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Born: March 15, 1925 in Brayton, Iowa on a farm one mile north of the village. Moved to Chicago three weeks later and spent the first five years in the big city.This gorgeous shot dates from 1925. I'm quite certain I could have sat there with no help, but my cautious mother can be seen in the background hanging on for dear life! At this point, we were living in an apartment in Chicago, somewhere on the north side. |
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In 1930, the family departed Chicago and moved 1000 miles west to Cheyenne, Wyoming and settled in forever. They even built a new house in 1931, just as the depression settled upon us, and it served as the family headquarters until 1985. Unchanged, but well maintained, it sold then for over ten times the cost of building it 55 years earlier! Meanwhile, I had obviously become a cowboy as this photo taken at a friend's ranch proves. Well, not quite! |
 | A more citififed view of the same period arises from this photo, most likely of the Woolworth 'photobooth' variety. The paper frame endured to this day, as did the non-faded picture so we must admit it was a quarter well spent! The uniform of the day, indeed virtually every day except Sunday (for as brief a period as possible), was the basic bib overall. No wonder it survives to this day, even as some kind of fashion garment. They are comfortable, durable, easy to wash and, hey, I may go out and buy a pair tomorrow! |
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At about age 12, the American Legion Drum and Bugle Corps was a primary activity. For two or three years, I was very active in this good group that, in its peak year, placed second in the state tournament. Of course, we thought we were numero uno! But my real hobby was radio and I might have been licensed in the early 40's had I raised the money to travel to Denver for the exam! In the event, World War II cut off the opportunity. |
| More serious activity soon followed. I wasn't quite 17 when Curt Gowdy left KFBC and went off to war. With room for one more announcer at the station, I squeaked in and became the late evening voice at the board. Reading war bulletins after breaking in on the program and banging an iron pipe with a hammer was a highlight of my brief stay there. It ended after a career lasting about 15 months for it was then my turn to move into 'my' war. |  |
Tutored through my senior year of high school during my junior year so I could get into the war at the earliest possible moment, I joined the paratroops in April 1943. After training in North Carolina, jump school at Ft. Benning, Georgia and a few weeks of unforgettable maneuvers in Tennessee, we were detached from our division and sent to Italy as the 517th Regimental Combat Team. I was in the artillery battalion and was a forward observer. After learning all about Italian mud, we jumped into Southern France on August 15, 1944. Scheduled for a well deserved rest camp, we arrived in Rheims, France on December 14th, 1944. The next night the Battle of the Bulge began. We were immediately assigned to the 82nd Airborne and trucked to the north side of the battle. And, for 75 days we fought the enemy, the bitter cold, hunger and snow.
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After the Bulge I won a pass to Paris. This picture was taken there in March, 1945. By the time our group returned to the war, I was not well and ready for a lengthy stay in the hospital at San Quentin in France. They fixed me up over time and then the war in Europe was over. I caught up with my unit in Nancy a short while before we headed for Berlin in summer 1945.. |
| Once we arrived in Berlin, because of my lengthy radio career (see above!), I was assigned to the American Forces Network Station there. A great experience, it was an incredible culture shock to move out of the mud and snow and danger into what seemed to be a palace. One memorable day, Vince Joyce (left) and I (middle) broadcast from the Olympic stadium in Berlin. The European football championship was at stake and the game, while not up to today's standards, was excellent. |  |
I arrived back in Cheyenne as an ex-GI on December 22, 1945 after an unbelievable trip across the North Atlantic. The worst storm in decades kept our un-ballasted Liberty Ship in a state of complete chaos. Most everyone stayed in their bunks for the entire trip. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I never get seasick!
Within two weeks, I was enrolled at the University of Denver. Within another few weeks I met my future wife Gen, who was about to graduate, and became engaged before springtime reached the Rockies. Finally, on November 8, 1946, in the aftermath of a huge snowstorm, Gen and I became man and wife. Our honeymoon was a three night stay in the Albany Hotel in downtown Denver. The room rate was $5 for each one of those nights. Now, in our 57th year of marriage, we think we'll probably stay together for a while longer!
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The wedding party celebrated in Boggio's, a famed Denver dining spot, well within walking distance of the Methodist Church and the hotel. For the life of me I can't remember what I had for dinner! Gen, on the right, no doubt had a sensible small steak. |
| Travel was an important fraction of my job. Gen could go along with me occasionaly, but for the most part, she was stuck at home. She never slowed down, though. Aside from running the household, volunteer teaching to young, troubled kids at Children's Village and playing and enjoying music, she also had time to assempble this incredible piece of handiwork. It took several years of labor, all roughly equivalent to soldering a 13-in DIN plug. Hi! |  |
1947 was the year our son was born and the housing crisis became real. There were no rentals for families with children, so we bought our first house. The 750 square foot mansion (no garage, but we didn't have a car anyway), cost $6700. The $500 down payment came from an insurance policy my parents bought when I was born, the financing from the GI Bill, at 4%, no less. We moved in with five dollars in cash between us . . . and it was a week until payday!
I soon exchanged school for full time work and, after a series of jobs that lacked any long term appeal, joined a division of Cargill (still a Minneapolis giant). Following the patterns of the day, after one year I was moved to Minneapolis, after a bit over one year there it was off to Kansas City for a spell, then back to Minneapolis. By the time we got back to Minneapolis, we purchased our third house.
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We bought houses. We moved, but before we moved we planted trees, shrubs and flowers. Some thought us some kind of Johnny Appleseed. At any rate, here in the wilds of Overland Park, Kansas (ca 1954), old Johnny himself is planting a tree. I can't remember what kind it was but it thrived along with the family. Gen reminds me that it was a pear tree and that, after we sold the house, the new owner's 6 year-old cut it down!! But, by 1956 it was apparent that I must move on so, after a brief stay in Battle Creek, MI, we landed in the one place I swore I would never call home, New York! Well, not New York City. I worked there (at 40th and Madison) but commuted for 25 years, railroading down the beautiful Hudson River Valley to Grand Central. A one year stint in San Francisco in 1962 convinced us we really liked New York, so we bought house number four and, later on, house number five as we moved a mile or two further up the Valley. 25 years with Young & Rubicam, one of world's largest (and best) advertising agencies was a wonderful and rewarding experience. I retired in 1981 as Vice Chairman of the Company, and chose this route so that Gen and I could do some traveling before her neuro disease forced her into an electric scooter for good. The schedule worked perfectly and we rocketed back and forth across the USA in our motorhome, covering all of the 48 before the time came to give up the bus. |
 | By coincidence, my passport was renewed just five months after I left the agency as a full-time employee. The picture dates from 1976. "Returned to the USA" stamps covered this and other pages as well for there were at least thirty countries covered during that period, several of them multiple visits. It was a busy five years and it was the heavy travel that ultimately confirmed my decision to retire. On one trip to Japan, Hong Kong, Singapore and Australia, I figured out that I had spent almost 65% of the two weeks in an airplane! Not for me, said I, and the rest was easy. |
It was a great time for us and, ultimately led me into ham radio. Seems we met this ex-Marine who was a ham. He sort of challenged this ex-paratrooper and, somehow, getting the license became a matter of honor. I aced the General exam, then a few weeks later, knocked off the Advanced all because of his nagging! Never have I owed so much to a Marine! I did a lot of SSB and RTTY/AMTOR from the bus and worked the world with the old Kenwood TS440 and an R4 on the roof. But I've now been all digital for at least a dozen years and can't imagine using radio for anything else!
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In 1990 we moved our home base to Florida and the Sunshine State is
very much home now. And the pool in the rear of the house is a favorite
morning view! I kept on working as a consultant all these years and,
though I've now, finally and completely retired. Or was, until a few weeks ago
when I, once again, became a member of an Advisory Board of a large privately held
company. Even so there is an equal amount of effort at not-for-profit activity, and I love it.
The death of Gen, my wonderful XYL for almost 57 years, changed my life
and my schedule. I very much need to keep busy for the house is very empty
and the nights are very long.
. . . And then . . . and then, my good friend Charles Starke, a ham and a long-time neighbor in New York, asked me to do a favor. A simple, honest request (or so it seemed) he asked that I help a reader of his weekly bulletin. The facts-- I had known Don Murray since 1945. He, like me, was an ex-paratrooper. As I joined the AFN network in Berlin he showed up as a jeep driver. We hit it off and became life long friends. A writer, he had a weekly column in the Boston Globe. I Emailed it each week to about 35 friends around the world, including Charles. He, in turn, put the column in his Email and sent it to many more. At any rate, it seemed that this friend in St. Augustine, FL read the column each week and wanted to write Don a note of thanks. But, like most public figures, Don had little time to answer the hundreds of Emails arriving each week. The friend's name was Brenda Verbeck, so I sent her a note and asked her what she wanted to tell Don. Being a good volunteer type, I sent the note on to Don. There was no return, for Don passed away within a day or two. Naturally, I put Brenda on the distribution list as I Emailed the details of his obituary, memorial servic, etc. And, you know what . . . after exchanging about 200 Emails and phone calls, we met. And we got very serious and got married on September 15, in Brooklyn, where Brenda was born and where my son Arthur and his wife Liz live. They made the arrangements and kept the entire affair, including the fine dinner, in the neighborhood. Now we are full-time Florida residents and spend about half the time in St. Augustine and the other half in Tampa. And, love it! Charles, the official photographer at our wedding, and his wife Mary, sort of acknowledged that they did a certain amount of scheming before the request was sent my way. I wouldn't change much if I had an opportunity to live these 83 years all over again. |
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