Dad's Story Part 11

The Eventful year at Spokane, Washington

            Another promotion for Dad in the Continental Oil Company took our family from Lewiston, Idaho to Spokane, Washington.  Dad was the assistant divisional manager.  The house we lived in was on 28th South and about three or four blocks west of Grand Ave.  It was near Manito Park, a large beautiful park of which I have many fond memories.  In the summer time we went there for picnics, and enjoyed the beautiful “Duncan garden" that had many varieties of roses and other flowers.  I also played on the tennis courts and the ball fields.  In the wintertime we ice-skated on a pond in the park.  It also had a steep hill for sledding.  I remember showing off on my sled by riding it down the hill facing backwards, which stunt ended in disaster by running into a pine tree.

            Spokane was a beautiful city with many varieties of trees.  The Ponderosa or Yellow Pine is native to the area.  Another beautiful tree that was there in abundance was the Mountain Ash, which has bright clusters of orange berries. 

            Besides Manito Park there are many other city parks in Spokane, most of which have public swimming pools.  When we lived there in Spokane, it had a population of about 100,000 people and was a very large city compared with Lewiston and Wieser. 

           Spokane, being a fairly large city, had probably two or three hundred members of the Church living there at that time.  It was like Lewiston, Idaho located in the Northwestern States Mission.  So it was not a ward but a branch.  The Spokane Branch had a nice brick chapel that was located downtown, right across the street west of the old Lewis and Clark High School.  The only meetings I remember much about were Sunday School and MIA.

            Our Sunday School class met on the stage of the cultural hall, and our teacher was Brother Benfell, who later became a member of the Spokane Stake High Council, when Dad was a member of the High Council.  He was a very good teacher, but had a tough bunch of kids to handle.  One of the things that made the MIA meetings memorable was that on Tuesday evenings after delivering papers, I would take the streetcar downtown and stop off to eat dinner at a little lunch counter near the Chapel.  My usual favorite was a toasted cheese sandwich and a strawberry malt. 

            In those days in the mission field, membership records were slow in catching up with the members, the Branch Presidents were not very much on the ball about getting acquainted with the members of their Branch, and our family was not among the most active members of the Branch.  So I missed being ordained a deacon when I should have been. 

 

Mom's Story Part 14

High School Teachers

J Rufus Crandell

            I won’t mention all the teachers who influenced me during that period of time for the list is long and prestigious:  Logan Brimhall, David A Butler, William C Smith, Carrie Kay, Ciecle Merkley, Lewis Monk were among the many.  Probably above all J. Rufus Crandell would stand as my most influential teacher.  He was called by many titles, but the one dubbed him from the Northern Arizona University Music Critics, “Dean of Music for Northern Arizona”, was the one I liked best.  No child escaped his attention; Rufus discovered anyone with a spark of talent.  He felt everyone could learn music, and he taught us all the notes as well as appreciation for good music.  With a fiddle under his arm, he spent his time between the High School and Grade School teaching the “do, re, mi”s.  On Friday we had the happy treat of hearing some of the great music of the world on a little tiny portable phonograph.  As a student matured he saw to it that they were started on a musical instrument.  I was no exception; he had me playing the baritone saxophone, which was almost as big as I was.  From this I learned many valuable lessons. 

            One memorable experience happened when I was asked to play a solo during the Sunday School opening exercises.  My sister accompanying me on the piano, and we had practiced diligently, and I knew the piece perfectly.  She played the introduction to “The Shepherd’s Dream”, and I started to blow, but instead of beautiful music coming from my instrument, I got an ear-shattering screech.  Mr. Crandell gave a sour look and frowned and told me to start again, but the result was the same, I heard a muffled titter in the audience as they awaited the third try.  My embarrassment was indescribable.  I had particularly wanted to make a good impression that day because the “dudes” from Airpine were attending Sunday School.  Mayola finished “The Shepherd’s Dream” as a piano solo and I sat red faced and humiliated.  It was no “dream” for me; rather it was a “nightmare”.  When I had laid the saxophone down before my number, one of the keys were slightly bent, but in my inexperience, I didn’t have any idea what the trouble was.  I never mastered the saxophone.

     Mr. Crandell discovered my most promising talent was in my singing voice.  He spent many hours helping me develop this talent.  Once a year each High School through out northern Arizona met at Flagstaff for a music Contest and usually Mr. Crandell and his students walked away with the majority of the first places and high ratings.  Still vivid in my memory was the contest in which I sang the high voice solo.  “Oh Let Night Speak of Me” was the name of the solo.  I was so nervous the night before in the Girl’s Dorm where we were housed, that I couldn’t sleep.  But as I stood in the wings of that big stage waiting for my turn, I shall always remember dear Mr. Crandell’s reassuring confidence in me.  After each contestant performed I would ask, “Can I beat her?”   And his answer was, “Yes, you can do better than her.”  But when the Flagstaff girl sang her solo, she sang like a lark; a beautiful clear voice, and Mr. Crandell said to me, “You’ll have to sing your best to beat her.”  She won first place and I placed second.  For years up until the time of his death, I sang in Brother Crandell’s choirs and ladies choruses.  Always I admired and respected him and his devotion to school and church.  When my husband became Bishop of the Second Ward, Brother Crandell was his most loyal supporter. 

When I graduated in 1936, I sang my high voice solo, “Oh Let Night Speak of Me.”  Dad gave the beautiful Baccalaureate prayer at my graduation.  Louise, my sister, graduated the same year.

Joseph Peterson taught English and I shall be forever grateful for the background and love of literature he gave us.  In my mind’s eye I can still see his beautiful white head of hair, his stately manner, and his kindly smile as he imparted his love of literature to his students.

Class of 1936 Snowflake High School

Principal Silas Fish

Silas Fish, the principal, was a strict disciplinarian.  One look or a sharp word from Principal Fish, and we quickly decided that any nonsense we were contemplating was not worth the price.  However, I saw the kindly side of the man, his wonderful sense of humor, and his love for his family.  His daughter Varena was one of my best friends, as well as my accompanist when I sang.  I was in the Fish home frequently.

Dad's Story Part 10

(Sitting on the ground, far right)

 

In the summer of 1927, I discovered the Boy Scout program.  There was a large Methodist Church on the east side of the street that led from downtown Lewiston to the south hill.  It was situated just on the brow of the hill.  One afternoon I noticed a group of boys on a large green lawn beside the church building.  They were practicing signaling with signal flags.  This attracted my attention so I stopped and watched for a long time.  I finally learned that this was a scout troop in action.  Later on that year when I had turned twelve years of age I joined the scout troop sponsored by the Congregational Church, in whose choir my Dad and Mother sang.  The candle ceremony at my being inducted into the troop and receiving my tenderfoot badge was very impressive to me.  

Baby Frances

            One of the most important things to happen in Lewiston was the birth of our one and only sister, Frances Virginia, born on Dad’s birthday, December 31, 1927.  This was the year that Charles A Lindberg had flown across the Atlantic from New York to Paris in his Ryan monoplane, the “Spirit of St Lewis”.  

            The years that we lived in Lewiston I went from the fourth through the seventh grades in school.  These elementary grades in school were very enjoyable to me.  I don’t remember ever having any difficulties or bad experiences in school.  It was a happy time for me.  An interesting custom in those days was for all the children to line up at the entrance of the school, when the bell rang for school to start and then march into the building to the strains of the military march played on a phonograph. 

Lewiston Relief Society

 The sixth and seventh grades were in the Junior High School building.  It was during my years in Junior High that I became an avid sports fan.  The Junior High was near the High School.  After school I used to watch the High School football, basketball and baseball teams practice in their respective seasons.  During those two years the High School had State champion football and basketball teams.  I didn’t miss one of their games.  In those days there were no half time shows during the half time intermissions at the basketball games.  During this intermission, the audience, which sat in the balcony, would throw pennies and nickels down onto the playing floor for the young boys to scramble after.  I usually got my share of the coins. 

            There was no branch of the Mormon Church in Lewiston when we moved there, and it wasn’t until 1927 that one was organized under the direction of the Northwestern States Mission President William R Sloan.  It was called the Lewis and Clark Branch.  In this little branch, Mother was called as Relief Society secretary and Dad installed as the Sunday School Superintendent.        

Frances and her mother (Virginia)

Frances' graduation 1945

 

J Ray and Frances Cox

The FE Ericksen family

    

Mom's Story Part 13

Snowflake Academy Building

School Days and Teachers – Baptism: 

            Mrs. Laverne Crandall was my first-grade teacher.  She also taught two of my children, Christine and Jim.  I don’t recall much about my school year with her, but I’m sure she was strict.  I tolerated school, but didn’t love it as some of my children and grandchildren have done.  Van Smith, my cousin and Max Butler were always the top of the class, as was Guida, and Annella Morris Hall.  They skipped the grades as I recall.  They were smart.  Mother helped us with our lessons each night and was a continual support when we did poorly.  I didn’t have too much trouble with my lessons.  I remember getting a silver dollar in the 5th grade from Mr. Daniel Schnebly for improving the most in my penmanship.  How I treasured that dollar.  I finally spent it for a Chautauqua ticket.  Miss Thalia Kartchner was my third grade teacher and my own Aunt Thora, Dad’s sister, was my second grade teacher.  Mother had a hard time with sewing, so we didn’t ever take any prizes for being the best-dressed children in school.  One thing that was forbidden was to wear your Sunday shoes to school.  Many days I would sneak out with them on my feet, only to be confronted by Mother half way up the sidewalk or at recess with my play shoes. 

            I remember my baptism, performed by my grandfather, Joseph W. Smith.  I believe I was baptized on my birthday, Oct 8th, there was a large group of family members present and Grandpa had to immerse me several times in that murky hole under the Creek bridge to get the job done right.  Dad was the witness and confirmed me the first Sunday in November at Sacrament Meeting.  

Teen Years: 

            My High School days revolved around my friends.  We were a close-knit group comprising of the following girls:  Maria Smith, Guida Smith, Zelda Cook, Louise Willis, Varena Fish and Thelma Rogers.  Luella Ballard often came with us too, but I don’t remember her too often in our foolish capers.  We were a talkative, giddy bunch of girls – our Mothers called us the “Magpies”.  Boys were important, but the peer-pressure of the girls occupied most of our thoughts.  Rex Gibson, Fost Flake, Marion Smith,  Flake Rogers, Van Smith, Lorenzo Smith, Max Butler (the “dream boy”), and France Willis were the boys who comprised our crowd.  Most of them were typical farm boys with hardened calloused hands and manure sticking to their boots.  For entertainment we had hayrack parties to the creek, games on our lawn, and candy making at one of our homes.  Always our mothers made big drippers full of molasses cake for our Sunday evening raids.  I recall the huge pieces of cake Maria cut off for us, but don’t ever remember any complaint from Aunt Pauline.  The “naughty” game we played up on the Seminary lawn, was called “Pleased or Displeased” – anyone was displeased which they usually were; they required you to “paint the barn” or “pull you out of so many feet of water” with so and so.  This meant a kiss or as many kisses as it took to please the subject.  We knew if our Mothers ever caught us we’d be out of circulation for a while.  Lorenzo Smith and Marion Smith were my best friends, and we all went to the University of Arizona together when we graduated, and they remained some of my dearest friends.  Lorenzo, like most of the kids in Snowflake, had a nickname of “Chick”, but he became a very wonderful person, served as Stake President and Regional Representative for the Church.  Marion, also has become a very fine individual, is now a Veterinarian in Scottsdale and served in several Bishoprics and High Councils.  I don’t remember ever having a “date” in High School.  The kids didn’t pair off like they do now, however, there were a few girls who went steady and most of them married after they graduated.  I wasn’t the popular girl of the crowd by any means, in fact, more often that not I was the “wallflower”, but as I recall I had a lot of company.  The boys were reluctant dancers. 

            Our dress was typical of the times, bobby socks and saddle oxfords, full dirndl skirts and blouses or sweaters.  We all belonged to the “Pepperettes”, our cheering group for the High School.  Our coach was a little short, stocky teacher, Mr. Roswell Willard, who lived at our house.  We liked him, but as I look back, he was like a cocky little bantam rooster strutting his self around campus.  However, he was enthusiastic and energetic, and was demanding of our best efforts.  Faithfully we drilled after school to get our precision kicks and bows just right.  There were probably about twenty-four of us in the group, and was the first such group the school had ever had so I imagine it was looked on by the more stately, dignified teachers as sacrilege to the academic climate the school had prided itself on for so long. 

            Sports were secondary in the school.  I remember we had basketball and track, but football was not important.  The girls played basketball, but a modified version of the game, as we know it today.  If you played Center, which I usually played, you were confined to the center court only.  It was not the rough and tumble game it is today. 

Dad's Story Part 9

Dressed for a "Tom Thumb Wedding"

                                                 Lewiston Years (continued)

One of my closest friends and schoolmate in Lewiston was Bob Bollinger.  His father was dead.  He had a younger sister named Betty.  His mother was a fine pianist and taught her children to love music.Betty Bollinger eventually became an opera singer, and Bob sang with the Fred Waring’s Pennsylvanians before the Second World War.  Bob was killed in an airplane crash during the war. 

          Bob’s mother ran the Bollinger Hotel that had been left to her by her husband.  Bob occasionally took me into the hotel restaurant for a caramel sundae.  They made the best caramel sundaes I have ever tasted. Bob also taught me how to play the ukulele.  We sang together a lot at his house.  Two of the pieces I remember learning at his house were “Always” and “In a Little Spanish Town”.  

           It was popular in the early 1920s for people who were music teachers to travel from town to town spending two or three weeks in each town putting on a musical called “Tom Thumb’s Wedding”, using the local kids as the participants.  These traveling companies had the costumes, props, music, and all that was needed.  Bob and Betty Bollingers, my brother Frank and I were some of the performers.  We wore black dress suits with swallowtail coats.  One of the songs I sang was “When You and I Were Young, Maggie”. 

            As I mentioned before, the summers in Lewiston were very warm so we took advantage of the rivers and did a lot of swimming.  The Snake River was much larger than the Clearwater and also warmer so we did our swimming in the Snake.  On the Clarkston side of the river was a large sandy beach.  This was the most popular place to swim.  We occasionally swam on the Lewiston side where a dock and a high diving platform provided a good place to swim from.  I well remember my first attempt at diving from the high platform.  It was probably only ten to twelve feet high, but to me it seemed like twenty-five feet.  I stood up there for about ten minutes before mustering up enough courage to dive off.  The Snake River was about two hundred yards wide and had a rather swift current in the middle.  Some of the older, stronger swimmers used to swim across the river, but not many tried it, as it was very dangerous. 

Mom's Story Part 12

Sickness: 

            I had the usual run of illnesses.  I had the chicken pox when I was a little over a year old (Nov 1919).  I had whooping cough the next year (Dec 1920).  One disease I remember was the Scarlet Fever.  We were quarantined and cooped up in Mother’s bedroom.  Roscoe and I had the disease at the same time Mayola and Louise were convalescing.  I must have been pretty sick for my temperature went to 106 degrees.  It was during the time Dad was in England; so the boarders had to find lodging elsewhere during this time (Sept. 14, 1923).  A few incidents stand out in my memory.  Roscoe would keep getting out of bed and sneaking to the closet to get some little pink pills. He liked them.  So I was the watchdog and would call Mother.  Mayola and Louise entertained us with putting on plays in the “Sleeping Porch” through the French Doors.  They would have mock weddings marrying the broom and the mop.  We loved it and when the curtains (the blinds) came down on the final act, Roscoe and I applauded heartily.  

  I remember when I was able to leave the bedroom, Mother let us sit on a chair in the hall.  The impression I recall was how clean the floors and the house was.  The fumigation after we were over the disease was also something I remember.  We sat outside in the sunshine while the house was fumigated.  On February 12, 1927 I had the measles.  I remember how bumpy my face felt and how hot I was.  Dad was sleeping with me and I remember him stroking my face and hair.  Mother set up temporary quarters in the Dining Room where it was cozy and warm and dark.  We had a cot in the corner of the room. 

Dad's Story Part 8

Willis and bike

The Lewiston Idaho Period

            In 1924, Dad was transferred to Lewiston, Idaho.  The Continental Oil plant was a little bigger here, and Dad had a larger territory to cover.  Lewiston is a beautiful little city located on the Snake River where the Clearwater River joins it.  The town lies on the south bank of the Clearwater River, and the east bank of the Snake River.  Directly across the Snake River on its west bank is the city of Clarkston, Washington.  Of course the two cities were named for the famous frontier explorers Lewis and Clark who followed the Clearwater River down to it confluence with the Snake in 1805.  They continued on down the Snake and Columbia Rivers to the Pacific Coast. 

            Across the Clearwater River to the north is the famous Lewiston Hill with a winding highway that leads a torturous route from the bottom to the top in about nine miles.  This highway leads to Moscow, Idaho, the home of the University of Idaho, which is about thirty miles north of Lewiston. 

            South of the downtown or business portion of Lewiston is a “bench” or higher portion of ground, which is relatively flat.  The main residential section of the town and the “normal school” or college is located on the bench.  It was at the Lewiston College tennis court that I was introduced to the game of tennis.  I enjoyed the game, and seemed to have a “natural” ability for it.

            It was during this time of my life that I became interested and active in quite a wide variety of sports.  At our first residence in Lewiston, which was on “G” Street, located in the “downtown” part of Lewiston, I became an accomplished roller-skater.  Fortunately, all the streets had cement sidewalks, so I was able to skate from our house to the school, which was about a half a mile away. A year later, when we moved up on the hill, into the house where Frances was born, I became involved in the sports of basketball, baseball, and golf.  A neighbor across the street from us had a basketball standard or basket mounted on their garage.  I spent a lot of time over there pitching “free throws”.

Behind our house was a large vacant lot where the neighborhood boys gathered after school and on Saturdays to play baseball.  I had received a catcher’s mitt for Christmas, so I learned to be a catcher, and played that position most of the time.  There was a golf course clubhouse very near to us.  During our summer vacation from school I learned to be a caddy.  As I remember, we used to be paid fifty cents to one dollar for a round of nine holes.  While working as a caddy, I learned the fundamentals of golf, but never did have the time or money to play much. 

Lewiston was a warm climate because of its low elevation of about seven hundred feet.  One winter, at Christmas time we had roses blooming in our garden.  I also remember the California poppies that grew in front of our house.  Because of the hot summers we used to go on frequent camping trips to the mountains.  One especially memorable summer vacation was a two-week stay at Wallowa Lake, Oregon.  This is a beautiful large lake in the pine-covered mountains of east central Oregon.  We rented a little cabin at a summer resort.  There was a little rushing stream that flowed by the cabin, and lulled us to sleep at night with its musical sound.  The highlight of this vacation was a side trip I was privileged to take with Dad.  Just the two of us started early one morning and hiked to a little lake named Amatol about six or seven miles from our camp.  We took a lunch and some fishing equipment.  This little lake could only be reached by a trail.  This was a great experience to have Dad all to myself for a whole day, one that I will never forget. 

            On some of our summer camping trips there would be four or five other families go with us.  One that I remember particularly was the Phil Schnobee family.  He drove a laundry truck for the C.O.D. Laundry.  His truck was an old Dodge panel.  Phil would frequently take me with him in the summertime to help pick up the laundry bundles.  It was hot work, but my reward was several stops along the way for an ice-cold lemon pop, and then at the end of the morning, lunch at the Elk’s Club.  

Camping trip

Cabin (with a boy up top!)