with the dishes, I had tuned in the local Christian radio station. It was then I heard, for the very first time, a reference to Fuller Theological Seminary, founded by Dr. Charles Fuller of the Old Fashioned Revival Hour. We often listened to that radio broadcast. Later that morning, at our church worship service, a retired missionary, Mr. Huber, said to me suddenly: "John, I think you should go to seminary." We didn't discuss it, but that was the second time that day I had heard the word "seminary."
We had a guest for dinner some weeks later, Dick Gustafson, the American Sunday School Union Missionary for central Montana, a good friend of my sister, Jean. Dick suddenly said: "John, I think you should go to Fuller Seminary." After he had gone, we talked about it, and I did a lot of praying. After a few days I came to the conclusion that God wanted me to go to school, to prepare for missionary service.
Accordingly, I wrote to Fuller Seminary, received their literature, and began to make plans to leave my job and go to Pasadena in the fall. When I applied to the school, a condition was laid down for my acceptance. I must study widely in the field of philosophy, as I had very little background in that area in my college studies. All summer I read heavy books about the different schools of philosophy, and philosophical theory. I don't think it helped very much, but I boned up on it, anyway.
In August I announced at the office my decision to resign and go back to school. Many with whom I worked thought I had really flipped! It was beyond their experience that anyone would give up a good job like mine, to become a missionary. It gave me a great opportunity to talk about my faith in Christ with my supervisor, Bill, who was a faithful Catholic.
The time passed quickly. We advertised our home for sale, and at the last minute sold it, though at a considerable loss. We paid off the mortgage, leaving us only a small remainder, much less than we had counted on having. I also withdrew all my retirement savings, a good sum. As difficult as anything for me was selling my precious Mauser rifle that had given me so much pleasure. We sold many precious things. Then we rented a U-Haul trailer actually larger than our little old Chevy car, and loaded up for our big move.
This was a tremendous change for us. It was not a mere mid-life crisis, but a completely new start, seeking to be obedient to God. I knew that the way would not be easy, and that I would have to work while going to school, but didn't mind that. I had worked hard while going to school in the past, though then I didn't have a family to support. In early September of 1955 we were on our way to Pasadena California, so I could attend Fuller Theological Seminary. Three difficult and wonderful years lay ahead of us! We fully trusted that God would see us through.

GETTING STARTED IN A NEW CAREER
Our decision to leave the University of Montana, and my half-completed work toward a Master's degree in personnel administration, and to return to the working world, seemed forced upon us by our financial situation. Our savings were nearly all gone, and the income from my position as Graduate Assistant was inadequate to keep us in groceries. It simply didn't occur to me to borrow money to continue in school to complete my Master's degree. The only thing to do was to go to work. As I related in my previous chapter, I had several good job offers, and decided to go back to work for the Bureau of Reclamation, this time in Billings.
So. . . .we packed up and made our move. We drove to Billings, of course, in our "new" 1936 Plymouth sedan. We had sold decrepit "Mabel," the Ford roadster, because the top was badly worn, and it was too small and cold for a family car. This Plymouth car had a new 1946 straight six engine, and was in good shape. It was a good car, though always difficult to start in cold weather.
The trip to Billings was fun, generally speaking. David was just short of two years old, was already talking a lot, and was very knowledgeable about cars and tractors. I had spent many hours looking through magazines with him, and pointing out the ads for Fords, Dodges, and different makes of cars and tractors advertised in the Saturday Evening Post. On this trip David displayed what he had learned. He would see a car approaching, and tell me what make of car it was long before it reached us! He was correct nearly every time! Also, he identified tractors as John Deere's or Cases,etc., working in fields at some distance from the highway.
We arrived in Billings late in the day, and took lodging in a low-priced motel on the east side of Billings. Next day, reporting to the office, I found that the Bureau did not have living space available for us right then, though that had been promised. The result was that we stayed in that little motel for a month or more. The Bureau had paid for our moving expenses, and put our household goods in storage for us. Soon after our arrival, and while we were living in that motel, David became ill. That gave us much concern, as we didn't know any doctors there. He recovered quickly, however.
The location far from the office wasn't all bad, for we were near open range country to the south of us. I soon explored that area in my spare time, and found great places to hike and shoot. I spent many hours out there in the next few years. My new job was in the Yellowstone District Office of the Bureau of Reclamation, one of five districts in Region 6. Region 6 included the state of Montana, the northern half of Wyoming, and the Dakotas. Yellowstone District extended from around Livingston, at the west end, down the whole of the Yellowstone and Missouri River valleys, the area including Fort Peck, to the North Dakota line. As I had worked at Fort Peck earlier, and done survey work along the lower Yellowstone, I felt quite at home. Billings was a pleasant, growing city, with many interesting facilities,and a generally good climate. We were very happy there.
I found the staff in the Yellowstone District Personnel Office fine people to work with. The personnel head was Ben Kleinbach, a strong Christian, and a good leader. My job was in position classification, something I knew a little about, though there was much to learn. I received good help from the position classification person, Betty McDonald, in the Region 6 office, just a few blocks away. Also very helpful was the District Administrative Officer, Frank Dorfler. Because of my successful passing of the entrance examination, I was starting at grade GS-5.
Most of my work was with paper, though I visited the various offices of the district, and occasionally made a field trip down the river or to Fort Peck. It was interesting work, and I liked it. One girl in the office was a former student in my economics class at the University, and we often chatted about her studies. In the economics class she had been much more interested in boys than in the law of supply and demand.
After about a month of motel living, the Bureau had a small duplex available for us, in the Bureau housing project. This was a two-block long double string of log houses, mostly duplexes, built by the Bureau to house employees. Though our assigned space was small, it was adequate. I was now much closer to the office, and that saved time and gasoline. Now we met many new friends and neighbors. My supervisor, Ben, and his family lived just a couple doors from us. Ben was seeking a transfer to Alaska, which he undertook about a year later, after we had left Billings. One couple who lived near us, Bill and Noreen Snyder, became our close friends. Bill, a civil engineer, was employed by the Bureau as pilot of their planes, a single-engined Comanche (I think it was called) and a twin-engined airplane, a Beechcraft. That plane was made in the plant at Wichita, with which I was so familiar from my service days. He flew all around the region. In later years I often flew with him to outlying offices of the Region. His wife, Noreen, was a registered nurse. They had no children. She and Jane became fast friends.
David now had many children to play with. He was just two years old, and, we thought, could never get in trouble. He had been carefully instructed "don't fight, be nice." Jane heard him say that one day. But a few days later, when a little neighbor girl antagonized him in some way, he clobbered her on the head with a toy hoe, drawing blood!
Jane and I began to attend the Methodist Church, and I became involved in the choir that summer. Otherwise, I spent much of my spare time very selfishly, resuming my shooting activities at every opportunity. The area south of Billings provided many things interesting to me. A huge prairie dog town covered a roughly circular area two or three miles in diameter. The thick sandstone formations seen in Billings extended far south. I found huge sandstone caves supposedly once used by hunting Indians as shelter. Also there were interesting abandoned homestead buildings to prowl around, and to photograph. I often took the big rifle on my hikes, and carried a knapsack holding the heavy old Graflex camera.
I did a lot of reloading of shells for the 30-06 rifle that summer, both for shooting prairie dogs, and in preparation for the hunting season in the fall. The rifle was very accurate, but I learned that minor changes in loads (i.e., amount of powder used, and type of bullet) made significant changes in accuracy. Finally I settled on a heavy big game load, using 180 grain bullets at near maximum velocity, to be ready for deer, elk, and antelope hunting in the fall.
Antelope season came first. I had my permit well ahead of time, to shoot a buck antelope in an area north of Roundup, about 50 miles north of Billings. The day before the opening of the season I spent driving around through the area, to spot a likely place to hunt. Just about sundown I located a large herd of thirty or more, including several good bucks. I watched them until the sun went down, when they went out of sight in a coulee, and had, I was sure, bedded down for the night. The land wasn't posted, and it was right alongside the highway, so I could hunt there in the morning.
I went in to Roundup and had my supper in a cafe, then drove back out to a spot near where I had seen the herd. I planned to spend the night in the car, parked in the ditch along the road. It was dusk when I had undressed, down to my BVD's, and had my bedding all laid out in the back seat. I then got out of the car to do the necessary, slammed the door shut--and it locked! I was literally very much "out in the cold," in plain sight of the road (though there was no traffic), in a temperature just above freezing, and locked out of the car! A herd of curious yearling whiteface heifers had come up to the fence just behind me, to watch me in my efforts to get back into the car.
After some very shivery attempts, I pried open the trunk--the lock wasn't a very good one--to get the long jack handle. I then inserted that through the top of one car window, and after repeated efforts in the dusk, unlocked one front door. Boy, I was glad to get back inside! Getting into my makeshift bed, I finally got warmed up. The night was a frosty one, and I learned then how cold and miserable it can be trying to sleep in a car in cold weather.
Early next morning, with no breakfast, I dressed, took the rifle and binoculars (an ancient pair of World War I field artillery glasses) and went hunting. I had enough ammunition with me to start a small war, and carried my fine hunting knife. At first I couldn't spot the antelope herd, but after a bit I located them, still bedded down in a coulee about a mile away. I went back to the car, drove a mile down the highway, parked, and made my approach on foot and then crawling on my belly.
When I finally was in a good position for a prone shot, I checked the herd carefully, to locate the best buck. The one I selected was lying facing me, at about 200 yards. I aimed right at the center of his chest, and fired. The shot scared the herd, of course, and they scattered wildly. My buck just dropped his head, and never moved. It was a messy job dressing him out. While working at that, the herd came running past, very close, and one much larger buck almost ran over me! I hung the carcass of my buck on a fence post, to cool, while I went back to the car to eat some of the food I had brought.
I was home with my game early in the afternoon, very happy with my rifle and load. I took the antelope to a local butcher shop where they processed game meat, and after a few days we had a fine batch of antelope meat to eat. There was a problem with that, though, as Jane was pregnant again, suffering from morning sickness, and couldn't stand the smell of the wild meat cooking. Thus David and I ate most of it. Those loin steaks were simply terrific, we thought. Though I went hunting several times, I didn't manage to get either a deer or an elk that fall.
Back at the office, things were going very well. In December a phone call came from a Bureau office in Nebraska, inquiring whether I would be available for a job in personnel work in the western part of that state. I learned later than Betty McDonald, the lady in the Regional personnel office, had recommended me for the job. I would get a two-grade promotion. That looked like a good proposition, so I accepted the offer. We planned to move right after Christmas.
We spent Christmas with my sister, Jean, and her family, out near Big Sandy. I don't know just why we didn't go to Glasgow, where my parents lived. We had been there for a visit earlier in the fall. That Christmas at Jean's was the first of many that we would enjoy in the years to come. We left Billings the week after Christmas, driving the old Plymouth. The Bureau was taking care of our move--"for the convenience of the government." Our household stuff would be all installed for us when we arrived at Indianola, a little town in western Nebraska.
As you may have heard, the entire West suffered a terrible blizzard in the closing days of 1948 and into 1949. Whole trains were buried in the snow drifts in Wyoming and Nebraska. We started out right in the midst of that storm! No doubt it was very foolish to do that. Though the snow was heavy, we made good progress until we got to Buffalo, Wyoming. The town was just digging itself out a bit. Huge snowbanks lined the highway through the business section of the town, so that one couldn't even see the buildings from the road! We almost decided to stay there, the weather was so threatening. Instead, we closely followed a highway snowplow truck going south, and drove on to Denver, arriving late at night. We stayed with my brother Robert and his family for a couple of days.
Jane then took David with her, and went to Colorado Springs by train, to stay with her sister, Margaret, until I could come to take them to Indianola. Despite the severe storm, still raging, I drove on alone to Nebraska. I wanted very much to arrive at the new office on the date I had promised. That was a wild drive, and I often wished I hadn't started out. At times the drifts across the road were so high and thick I was sure I would be stalled. There was almost no traffic on the road. The car ran well, and I was warm enough in the closed sedan. Finally, late in the afternoon, I arrived at Indianola. I inquired in the little town for the location of the Bureau camp, and soon found it, about a mile from the town. My new boss, Struve Hering, gave me supper, and I stayed with them over night.
Next day I got partially settled in our assigned apartment. Our household goods had arrived OK, though they were still packed, of course. A small central gas heater provided heat for the whole unit. I spent the next few days becoming acquainted at the office, and getting started at my work. I had to park the car about a block from our front door, and that was inconvenient. Also, the car was very hard to start in the cold, stormy weather.
On the following Sunday morning, early, I started out to drive to Denver to meet Jane and David and bring them to our new home. I was also scheduled to visit the Region 7 office, our headquarters, while in Denver. The weather was cold and clear, though there was a stiff wind blowing, and some snow drifting. While getting ready to leave, I had heard on the radio a little prayer that went something like this: "Oh, God, give me the understanding to know that there are things I can change, and some things I can't, and the wisdom to know the difference between them." I thought it interesting, and it stuck in my mind as I drove away from the camp.
Just a few miles down the road, the snow was drifting clear across the cut a highway snow plow had made in a huge snow drift. I couldn't see through the cut, but gunned the engine so as not to get stuck, just as I had done on my way out from Denver. I got nearly through when suddenly a large animal jumped into the road directly in front of me. I struck him broadside, and he came up over the hood. One of his feet broke the windshield, and gave me a good blow on the forehead. Then he went on over the roof of the car. One of his hoofs broke the left rear window, sending a long sharp sliver of glass through my overcoat and other clothing, causing a nasty scratch on my ribs. At almost the same instant, I felt another bump, but didn't know what that was.
The car didn’t swerve at all; I coasted on through the big cut (the motor had stopped) and pulled off onto the shoulder of the road. I was surprised, as I looked around, to find that I had no serious injuries. Behind the car lay two big Missouri-type farm mules, as large as horses, both dead, one on one side of the road, and the second in the ditch on the other side. The radiator and hood of the car were literally molded tight around the engine block. Both headlights were gone, and the radiator fluid was pouring out. That car wasn't going anywhere that day!
I suppose I was somewhat in a state of shock. I am ashamed of what I did then, when I should have been grateful that I wasn't seriously injured. I remember shaking my fist in the air, and demanding of God why that had to happen to me! I was so self-righteous, I guess, it never occurred to me that I might have perhaps deserved trouble! That little prayer I mentioned earlier kept running through my mind, and I concluded that there was nothing much I could do about this situation!
Looking around, I spotted a farm house about a half mile away, and walked there through the deep snow. I found the family up, and about ready to leave to go to the town of McCook to church. While I was telling them about the accident, one youngster pulled the big sliver of glass out of my back, and it was only then I realized I was bleeding a bit under my clothing. The mules didn't belong to them, they said, but to a neighbor down the road a few miles. They gave me a ride to the nearby town of McCook. I had called the Highway Patrol from their house, and asked to have the car towed in to McCook, to the Plymouth garage there.
I then hitch-hiked a ride back to the Bureau camp, got an official car, and drove back to McCook. I left the car there, and caught a train in to Denver, got Jane and David, and we came back out by train a couple of days later. I was sore and stiff for a few days, but was thankful that I hadn't been badly injured. Foolishly, I had the old car repaired, to the tune of over $500, far more than it was worth! The patrolman had told me that the farmer would be responsible for the damage, since the mules shouldn't have been out of the road. But the farmer hired a lawyer, who challenged me to prove that the farmer was habitually careless, letting his stock run on the road. That, of course, was not true. Someone had left his gate open. So we had the bill and the car, but at least it ran well again. It was an expensive lesson, but fools don't learn otherwise.
The next months went by swiftly. We soon became very much involved in the little Methodist church in the town of Indianola. The building was badly run down, and we helped a group improving things--new drapes at the windows, painting most of the church inside and out, and so on. I even undertook directing the choir, as no one else was willing to try it. I never was a well-trained musician, and proved it in that position. But we put on a cantata for Easter, and that went over well. I also taught Sunday School classes, as did Jane, and we made many new friends.
The Bureau had many construction projects going in the Republican District to which I was now assigned, dams and canals, mostly. The district area extended to the north and west to the Colorado and Wyoming borders, including Ogallala, Nebraska, on the North Platte River. Down the Republican River valley the area ran clear to Red Bluff, where the Republican River ran into Kansas. The northwestern quarter of Kansas was also included. My job was to serve as general assistant to the Personnel Officer, particularly in position classification. I also had the responsibility of visiting the field offices to help with personnel problems right on the spot. It was very interesting work.
I loved to watch the heavy equipment used in building the several earth-fill dams then under construction, and to spend time with our survey and inspection crews as they did their work keeping everything in line, and seeing that the earth fills were properly compacted. On one project, in northwest Kansas, the excavation for the spillway encountered a bed of clay literally full of petrified clams and oysters, many as large as saucers. I took some of those home with me, but I don't know what became of them. On these trips to the field offices I drove "company" cars, big new black Pontiacs, terrible gas-eaters. I stayed in interesting little hotels, often seeing other Bureau employees from the district or Region 7 offices.
On June 4th, 1949, our daughter Mary was born in the hospital at McCook, Nebraska. Jane was anticipating the birth at any moment, and had asked her mother to come to stay with David and me. Jane and I went to McCook to a movie one evening, and then to the hospital, and sure enough, the baby was born the next morning. I believe that the delivery was considerably easier than David's. I have to admit I dozed off sitting in the waiting room. I remember how disgusted the nurse was who brought the baby in for me to see, to find me asleep! She thought I should have been wide awake, worrying, pacing the floor, or something.
I have so many pleasant memories of those days in Nebraska. In the spring of 1949 a plot of ground, level and irrigated, was subdivided to provide gardening space for any of us who wished to have a garden. I jumped at the chance! We had sweet potatoes galore that year, and a fine garden. I did much fishing with my boss, Struve, and some men on the building maintenance crew. They were "natives" of the area, and knew all the good fishing holes.
I soon got acquainted with a young fellow named Burt Whitlock, who worked as a clerk in the personnel office. He was the best shot with rifle and shotgun that I have ever seen. He bought a fine .222 Remington rifle and scope, to use on prairie dogs and crows. That encouraged me to spend money on a little Winchester .218 Bee rifle. Burt and I spent many happy hours together, shooting, hunting crows, loading ammunition, and the like.
I also bought a 16 guage shotgun that summer, and when pheasant season opened, was ready to hunt them. Later, duck hunting was great, though my shooting wasn't! I burned lots of powder, missed a lot, but had a great time. Others gave us enough game birds to eat. In the winter of 1949, several of us fellows helped Struve build a big, heavy 12-foot boat. I don't know how many fine brass screws went into that heavy boat! When spring came around, Struve invited another chap and me to take the boat out for fishing on Lake McConaughy, a man-made reservoir on the North Platte River. With three of us in the boat, and Struve, a heavy man, at the rear, operating the outboard motor, the boat rode pretty low in the water. A strong wind came up, and we were forced to run down lake in front of it for a couple of miles, heading back to our camp. We almost got swamped, with waves coming in over the stern, and two of us bailing like crazy. The wind blew continually the rest of the day, and we didn't dare venture out on the lake again. One very interesting activity in the office was the formation of a Federal Credit Union. I was one of the original board members, considering and approving loans, and so on. The credit union was very successful, and helpful to many. My work often required me to go in to the Regional office in Denver, riding on the Santa Fe trains to and from McCook. How I enjoyed those rides, especially one night when returning to McCook, and riding in the vista dome car, I watched an eclipse of the moon! I got along well with the regional office personnel people, and that helped.
In the spring of 1950, my sister, Mary, and her little daughter, Pam, came to stay with us. They had been staying with Robert and his family in Denver. Poor Mary, she was so helpless with multiple sclerosis, she had to be fed, taken to the bathroom, etc. In her situation she couldn't properly take care of or discipline her little girl, and didn’t want Jane or me to correct the child. I know that I was often too critical, and perhaps too harsh with little Pam. In May we all piled in the car and headed for Montana, taking Mary and Pam to stay with my parents, in Glasgow. Though my mother was even then suffering from cancer, I was not really aware of the seriousness of her situation. We shouldn't have left her burdened with Mary and Pam, but we did. Mom had only a little over three years of life remaining, and during that period had repeated major surgeries for the cancer. Dad was working at the big combination elementary and high school, doing maintenance work. He was very popular with teachers and pupils. All his life Dad was really a teacher at heart. Working at the school seemed a fitting closing of his working years.
The country around Indianola offered lots of interesting outdoor activities. We picked wild grapes and made jelly. Burt and I spent hours, and many .22 shells, shooting at moving targets--glass bottles and tin cans from the city dump, tossed high in the air. Burt seldom missed, and would often break two tossed at the same time. I could hit one such moving target pretty regularly after a lot of practice. There were some squirrels to hunt, too, and I learned how to call squirrels to come out to where I could get a shot. Lots of cottontail rabbits were harvested, too. Burt was deadly on crows, and we both learned to call crows, sometimes bringing in large flocks of them. Pheasants were plentiful, and I had many great days hunting with Burt, Struve, and others.
Early in the spring of 1951, I received a phone call from the Region 6 office in Billings, asking if I would be interested in returning to Billings. I could take over the job of Regional Position Classifier, at grade GS-9 to start, with promotion to GS-11 soon. Though I liked Nebraska, and we had made many friends there, the opportunity to return to Montana was too good to turn down. I quickly agreed to the transfer and promotion, and we prepared to leave Nebraska. We still write to several of the friends we met there, though most have long since left the Bureau. Those were good days!

More College Studies

MORE COLLEGE STUDIES
Going on with my story of returning to college, I now learned that the University required extended study in a foreign language for graduation. I had forgotten most of the German that I had studied at Linfield College years before, so decided to study Spanish. I really enjoyed that course, though I have never used what I learned of the language. I found that I had a knack for learning another language. Several years later I applied some of the techniques of learning Spanish to learning Greek and Hebrew.
Living in that crowded gym "dormitory" was hectic. The only good thing I can remember about it was watching part of a football game from our windows. It was snowing out, that afternoon, a regular blizzard, and I was glad to see parts of the game from a warm lookout. At times the snow was coming down so heavily we couldn't see the players! After about two weeks there, another chap and I found a room in the basement of a nearby private home,and lived there until I could rent an apartment.
My classes were interesting, and the teachers excellent. I found the studies fairly easy, though much reading was required, both from text books and in the University library. I had learned how to extract the main thoughts in reading, and took copious notes both in class lectures, and in my reading.
Soon after school began, the deer hunting season opened. I had done a little searching around in the area north of Missoula, and had a place located where I could hunt. I bought a box of shells, and began to spend my spare time on Saturdays and Sundays hunting. I went out alone, taking a simple lunch with me. I knew absolutely nothing about deer hunting, but was thrilled to be out in the woods. I saw lots of tracks, but never a deer.
Then one Saturday my roommate (I can't recall his name) went with me. He borrowed a single shot 20 gauge shotgun and some slug shells. We had a good morning, following the tracks of a big buck in the new snow. Finally, about noon, we sat down in a sunny clearing to eat the lunches we had brought with us. Here and there in the clearing there were clumps of low bushes. We leaned the guns against a little tree a few feet away, brushed the snow off a log, and began to eat.
After maybe twenty minutes of slow conversation and eating, we were startled out of our wits by the eruption of a huge buck deer out of the low bushes right in front of us! He had been lying there the whole time. Apparently his nerves finally gave out, and he thought he must escape. He had been lying within thirty feet of us! Of course we both jumped up, and scrambled to reach our guns, but by the time we had done that he was out of sight. We didn't get a shot, or see another deer that day. We did learn something--deer can hide in almost no cover, and be very hard to see. That was a typical hunting day for me--lots of exercise and fresh air, but no venison! Though I hunted several times that fall, I never had a chance at a deer.
The university had a huge enrollment that fall, many of the men being veterans returning to get an education. The women students, in general, were much younger, not having served in the military. I went to a couple of "mixer" parties on the campus, but didn't get acquainted with many students. I was older, a senior, and didn't seem to fit in too well with the younger crowd. Finally, in early November, the school announced that they had an apartment ready for Jane and me. I couldn't leave school to make the move until Thanksgiving. Driving to Glasgow, I had a narrow escape from having a very serious accident. Long after dark, I was driving between Fort Benton and Big Sandy. The road was very icy in spots, though there wasn't much traffic. Going down a long grade, I came up behind a big semi outfit, and decided that since the road ahead was clear, I could pass. I pulled out, and just when accelerating and moving back to my lane in front of the truck, hit a patch of ice. The little Ford skidded clear around, a 360-degree spin, right in front of that big rig! At one point I was facing directly toward him. Very fortunately for me, we turned on around, and went on down the road safely. I was so frightened by that I decided to stay over night in Havre, and drive on to Glasgow in the morning, Thanksgiving Day. After a good Thanksgiving visit with my parents, we had our household goods shipped to Missoula, and Jane, our little son David and I drove back together in the little Ford. As we did so often in the next few years, we stopped over night at Jean and Wayne's, and had a little visit with them. The weather was decent, so we didn't get too cold while driving.
Our apartment was one of several in a long barracks building, moved from old Fort Missoula to the golf course owned by the University. An extensive village of these buildings was laid out, with named streets, and even some street lights. I can't remember our house number. We had a pot-bellied stove for heating the place, and a wood-burning kitchen range for cooking. I bought an axe, and a load of slab lumber from a nearby mill. I split and chopped a lot of wood that winter. I still have that Montgomery Ward axe, though I have had to replace the handle many times. We also burned some coal, to keep a fire going overnight in the heater, during the coldest weather.
My studies seemed very easy, and I was able to earn straight "A's" that first year. My courses were in advanced economics and sociology, designed for seniors or graduate students. We made friends with our neighbors up and down the street, and found our living there quite comfortable. Jane did have some trouble with laundry, though. We took the clothes to a laundry facility there in the village, and brought them back wet to hang outdoors to dry. David was going through a lot of diapers, and we had two or three lines full every week. In the cold, hanging out those wet diapers was a chilly business! By the time one had a diaper pinned to the line it would be frozen hard, stiff as a thin board. Of course in the dry climate they dried quickly, and then could be folded. Nothing smells better than clean clothes dried out of doors, but it was hard on the hands! Disposable diapers hadn't been invented, though we couldn't have afforded to buy them if they had been available.
During Christmas vacation, a neighboy and friend, Abe Cole, an Air Force veteran who had spent much of the war flying over the "Hump" (the Himalayas between India and China), found work for both of us. We went to work for a small private lumber operator who had bought a big stand of trees in the national forest about twenty miles out of Missoula. That was an interesting experience. We left early each morning, and rode out to the cutting camp with the boss. There we spent the first couple of hours heating water and trying to get their big Caterpillar tractor started. The weather was very nippy, and the machine was hard to start. When that was accomplished, we piled on the "cat" and rode up into the hills where the logs which had been cut the day before were ready to bring down.
Abe and I had the task of pulling the steel cable off the winch, moving up the steep slopes through snow sometimes up to our waists, to reach logs on the slopes above. There we passed the cable around a log, secured it, and then the cat operator pulled the log back down the slope. We had to step lively to keep out of the way! Then it was slip and slide down the hill, grab that cable again, and take it back up the hill for another log. Two men were employed as tree cutters, and were busy cutting more trees as we took out the logs from the previous day's cutting. It was hard work, but we both enjoyed it. Our sack lunches, eaten in the little cabin occupied by the cutters, tasted mighty good!
In the afternoon, when we had brought down enough logs for loading, we spent the time sawing up the logs into sixteen to twenty foot lengths, and moving them with peavies down to the loading ramp. An old man who had worked in the same area when it was first cut over, about 1900, trimmed the limbs from the logs. He could make a cut with his double-bitted axe almost as smooth as one could with a saw. That old fellow had known logging with horses, and showed us some of the grooves cut on the slopes where teams had pulled huge logs down the hill at a gallop.
Abe and I used a big cross cut saw to cut the logs into lengths. Chain saws were unknown then, or at least not known with that outfit. Late in the afternoon we rode back to Missoula and home for a night's rest. Altogether we worked twelve or fifteen days at that job, before classes resumed. The earnings were helpful, too.
Jane quickly mastered cooking on the big iron range. She was particularly good at making cinnamon rolls, big juicy ones. Somehow every time she produced a big pan of those rolls, many of our friends would just happen to drop in at the right moment!
We had an interesting time with David that first winter. Of course he was crawling all over the place, and always getting into things he shouldn't. One of his favorite tricks was to eat coal, and to chew on the heads of burned matches tossed in the coal bucket! We often took him out on the slopes of Mount Sentinel, just a couple of blocks from our apartment, to coast. He loved being out of doors. We had to take him to a clinic for the usual baby shots, which he didn't appreciate at all. After a couple of trips there he had memorized the route and the location of the clinic office, and would begin to cry long before we arrived at the doctor's office, anticipating another shot or other unpleasant happening.
We made many good friends, both neighbors and students and their wives. By coincidence, one of the girls I had known in Havre years before had married a student who was in my classes, and we visited back and forth with them. Sometimes we would have dessert and coffee after an hour of visiting or playing games. Once Jane made an excellent pie--a lemon meringue, if I remember right--which she served after a big meal shared with these friends, the Athearns. We think that they may have felt that we fed them a bit heavily. The next time we were at their place, Helen served us huge pieces of pecan pie, so rich it was almost impossible to eat it all! We often laughed about that later. Jim went on to earn a doctorate in history, and taught for years at the University of Florida.
Several of the young wives of students in the housing project were pregnant. Somehow we gained the reputation of being able to help them bring the birth of their babies to pass! We simply fed them some good homemade chili and a lot of Coca Cola. They would go home, and then to the hospital!
Sometime in the spring of the year we were allowed to move to a larger apartment, one with three bedrooms, only a few doors from where we had lived before. That apartment was on Carbon Street. Our back door opened out on the former golf course, and provided a much better place for David to play. We made a little sand box and brought in some sand for him. The little sons of a nearby neighbor often played there with him.
Somehow the complexities of economics came easily to me. Before mid-term and final exams I sometimes spent time with groups of the other students, reviewing my abundant notes, and helping them understand the theories. I enjoyed that teaching experience. Along in the spring term Dr. Ely, the head of the economics department, told me I was having too easy a time, and gave me extra assignments, mostly short papers, to do if I wanted to earn "A's." Also I learned that I would be eligible to graduate with honors (cum laude) if I would do a thesis on some subject. I had just begun to read extensively in the whole field of Communist literature, to try to understand their thinking--not that I was wanting to become involved in that system. I didn't want to stop that reading program, so declined the honors thesis. That was another choice which might have made my life different if I had gone the other route!
In the spring or early summer of 1947, the Farmers Union of Montana held a big convention on the campus. I attended some of their sessions, because I was interested in the overall labor union movement. At one of the meetings I bumped into Marion Hellstern, one of the sons of the farmer for whom I had worked back in the '30's. Naturally I invited him out to the apartment, where we had a good supper and a pleasant visit. He was a delegate from Hinsdale, and told me many things about the work of the Farmers Union, and passed on community news from Hinsdale. I thought nothing of that visit until a few days later when Dr. Ely called me in to his office. There he asked me very seriously what in the world I was doing, visiting with one of the most radical communists in Montana! I told him we simply were old friends, and that we had worked many hours together in hay and beet fields. He then told me that Marion and his mother were apparently well-known locally as communists! I had never discussed that philosophy with Marion, so was surprised.
In my Spanish class that summer we were beginning to apply what we had learned. We read Spanish novels, short stories, and newspapers. Most of the class hour we used only Spanish in our conversation. I didn't do so well in that course, which completed my minor in Spanish. My grade was only a "B." I think that was the only grade lower than an "A" that I received at Montana State University.
I was scheduled to be graduated at the end of the summer quarter, in 1947. Just before graduation I received orders as a reserve officer to report to the Air Force Base at Ogden, Utah, for two weeks of training! That made it necessary for me to miss the graduation exercises. I wasn't really seriously disappointed to miss the to-do of graduation, and quickly received approval for my absence. I received my diploma later.
The tour of active duty was a farce, as they had no planned training for me at Ogden AFB. I spent most of my time there wandering around, shooting skeet and pool, and generally killing time. Oh, I worked a little in the big civilian personnel office, but didn't learn much. I was happy to return to Missoula, again by train. Enroute I was sitting in the club car one morning, reading. I became aware that the two women seated near me were speaking in Spanish! I thought I had an opportunity to try my Spanish! I carefully introduced myself, in that language, and learned that they were from Cuba, a mother and her daughter. As we travelled along, I pointed out to them the huge smokestack at Anaconda, Montana, and told them in my halting Spanish that it was the tallest in the whole world ("mas alta del mundo.") I think they laughed at me the whole time, as I found I really couldn't speak Spanish well at all. I frequently had to ask them to repeat things they said. It was an embarrassing situation all around!
Early that summer, I took the Graduate Record exams, to qualify for entrance into graduate study. I planned to go on to earn a master's in personnel administration. I achieved a high score, and almost at once had offers of graduate assistantships--one from Cornell University, in upstate New York, and the other from Stanford, in California. I thought long and hard about the Cornell offer, and would have loved to go there. However, our funds were running low, and we couldn't see how we could afford to move all that distance. As I remember, the thought of borrowing money for the purpose never entered my mind.Then, as now, I hated to go into debt.
Then Dr. Ely and some others at the University said they wanted me to stay right there, as a graduate assistant in economics. They would work out a special master's program in personnel administration for me. I would assist Dr. Ely in teaching economics, and could earn $700 and my tuition for the first year. That sounded good to me, so we simply stayed on.
Also during that summer I had worked my way further into the exciting field of shooting. I purchased bullet casting tools and materials, and began to make my own bullets for reloading shells for the 30'06 rifle. I ordered a fine walnut stock blank, and carved out a new stock for the rifle. That project turned out very well, and the rifle was now a fine-looking weapon. I know now that I spent far too much time and money, indulging in my new hobby. Jane surely demonstrated great patience, putting up with my melting lead on the kitchen range, casting bullets, etc.
Through the National Rifle Association I also purchased two more surplus military rifles, both 30'06's, though I really had no need for them. The first one was an Enfield, made in England during World War I, brand new, never fired. I reworked the military stock, and had a second good shooting rifle. Then I ordered a Springfield rifle. That one was also new and unfired, and cost me only $5, plus shipping! I used the Enfield a little, but traded off the Springfield without ever having fired it. Often in the years since I have wished that I had held on to both rifles.
September came, and I started on my new course of study. Things went quite well. I took all the courses offered at the University in personnel administration, and earned some additional credits in self-designed courses of reading. I reported my reading and conclusions in papers presented to the Economics staff.
My main task as graduate assistant was to conduct classes for two beginning economics "sections," two days per week. I met with the "sections," each of about 30 students, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, an hour each time, to discuss the subject matter of the most recent lecture, or some important point from the textbooks. Preparation and lesson planning was not difficult, and I enjoyed the free-flowing discussions we had on economic theory. On a couple of occasions Dr. Ely assigned me to prepare the lecture for the entire class of about 500 students. I wasn't a very good lecturer, I am sure, but the students didn't totally reject my ideas. Economics was then a required course for virtually every student at the University.
As part of my studies in personnel administration, I learned to give and interpret a variety of tests, general intelligence, aptitude, etc.--even ink blots! I found willing subjects among my economics students; one girl, in particular, was extremely intelligent. Her intelligence test scores (I tested her twice) literally ran off the upper end of the scale! I did have one serious problem. Among my students, I had a couple of real dummies--football players. When the fall quarter mid-term test was graded (I did lots of grading!) they had both failed badly. I had tried to tutor them, but they didn't want to learn. As a result, I flunked them both, and they were forced to drop out of football.
Boy, did I find myself in hot water! I had personal conferences with the football coach, other players, friends of the two, and others. Dr. Ely upheld my decision on the matter. With some additional tutoring, the fellows got their grades up to "C's" and were eligible to return to football, though I doubt that they ever forgave me! Other than that unpleasantness, I enjoyed teaching, or trying to teach, and got along fine with my courses.
I chose to do my master's thesis on a fairly complex subject--the influence of union activities in adjacent unionized cities on the wage scales in Missoula, which was almost entirely non-unionized. I did my research through the mail, and in the library, on wage scales for union jobs of many kinds in Spokane, Washington, and in Butte and Great Falls, Montana. Those cities were all highly unionized. I found and gathered much interesting data, and learned a lot about the history of attempts to unionize the railroad and timber workers in Missoula. I concluded that the workers in the various blue collar industries in Missoula had actually benefited greatly from the efforts of the unions in the adjoining cities, without forming a union.
Toward the end of the winter quarter, in the spring of 1948, we had spent nearly all of our savings. I felt it was necessary to leave school, and go to work again. My decision was based in part on the several job offers which kept coming in. I had taken a federal "entrance" exam for entrance level positions in professional fields, during the winter months (1947-1948). Again, I had achieved a good score, and my name was apparently offered to many different agencies around the United States. One inquiry, which I considered seriously, was to become a Boy Scout Executive, with the National Boy Scout organization. It sounded like interesting work, but would have required another term of expensive schooling back east, which we felt we couldn't afford. I remember another offer from some government agency in Nebraska, inviting me to become a caseworker.
A third offer came from the Bureau of Reclamation in Billings, in the Yellowstone District personnel office. I could take an entrance level position in personnel administration, with good opportunities for advancement, they said. I decided to take that one, and we moved to Billings at the end of the winter quarter, in late March of 1948. I'm sorry to say that I never did complete that master's program in personnel administration, and all my collected data on the Missoula wage situation went for nothing. But I did learn something about wage scales, and used that knowledge later, as I worked in the Bureau office, setting up wage scales for our blue-color employees. My school days were over for good--or so I thought. Theoretically I was now equipped to settle down to a career. It didn't work out that way, but that is a different matter, suitable for some later chapter.

BACK TO CIVILIAN LIFE AND COLLEGE
With orders in my pocket relieving me from active duty, we were ready to return to Montana and home. The Air Corps Depot crew came to our little apartment and took care of crating and shipping our scant accumulation of household goods. When they were gone, one morning we dusted the cinders and soot off Mabel, our little car. We loaded our suitcases, clothing, some very minor items of food and personal effects, and were off. That was about the 18th of January, 1946. We were excited at the prospect of leaving Chicago. Although the work in the depot had been interesting, we didn't really like the cold, the dampness, the constant wind, and the dirt and grime of Chicago. Also I was very happy to be leaving the military organization! It is difficult for me to recall or describe how I felt then about my war service. I felt that I had worked hard, and done my best. I was then and since a little regretful that I didn't serve overseas. Apart from that, I know that my experience in the Air Corps had a lot to do with my way of facing life, work, and social relationships. It was better training than I could have obtained in any other way.
We made a late start, and didn't drive far that first day. The weather was cold and threatening. We headed northwest, passing through Madison, Wisconsin late in the afternoon. Though the car, with its canvas top and many open cracks around the windows, admitted a lot of cold, fresh air, we weren't too uncomfortable.
We pulled into Black River Falls, Wisconsin, soon after dark. We had no idea where to spend the night, but noticed a sign in the front yard of a private home. "Bed and Breakfast," it said. We stopped, and found it a fine place to stay. The people who lived there were very friendly, and showed us to a nice, warm room. They made us feel right at home, especially after the lady learned that Jane was pregnant. We slept well and had a good breakfast and visit with them.
That next morning was sharp with frost. Mabel the car started without trouble, and we continued our travels, on toward the northwest. We passed St. Paul in the afternoon, and drove on, planning to stay overnight in St. Cloud, Minnesota. However, when we arrived in St. Cloud we found every hotel and motel along the highway full. We decided to drive on, hoping to find a town less crowded.
Finally we came to a little town, and rented a room above a little restaurant and drug store. It was neither hotel nor motel, but was all we could find. The night was very cold and crisp--a good night to be indoors. When we went to the cafe downstairs to eat, we learned that the town was hosting an area basketball tournament. Later that evening, the place below us was packed with youngsters until late hours. It wasn't easy to sleep! We didn't complain, though; we were glad to have a safe, warm room!
Our third day on the road was uneventful. We made it to Bismarck, North Dakota, the state capitol. We found a warm, snug little motel in the valley, and stayed there for the night. The weather was cold, but we had a comfortable rest.
Then we came to our day of testing! Early the next morning, about six o'clock, I stuck my nose out of the motel door to check the weather. It appeared to be a quiet, peaceful morning, though cold. I couldn't see the sky clearly, so didn't know whether it was cloudy. At least there was no snow falling. We agreed that we should drive on to Minot, about one hundred and fifty miles away. We planned to stop for breakfast somewhere on the road.
It was still very dark as we drove through Bismarck, turned right on the highway north, and climbed the hill past the state capitol building. Soon we were a few miles out on the open highway and found ourselves in a blizzard! Now there was plenty snow falling, and it was drifting, too. A strong northwest wind, often meeting us head on, was building big drifts across the road. I was too young and foolish to turn back, though that was the obvious wise choice.
Now we found how truly inadequate the little roadster was in severe weather. Snow came sifting in through any openings it could find. It came in around the accelerator, brake and clutch pedals, and made little drifts on the floor. It came in around the windows, too. Jane wrapped herself in a wool army blanket, and soon looked like a white cocoon.
I wasn't as well protected. I was wearing low rubbers over my army dress shoes, and my feet were freezing! We had the heater running full blast, but that made little difference. We knew we must find some way to keep warmer, but there seemed nothing to do but keep on driving. Luckily for us, there was no traffic on the road. No one passed us, and we met no other cars for miles and miles. I think the hardy natives of North Dakota knew better than to be on the road in such weather!
About 10AM, we stopped in a tiny town. We ate breakfast in a cafe, and inquired where we might find overshoes to protect my feet. There were only a couple of small stores, but we did find and buy a pair of tall overshoes. Oh, they felt good on my feet! By that time the snowing had stopped, and the sky was clearing. It was still miserably cold, and the wind was as strong as ever.
It still makes me shiver as I recall that morning! We arrived in Minot early in the afternoon, and stopped at a cafe for a late lunch. We learned that the temperature stood at -17 degrees, and the wind was clocked at about 20 miles per hour. I have no idea what the "chill factor" was--they didn't use that term in those days. Worse still, the highway on west was reported closed!
We had about decided to stay in Minot over night, when a big highway truck with snow plow went by, heading west on Highway 2. Despite warnings from the cafe people, we headed out again! We had already gassed the car, so were ready to try it again. We followed that snow plow for many miles.
All went well until we were about ten miles east of Williston, ND. There the car engine suddenly went dead! I tried and tried, but it simply would not start. We could see the town of Williston in the distance. Between us and the town was a long, straight down grade. We did the only thing we could--we pushed Mabel out into the road, and coasted down that hill. In fact, we coasted clear to a filling station on the outskirts of the town! The manager helped me push Mabel inside, and after a couple of hours, we could start again, all thawed out.
After buying gas from the friendly manager, we headed on toward Glasgow, Montana. We arrived there late in the evening, almost frozen, and very stiff from riding. The folks had been expecting us, and had the house well warmed, so we were soon warm, and well fed. The next morning Dad's old homestead thermometer said it was colder than forty degrees below zero! Minus forty degrees marked the end of the scale on the thermometer, and the mercury was farther down in the tube than that! Yet, when I tried to start the little Ford, it started right off. It was a good car, but not well suited for Montana's brisk weather.
I soon found that not having a job, and regular work, was boring. It seemed strange, not having any responsibilities. Four years in the army had left definite patterns imbedded in my thinking. I had to learn how to relax.
When the weather permitted, for those days in mid-winter were bitter cold, I sometimes walked out north of Glasgow, just hiking around. I took the .22 pistol along, of course. In the low hills I sometimes saw big white jack rabbits, and wanted to see if I could get one. Most shots offered were at fifty yards or more, and in the usual wind and cold, that was a very long shot with a .22 pistol. After wasting a few shells, I gave up on getting any rabbits with the pistol.
I laugh now as I think of one thing that happened one evening a few days after we arrived in Glasgow. Jane and I were walking in downtown Glasgow, window shopping. We met a man in navy uniform, also out walking. He recognized me, and I thought I recognized him. We had a little chat; he was getting out of the service, too. As we visited, I called him by his old nickname, "Mutt" and he called me by name, too. I thought he was "Mutt" Chester, from Hinsdale, a fellow I had known in high school. We parted then, and when we got back to my folks' place, I told Mom we had met Mutt Chester down town, just home from the navy. Well, she told me that she knew Mutt was in the air force, and still in England!
Who, then, was the mysterious fellow who wasn't Mutt? And why hadn't he corrected me when I called him by the wrong name? I have no idea. We never did find out who he was!
Another thing that may be of interest to you: silver coins were still in wide circulation in Montana in those days. One day I bought a small item, less than a dollar in value, and offered the clerk a $20 bill. My change included nineteen big silver dollars! You could get bills, but had to ask for them. Those dollars were very heavy in the pocket, and made a big bulge, too.
By about the 10th of February the weather let up a little, and I began to think of finding a job. I needed both the work and the money. Our plan was that I would get back to college in the fall. Our first child was due in mid-May, and that would cost a lot. We still had some savings, but not enough for the whole school year.
I learned from the employment office that the Bureau of Reclamation, at Fort Peck Dam, was looking for men. One day I drove out there, was interviewed, and hired immediately. I was to work on a survey party which was surveying a location line for a new power transmission line along the Yellowstone River. I was delighted, though I had never done any surveying. I rushed back to Glasgow, and invested in a pair of stout boots and some wool socks, and appropriate outdoor clothing. The weather was still very chilly.
I reported for work at Fort Peck about the middle of February. With some ten other fellows, we drove in two former army vehicles to the town of Glendive. There we found a place where we could all stay, in a private boarding house. It was not much different from a barracks, with many beds, too close together for privacy or comfort. We ate our breakfasts there, and then bought sack lunches at a restaurant. Our evening meals were purchased in restaurants, also.
We worked ten days straight, and then had four days off. That meant I was away from Jane for ten days at a time, and neither of us liked that. Some of the other men on the crew were in the same boat, with wives at Glasgow or Fort Peck. Jane stayed on at my folk's place for the moment.
I found my assignment a good one--I was lead chainman on the transit crew. All the other men were veterans. We spent many an hour sharing war stories, some pretty gruesome. I think some of the men wondered whether a former officer could handle the rugged outdoor work, but it was not difficult at all. I was a fast walker, and could easily last through the day.
Our route took us along the foothills on the north side of the Yellowstone River, beginning at Glendive and working toward Miles City. In general, the weather was favorable, though we sometimes had snow flurries which made it difficult to use the survey instruments. We ate our lunches out in the open, unless the weather was unusually bad. Then we ate in the vehicles. We had surplus Army vehicles, a carryall, and a former Army ambulance for transportation. The latter was assigned to the level crew, which followed the transit crew in the field. Those four-wheel drive vehicles, though terrible gas-eaters, could climb anywhere!
I really enjoyed the work. As head chainman, I was out in front of the rest of the party, and saw first any wildlife there was to see. I also filled my pockets most days with moss agate rocks which I found. Most of the snow was gone, so the footing was good.
On my first long week-end at home, we found an apartment at Fort Peck, in an old barracks building, and moved down there. Jane needed to have her own place to take care of, though it meant she would be alone for long stretches of time. She quickly got acquainted with our neighbors, other young couples, and that helped. Usually when I was home we would go in to Glasgow for church on Sunday mornings, and have dinner with my parents.
The time went quickly, and we made good progress on the job. Then, about the middle of April, Jane and I decided that she mustn't be alone so much, as the baby should arrive around the middle of May. I talked to the Bureau's personnel man, and worked out a new assignment (and a slight promotion) to a job in the Bureau's warehouse there at Fort Peck. That allowed me to be at home each night, though I hated to leave the survey work. I had really enjoyed that job!
The job in the warehouse was a good one. I usually walked to work, taking a sack lunch, so that Jane could have the little car. Work in the warehouse, and in the outdoor storage yard, kept me busy most of the time. We had all sorts of things to store, issue, and inventory from time to time. Most of the items were used in maintenance of large power transmission lines, and in the repair and maintenance of vehicles. The garage was located at one end of the warehouse. The travelling line maintenance men kept their vehicle in the warehouse, also. That gave me opportunity to get acquainted with several of them. The garage mechanic and I became good friends, too.
As soon as the fishing season opened, we spent much time fishing at Fort Peck lake, and in the river below the powerhouse. Fishing was lively that spring and summer, and we had many fine meals of yellow perch, crappie, catfish, and sometimes walleyes. We often went to Glasgow to visit with the folks, and to shop.
In the evening of May 17th, after fishing at the lake, we were busy cleaning a big catch of yellow perch. Suddenly Jane announced that she must go to the hospital immediately! To be specific, the "water broke," which meant that the baby was about to arrive! While we were fishing a big thunderstorm was coming up in the west. Now it was upon us, raining hard, lightning flashing, and a strong gusty wind was blowing. Fort Peck was eighteen miles from Glasgow and the hospital. We phoned ahead to say that we were coming in, then started off. With the severe storm, it seemed like an age before we arrived in Glasgow! In fact, the people at the hospital had begun to worry about us, and so had my parents! But we were there in plenty of time.
I'll never forget that night. Jane's doctor had given her instructions earlier that he would use something called "twilight sleep" to sedate her, and that the birth process wouldn't be difficult or painful. Either he didn't get the dosage right, or Jane was different, but that was no calm night. Jane was out of her mind with the difficult and painful contractions. She demanded that she be allowed to get out of the room and go home. A nurse friend of my parents and I had all we could do to hold her down. The baby wasn't born until about 8AM, in the morning of May 18th. We were all exhausted.
We already had a name ready for a boy--David Glenn. He was a large, healthy baby, and we were glad the ordeal was over. Jane stayed in the hospital ten days, as was customary in those days. By the time she was released she was very weak from having been in bed so long. We took her and the baby to my folks' home for the first few days. I drove back and forth to work each day from Glasgow.
The baby had trouble with colic, and Jane and my mother found they disagreed on several points of child care. We were glad when we could move back to our little apartment at Fort Peck. David's colic soon cleared up, and we had lots of fun with him.
We loved to bathe him, and he liked the water. There was one problem--the doctor had instructed Jane to feed him at regular four-hour intervals. That meant one feeding was due at 2AM each morning. When the alarm went off, I would bring David to Jane, and she would try to get him to nurse. All of us, including David, were sleepy, and he would drop off to sleep. My part of the action then was to tickle the bottoms of his feet, in an effort to get him to stay awake and do his duty. After wearing ourselves out on that little business for a couple of weeks, Jane asked the doctor what should be done. He gave a most sensible answer: "let the child sleep!"
One Saturday we drove in to Glasgow, picked up my parents, and drove out to the old homestead. It was the first time my parents or I had been back there since the fall of 1932. I almost wished we hadn't gone, as it was so difficult for both Mom and Dad. The buildings were all gone, almost without a trace. Mom wept the whole time we were there. Dad walked about some, then came back to the car. He had always felt that he was a failure because he hadn't been able to make the place a productive farm. We didn't stay very long.
The summer passed quickly, and it was soon time to make plans for my return to college. We had decided, because we had very little savings, that I should go to the University of Montana, at Missoula, to pursue a course in wildlife technology. I was intensely interested in wildlife, and loved being out of doors. I thought work in that line would be most satisfactory for me. I had dropped the idea of becoming a forest ranger.
About the middle of September we left our apartment at Fort Peck, and moved back in with the folks in Glasgow. I left Jane and David there, with my folks, and drove to my sister Jean's farm near Big Sandy. From there I drove on to Missoula, in time to register for classes. I had already sent my transcript to the University, and received notice that I was accepted. Our plan was that as soon as I could arrange housing for us, in Missoula, I would come back to bring Jane over. That took much longer to do than we anticipated.
I'll long remember that drive from Big Sandy to Missoula! The woods and mountains were beautiful that day, and I had plenty of time to stop occasionally to look around. I arrived in good time, and was assigned a bed in the old gymnasium on the campus. There were about fifty of us new students bedded down there. It was too much like some of the barracks I had lived in during the war!
I was assigned a faculty advisor, to help me plan my course of study. He advised me that a course in wildlife management would require at least three years, and that a bachelor's degree in that field wouldn't be enough--I would have to go on to finish a Master's degree, at least. He and the registrar went over my transcript, and evaluated my military experience as a personnel officer, and granted me senior status in another field.
So I undertook a twin major in economics and sociology, instead of the wildlife study I had counted on. It seemed more practical, and I could earn a bachelor's degree in both fields in only one full year of study. I thought our savings, together with the help of the GI bill, would see us through. That choice had a very large influence in my life work! More about education and jobs must wait for the next blog!