The Rogers Family
in
War and Depression

The Gun at the Table
-------------
By Chet Rogers
-------------
Published By The Author
1999

Index Page

Chapter 1


INTRODUCTORY

THE ROGERS FAMILY IN WAR AND DEPRESSION

The Gun at The Table

by Chet Rogers

p. ii DEDICATION

I dedicate this book to my wonderful and loving wife, Shirley, who has supported me before, and during, the at times, frustrating days of this endeavor.

p. iii

CONTENTS

ii Dedication

iii Contents

iv Introduction

Chapter I Courtship and Marriage and Before World War II p. 2

Chapter II The War Years p. 26

Chapter III After The War p. 36

Abbreviated Genealogy of Rogers Family p. 75

Supplement I - The Story of John Rogers I and His Descendants p. 78

Supplement II - The Story of William B. Hill and His Descendants p. 92

p. iv

I, Chester L. Rogers, Jr., wrote this book because of my love for my family and to set down some of the happenings, particularly of our folks, Chester L. Rogers, Sr. and Beulah E. Hill Rogers and their immediate family consisting of Charles [Chuck], Julius [Bud], Nellie [Toni], Chester [Chet], William [Bill], and Russell [Rusty].

It is my hope that any reader will find the account interesting and can understand what shaped our lives during those years from 1905 to 1985.

I have also included short histories of the Rogers and Hill families back to as far as the 18th century.

p. 2

CHAPTER I

The year was 1910, the place, Carr, Colorado at the Colgin Hotel and Bar. The hotel was the gathering place for the young unmarried men for their weekly poker game. In the picture, the man holding the gun is our father, Chester L. Rogers Sr. [Chet]. Chet is evidently trying to get a rise out of the others by displaying the gun. The others are : the one on Dad's right is Pate Woolston [the one our brother Bud is named after]; the one on Dad's left is Clifford Colgin, the owner of the place; the next one is a stranger, the next one is Julius Hill, our mother's brother [another one who Bud is named after making his given name Julius Woolston, which he never would let anybody call him].

Evidently the whole scenario, or gag, was instigated by Dad for the benefit of the stranger who had just ridden into town.

This picture gives any reader of this book a glimpse into the character of our father which helps to explain some of the events and happenings which occurred over the next 70 years and are described in this book.

COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE AND BEFORE WORLD WAR II

Our parents, Chester L. Rogers and Beulah Euphemia Hill, met in Carr, Colorado in about 1915. This was a small railroad town in a remote area 30 miles north of Fort Collins and 30 miles south of Cheyenne, Wyoming. Transportation consisted of the railroad, a few cars and horse and buggy.

p. 4

Chet and Beulah started dating and going to dances and social gatherings.

Dad was a young blade 30 years of age who had a swashbuckling reputation in the Carr area. however when he met our mother, Beulah, I'm sure he got serious in a hurry. One can only wonder about the turbulent courtship that took place between them.

In looking back to the time of the marriage of our parents, I make an attempt to rationalize some reasons why the marriage came about. In appearance, I can readily accept the fact that they were physically attracted to each other.

Mom was a lovely young woman, age 24, well educated with expressive brown eyes and black hair, a demure smile and a precocious air about her. Dad, age 32, was of astounding build with wide shoulders and long waist. His facial features consisted of high brow, blue-gray eyes and a shock of brown hair parted in the middle.

One would have to assume that he fell for her immediately and being of a practical nature, set about to court her very seriously. I'm sure Mom returned his love but perhaps was a little more coy about it.

Dad came from a background that took religion, as far as we know, in an inactive, apathetic, let it [p. 5] alone manner. Whereas Mom was from a very structured, straightlaced, Seventh Day Adventist family. Mom was well educated for the time having attended college for two years at Union College in Lincoln, Nebraska.

Dad never said much about his education, however we all think he went at least to the 8th grade which was the level most children went to at the time. both had a high level of intelligence and were able to fit into the society of the communities they lived in at acceptable levels. Dad was very conservative as to government, politics and fiscal matters. Mom was just the opposite. I received my first lesson in economics from her at the age of about 10 years. She was a very enthusiastic supporter of the ''Townsend Plan.'' This plan, named after the author, Townsend, would give each person over the age of 50 a certain amount of money, say $100. Mom said, ''Just imagine what a stimulus that would give to our economy.'' The only requirement would be those receiving it would have to spend it all every month. The plan did not come about much to the disappointment of Mom.

The marriage took place on August 8, 1916 at Mom's sister and brother- in-law, Nellie and C.R. Kite's house in Wellington, Colorado. They spent their honeymoon in Denver.

They moved to a wheat farm near Dad's folks place south of Carr where they took up farming and milking cows.

Mom gave birth to Charles Reuben on March 5, 1918 in the Boulder Sanitorium. On January 29, 1919 Mom took Charles [Chuck] to Lincoln, Nebraska to her folks. She gave birth there to Julius Woolston [Bud] on January 19, 1919.

p. 6

These were very difficult years for the young family and it was frustrating and dull for Mom. Dad kept busy farming, milking cows and feeding young calves on the skim milk which was obtained after separation of the milk. The cream was put in cans and taken to Carr and sold. They also raised chickens and sold the extra eggs in order to make a living.

During this time a near fatal happening occurred to first-born Charles [Chuck]. Our mother Beulah, had let him play near the back door of the house while she was working in the kitchen and Dad was working in the field nearby when she heard Chuck scream. She ran out and saw a rattlesnake slithering away. She grabbed a shovel and quickly killed the snake. Dad heard Mom scream and ran to the house. Mom took a knife and cut across the bite and sucked as hard as she could to try to get the poison out.

They called on the phone to the doctor in Wellington who said, ``Bring him in as soon as possible!'' the phone was a party line and everyone in the community soon knew what had happened.

Luckily Mom and Dad had a car at that time and they bundled Chuck and Bud into the car and got to Wellington in record time. When they arrived, Chuck's leg was black and blue and the doctor said, ``It's a good thing you got here when you did or Chuck would have been dead!''

p. 7

Another incident at this time involved Dad. He was working in a field with horses and a one-way low when he noticed a neighbor boy had started a fire in the weeds, grass and bushes along the road to clear the area for farming. All of a sudden the wind changed and the fire was out of control and had engulfed the boy. Dad ran to the fire and was able to drag the boy from the fire. The boy was badly burned, particularly on one leg and was crippled the rest of his life. In 1975 I received a call from that boy [now an old man] who said, ''I wish to thank your Dad for his quick action which saved my life.'' Dad, of course, had died in December 1971, so was unable to enjoy this tribute to him.

The low wheat and cattle prices of 1920 caused Dad and Mom to sell out and leave the Carr area.

They moved to Wellington and Dad got a job taking care of cattle and farming for Mom's brother- in-law, C.R. Kite who had married Mom's older sister, Nellie. In a year, the Kites had to quit too, so Dad and Mom had to move to find another job.

During this time Nellie was born on April 14, 1921 in the house at 3901 Roosevelt in Wellington. The house is still here as of February 1999. The big house which Nellie and C.R. Kite lived in is still here too, and is located at 3922 Cleveland Avenue.

Dad and Mom moved to Cheyenne and he started working on the Union Pacific Railroad and she started running a boarding house. Dad had to work very hard shoveling coal into the furnace going up Sherman Hill and Cheyenne Ridge to Laramie. However, coming back down the hill to Cheyenne it wasn't so bad. Mom had good luck running the boarding house as she was an excellent cook, a good manager and [p. 8] got along well with her customers. She had some trouble collecting money for food and rent. However, when Dad came home, he was able to collect.

From Cheyenne they moved to a farm at Lingle, Wyoming which was about 50 miles north of Cheyenne. At this time, there were Chuck, Bud, and Nellie. They got a farm where they raised wonderful potatoes. They had a wagon and four mules to do the digging, cultivating and harvesting. However it was an early wet fall and the spuds were frozen in the ground and the price was so low that Dad abandoned the crop and left. Dad traded the wagon and four mules for a Model-T Ford car and they returned to Cheyenne where Dad again worked for the railroad as a roundhouse foreman and Mom again ran a boarding house. I remember Bud telling us many years later that it was so cold coming down from Lingle that the folks wrapped the kids' feet in gunny sacks [potato sacks] to keep them warm.

It was during these years that Dad became involved in bootlegging. Of course it was prohibition time and you couldn't get liquor in the stores. It was made in stills and distributed around to the customers. It seems Dad was one of those distributors. Before condemning Dad, let's think about the circumstances he and the family were in. [Of course, I absolve Mom of any involvement in this as I'm sure she knew nothing about it!] He had a family of three kids to take care of on a minimum wage or less while working for Kite and the railroad. He was offered this part-time job by a man by the name of Teiters who lived in the Wellington area. Dad must have been engaged in this part- time work for several years.

p. 9

In 1922 the family moved to a better farm in the Berthoud area. Of course all the beet work [preparing the land, planting] was all done with horses. After the beets were up, the hard stooping, back- breaking work began. First they had to thin the beets by crawling along the rows and saving just one small plant about every 8-12 inches apart. Then they had to block the beets which means hoe between the saved plants, cutting out the weeds and discarded beets. After the beets were irrigated about six times, they reached maturity and were ready for harvest. This was done by the horses pulling a beet digger down each row which threw the beets out on top of the ground. Then came topping and cutting the root off.

This was done by using a heavy beet knife. They were finally shoveled into the wagon and hauled off to the beet dump at Loveland. I can imagine the boys, Chuck four years old and Bud, three years old, riding on the wagon seat with our Dad--- a welcome break after helping with the beet work.

On a hot summer day on July 28, 1923, I was born. They say I was a breach baby and the doctor and mid-wife had a terrible time delivering me. Mom was quite sick for several months. So starting with my birth, as you will see, I was a pain in the neck for my Dad until I went into the service in the war in 1943.

It was necessary for Dad to hire a baby sitter [nanny] to take care of the family since Mom was sick. After a few months, the nanny was fired because she had left me out too long and I caught a bad cold. Nellie told me later that Dad told the nanny, ``Here's a bus ticket and your wages; you are no longer needed.''

p. 10

Evidently, about this time, Dad found his bootlegging past was catching up with him and after discussing the situation with Mom, they decided to pack up and take a trip to Arkansas and Missouri where Dad's brother, Charlie, was now living.

My very first memory was an event that took place on this trip. They drove two vehicles, a truck and a long car of some kind. I remember Mom was driving the car and somehow she got off the road and this is what I remember as a very serious situation. Dad had to come back and pull the car out of the ditch.

I had nightmares about it for a long time. Also they came to a bridge to cross with very narrow treads. Mom was too scared to drive the car across, so Dad had to come back and drive the car across. All our young lives we have heard about the glories of that trip and Mom was always saying, ``I wish we had stayed in Arkansas; it's so warm down there and we could pick raspberries and strawberries which grew everywhere. We wouldn't have to work so hard to make a living.'' On the trip back to Loveland, Dad picked corn to make enough to get back.

Dad went into the business of wholesaling and retailing of all kinds of vegetables and fruits sending them into Kansas, Nebraska and Wyoming. During this time, Mom would rent a big house and take in renters and boarders, thus supplimenting the income. Chuck and Bud helped Dad in the business and got to drive the truck and go from house to house selling produce.

p. 11

William B. [Bill] was born on March 8, 1927 in Loveland. Times were very hard and Dad, in 1930, decided to move to a very poor farm of 40 acres six miles west of Loveland at the Berthoud cutoff. Dad went back to farming and raising livestock which he knew and loved. The only good thing about the farm was that it had a very big house which we needed now for a family of nine. The Big Thompson school was about three miles away and we children rode the bus to school or walked.

When I was eight years old, I was riding a Shetland pony, herding cows out on the road where there was quite a bit of grass. The saddle was too big for me, as well as the pony. As I was hearding the cows, something scared the pony and I was thrown. The next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital. Mom and Dad described what happened as they were watching from a fourth of a mile away. My foot caught in the stirrup and the pony galloped down the road along the fence. My arms were flailing and right arm was caught in the barbed wire fence as the pony ran tearing the flesh on the forearm. The pony came to a bridge and turned just enough for my foot to slip out of the stirrup. When Dad got to me, I was a bloody mess. They got the truck and rushed me to the hospital. The doctor said I had a fractured skull and numerous cuts, but that being so young and tough, I would survive. I was unconscious for three days [Bill and Nellie say, two weeks]. The cuts on my right arm, when they healed, were in the shape of 11Y [11 lazy Y] which I requested as my brand for cattle and used many years.

p. 12

This was the time of the Depression and there was no work anywhere. Dad and Chuck managed to get the spring crop in and harvested enough feed in the fall to get a few cows and the horses through the winter. Dad got a job as a thresher foreman from Forest Benson and thus was able to earn enough to provide food and money for clothes. In about 1932, Dad, Chuck and Bud also got a job cleaning up after the construction crews when they were laying the REA lines. This brought the rural areas the first electricity. I remember the thrill of having a light in the living room to read by instead of the old kerosene or gas lamp.

Our mother always dressed us kids in good, clean clothes for school. She and sister Nellie had to push and pull the handle washing machine and a big wash tub. This tub was used at least every week by all of us to take baths. I remember our sister, Nellie, always got to bathe first and we boys bathed last.

The last child, Russell Ray, was born on January 3, 1931. We boys were all so tickled to have another brother, however I imagine our sister and the folks would have liked to have had a girl.

The days on the farm were all hard work with very little fun for kids growing up. In 1934 during one very cold day in the winter, I decided the chicken house must be very cold for the chickens, so I took the ashes out of the coal and wood stove and put them in the chicken house to keep the chickens warm.

Needless to say, the ashes set the chicken house on fire and killed about 50 chickens.

p. 14

The only time we got to go to the town of Loveland was on Saturdays. We got to walk around 4th Street and go to the drug store and get a cold drink and see all the lights and mingle a little with the town kids. It was always a big day for me as I was eleven and also for Bill, who was eight. This one Saturday, Mom and Dad said we couldn't go and it was like a death sentence. Consequently we decided to go out by the haystack and roll our own cigarettes out of hay leaves and smoke them. Before we realized it, the stack was on fire and it burned completely. The neighbors all came running, including Harold C. Sutton, my wife Shirley's father. they brought gunny sacks and soaked them in water to bring the fire under control.

I can't remember what Dad did to me, however I'm sure he was able to forgive me, but I'm sure he never forgot it. He never brought it up specifically that I remember. He did say several times, ``Chet was more trouble to me than all the rest of the kids!''

In 1934 Dad got a job as a bouncer at the Montrose Inn dance hall in Big Thompson Canyon. He and Mom used to take all the kids in the neighborhood and go to the dance every Saturday night in the summer time. It was fun for Chuck, Bud, and Nellie, but Bill, Rusty and I stayed home with Grandpa.

p. 15

These were very hard years for the Rogers family, however by 1936 we had managed to have a few head of cattle, some good horses and wonder of wonders, a small Ford tractor, about a 1930 model.

Because of this relatively good financial position, Dad and Mom in 1935 decided to make the risky move to a larger farm and to the great pleasure for Mom and us kids, the farm had a nice modern frame house. By modern, I mean running water, flush toilet, bathtub and some other amenities. It had a large barn and other good outbuildings and was located quite near to the Big Thompson river. The farm was owned by Jim Neville, one of the seemingly very well-off land owners in the Big Thompson Valley.

Dad had a lot to do to get the land ready for planting and the little tractor was instrumental in these endeavors. However, the year proved out to be so very dry that the small supply of irrigation water proved inadequate. I remember one incident where Dad almost came to blows over the use of an irrigation ditch to bring water to the sixty acres of corn. There were some very harsh words exchanged and Dad lost out and the corn didn't get watered and ended up a field of Russian thistles. There is one incident where Dad and I were stacking these green thistles on a hayrack, [yes, they made quite good feed when you had nothing else to feed the cows!!]. I was in the wagon and Dad was throwing them up to me and the front part of the wagon was covered with thistles. He finally said, ``Okay, Chet, that's enough stacked now. Stick your fork into the top board on the rack so I can crawl up to the top.''

p. 16

I reached over and got my (fork and stuck it into the top board. Dad had) put his hand on the board to crawl up. He hollered, ``Pull it out! You have stuck me!'' He got off the stack and sat down and leaned against the wagon wheel. He said, ``I don't know how bad it is; unhitch the horses and ride old Rex down to the house and tell Chuck to drive the truck up here and take me to the doctor.'' I was so afraid, consequently old Rex was given a hard ride the mile or so to the house. Chuck got the truck and made a quick trip to Loveland to the hospital. Luckily one fork tine had stuck through the palm of his right hand and hadn't hit a muscle or blood vessel. The doctor disinfected it, wrapped the hand up and sent Dad home. In a few days it was all healed and he was back to work. I don't remember what else he said to me, but I never got on a hay rack wagon to stack hay again.

Granddad [Charles Sumner Rogers] died that fall and I remember viewing his body at the Kibby Funeral Home. Since it was the first death for us kids, it was very traumatic and I can still see him lying in the casket with his white hair and beard and prominent nose.

Dad and Mom had to have a farm auction. They sold all the cattle except for a few milk cows and the horses. Of course the machinery [including our prized tractor] was sold too. The fall of 1936 we pulled up stakes and moved to the Noel Ranch up the Big Thompson. Nellie and I rode the horses, Beauty and Belle, and herded the cattle about 15 miles up the canyon to the ranch. Some tourists stopped us and [p. 18] asked if they could take a picture of us on our horses. We said, ``Okay, if you will send copies of the pictures to us.'' The tourists obliged and a few months later we received the pictures, one of which I have treasured ever since.

Chuck and Bud were both in the CC Camp and as I remember, were gone when we made this move. Each of them received $30 per month most of which they sent home. I think this money got us through during this difficult time.

Mrs. Noel was a very good friend of our parents and I'm sure we got free rent while we lived on this small ranch. It consisted of a ramshackle cabin and a small barn with enough stations to put the eight cows into for milking and a side shed to put the Model-A Ford car in.

It was that winter that precipitated Mom's frustration and she decided to leave and go to her niece's, Moneta Anderson's home. Our family and the Anderson family had always been very close since Mom and Dad were married and Moneta had always been there for us kids at Christmas time. This was a disturbing time for all of us. Mom came home in a week or two so all was well again.

Many things happened for the good on this ranch. Although we were poor as church mice, it was a wonderful experience for kids our age. We had horses and we could ride them for miles in the beautiful and glorious scenery. We even were able to catch two runaway horses and use them. One of them we named Pat and she was so gentle and full of energy that she made a good match for our other excellent horse, Belle. [p. 19]

Belle was such an all-around horse we could ride her, she could pull a plow, disc or planter, and snake fresh cut trees [logs] out of the woods. Then, of course, we had Beauty, Babe and Brigham.

During the summer of 1937 and '38, I started at age 14 saddling up a string of about four horses and taking them down to the highway to Cedarmont. I put up a tie rack and proceeded to hire myself out as a guide and the horses for riding to the tourists. I charged a dollar for each hour for each horse. Most of the rides were just for an hour, but at least once I had a full days ride over to the Castle. This was Roy Freeman's little ranch which we used off and on for tourists and hunting parties. On one of these tourist rides we got to the Castle at noon and I proceeded to feed the tourists hot pork and beans and bread and butter which we always kept there in the summer. I was in such a hurry I just stacked the dishes, still dirty, in the sink and left. The next time Dad went up there he had to clean up the dishes. Needless to say, I was bawled out good and plenty when he returned.

We raised potatoes at the Castle and Nellie, Dad and I went up to pick them up in the fall. They were very small, about the size of marbles, with some as big as tennis balls. I felt that they just were not big enough to pay us to pick them and I said so to Dad. he said, ''Chet, you bend your back and pick them up as they will taste damn good next winter.'' So Nellie and I picked them up and I have to say they did taste good that winter.

p. 20

Chuck, Bud and Dad did the deer hunting. They would kill the deer, dress it out, wrap it in canvas tight and hang it up in a tree. I think they had several hung up every winter and we always had fresh meat and potatoes all winter. Of course, we were always on the lookout for the Game Warden because we were breaking the law in having that deer meat, Dad said, ''Keep any deer leg bones, horns or other signs of deer, picked up and buried.'' he had heard the Warden was out checking all the places for signs. Dad was very inventive. He built a false end on the outside of the garage and this is where he cut up all the deer meat and stored it. When the Game Warden came, he didn't find a thing!

As I have indicated, we were strapped for cash, so Mom and Dad decided to start a milk route in the summer to supply fresh milk to the men and their families who worked on the new highway in the Big Thompson Canyon. This was in 1937 and 1938. We had eight cows which we milked two times a day. After milking, we strained the milk and then we put it into the top of a cooling type barrel which was full of ice cold spring water. The milk leaked out of some kind of ring we had in the top of the barrel and it ran down the side of the barrel for about 2 1/2 feet and gathered at the bottom in a spout with which we filled the glass milk bottles. Every morning real early we took the bottles and delivered them to the homes of the workers and to several of the tourist camps. We collected the money right then as the workers were a very mobile bunch and moved often. We charged about 20 cents a bottle. Of course, Mom and Nellie [p. 21] were the ones that kept the bottles and cooler washed and scalded and kept an eye on Bill and me when we milked the cows and helped in the cooling and bottling of the milk.

These are the years when my future wife Shirley's Dad, Harold, was peddling fruits and vegetables up the canyon. He and Georgia started a fruit stand at Beaver Point in 1936 which later turned into a fine full-line of groceries, fruits and vegetables and a good-sized store.

While we were at Noel's we saw all kinds of wild life, including a few bears and lions. We had a dog, Shep, for many years and a little dog, Dixie, and they always kept us informed of the animals prowling around our cabin and barns. One very early spring morning, we heard Shep barking just off our porch and he just kept it up. Finally Dad went out and as he stepped out the door he saw Shep barking up at the porch roof. Dad stepped on out, looked up and there was a bear staring him in the face. Dad reached for a mop stick and started to bring it around to hit him; the bear backed off and started down the tree by our cooler where we kept the bacon. Dad yelled, ''Chet, get the gun. There's a bear on the roof.'' I got the rifle, ran to the back window and just saw the hind legs and tail going over the little hill next to the house.

Dad never tired of telling that story with several variations and embellishments.

p. 22

In the fall of 1938 we moved the cattle and machinery back down the canyon to a little farm on the Buck Horn lake just a few miles north of the Big Thompson school. Nellie [by this time she changed her name to ''Toni''] wanted to stay at Estes Park and finish high school. So Toni and I stayed there during the school year [fall of 1938 and spring of 1939] when she graduated. Toni was one of the most popular girls in high school. She not only was popular, she was the most talented basket ball player they ever had there. I was reminded of that when at the last reunion of graduates of Estes Park, George Hurt, one of her classmates, said, ''Toni was undoubtedly the best girl basket ball player the school ever had!'' This coming from George, was a great tribute, as he was no slouch himself as a football player as I can attest to having played football with him for two years. Nellie became an accomplished painter and also dabbled in poetry.

During the winter of 1939 when Nellie and I were staying in the Foster Cabin, one cold morning our pump froze up, so I went down to the river and got some buckets of water out of the rushing stream--- What I thought was pure water. That summer I caught typhoid fever and ended up in the hospital in Fort Collins for a couple of weeks. Doctor Little told Mom at one point that I probably wouldn't live much longer. She said, ''Doctor, can I move in with him and take care of him personally?'' He said,''Yes, of course, but you might catch it!'' Mom moved in and stayed with me for several days. When I got a high fever, she would put ice packs on me. When I got the shivers, she'd wrap me in warm blankets. She did save my life and she did catch the fever. Because they diagnosed her in the early stages, she wasn't as bad as I so [p. 23] she was able to leave the hospital about when I did. This is just one of the many reasons I loved our mother so dearly and considered her the saint in our family.

One summer night, Bill, Dad and I were milking in the barn at Noel's and the sun was shining through the open west doorway when suddenly, it was blotted out by an old man standing there. Of course Bill and I didn't know what to think but Dad jumped up off the milk stool and yelled, ''Teiters, what are you doing here?'' It turned out to be Dad's old bootlegging buddy from their bootlegging days at Wellington. Dad said for us to finish the milking because he wanted to visit with Teiters. Bill and I noticed that the old man limped and saw that he was missing half of his foot on the right leg. We had fun speculating about how that happened.

Teiters evidently had walked about one mile from the highway carrying a bottle of whiskey to share with Dad. Anyway they sat up most of the night talking about their experiences bootlegging and telling jokes. Bill and I imagined that they talked about their whiskey hideout in the Big Thompson river. There was a good-sized hole in a rock in the river and no one knew about it because you couldn't see into it from the old road. However, when they put in the new highway in 1935 it went on the other side of the river and Dad's and Teiters' hide-away was exposed. Dad always enjoyed telling his grand kids about that hiding place, much to their delight. Dad must have taken Teiters home that night because we didn't see him again and Dad never spoke about it.

p. 24

After Toni graduated, we moved back down with the folks who were living in the house on the Buckhorn Lake. The farm was about 50 acres and Dad immediately got a crop going and in addition to the cows and horses, he bought hogs and turkeys. The economy was coming out of the Depression and our own financial situation was improving. Dad eventually did real well in raising turkeys over the next few years, especially starting in 1943 during the war.

Toni was seeing a lot of Norris ''Red'' Kitchen and before I knew what was going on, Toni and Red had run off together and gotten married in August, 1939. I think Mom and Dad were very surprised when they found out about it. We kids were all happy because now we had another brother to join the family. He proved to be a wonderful addition to the family and was especially close to Bud and Chuck. Toni had worked during the summers at Dicks Harbor and at the Stanley Hotel. She was the only one of our family to climb Long's Peak which she did in 1938 accomplishing something very few girls had done up to that time.

After we moved to the Buckhorn Lake place I finished high school in Loveland in 1941 and in the fall I started to Colorado A&M. I had about $100 saved that I had earned by working in the hay at Walden, Colorado and at Neville's Cherry Factory near Loveland. This paid for my tuition and books. I got a job [p. 25] at the Northern hotel for $6 a week and my meals. Bruce Strickland, a fellow graduate from Loveland and I rented a room which had one electric light and a double bed. Each of us paid $6 per week for the room.

Through my cousin, Moneta Anderson, I was able to purchase the College Student Window Cleaners in December, 1941. This proved to be very lucrative and I began to make about $1 per hour. I bought an old 1934 Chevy sedan from Chuck and from then on I was doing very well. My school work suffered but my social life sure improved!!

p. 26

W. B. Hill Index Page
Chapter 1, Introduction and Pre-war years

Chapter 2, The War Years

Chapter 3, After the War

Chapter 4, Genealogy and Supplements
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