Unknown if a cemetery burial or cremation. Please contact me if you know.
From The Orange County Register obituary, published on Friday, August 16, 2002. Written by Robin Hinch.
There's one thing to be said for a street-maintenance work: It makes you keep your eyes on the ground.
And with your eyes on the ground, you find all kinds of treasures.
Ron Bean knew a lot about this. He'd made his living maintaining the streets in the city of Anaheim. And he never lost the habit of keeping his eyes on the ground.
As a result, he pocketed all kinds of treasures - penknives, coins, necklaces. Once, even, a $100 bill dropped in a Las Vegas casino.
Mostly, though, Ron kept an eye out for potholes, loose gravel, unseemly ruts in the road. How could he not? He'd spent 30 years literally paving the way for others, smoothing their ride and making it safer.
It was hard, hot work. Ron cursed quietly at the asphalt caked on his boots. He always smelled of the stuff.
But it provided a good living, and he later became a supervisor.
He started shoveling asphalt for the city in 1957, and by the time he retired in 1987, he was telling his crews where to shovel it.
He was 72 when he died of cancer in his Placentia home Aug. 18.
A native of Tulsa, Okla., Ron was more than half Cherokee and carried a Council of Indian Affairs card in his wallet. he graduated from Tulsa High School in 1947 and married Virginia Ann Naylor, a waitress at the local soda fountain, the following year.
They moved to California in 1955, arriving in Midway City in their dark brown '53 Mercury with $25 in their pockets. They bought a trailer to live in, and Ron took a job with Goodyear Rubber Co. in Bellflower. Virginia became a telephone operator.
After the birth of their third son, Virginia had had enough of the cramped trailer, and they moved to Anaheim in 1961. Six years later, they bought their home in Placentia.
In some ways, Ron ruled the roost. he did much of the cooking and was definitely the disciplinarian. At the same time, he did most anything Virginia told him to.
Ron always did what he was told. When the doctor put him on a diabetic diet, he carefully measured his half-cups of rice and beans from that day forward. When he was given exercises to do for a bad knee, he didn't miss a day.
Although he never complained about his job, he insisted his children stay in school, get an education and not have to do the kind of manual labor he'd known. He didn't want to see them maneuvering a steamroller in the dead of summer, when the temperature on the road often reached three digits.
This is not to say Ron had regrets in his life. he had many pleasures and interests.
He was involved in each of his children's childhood sports and activities. They camped in the Sierras and spent days at the beach.
As a young man, he started picking out country-Western tunes on an acoustic guitar and later graduated to an electric bass.
In cowboy boots, Western shirt and bolo tie, he played in a band at the Garden Grove Moose Lodge every Friday night, and at the Anaheim Senior Center for years.
After playing at the Moose Lodge, the whole band would return to the Beans' large living room to keep on "pickin' and grinnin' " - as they called it - and dancing until 4 a.m.
After he retired, Ron had a small tabletop four-track recorder on which he made tapes, playing each part (lead, backup, bass, etc.) on separate tracks, and later mixing them together. he called it his tape-of-the-month club.
He and Virgina bowled regularly, and Ron spent peaceful hours at Tri-City park fishing the stocked lake for catfish or bass.
At home, he nurtured a vegetable garden that always included jalapeno chilies, which found their way into most everything he cooked.
A few years ago Ron's son-in-law, Brent, talked him into buying a '66 Mustang. Brent wanted to restore it, then he let Ron take the Tahoe-blue beauty to car shows. This was perfect for Ron, who was both outgoing and an incurable flirt. It's hard to beat a Tahoe-blue Mustang as a magnet for women.
His sense of humor could be both subtle and waggish. He once left a live catfish in water in the sink so that when his daughter and her husband came home later that night, the fish would jump and startle them when they turned the lights on.
Whenever a visitor left the house, he'd say brightly, "I'm so glad you got to see me again."
The following information is from the memorial cards distributed at Ron's services:
Sons - Ronald Bean, Thomas Bean, David Bean
Daughter - Terry Westergard
Brother - T.C. Bean
Daughters-in-law - MK Bean, Lynda Bean
Sons-in-law - Brent Westergard
Grandchildren - Donna, Robyne, Austin, Amanda, Ashley, Stephanie, Dawn, Scott
Great-grandchildren - Cody, Caleb, Brooke, Laci, Rider, Evan
From The Orange County Register obituary, published on Friday, August 16, 2002. Written by Robin Hinch.
There's one thing to be said for a street-maintenance work: It makes you keep your eyes on the ground.
And with your eyes on the ground, you find all kinds of treasures.
Ron Bean knew a lot about this. He'd made his living maintaining the streets in the city of Anaheim. And he never lost the habit of keeping his eyes on the ground.
As a result, he pocketed all kinds of treasures - penknives, coins, necklaces. Once, even, a $100 bill dropped in a Las Vegas casino.
Mostly, though, Ron kept an eye out for potholes, loose gravel, unseemly ruts in the road. How could he not? He'd spent 30 years literally paving the way for others, smoothing their ride and making it safer.
It was hard, hot work. Ron cursed quietly at the asphalt caked on his boots. He always smelled of the stuff.
But it provided a good living, and he later became a supervisor.
He started shoveling asphalt for the city in 1957, and by the time he retired in 1987, he was telling his crews where to shovel it.
He was 72 when he died of cancer in his Placentia home Aug. 18.
A native of Tulsa, Okla., Ron was more than half Cherokee and carried a Council of Indian Affairs card in his wallet. he graduated from Tulsa High School in 1947 and married Virginia Ann Naylor, a waitress at the local soda fountain, the following year.
They moved to California in 1955, arriving in Midway City in their dark brown '53 Mercury with $25 in their pockets. They bought a trailer to live in, and Ron took a job with Goodyear Rubber Co. in Bellflower. Virginia became a telephone operator.
After the birth of their third son, Virginia had had enough of the cramped trailer, and they moved to Anaheim in 1961. Six years later, they bought their home in Placentia.
In some ways, Ron ruled the roost. he did much of the cooking and was definitely the disciplinarian. At the same time, he did most anything Virginia told him to.
Ron always did what he was told. When the doctor put him on a diabetic diet, he carefully measured his half-cups of rice and beans from that day forward. When he was given exercises to do for a bad knee, he didn't miss a day.
Although he never complained about his job, he insisted his children stay in school, get an education and not have to do the kind of manual labor he'd known. He didn't want to see them maneuvering a steamroller in the dead of summer, when the temperature on the road often reached three digits.
This is not to say Ron had regrets in his life. he had many pleasures and interests.
He was involved in each of his children's childhood sports and activities. They camped in the Sierras and spent days at the beach.
As a young man, he started picking out country-Western tunes on an acoustic guitar and later graduated to an electric bass.
In cowboy boots, Western shirt and bolo tie, he played in a band at the Garden Grove Moose Lodge every Friday night, and at the Anaheim Senior Center for years.
After playing at the Moose Lodge, the whole band would return to the Beans' large living room to keep on "pickin' and grinnin' " - as they called it - and dancing until 4 a.m.
After he retired, Ron had a small tabletop four-track recorder on which he made tapes, playing each part (lead, backup, bass, etc.) on separate tracks, and later mixing them together. he called it his tape-of-the-month club.
He and Virgina bowled regularly, and Ron spent peaceful hours at Tri-City park fishing the stocked lake for catfish or bass.
At home, he nurtured a vegetable garden that always included jalapeno chilies, which found their way into most everything he cooked.
A few years ago Ron's son-in-law, Brent, talked him into buying a '66 Mustang. Brent wanted to restore it, then he let Ron take the Tahoe-blue beauty to car shows. This was perfect for Ron, who was both outgoing and an incurable flirt. It's hard to beat a Tahoe-blue Mustang as a magnet for women.
His sense of humor could be both subtle and waggish. He once left a live catfish in water in the sink so that when his daughter and her husband came home later that night, the fish would jump and startle them when they turned the lights on.
Whenever a visitor left the house, he'd say brightly, "I'm so glad you got to see me again."
The following information is from the memorial cards distributed at Ron's services:
Sons - Ronald Bean, Thomas Bean, David Bean
Daughter - Terry Westergard
Brother - T.C. Bean
Daughters-in-law - MK Bean, Lynda Bean
Sons-in-law - Brent Westergard
Grandchildren - Donna, Robyne, Austin, Amanda, Ashley, Stephanie, Dawn, Scott
Great-grandchildren - Cody, Caleb, Brooke, Laci, Rider, Evan
Unknown if a cemetery burial or cremation. Please contact me if you know.
From The Orange County Register obituary, published on Friday, August 16, 2002. Written by Robin Hinch.
There's one thing to be said for a street-maintenance work: It makes you keep your eyes on the ground.
And with your eyes on the ground, you find all kinds of treasures.
Ron Bean knew a lot about this. He'd made his living maintaining the streets in the city of Anaheim. And he never lost the habit of keeping his eyes on the ground.
As a result, he pocketed all kinds of treasures - penknives, coins, necklaces. Once, even, a $100 bill dropped in a Las Vegas casino.
Mostly, though, Ron kept an eye out for potholes, loose gravel, unseemly ruts in the road. How could he not? He'd spent 30 years literally paving the way for others, smoothing their ride and making it safer.
It was hard, hot work. Ron cursed quietly at the asphalt caked on his boots. He always smelled of the stuff.
But it provided a good living, and he later became a supervisor.
He started shoveling asphalt for the city in 1957, and by the time he retired in 1987, he was telling his crews where to shovel it.
He was 72 when he died of cancer in his Placentia home Aug. 18.
A native of Tulsa, Okla., Ron was more than half Cherokee and carried a Council of Indian Affairs card in his wallet. he graduated from Tulsa High School in 1947 and married Virginia Ann Naylor, a waitress at the local soda fountain, the following year.
They moved to California in 1955, arriving in Midway City in their dark brown '53 Mercury with $25 in their pockets. They bought a trailer to live in, and Ron took a job with Goodyear Rubber Co. in Bellflower. Virginia became a telephone operator.
After the birth of their third son, Virginia had had enough of the cramped trailer, and they moved to Anaheim in 1961. Six years later, they bought their home in Placentia.
In some ways, Ron ruled the roost. he did much of the cooking and was definitely the disciplinarian. At the same time, he did most anything Virginia told him to.
Ron always did what he was told. When the doctor put him on a diabetic diet, he carefully measured his half-cups of rice and beans from that day forward. When he was given exercises to do for a bad knee, he didn't miss a day.
Although he never complained about his job, he insisted his children stay in school, get an education and not have to do the kind of manual labor he'd known. He didn't want to see them maneuvering a steamroller in the dead of summer, when the temperature on the road often reached three digits.
This is not to say Ron had regrets in his life. he had many pleasures and interests.
He was involved in each of his children's childhood sports and activities. They camped in the Sierras and spent days at the beach.
As a young man, he started picking out country-Western tunes on an acoustic guitar and later graduated to an electric bass.
In cowboy boots, Western shirt and bolo tie, he played in a band at the Garden Grove Moose Lodge every Friday night, and at the Anaheim Senior Center for years.
After playing at the Moose Lodge, the whole band would return to the Beans' large living room to keep on "pickin' and grinnin' " - as they called it - and dancing until 4 a.m.
After he retired, Ron had a small tabletop four-track recorder on which he made tapes, playing each part (lead, backup, bass, etc.) on separate tracks, and later mixing them together. he called it his tape-of-the-month club.
He and Virgina bowled regularly, and Ron spent peaceful hours at Tri-City park fishing the stocked lake for catfish or bass.
At home, he nurtured a vegetable garden that always included jalapeno chilies, which found their way into most everything he cooked.
A few years ago Ron's son-in-law, Brent, talked him into buying a '66 Mustang. Brent wanted to restore it, then he let Ron take the Tahoe-blue beauty to car shows. This was perfect for Ron, who was both outgoing and an incurable flirt. It's hard to beat a Tahoe-blue Mustang as a magnet for women.
His sense of humor could be both subtle and waggish. He once left a live catfish in water in the sink so that when his daughter and her husband came home later that night, the fish would jump and startle them when they turned the lights on.
Whenever a visitor left the house, he'd say brightly, "I'm so glad you got to see me again."
The following information is from the memorial cards distributed at Ron's services:
Sons - Ronald Bean, Thomas Bean, David Bean
Daughter - Terry Westergard
Brother - T.C. Bean
Daughters-in-law - MK Bean, Lynda Bean
Sons-in-law - Brent Westergard
Grandchildren - Donna, Robyne, Austin, Amanda, Ashley, Stephanie, Dawn, Scott
Great-grandchildren - Cody, Caleb, Brooke, Laci, Rider, Evan
From The Orange County Register obituary, published on Friday, August 16, 2002. Written by Robin Hinch.
There's one thing to be said for a street-maintenance work: It makes you keep your eyes on the ground.
And with your eyes on the ground, you find all kinds of treasures.
Ron Bean knew a lot about this. He'd made his living maintaining the streets in the city of Anaheim. And he never lost the habit of keeping his eyes on the ground.
As a result, he pocketed all kinds of treasures - penknives, coins, necklaces. Once, even, a $100 bill dropped in a Las Vegas casino.
Mostly, though, Ron kept an eye out for potholes, loose gravel, unseemly ruts in the road. How could he not? He'd spent 30 years literally paving the way for others, smoothing their ride and making it safer.
It was hard, hot work. Ron cursed quietly at the asphalt caked on his boots. He always smelled of the stuff.
But it provided a good living, and he later became a supervisor.
He started shoveling asphalt for the city in 1957, and by the time he retired in 1987, he was telling his crews where to shovel it.
He was 72 when he died of cancer in his Placentia home Aug. 18.
A native of Tulsa, Okla., Ron was more than half Cherokee and carried a Council of Indian Affairs card in his wallet. he graduated from Tulsa High School in 1947 and married Virginia Ann Naylor, a waitress at the local soda fountain, the following year.
They moved to California in 1955, arriving in Midway City in their dark brown '53 Mercury with $25 in their pockets. They bought a trailer to live in, and Ron took a job with Goodyear Rubber Co. in Bellflower. Virginia became a telephone operator.
After the birth of their third son, Virginia had had enough of the cramped trailer, and they moved to Anaheim in 1961. Six years later, they bought their home in Placentia.
In some ways, Ron ruled the roost. he did much of the cooking and was definitely the disciplinarian. At the same time, he did most anything Virginia told him to.
Ron always did what he was told. When the doctor put him on a diabetic diet, he carefully measured his half-cups of rice and beans from that day forward. When he was given exercises to do for a bad knee, he didn't miss a day.
Although he never complained about his job, he insisted his children stay in school, get an education and not have to do the kind of manual labor he'd known. He didn't want to see them maneuvering a steamroller in the dead of summer, when the temperature on the road often reached three digits.
This is not to say Ron had regrets in his life. he had many pleasures and interests.
He was involved in each of his children's childhood sports and activities. They camped in the Sierras and spent days at the beach.
As a young man, he started picking out country-Western tunes on an acoustic guitar and later graduated to an electric bass.
In cowboy boots, Western shirt and bolo tie, he played in a band at the Garden Grove Moose Lodge every Friday night, and at the Anaheim Senior Center for years.
After playing at the Moose Lodge, the whole band would return to the Beans' large living room to keep on "pickin' and grinnin' " - as they called it - and dancing until 4 a.m.
After he retired, Ron had a small tabletop four-track recorder on which he made tapes, playing each part (lead, backup, bass, etc.) on separate tracks, and later mixing them together. he called it his tape-of-the-month club.
He and Virgina bowled regularly, and Ron spent peaceful hours at Tri-City park fishing the stocked lake for catfish or bass.
At home, he nurtured a vegetable garden that always included jalapeno chilies, which found their way into most everything he cooked.
A few years ago Ron's son-in-law, Brent, talked him into buying a '66 Mustang. Brent wanted to restore it, then he let Ron take the Tahoe-blue beauty to car shows. This was perfect for Ron, who was both outgoing and an incurable flirt. It's hard to beat a Tahoe-blue Mustang as a magnet for women.
His sense of humor could be both subtle and waggish. He once left a live catfish in water in the sink so that when his daughter and her husband came home later that night, the fish would jump and startle them when they turned the lights on.
Whenever a visitor left the house, he'd say brightly, "I'm so glad you got to see me again."
The following information is from the memorial cards distributed at Ron's services:
Sons - Ronald Bean, Thomas Bean, David Bean
Daughter - Terry Westergard
Brother - T.C. Bean
Daughters-in-law - MK Bean, Lynda Bean
Sons-in-law - Brent Westergard
Grandchildren - Donna, Robyne, Austin, Amanda, Ashley, Stephanie, Dawn, Scott
Great-grandchildren - Cody, Caleb, Brooke, Laci, Rider, Evan
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