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!