Howard's active duty Navy career started in September 1938 when he left the farm in Amherst, Nebraska and ended August 19, 1948 when he went to the USNR while on the USS Titania (AKA-13) or expiration of enlistment. He was a Chief Ship Fitter. His service number was 316 55 87. He probably got off the ship in San Pedro, California.
Howard was married twice and divorced twice.
He married Joyce Hubert Higbee on April 13, 1949 in San Pedro, Los Angeles, County, CA. He was 28 and she was 21 years of age. They divorced ten years later. Joyce moved to South Pasadena with their three children. Howard stayed in his Los Angeles 16 unit apartment building. He remained there until the year of his death.
They had two daughters and one son before divorcing in August 1959. The children were born at California Hospital, Los Angeles. They spent their childhood at 321 Pasadena Avenue, South Pasadena, CA with their mother.
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Daughter Mary assisted Howard, her father, moving from his home at 110 South Rampart, Los Angeles to Kingsley Manor, 1055 North Kingsley Drive, Los Angeles 90029 on December 5, 2011. At 3:00 am, Thursday, December 29, 2011, he was admitted to Kaiser Sunset emergency room with pneumonia. He was a Kaiser member.
He had prepaid the Neptune Society in October 2004 for $1,546.11.
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Mary Higbee Diaz Juhl of Badajoz, Spain and Los Angeles
Stephen Frank Juhl
South Pasadena High School Class of 1971
Reed University, Portland
B.A. Economics
Born 15 Sep 1953
Died 18 May 1989
Katherine Dolores Juhl
South Pasadena High School Class of 1973
Oregon State University
B.A. Journalism
Born 1 Dec 1955
Died 28 Feb 1984 in San Francisco, CA
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PRAIRIE PLAINS RESOURCE INSTITUTE
Here is a link to the Prairie Plains Resource Institute's Tribute to Howard.
http://prairieplains.org/assets/files/prairie_plains_link/Supplement%20to%20Jan.%20Link.%20Howard%20Juhl.pdf
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This 4944-acre property owned by Prairie Plains Resource Institute (PPRI) offers visitors access to a beautiful northern high plains landscape with its diversity of unique landforms, plants and wildlife. This property will eventually serve as a site for educational activities and research and as a meeting place.
History
The Prairie Plains Resource Institute received this land gift in 1993 from Howard Juhl. According to the original gift agreement Mr. Juhl maintained the use and management of the land until 2005, whereby he assigned full ownership to Prairie Plains. His dedication of the property is in memory of the World War II Pacific campaign at Guadalcanal, where he was involved as a Navy diver. This is the second land gift from Mr. Juhl - the first was his 1983 gift of his family land of 320 acres in Buffalo County, Nebraska, which is dedicated as the Pearl Harbor Survivors Preserve.
Mr. Juhl purchased the ranch in 1992 from Martin Marshall. He was impressed by the beauty as well as the history of the area, and was able to visit for extended periods at least twice a year from his home in Los Angeles.
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Howard Henderson Juhl was born on June 9, 1920, in Riverdale, Nebraska to Evalena Henderson Juhl and Alexander Juhl. A long time resident of Los Angeles, California, Howard passed away on December 30, 2011 at the age of 91 years.
Howard was a World War II Navy veteran and was on the USS California in Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. After being trained as a "shipfitter" in the US Navy, he owned B&B Plumbing, Los Angeles.
He was a life-long member of the Pearl Harbor Survivor Association, Los Angeles Chapter which was founded in 1958. (The Association's last meeting was on the 73rd anniversary, December 7, 2014. His daughter, Mary Higbee-Juhl, attended as did other children of members who had passed.)
Another passion he had was to give something back to Nebraska which he did through the Prairie Plains Resource Institute by donating a 4,344 acre ranch at Harrisburg, Sioux County in 1993 which is dedicated as the "Guadalcanal Memorial Prairie Ranch" and which is to be kept as a working ranch as well as an education and research resource for Nebraska's panhandle region. He had already donated 320 acres of land in 1983 in Buffalo County which was dedicated as the "Pearl Harbor Survivors Preserve."
At the annual meeting in Aurora on January 14, 2006, Bill Whitney, Director of the Prairie Plains Resource Institute, presented Howard with the Charles L. Whitney Outstanding Service Award. He said, "Howard Juhl made it possible for our organization to literally have its roots in the land."
Howard made significant donations to the Crazy Horse Memorial Foundation in South Dakota, Green Peace, The Sierra Club, and to Planned Parenthood Association.
Another passion was indulging in creating oil paintings which he shared with his family members. Skiing at Mammoth Lakes was also a passion. He skied until he was 82.
He married Joyce Higbee in April 13, 1949 in San Pedro, California when he was 27 and she was 21 years of age. Howard and Joyce had three children, all born in Los Angeles. He later had a second marriage to Maureen Berry that took place in a soybean field in 1968 near the Nebraska homestead. That marriage ended in divorce.
His daughter Mary Juhl Higbee of Badajoz, Spain and Los Angeles, California survives him as well as his granddaughters, Jana Diaz-Juhl and Carla Diaz-Juhl. His son Stephen Frank and daughter Katherine Dolores predeceased him.
He is survived by his sister, Dorothy Carmann of Grand Island.
His brother Harold and sisters Romona Hadwiger, Dolores Scott, and Virginia Nelson preceded him.
The Neptune Society of Sherman Oaks, California is in charge of arrangements.
The Memorial Service will be held at the First Unitarian Church of Los Angeles.
Memorials may be made to the Prairie Plains Resource Institute, 1307 L Street, Aurora, NE 68818 or [email protected]. The PPR was incorporated as a land trust in 1980.
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Howard married Maureen Berry in July of 1968 in a soybean field in Buffalo County, NE near the Juhl homestead farm. They divorced in June 1972 in Los Angeles, CA. Maureen's last name was Hibbert on the divorce papers.
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The memorial service celebrating his life was held Friday, January 13 , 2012 at 5 pm at First Unitarian Church of Los Angeles, 2936 West 8th Street, Los Angeles, CA 90005.
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PEARL HARBOR – START OF THE WAR – DECEMBER 7, 1941
written by Howard in 1984.
On December 7, 1941, we had just finished breakfast when I heard some sort of unusual noise going on outside. A kid from Louisiana came running in; General Quarters was ringing, and he said, “Them planes have little red spots on their wing.” Looking at him, I knew he wasn’t kidding and immediately realized this as the real thing. Shortly before, I had read how the Russian –Japanese War had started in 1904. The Japanese had conducted a surprise attack under similar circumstances on Port Arthur in Manchuria.
Knowing it would take five minutes to secure the hatches, I couldn’t resist
running out 200 feet along the passage just to have a last look. This was a
complete reversal for my body, both mentally and physically. The hundreds of hours of training at General Quarters in the sunny Hawaiian waters and
elsewhere meant that you automatically went to your Station, just like a robot.
It was interesting how I had to fight my own instincts to go outside and take a quick glance; it really took only three minutes, and I did not see much, for
allowed only brief seconds. In feeling a portent and without a doubt that it was the real thing this time, my basic feelings were not too far off. As the hatches were secured, there were a number who did not see another ray of sunshine.
My station was starboard, aft, below the armor plate on the third deck. Not too much smoke or bad air at first, because we were on the opposite side of the torpedo hits. I went forward to locate some oxygen for our reserve apparatus, and as I came up to the forward repair locker, I noticed a well-built gunner’s mate coming through the hatch with a glassy look in his eyes, and he fell at my feet, completely out. Had sort of suspected it could be carbon monoxide poisoning; but others were saying it was poison gas, etc. -- the usual chaos from the unknown and instant hysteria.
Shirley Spencer emailed cousins on the 75th anniversary, December 7, 2016. Radio station in Nebraska had a program that included Harold Jr. sharing rembrances about his father and uncle.
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MEMORIES
MT. WATERMAN. February 21, 1965
Howard took Otis and Shirley Spencer on a ski trip. On the way back to Los Angeles, while stopping at a gas station, saw there was a newspaper story about Malcolm X having been assassinated in New York City. Shirley was working as a clerical temp on North Island, San Diego, and Otis was finishing his training in San Diego and preparing to depart in March to go on independent duty on the destroyer USS Henry W. Tucker home-ported in Yokosuka, Japan.
Mount Waterman was the closest Skilift area to the L.A basin.
"The Angeles Crest Highway out of La Canada has recently been repaved providing a nice and safe ride to the hill. There are no gas stations on the mountain so fill up before you come."
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Memorial for Nikki Rantes on Saturday, February 22, 2014, longtime tenant
and family friend. One surviving sister-in-law and one sister. Burial at Forest Lawn.
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December 7, 1941 Pearl Harbor Anniversary
(Shared on the 73rd anniversary, December 7, 2014)
After the surprise attack on the 7th Fleet in Honolulu’s Pearl Harbor, the world did not stand still. It mobilized as it had never before done in world history. The country may have been in shock, perhaps, none as much as the port city of San Pedro, California, home of the Pacific Fleet. The largest harbor on the West Coast, it lay unprotected, seemingly after the surprise we were alerted to that day.
It was in fact under the scrupulous command of Lt. Commander Frank D. Higbee, Captain of the Port, USCG. The President, Secretary of the Navy, and the Commandant of the 11th Coast Guard District had appointed him to the task of preparing the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach for the outbreak of hostilities in anticipation of war with Axis Powers. Higbee set in place harbor security systems that were published and became textbooks for Harbor Security teams and Coast Guardsmen across the country and the world. Higbee immediately sent out a whirlwind of commands, proclamations, and even controversial policies that kept him busy 24 hours a day for weeks on end.
His daughter, Anne, joined the SPARS, the women’s branch of the Coast Guard and served in the OSS within a few months’ time. The Higbees lived in a hillside home overlooking the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach as required to keep an ever vigilant eye on Harbor Activities. If it weren’t Higbee, himself, watching, another member of the family had an eye, most assuredly kept on the comings and goings of the Harbor.
This attached composition was penned by my mother Anne Higbee-Glace after the 7th Fleet, wobbled back to port, following the disaster in Pearl Harbor, for repairs, reunions with loved ones, late Christmas celebrations, and re-provisions. I have always found this composition moving, my mother’s pose well put. I hope you do as well. From nephew Malcolm Higbee-Glace on December 7, 2014.
AN APRIL DAY 1942
By Anne Higbee-Gace (sister to Howard's first wife, Joyce Higbee)
San Pedro, 1942, early in the year; in California we do not call it Spring.
The rare, wet wind from the east blew seaward the fog and industrial smoke. "Smog" was a word yet unformed. Snow-capped mountains shone above the basin, and I could see the Los Angeles City Hall twenty-five miles away. Only bad weather brings good viewing. Another damp, dismal day.
The harbor was busy. Tankers, freighters, fishing boats--vessels of all kinds--crowded the berths and anchorages, leaving only one section empty.
The fleet anchorage was bare. No warships swung at anchor along the curve of the breakwater.
The whereabouts of the fleet was pondered by the morning newspapers. the "Times" also wondered, rather snidely, "Why is it not here protecting us? Is the fleet scattered, damaged, intimated, destroyed? Where is it?"
We were a town bereaved, angry and afraid. San Pedro was the home port of the fleet; the men of those warships had their homes and their families there.
Seven December 1941 had been a deeply personal blow to us. Not a block was without its loss.
Young Bill Beckett, across the street, went down in the Arizona.
Captain Jack from the corner house was was blown from the bridge of the West Virginia.
Carol, the bride next door, prayed her Wally was alive somewhere. Their baby was due in June.
Christmas had been dreadful.
For me there were packages from Johnny and David mailed from Manila before the seventh.
In the morning, a submarine surfaced off Palos Verdes. Crowds stood on the cliffs and watched the ABSAROKA get torpedoed. ( NOTE: 12/25/1941: Japanese torpedoed lumber carrier SS Absaroka off California coast)
The town children opened presents from dead fathers.
We were all irritable, all waiting.
Manila had fallen at New Year's; MacArthur had escaped.
Now Easter had come and gone, and still no news of our ships. According to the morning radio, the Japanese were mopping up Bataan. We worried about our relatives in Singapore. Could General Wainwright hold out on Corregidor until relief came? Where the hell was the fleet?
Biscuits for breakfast; no butter. All meat, butter, cheese and toilet paper had been shipped out the first week of the year. My youngest sister quoted A. A. Milne, "Marmalade is tasty if it is very thickly spread." Mother reminded her that we did not grow sugarcane.
Father stopped by for recycled coffee. He tried to come home at least once a day.
According to his driver, he slept where he dropped--somewhere in the Harbor.
His responsibility was the safety of all ports from Santa Barbara to the Border.
Poor grouchy, tired Father; his job was vital and challenging, but not a command at sea.
My sisters went grumbling off to school. Many pupils had moved inland. Too many others were worried or grieving. The numerous and popular Japanese were nervous, quiet, and circumspect. School was full of rumors but little fun.
Work took me to the ferry. Our waterfront was notorious around the world. Tattoo parlors and pawnshops enticed seamen of all nations.
Shanghai Red's had a beautiful scarlet and gold dragon across the front. It was still going strong at seven a.m., as I passed. It was a genuine, guaranteed den of iniquity. My regrets to this day is that I never entered those swinging doors. The smell was of stale beer, salt air, and bad drains. The stink of oil refineries combined with the stench of tuna canneries. Anywhere, anytime I open a can of tuna, I am transported back to Shanghai Red's.
The nickle-snatcher ferry had once carried passengers across the Yangtze (River in China). She had a lovely teak wood bench curved about her stern.
Next to the pier, the huge sign advertising an American First Rally was being replaced by a reminder to "Save Gas...there is a Grossman's Mortuary near your home".
The "Save Defense Bonds" billboard now read " Buy War Bonds."
Despite warnings on the bulkheads to monitor our conversations, there was loose talk about the number of ships being built, cargo shipped, and supplies remaining, and, always speculating about the fleet.
Bitterness existed between service families and defense workers. The latter were often dust bowl farmers, enjoying a bonanza for the first time in their lives. They intended, before being caught by the draft to get the most. Serviceman started with twenty-one dollars a month, and more than forty hour weeks. Perhaps to allay their own guilt, the defense workers blamed the Navy for the disaster at Pearl Harbor, hinting at drunkenness and cowardice. Definitely there was ill feeling.
Work was nerve-wracking and secret. The return trip, exhausting. Seagulls screamed and cormorants fought over flotsam. At least the garbage had not been shipped out. A pelican closed its wings and plummeted into the water splashing me. Damned silly bird, the pelican!
Fog rolled, a great bank, in from the sea. Everyone was tired and ugly.
A man complained, "I stand in line for the bus, I stand in line for the ferry, I stand in line to have my lunch pail inspected for bombs, I stand at work, I stand in line for the bathroom. There's only a shower, so I even stand to take a bath."
Two welders and a sailor started an argument about the fleet. A woman joined in; she had not heard from her husband since Thanksgiving. "By God, nobody had better say anything to her about the Navy!" Another woman interposed "If the Navy is so damned great, why isn't it protecting us? What's to stop the Japs from invading any time they want? Who's to stop them, huh, who's to stop them?"
Pushing, shoving...a kick here, a blow there. The Shore Patrol and the police moved in.
I eased up the hill, out of the way, lifted my head to clear it by glancing out to sea. I blinked.
Gliding out of the fog, grey from grey, two destroyers came through the gate . A cruiser followed. Behind was the clumsy, ugly, beautiful old PENNSYLVANIA.
My breath left me; I could not call out. My nose ached across the bridge and my eyes smarted. I tugged at the stranger next to me.
One by one, heads lifted. We were dumb. Then we sighed. A car horn sounded. Somewhere someone shouted. Gradually, the town came to life, the dead town stirred. As the ships came in, we named them like beads on a rosary; the LEX...SARATOGA...PITTSBURGH...merchantmen colors dipped. St. Peter's Church bells to peal, followed by Stella Maris'. The fleet was in, the fleet was in, dear God, the fleet was in!
It was a joyous time and a grievous time. The crews had been separated from their families and one from from another. The return of some made the absence of others more noticeable: no ARIZONA, no CALIFORNIA or OKLAHOMA.
Carol's husband came home wounded but alive. Two young officers embraced, weeping, on the street; brothers, each had thought the other dead. Johnny came back but David, with his red hair never would.
For the first time since the attack at Pearl Harbor, the fleet was together. Assembled, it limped into San Pedro.
All the Okies and the Arkies and the Texans at the shipyards worked so hard and so fast that they finished the repairs two days ahead of schedule. The ships left for San Francisco before half the crews returned from shore leave. Special trains rushed the late comers up the Coast. Not a word appeared in any newspaper. The town settled down with its big secret.
Father came home and slept a whole night.
On 5 May 1942, less a month later...in the Coral Sea...the United States Navy met and defeated the Imperial Japanese Navy.
It was one of the decisive battles of history; it was the turning point.
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Pacific War
Pearl Harbor
During the attack on Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941, the Pennsylvania was in drydock at the Pearl Harbor Navy Yard. She was one of the first ships opened fire on the enemy emerging from the clouds, dive-bomber and torpedo bomber.
After the attack, 15 dead, 14 missing and 38 wounded were lost. Her sister ship, the USS Arizona was destroyed in the attack.
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PEARL HARBOR SURVIVORS ASSOCIATION
The first meeting of what would become the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association took place on December 7, 1954 at the Del Camino Room in Gardena, California where several survivors of the attack gathered to remember their fallen comrades and dear friends. It was at this first meeting that those in attendance swore that they would make the commemoration an annual event. At the official founding dinner in 1958, the eleven survivors who were present at the 1954 meeting were proclaimed the Founding Fathers of the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association. Those eleven survivors were: Mark Ferris, Ed Steffa, Samuel Kronberger, Edward Kronberger, Robert Kronberger, George Haines Jr., Raymond LeBer, James C. Taneyhill, Clarence Bonn, George Schafer, and Louis P. Smith. Following the 1958 meeting, the members began searching for other military survivors of the Pearl Harbor attack. The first organized convention was held at the Disneyland Hotel in Anaheim, California where over 300 survivors joined in commemoration of the event. Over 1,000 survivors attended the convention held at the Lafayette Hotel in Long Beach California December 7 1962. At this meeting, the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association constitution was presented and ratified by the members. Mark Ferris was the association’s first National President. The organization was incorporated under the laws of the State of California and the PHSA National Insignia was registered in Washington DC.[3]
During the 70th Anniversary Ceremony, the President of the association, William Muehleib, announced that due to the ages and health of the membership the executive board had decided to terminate the corporate association as of December 31, 2011. (NOTE: Howard died December 30, 2011, three weeks after going to a nursing home in Los Angeles.)
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Howard Henderson Juhl
1920-2011
Tribute by Bill Whitney
Supplement to Prairie Plains link
January, 2012
I was introduced to Howard Juhl in the early 1980s by one of our Prairie Plains founders, Hal Nagel, then a professor at Kearney State College. A few years before, Howard had stopped in on Hal while looking around for an organization to which he could donate his Buffalo County land. I went out to meet with Howard on his property, located in Nebraska’s central loess hills northwest of Riverdale. There were two adjoining quarter sections, 320 acres, which included a native hay meadow and native rangeland, dryland wheat and irrigated cropland. A small herd of bison occupied the rougher east quarter section. The woven wire bison fence was decorated with garage sale paraphernalia; one prominent hillside in the hay meadow showcased a hay wheel sculpture; a ship anchor chain with Lilliston cultivator wheels attached created a unique cattle scratcher in another spot. As we walked the land, Howard told me family stories and shared his opinions on a variety of topics while I tried to contain my excitement. At the end of our chat, I told Howard that Prairie Plains - then just two years old - was interested in the property.
The next time I saw Howard was in May, 1983, when I was helping Hal burn Cather Prairie near Red Cloud. Hal had invited Howard and a friend of his to the burn, and he drove a considerable distance in his old Dodge van. After the fire I invited him to come to Aurora during his Nebraska visit from Los Angeles. It would be a good opportunity to meet my father, Charles, to get some ideas on how to transfer his land. We agreed to meet the following week at the law office. Howard enjoyed meeting Dad, another World War II Navy man who served in the Pacific theater. He had been given a good reference by another Aurora Navy man, Gar Eckerson, a fellow Pearl Harbor Survivor and husband of ardent Prairie Plains supporter and volunteer, Gloria Eckerson. Gar and Howard knew each other from Pearl Harbor commemorative gatherings over the years. After getting to know each other and swapping some stories of the depression and Navy years, Dad and Howard agreed on a legal strategy whereby Howard would sign the deed to the Buffalo County land to Prairie Plains and retain the use and management responsibility for another five years. In November, Dad and I met at Hal Nagel’s home in Kearney and signed the papers. Howard dedicated the land as the Pearl Harbor Survivors Preserve.
That November trip was significant in another way. Howard wanted to plant 17 acres of wheat ground to prairie and had me order some seed. I delivered the seed that I’d purchased from Stock Seed Farm in Murdock; I also gave him a grocery sack of hand-picked forb seed from Hamilton County. After our meeting, Howard drove around in his van on the green fall wheat field, scattering seed out the window. The following summer the wheat was harvested as usual, and weeds flourished like they do in every new grass planting. I withheld judgment on the success of the planting and its rather unorthodox seeding method. The ensuing years proved that a little seed can go a long way, and that haphazard distribution of seed in a higher diversity mix is not an issue.
This small planting set the stage for prairie restoration techniques we developed in the 1990s. Howard was rightly proud of his work. From the short time I was with him, seeing him on his land with its decorated fence, steel sculptures and bison, and how he did the planting, I learned volumes about his character.
Throughout his life, Howard dabbled in stained glass window making, woodworking, furniture building and sculpting. He began oil painting in his forties.
An independent thinker, Howard said and did what he wanted to. His loyalties were strong, and he had a tender side not always perceived by those who judge the surface of things.
In 1987 Howard purchased a 200-gallon FMC Corporation Bean high pressure pumper/sprayer for Prairie Plains and salvaged a trailer for us to haul it on. Bean sprayer units are excellent prescribed burning tools and we were fortunate to have it. Dubbed “Nellie,” this pumper was instrumental in establishing safe field protocols for grassland burning – much of it at Pearl Harbor Survivors, Bader Park and Lincoln Creek sites. It also enabled us to help local Platte River bluff landowners including Curt Carlson and Mert Griffith with burning their cedar trees. And, thanks to Nellie, we were able to assist The Nature Conservancy with their burn program when Brent Lathrop set up an office in Aurora. Twenty-five years later, this machine is still an important part of the Prairie Plains fire equipment arsenal. I think of Howard every time we use it.
Howard helped us - Hal Nagel and students, Ernie Ochsner and myself - burn a part of Pearl Harbor Survivors Preserve one day in 1990. As we were getting ready to come home, Howard suggested something totally out of the ordinary. He said that we should look for a ranch to buy. He wanted to get a larger place and make another land gift to Prairie Plains. What were we to think?
Well, sure! Curt Twedt, another Prairie Plains founder, suggested a person he knew to contact, which we did. That led to Howard’s finding a 4400-acre ranch on the upper Niobrara River in Sioux County, Nebraska’s farthest northwest county. The ranch captivated him and he became acquainted with the owner, Martin “Fuzz” Marshall. Howard bought the land in 1992, and transferred it to Prairie Plains in 1993, dedicating it as the Guadalcanal Memorial Prairie.
Howard drove back from Los Angeles, where he’d enjoyed a very successful career as a plumber and rental property owner, to the ranch and Buffalo County about twice a year. He really fell in love with the ranch, the people and Harrison, donating to the local historical society and rural fire district. Prairie Plains began its annual June Ranch Trek - a weekend for members and friends to enjoy the high plains wildlife and scenery together - in 1995. Howard was surprised that we could get anyone to come that far. He would have been surprised then to know that it would be a strong tradition these 17 years later.
Howard Juhl's life, like that of so many other World War II veterans and their families, was conditioned by the depression of the 1930s and the war experience. He left the farm toil of central Nebraska near the end of the drought years, joined the Navy to see the world, only to end up as a participant in some of the most historic and tragic events of the time. He never lost the sense of thrift learned during the depression, nor his attachment to the Nebraska land and family he left as a teenager. He spent the rest of his life after the war in California with the intent of eventually giving something back. He chose to give prairie land out of his depth of attachment and appreciation for its beauty and wildness. I can attest to witnessing him taking a quick, audible breath as he looked over the Niobrara Valley as the buttes created long, raking shadows against the brilliance of a June sunset, saying, “How magnificent!” whether anyone was listening or not. He also valued the farming and ranching of these lands and wanted that continued.
Howard will be remembered by me personally, and in the annals of Prairie Plains Resource Institute, as one of the first to believe in our mission and a key figure in our development.
He was recognized in 2006 as the Charles L. Whitney Outstanding Service award recipient. Our job now is to honor Howard’s gifts of land by using them in ways that protect their natural treasures, and that offer enjoyable and educational experiences. In doing so, we will keep and share his story.
---Photos:
Howard at the Pearl Harbor Survivors Prairie, 1990; below, examples of his fence embellishments and his wheel sculpture at the entrance to the Sioux County Ranch.
---The USS California, December 7, 1941, Pearl Harbor. Howard Juhl was there in the water, diving down to rescue trapped sailors below deck. Photo courtesy Howard’s daughter, Mary Juhl.
--Guadalcanal Memorial Prairie (Sioux County Ranch) - June, 2000. Two figures appear in the midst of the undulating landscape, engaged in conversation - Howard Juhl and Wayne Mollhoff.
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Nickie Rantes
Birth: Sep. 10, 1933, Los Angeles
Los Angeles County, California, USA
Death: Jan. 27, 2014
Los Angeles, Los Angeles County, California, USA
Family links:
Parents:
Tom Pavlos Rantes (1883 - 1949) born in Greece
Stella P. Panopoulos Rantes (1896 - 1982) born in Greece
Sibling:
Gus Rantes (1924-1983)
William Rantes (1926-1970)
Tetsa (Goldie) Panagiota Rantes (1927-2006)
Christopher T. Rantes (1930 - 1988)
Nickie Rantes (1933 - 2014)
Angelitsa Mary Rantes (1936-)
Burial:
Forest Lawn Memorial Park (Glendale)
Glendale, Los Angeles County, California, USA
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On December 29, 2014, his daughter Mary became the grandmother of Emil Bastian Diaz Couture. He was born at Kaiser, Los Angeles, CA to Jana Juhl and Francois Couture. Grandmother was present and assisting.
Emil celebrated his first birthday in the home of his Canadian grandparents.
He took his first steps there in December 2015.
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Carla and Ernesto became parents of their first child, a son, named Camilo Perez Juhl, November 30, 2016 in Spain. Mary Juhl planned a two month visit to remove her belongings from her rental unit in Badajoz in preparation for a sale and move the items to Carla and Ernesto's new home in the countryside. She will return to Los Angeles in January 2017.
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On Saturday, July 11, 2015, Howard's daughter gifted the 50 year old son of the niece with the self portrait Howard painted in 1973. A very remarkable oil painting of a complex man by his own hand. A ping pong match followed involving guests at the pot luck enjoyed by 20 guests.
Howard was married twice and divorced twice.
He married Joyce Hubert Higbee on April 13, 1949 in San Pedro, Los Angeles, County, CA. He was 28 and she was 21 years of age. They divorced ten years later. Joyce moved to South Pasadena with their three children. Howard stayed in his Los Angeles 16 unit apartment building. He remained there until the year of his death.
They had two daughters and one son before divorcing in August 1959. The children were born at California Hospital, Los Angeles. They spent their childhood at 321 Pasadena Avenue, South Pasadena, CA with their mother.
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Daughter Mary assisted Howard, her father, moving from his home at 110 South Rampart, Los Angeles to Kingsley Manor, 1055 North Kingsley Drive, Los Angeles 90029 on December 5, 2011. At 3:00 am, Thursday, December 29, 2011, he was admitted to Kaiser Sunset emergency room with pneumonia. He was a Kaiser member.
He had prepaid the Neptune Society in October 2004 for $1,546.11.
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Mary Higbee Diaz Juhl of Badajoz, Spain and Los Angeles
Stephen Frank Juhl
South Pasadena High School Class of 1971
Reed University, Portland
B.A. Economics
Born 15 Sep 1953
Died 18 May 1989
Katherine Dolores Juhl
South Pasadena High School Class of 1973
Oregon State University
B.A. Journalism
Born 1 Dec 1955
Died 28 Feb 1984 in San Francisco, CA
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PRAIRIE PLAINS RESOURCE INSTITUTE
Here is a link to the Prairie Plains Resource Institute's Tribute to Howard.
http://prairieplains.org/assets/files/prairie_plains_link/Supplement%20to%20Jan.%20Link.%20Howard%20Juhl.pdf
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This 4944-acre property owned by Prairie Plains Resource Institute (PPRI) offers visitors access to a beautiful northern high plains landscape with its diversity of unique landforms, plants and wildlife. This property will eventually serve as a site for educational activities and research and as a meeting place.
History
The Prairie Plains Resource Institute received this land gift in 1993 from Howard Juhl. According to the original gift agreement Mr. Juhl maintained the use and management of the land until 2005, whereby he assigned full ownership to Prairie Plains. His dedication of the property is in memory of the World War II Pacific campaign at Guadalcanal, where he was involved as a Navy diver. This is the second land gift from Mr. Juhl - the first was his 1983 gift of his family land of 320 acres in Buffalo County, Nebraska, which is dedicated as the Pearl Harbor Survivors Preserve.
Mr. Juhl purchased the ranch in 1992 from Martin Marshall. He was impressed by the beauty as well as the history of the area, and was able to visit for extended periods at least twice a year from his home in Los Angeles.
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Howard Henderson Juhl was born on June 9, 1920, in Riverdale, Nebraska to Evalena Henderson Juhl and Alexander Juhl. A long time resident of Los Angeles, California, Howard passed away on December 30, 2011 at the age of 91 years.
Howard was a World War II Navy veteran and was on the USS California in Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. After being trained as a "shipfitter" in the US Navy, he owned B&B Plumbing, Los Angeles.
He was a life-long member of the Pearl Harbor Survivor Association, Los Angeles Chapter which was founded in 1958. (The Association's last meeting was on the 73rd anniversary, December 7, 2014. His daughter, Mary Higbee-Juhl, attended as did other children of members who had passed.)
Another passion he had was to give something back to Nebraska which he did through the Prairie Plains Resource Institute by donating a 4,344 acre ranch at Harrisburg, Sioux County in 1993 which is dedicated as the "Guadalcanal Memorial Prairie Ranch" and which is to be kept as a working ranch as well as an education and research resource for Nebraska's panhandle region. He had already donated 320 acres of land in 1983 in Buffalo County which was dedicated as the "Pearl Harbor Survivors Preserve."
At the annual meeting in Aurora on January 14, 2006, Bill Whitney, Director of the Prairie Plains Resource Institute, presented Howard with the Charles L. Whitney Outstanding Service Award. He said, "Howard Juhl made it possible for our organization to literally have its roots in the land."
Howard made significant donations to the Crazy Horse Memorial Foundation in South Dakota, Green Peace, The Sierra Club, and to Planned Parenthood Association.
Another passion was indulging in creating oil paintings which he shared with his family members. Skiing at Mammoth Lakes was also a passion. He skied until he was 82.
He married Joyce Higbee in April 13, 1949 in San Pedro, California when he was 27 and she was 21 years of age. Howard and Joyce had three children, all born in Los Angeles. He later had a second marriage to Maureen Berry that took place in a soybean field in 1968 near the Nebraska homestead. That marriage ended in divorce.
His daughter Mary Juhl Higbee of Badajoz, Spain and Los Angeles, California survives him as well as his granddaughters, Jana Diaz-Juhl and Carla Diaz-Juhl. His son Stephen Frank and daughter Katherine Dolores predeceased him.
He is survived by his sister, Dorothy Carmann of Grand Island.
His brother Harold and sisters Romona Hadwiger, Dolores Scott, and Virginia Nelson preceded him.
The Neptune Society of Sherman Oaks, California is in charge of arrangements.
The Memorial Service will be held at the First Unitarian Church of Los Angeles.
Memorials may be made to the Prairie Plains Resource Institute, 1307 L Street, Aurora, NE 68818 or [email protected]. The PPR was incorporated as a land trust in 1980.
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Howard married Maureen Berry in July of 1968 in a soybean field in Buffalo County, NE near the Juhl homestead farm. They divorced in June 1972 in Los Angeles, CA. Maureen's last name was Hibbert on the divorce papers.
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The memorial service celebrating his life was held Friday, January 13 , 2012 at 5 pm at First Unitarian Church of Los Angeles, 2936 West 8th Street, Los Angeles, CA 90005.
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PEARL HARBOR – START OF THE WAR – DECEMBER 7, 1941
written by Howard in 1984.
On December 7, 1941, we had just finished breakfast when I heard some sort of unusual noise going on outside. A kid from Louisiana came running in; General Quarters was ringing, and he said, “Them planes have little red spots on their wing.” Looking at him, I knew he wasn’t kidding and immediately realized this as the real thing. Shortly before, I had read how the Russian –Japanese War had started in 1904. The Japanese had conducted a surprise attack under similar circumstances on Port Arthur in Manchuria.
Knowing it would take five minutes to secure the hatches, I couldn’t resist
running out 200 feet along the passage just to have a last look. This was a
complete reversal for my body, both mentally and physically. The hundreds of hours of training at General Quarters in the sunny Hawaiian waters and
elsewhere meant that you automatically went to your Station, just like a robot.
It was interesting how I had to fight my own instincts to go outside and take a quick glance; it really took only three minutes, and I did not see much, for
allowed only brief seconds. In feeling a portent and without a doubt that it was the real thing this time, my basic feelings were not too far off. As the hatches were secured, there were a number who did not see another ray of sunshine.
My station was starboard, aft, below the armor plate on the third deck. Not too much smoke or bad air at first, because we were on the opposite side of the torpedo hits. I went forward to locate some oxygen for our reserve apparatus, and as I came up to the forward repair locker, I noticed a well-built gunner’s mate coming through the hatch with a glassy look in his eyes, and he fell at my feet, completely out. Had sort of suspected it could be carbon monoxide poisoning; but others were saying it was poison gas, etc. -- the usual chaos from the unknown and instant hysteria.
Shirley Spencer emailed cousins on the 75th anniversary, December 7, 2016. Radio station in Nebraska had a program that included Harold Jr. sharing rembrances about his father and uncle.
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MEMORIES
MT. WATERMAN. February 21, 1965
Howard took Otis and Shirley Spencer on a ski trip. On the way back to Los Angeles, while stopping at a gas station, saw there was a newspaper story about Malcolm X having been assassinated in New York City. Shirley was working as a clerical temp on North Island, San Diego, and Otis was finishing his training in San Diego and preparing to depart in March to go on independent duty on the destroyer USS Henry W. Tucker home-ported in Yokosuka, Japan.
Mount Waterman was the closest Skilift area to the L.A basin.
"The Angeles Crest Highway out of La Canada has recently been repaved providing a nice and safe ride to the hill. There are no gas stations on the mountain so fill up before you come."
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Memorial for Nikki Rantes on Saturday, February 22, 2014, longtime tenant
and family friend. One surviving sister-in-law and one sister. Burial at Forest Lawn.
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December 7, 1941 Pearl Harbor Anniversary
(Shared on the 73rd anniversary, December 7, 2014)
After the surprise attack on the 7th Fleet in Honolulu’s Pearl Harbor, the world did not stand still. It mobilized as it had never before done in world history. The country may have been in shock, perhaps, none as much as the port city of San Pedro, California, home of the Pacific Fleet. The largest harbor on the West Coast, it lay unprotected, seemingly after the surprise we were alerted to that day.
It was in fact under the scrupulous command of Lt. Commander Frank D. Higbee, Captain of the Port, USCG. The President, Secretary of the Navy, and the Commandant of the 11th Coast Guard District had appointed him to the task of preparing the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach for the outbreak of hostilities in anticipation of war with Axis Powers. Higbee set in place harbor security systems that were published and became textbooks for Harbor Security teams and Coast Guardsmen across the country and the world. Higbee immediately sent out a whirlwind of commands, proclamations, and even controversial policies that kept him busy 24 hours a day for weeks on end.
His daughter, Anne, joined the SPARS, the women’s branch of the Coast Guard and served in the OSS within a few months’ time. The Higbees lived in a hillside home overlooking the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach as required to keep an ever vigilant eye on Harbor Activities. If it weren’t Higbee, himself, watching, another member of the family had an eye, most assuredly kept on the comings and goings of the Harbor.
This attached composition was penned by my mother Anne Higbee-Glace after the 7th Fleet, wobbled back to port, following the disaster in Pearl Harbor, for repairs, reunions with loved ones, late Christmas celebrations, and re-provisions. I have always found this composition moving, my mother’s pose well put. I hope you do as well. From nephew Malcolm Higbee-Glace on December 7, 2014.
AN APRIL DAY 1942
By Anne Higbee-Gace (sister to Howard's first wife, Joyce Higbee)
San Pedro, 1942, early in the year; in California we do not call it Spring.
The rare, wet wind from the east blew seaward the fog and industrial smoke. "Smog" was a word yet unformed. Snow-capped mountains shone above the basin, and I could see the Los Angeles City Hall twenty-five miles away. Only bad weather brings good viewing. Another damp, dismal day.
The harbor was busy. Tankers, freighters, fishing boats--vessels of all kinds--crowded the berths and anchorages, leaving only one section empty.
The fleet anchorage was bare. No warships swung at anchor along the curve of the breakwater.
The whereabouts of the fleet was pondered by the morning newspapers. the "Times" also wondered, rather snidely, "Why is it not here protecting us? Is the fleet scattered, damaged, intimated, destroyed? Where is it?"
We were a town bereaved, angry and afraid. San Pedro was the home port of the fleet; the men of those warships had their homes and their families there.
Seven December 1941 had been a deeply personal blow to us. Not a block was without its loss.
Young Bill Beckett, across the street, went down in the Arizona.
Captain Jack from the corner house was was blown from the bridge of the West Virginia.
Carol, the bride next door, prayed her Wally was alive somewhere. Their baby was due in June.
Christmas had been dreadful.
For me there were packages from Johnny and David mailed from Manila before the seventh.
In the morning, a submarine surfaced off Palos Verdes. Crowds stood on the cliffs and watched the ABSAROKA get torpedoed. ( NOTE: 12/25/1941: Japanese torpedoed lumber carrier SS Absaroka off California coast)
The town children opened presents from dead fathers.
We were all irritable, all waiting.
Manila had fallen at New Year's; MacArthur had escaped.
Now Easter had come and gone, and still no news of our ships. According to the morning radio, the Japanese were mopping up Bataan. We worried about our relatives in Singapore. Could General Wainwright hold out on Corregidor until relief came? Where the hell was the fleet?
Biscuits for breakfast; no butter. All meat, butter, cheese and toilet paper had been shipped out the first week of the year. My youngest sister quoted A. A. Milne, "Marmalade is tasty if it is very thickly spread." Mother reminded her that we did not grow sugarcane.
Father stopped by for recycled coffee. He tried to come home at least once a day.
According to his driver, he slept where he dropped--somewhere in the Harbor.
His responsibility was the safety of all ports from Santa Barbara to the Border.
Poor grouchy, tired Father; his job was vital and challenging, but not a command at sea.
My sisters went grumbling off to school. Many pupils had moved inland. Too many others were worried or grieving. The numerous and popular Japanese were nervous, quiet, and circumspect. School was full of rumors but little fun.
Work took me to the ferry. Our waterfront was notorious around the world. Tattoo parlors and pawnshops enticed seamen of all nations.
Shanghai Red's had a beautiful scarlet and gold dragon across the front. It was still going strong at seven a.m., as I passed. It was a genuine, guaranteed den of iniquity. My regrets to this day is that I never entered those swinging doors. The smell was of stale beer, salt air, and bad drains. The stink of oil refineries combined with the stench of tuna canneries. Anywhere, anytime I open a can of tuna, I am transported back to Shanghai Red's.
The nickle-snatcher ferry had once carried passengers across the Yangtze (River in China). She had a lovely teak wood bench curved about her stern.
Next to the pier, the huge sign advertising an American First Rally was being replaced by a reminder to "Save Gas...there is a Grossman's Mortuary near your home".
The "Save Defense Bonds" billboard now read " Buy War Bonds."
Despite warnings on the bulkheads to monitor our conversations, there was loose talk about the number of ships being built, cargo shipped, and supplies remaining, and, always speculating about the fleet.
Bitterness existed between service families and defense workers. The latter were often dust bowl farmers, enjoying a bonanza for the first time in their lives. They intended, before being caught by the draft to get the most. Serviceman started with twenty-one dollars a month, and more than forty hour weeks. Perhaps to allay their own guilt, the defense workers blamed the Navy for the disaster at Pearl Harbor, hinting at drunkenness and cowardice. Definitely there was ill feeling.
Work was nerve-wracking and secret. The return trip, exhausting. Seagulls screamed and cormorants fought over flotsam. At least the garbage had not been shipped out. A pelican closed its wings and plummeted into the water splashing me. Damned silly bird, the pelican!
Fog rolled, a great bank, in from the sea. Everyone was tired and ugly.
A man complained, "I stand in line for the bus, I stand in line for the ferry, I stand in line to have my lunch pail inspected for bombs, I stand at work, I stand in line for the bathroom. There's only a shower, so I even stand to take a bath."
Two welders and a sailor started an argument about the fleet. A woman joined in; she had not heard from her husband since Thanksgiving. "By God, nobody had better say anything to her about the Navy!" Another woman interposed "If the Navy is so damned great, why isn't it protecting us? What's to stop the Japs from invading any time they want? Who's to stop them, huh, who's to stop them?"
Pushing, shoving...a kick here, a blow there. The Shore Patrol and the police moved in.
I eased up the hill, out of the way, lifted my head to clear it by glancing out to sea. I blinked.
Gliding out of the fog, grey from grey, two destroyers came through the gate . A cruiser followed. Behind was the clumsy, ugly, beautiful old PENNSYLVANIA.
My breath left me; I could not call out. My nose ached across the bridge and my eyes smarted. I tugged at the stranger next to me.
One by one, heads lifted. We were dumb. Then we sighed. A car horn sounded. Somewhere someone shouted. Gradually, the town came to life, the dead town stirred. As the ships came in, we named them like beads on a rosary; the LEX...SARATOGA...PITTSBURGH...merchantmen colors dipped. St. Peter's Church bells to peal, followed by Stella Maris'. The fleet was in, the fleet was in, dear God, the fleet was in!
It was a joyous time and a grievous time. The crews had been separated from their families and one from from another. The return of some made the absence of others more noticeable: no ARIZONA, no CALIFORNIA or OKLAHOMA.
Carol's husband came home wounded but alive. Two young officers embraced, weeping, on the street; brothers, each had thought the other dead. Johnny came back but David, with his red hair never would.
For the first time since the attack at Pearl Harbor, the fleet was together. Assembled, it limped into San Pedro.
All the Okies and the Arkies and the Texans at the shipyards worked so hard and so fast that they finished the repairs two days ahead of schedule. The ships left for San Francisco before half the crews returned from shore leave. Special trains rushed the late comers up the Coast. Not a word appeared in any newspaper. The town settled down with its big secret.
Father came home and slept a whole night.
On 5 May 1942, less a month later...in the Coral Sea...the United States Navy met and defeated the Imperial Japanese Navy.
It was one of the decisive battles of history; it was the turning point.
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Pacific War
Pearl Harbor
During the attack on Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941, the Pennsylvania was in drydock at the Pearl Harbor Navy Yard. She was one of the first ships opened fire on the enemy emerging from the clouds, dive-bomber and torpedo bomber.
After the attack, 15 dead, 14 missing and 38 wounded were lost. Her sister ship, the USS Arizona was destroyed in the attack.
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PEARL HARBOR SURVIVORS ASSOCIATION
The first meeting of what would become the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association took place on December 7, 1954 at the Del Camino Room in Gardena, California where several survivors of the attack gathered to remember their fallen comrades and dear friends. It was at this first meeting that those in attendance swore that they would make the commemoration an annual event. At the official founding dinner in 1958, the eleven survivors who were present at the 1954 meeting were proclaimed the Founding Fathers of the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association. Those eleven survivors were: Mark Ferris, Ed Steffa, Samuel Kronberger, Edward Kronberger, Robert Kronberger, George Haines Jr., Raymond LeBer, James C. Taneyhill, Clarence Bonn, George Schafer, and Louis P. Smith. Following the 1958 meeting, the members began searching for other military survivors of the Pearl Harbor attack. The first organized convention was held at the Disneyland Hotel in Anaheim, California where over 300 survivors joined in commemoration of the event. Over 1,000 survivors attended the convention held at the Lafayette Hotel in Long Beach California December 7 1962. At this meeting, the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association constitution was presented and ratified by the members. Mark Ferris was the association’s first National President. The organization was incorporated under the laws of the State of California and the PHSA National Insignia was registered in Washington DC.[3]
During the 70th Anniversary Ceremony, the President of the association, William Muehleib, announced that due to the ages and health of the membership the executive board had decided to terminate the corporate association as of December 31, 2011. (NOTE: Howard died December 30, 2011, three weeks after going to a nursing home in Los Angeles.)
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Howard Henderson Juhl
1920-2011
Tribute by Bill Whitney
Supplement to Prairie Plains link
January, 2012
I was introduced to Howard Juhl in the early 1980s by one of our Prairie Plains founders, Hal Nagel, then a professor at Kearney State College. A few years before, Howard had stopped in on Hal while looking around for an organization to which he could donate his Buffalo County land. I went out to meet with Howard on his property, located in Nebraska’s central loess hills northwest of Riverdale. There were two adjoining quarter sections, 320 acres, which included a native hay meadow and native rangeland, dryland wheat and irrigated cropland. A small herd of bison occupied the rougher east quarter section. The woven wire bison fence was decorated with garage sale paraphernalia; one prominent hillside in the hay meadow showcased a hay wheel sculpture; a ship anchor chain with Lilliston cultivator wheels attached created a unique cattle scratcher in another spot. As we walked the land, Howard told me family stories and shared his opinions on a variety of topics while I tried to contain my excitement. At the end of our chat, I told Howard that Prairie Plains - then just two years old - was interested in the property.
The next time I saw Howard was in May, 1983, when I was helping Hal burn Cather Prairie near Red Cloud. Hal had invited Howard and a friend of his to the burn, and he drove a considerable distance in his old Dodge van. After the fire I invited him to come to Aurora during his Nebraska visit from Los Angeles. It would be a good opportunity to meet my father, Charles, to get some ideas on how to transfer his land. We agreed to meet the following week at the law office. Howard enjoyed meeting Dad, another World War II Navy man who served in the Pacific theater. He had been given a good reference by another Aurora Navy man, Gar Eckerson, a fellow Pearl Harbor Survivor and husband of ardent Prairie Plains supporter and volunteer, Gloria Eckerson. Gar and Howard knew each other from Pearl Harbor commemorative gatherings over the years. After getting to know each other and swapping some stories of the depression and Navy years, Dad and Howard agreed on a legal strategy whereby Howard would sign the deed to the Buffalo County land to Prairie Plains and retain the use and management responsibility for another five years. In November, Dad and I met at Hal Nagel’s home in Kearney and signed the papers. Howard dedicated the land as the Pearl Harbor Survivors Preserve.
That November trip was significant in another way. Howard wanted to plant 17 acres of wheat ground to prairie and had me order some seed. I delivered the seed that I’d purchased from Stock Seed Farm in Murdock; I also gave him a grocery sack of hand-picked forb seed from Hamilton County. After our meeting, Howard drove around in his van on the green fall wheat field, scattering seed out the window. The following summer the wheat was harvested as usual, and weeds flourished like they do in every new grass planting. I withheld judgment on the success of the planting and its rather unorthodox seeding method. The ensuing years proved that a little seed can go a long way, and that haphazard distribution of seed in a higher diversity mix is not an issue.
This small planting set the stage for prairie restoration techniques we developed in the 1990s. Howard was rightly proud of his work. From the short time I was with him, seeing him on his land with its decorated fence, steel sculptures and bison, and how he did the planting, I learned volumes about his character.
Throughout his life, Howard dabbled in stained glass window making, woodworking, furniture building and sculpting. He began oil painting in his forties.
An independent thinker, Howard said and did what he wanted to. His loyalties were strong, and he had a tender side not always perceived by those who judge the surface of things.
In 1987 Howard purchased a 200-gallon FMC Corporation Bean high pressure pumper/sprayer for Prairie Plains and salvaged a trailer for us to haul it on. Bean sprayer units are excellent prescribed burning tools and we were fortunate to have it. Dubbed “Nellie,” this pumper was instrumental in establishing safe field protocols for grassland burning – much of it at Pearl Harbor Survivors, Bader Park and Lincoln Creek sites. It also enabled us to help local Platte River bluff landowners including Curt Carlson and Mert Griffith with burning their cedar trees. And, thanks to Nellie, we were able to assist The Nature Conservancy with their burn program when Brent Lathrop set up an office in Aurora. Twenty-five years later, this machine is still an important part of the Prairie Plains fire equipment arsenal. I think of Howard every time we use it.
Howard helped us - Hal Nagel and students, Ernie Ochsner and myself - burn a part of Pearl Harbor Survivors Preserve one day in 1990. As we were getting ready to come home, Howard suggested something totally out of the ordinary. He said that we should look for a ranch to buy. He wanted to get a larger place and make another land gift to Prairie Plains. What were we to think?
Well, sure! Curt Twedt, another Prairie Plains founder, suggested a person he knew to contact, which we did. That led to Howard’s finding a 4400-acre ranch on the upper Niobrara River in Sioux County, Nebraska’s farthest northwest county. The ranch captivated him and he became acquainted with the owner, Martin “Fuzz” Marshall. Howard bought the land in 1992, and transferred it to Prairie Plains in 1993, dedicating it as the Guadalcanal Memorial Prairie.
Howard drove back from Los Angeles, where he’d enjoyed a very successful career as a plumber and rental property owner, to the ranch and Buffalo County about twice a year. He really fell in love with the ranch, the people and Harrison, donating to the local historical society and rural fire district. Prairie Plains began its annual June Ranch Trek - a weekend for members and friends to enjoy the high plains wildlife and scenery together - in 1995. Howard was surprised that we could get anyone to come that far. He would have been surprised then to know that it would be a strong tradition these 17 years later.
Howard Juhl's life, like that of so many other World War II veterans and their families, was conditioned by the depression of the 1930s and the war experience. He left the farm toil of central Nebraska near the end of the drought years, joined the Navy to see the world, only to end up as a participant in some of the most historic and tragic events of the time. He never lost the sense of thrift learned during the depression, nor his attachment to the Nebraska land and family he left as a teenager. He spent the rest of his life after the war in California with the intent of eventually giving something back. He chose to give prairie land out of his depth of attachment and appreciation for its beauty and wildness. I can attest to witnessing him taking a quick, audible breath as he looked over the Niobrara Valley as the buttes created long, raking shadows against the brilliance of a June sunset, saying, “How magnificent!” whether anyone was listening or not. He also valued the farming and ranching of these lands and wanted that continued.
Howard will be remembered by me personally, and in the annals of Prairie Plains Resource Institute, as one of the first to believe in our mission and a key figure in our development.
He was recognized in 2006 as the Charles L. Whitney Outstanding Service award recipient. Our job now is to honor Howard’s gifts of land by using them in ways that protect their natural treasures, and that offer enjoyable and educational experiences. In doing so, we will keep and share his story.
---Photos:
Howard at the Pearl Harbor Survivors Prairie, 1990; below, examples of his fence embellishments and his wheel sculpture at the entrance to the Sioux County Ranch.
---The USS California, December 7, 1941, Pearl Harbor. Howard Juhl was there in the water, diving down to rescue trapped sailors below deck. Photo courtesy Howard’s daughter, Mary Juhl.
--Guadalcanal Memorial Prairie (Sioux County Ranch) - June, 2000. Two figures appear in the midst of the undulating landscape, engaged in conversation - Howard Juhl and Wayne Mollhoff.
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Nickie Rantes
Birth: Sep. 10, 1933, Los Angeles
Los Angeles County, California, USA
Death: Jan. 27, 2014
Los Angeles, Los Angeles County, California, USA
Family links:
Parents:
Tom Pavlos Rantes (1883 - 1949) born in Greece
Stella P. Panopoulos Rantes (1896 - 1982) born in Greece
Sibling:
Gus Rantes (1924-1983)
William Rantes (1926-1970)
Tetsa (Goldie) Panagiota Rantes (1927-2006)
Christopher T. Rantes (1930 - 1988)
Nickie Rantes (1933 - 2014)
Angelitsa Mary Rantes (1936-)
Burial:
Forest Lawn Memorial Park (Glendale)
Glendale, Los Angeles County, California, USA
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On December 29, 2014, his daughter Mary became the grandmother of Emil Bastian Diaz Couture. He was born at Kaiser, Los Angeles, CA to Jana Juhl and Francois Couture. Grandmother was present and assisting.
Emil celebrated his first birthday in the home of his Canadian grandparents.
He took his first steps there in December 2015.
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Carla and Ernesto became parents of their first child, a son, named Camilo Perez Juhl, November 30, 2016 in Spain. Mary Juhl planned a two month visit to remove her belongings from her rental unit in Badajoz in preparation for a sale and move the items to Carla and Ernesto's new home in the countryside. She will return to Los Angeles in January 2017.
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On Saturday, July 11, 2015, Howard's daughter gifted the 50 year old son of the niece with the self portrait Howard painted in 1973. A very remarkable oil painting of a complex man by his own hand. A ping pong match followed involving guests at the pot luck enjoyed by 20 guests.
Howard's active duty Navy career started in September 1938 when he left the farm in Amherst, Nebraska and ended August 19, 1948 when he went to the USNR while on the USS Titania (AKA-13) or expiration of enlistment. He was a Chief Ship Fitter. His service number was 316 55 87. He probably got off the ship in San Pedro, California.
Howard was married twice and divorced twice.
He married Joyce Hubert Higbee on April 13, 1949 in San Pedro, Los Angeles, County, CA. He was 28 and she was 21 years of age. They divorced ten years later. Joyce moved to South Pasadena with their three children. Howard stayed in his Los Angeles 16 unit apartment building. He remained there until the year of his death.
They had two daughters and one son before divorcing in August 1959. The children were born at California Hospital, Los Angeles. They spent their childhood at 321 Pasadena Avenue, South Pasadena, CA with their mother.
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Daughter Mary assisted Howard, her father, moving from his home at 110 South Rampart, Los Angeles to Kingsley Manor, 1055 North Kingsley Drive, Los Angeles 90029 on December 5, 2011. At 3:00 am, Thursday, December 29, 2011, he was admitted to Kaiser Sunset emergency room with pneumonia. He was a Kaiser member.
He had prepaid the Neptune Society in October 2004 for $1,546.11.
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Mary Higbee Diaz Juhl of Badajoz, Spain and Los Angeles
Stephen Frank Juhl
South Pasadena High School Class of 1971
Reed University, Portland
B.A. Economics
Born 15 Sep 1953
Died 18 May 1989
Katherine Dolores Juhl
South Pasadena High School Class of 1973
Oregon State University
B.A. Journalism
Born 1 Dec 1955
Died 28 Feb 1984 in San Francisco, CA
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PRAIRIE PLAINS RESOURCE INSTITUTE
Here is a link to the Prairie Plains Resource Institute's Tribute to Howard.
http://prairieplains.org/assets/files/prairie_plains_link/Supplement%20to%20Jan.%20Link.%20Howard%20Juhl.pdf
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This 4944-acre property owned by Prairie Plains Resource Institute (PPRI) offers visitors access to a beautiful northern high plains landscape with its diversity of unique landforms, plants and wildlife. This property will eventually serve as a site for educational activities and research and as a meeting place.
History
The Prairie Plains Resource Institute received this land gift in 1993 from Howard Juhl. According to the original gift agreement Mr. Juhl maintained the use and management of the land until 2005, whereby he assigned full ownership to Prairie Plains. His dedication of the property is in memory of the World War II Pacific campaign at Guadalcanal, where he was involved as a Navy diver. This is the second land gift from Mr. Juhl - the first was his 1983 gift of his family land of 320 acres in Buffalo County, Nebraska, which is dedicated as the Pearl Harbor Survivors Preserve.
Mr. Juhl purchased the ranch in 1992 from Martin Marshall. He was impressed by the beauty as well as the history of the area, and was able to visit for extended periods at least twice a year from his home in Los Angeles.
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Howard Henderson Juhl was born on June 9, 1920, in Riverdale, Nebraska to Evalena Henderson Juhl and Alexander Juhl. A long time resident of Los Angeles, California, Howard passed away on December 30, 2011 at the age of 91 years.
Howard was a World War II Navy veteran and was on the USS California in Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. After being trained as a "shipfitter" in the US Navy, he owned B&B Plumbing, Los Angeles.
He was a life-long member of the Pearl Harbor Survivor Association, Los Angeles Chapter which was founded in 1958. (The Association's last meeting was on the 73rd anniversary, December 7, 2014. His daughter, Mary Higbee-Juhl, attended as did other children of members who had passed.)
Another passion he had was to give something back to Nebraska which he did through the Prairie Plains Resource Institute by donating a 4,344 acre ranch at Harrisburg, Sioux County in 1993 which is dedicated as the "Guadalcanal Memorial Prairie Ranch" and which is to be kept as a working ranch as well as an education and research resource for Nebraska's panhandle region. He had already donated 320 acres of land in 1983 in Buffalo County which was dedicated as the "Pearl Harbor Survivors Preserve."
At the annual meeting in Aurora on January 14, 2006, Bill Whitney, Director of the Prairie Plains Resource Institute, presented Howard with the Charles L. Whitney Outstanding Service Award. He said, "Howard Juhl made it possible for our organization to literally have its roots in the land."
Howard made significant donations to the Crazy Horse Memorial Foundation in South Dakota, Green Peace, The Sierra Club, and to Planned Parenthood Association.
Another passion was indulging in creating oil paintings which he shared with his family members. Skiing at Mammoth Lakes was also a passion. He skied until he was 82.
He married Joyce Higbee in April 13, 1949 in San Pedro, California when he was 27 and she was 21 years of age. Howard and Joyce had three children, all born in Los Angeles. He later had a second marriage to Maureen Berry that took place in a soybean field in 1968 near the Nebraska homestead. That marriage ended in divorce.
His daughter Mary Juhl Higbee of Badajoz, Spain and Los Angeles, California survives him as well as his granddaughters, Jana Diaz-Juhl and Carla Diaz-Juhl. His son Stephen Frank and daughter Katherine Dolores predeceased him.
He is survived by his sister, Dorothy Carmann of Grand Island.
His brother Harold and sisters Romona Hadwiger, Dolores Scott, and Virginia Nelson preceded him.
The Neptune Society of Sherman Oaks, California is in charge of arrangements.
The Memorial Service will be held at the First Unitarian Church of Los Angeles.
Memorials may be made to the Prairie Plains Resource Institute, 1307 L Street, Aurora, NE 68818 or [email protected]. The PPR was incorporated as a land trust in 1980.
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Howard married Maureen Berry in July of 1968 in a soybean field in Buffalo County, NE near the Juhl homestead farm. They divorced in June 1972 in Los Angeles, CA. Maureen's last name was Hibbert on the divorce papers.
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The memorial service celebrating his life was held Friday, January 13 , 2012 at 5 pm at First Unitarian Church of Los Angeles, 2936 West 8th Street, Los Angeles, CA 90005.
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PEARL HARBOR – START OF THE WAR – DECEMBER 7, 1941
written by Howard in 1984.
On December 7, 1941, we had just finished breakfast when I heard some sort of unusual noise going on outside. A kid from Louisiana came running in; General Quarters was ringing, and he said, “Them planes have little red spots on their wing.” Looking at him, I knew he wasn’t kidding and immediately realized this as the real thing. Shortly before, I had read how the Russian –Japanese War had started in 1904. The Japanese had conducted a surprise attack under similar circumstances on Port Arthur in Manchuria.
Knowing it would take five minutes to secure the hatches, I couldn’t resist
running out 200 feet along the passage just to have a last look. This was a
complete reversal for my body, both mentally and physically. The hundreds of hours of training at General Quarters in the sunny Hawaiian waters and
elsewhere meant that you automatically went to your Station, just like a robot.
It was interesting how I had to fight my own instincts to go outside and take a quick glance; it really took only three minutes, and I did not see much, for
allowed only brief seconds. In feeling a portent and without a doubt that it was the real thing this time, my basic feelings were not too far off. As the hatches were secured, there were a number who did not see another ray of sunshine.
My station was starboard, aft, below the armor plate on the third deck. Not too much smoke or bad air at first, because we were on the opposite side of the torpedo hits. I went forward to locate some oxygen for our reserve apparatus, and as I came up to the forward repair locker, I noticed a well-built gunner’s mate coming through the hatch with a glassy look in his eyes, and he fell at my feet, completely out. Had sort of suspected it could be carbon monoxide poisoning; but others were saying it was poison gas, etc. -- the usual chaos from the unknown and instant hysteria.
Shirley Spencer emailed cousins on the 75th anniversary, December 7, 2016. Radio station in Nebraska had a program that included Harold Jr. sharing rembrances about his father and uncle.
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MEMORIES
MT. WATERMAN. February 21, 1965
Howard took Otis and Shirley Spencer on a ski trip. On the way back to Los Angeles, while stopping at a gas station, saw there was a newspaper story about Malcolm X having been assassinated in New York City. Shirley was working as a clerical temp on North Island, San Diego, and Otis was finishing his training in San Diego and preparing to depart in March to go on independent duty on the destroyer USS Henry W. Tucker home-ported in Yokosuka, Japan.
Mount Waterman was the closest Skilift area to the L.A basin.
"The Angeles Crest Highway out of La Canada has recently been repaved providing a nice and safe ride to the hill. There are no gas stations on the mountain so fill up before you come."
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Memorial for Nikki Rantes on Saturday, February 22, 2014, longtime tenant
and family friend. One surviving sister-in-law and one sister. Burial at Forest Lawn.
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December 7, 1941 Pearl Harbor Anniversary
(Shared on the 73rd anniversary, December 7, 2014)
After the surprise attack on the 7th Fleet in Honolulu’s Pearl Harbor, the world did not stand still. It mobilized as it had never before done in world history. The country may have been in shock, perhaps, none as much as the port city of San Pedro, California, home of the Pacific Fleet. The largest harbor on the West Coast, it lay unprotected, seemingly after the surprise we were alerted to that day.
It was in fact under the scrupulous command of Lt. Commander Frank D. Higbee, Captain of the Port, USCG. The President, Secretary of the Navy, and the Commandant of the 11th Coast Guard District had appointed him to the task of preparing the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach for the outbreak of hostilities in anticipation of war with Axis Powers. Higbee set in place harbor security systems that were published and became textbooks for Harbor Security teams and Coast Guardsmen across the country and the world. Higbee immediately sent out a whirlwind of commands, proclamations, and even controversial policies that kept him busy 24 hours a day for weeks on end.
His daughter, Anne, joined the SPARS, the women’s branch of the Coast Guard and served in the OSS within a few months’ time. The Higbees lived in a hillside home overlooking the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach as required to keep an ever vigilant eye on Harbor Activities. If it weren’t Higbee, himself, watching, another member of the family had an eye, most assuredly kept on the comings and goings of the Harbor.
This attached composition was penned by my mother Anne Higbee-Glace after the 7th Fleet, wobbled back to port, following the disaster in Pearl Harbor, for repairs, reunions with loved ones, late Christmas celebrations, and re-provisions. I have always found this composition moving, my mother’s pose well put. I hope you do as well. From nephew Malcolm Higbee-Glace on December 7, 2014.
AN APRIL DAY 1942
By Anne Higbee-Gace (sister to Howard's first wife, Joyce Higbee)
San Pedro, 1942, early in the year; in California we do not call it Spring.
The rare, wet wind from the east blew seaward the fog and industrial smoke. "Smog" was a word yet unformed. Snow-capped mountains shone above the basin, and I could see the Los Angeles City Hall twenty-five miles away. Only bad weather brings good viewing. Another damp, dismal day.
The harbor was busy. Tankers, freighters, fishing boats--vessels of all kinds--crowded the berths and anchorages, leaving only one section empty.
The fleet anchorage was bare. No warships swung at anchor along the curve of the breakwater.
The whereabouts of the fleet was pondered by the morning newspapers. the "Times" also wondered, rather snidely, "Why is it not here protecting us? Is the fleet scattered, damaged, intimated, destroyed? Where is it?"
We were a town bereaved, angry and afraid. San Pedro was the home port of the fleet; the men of those warships had their homes and their families there.
Seven December 1941 had been a deeply personal blow to us. Not a block was without its loss.
Young Bill Beckett, across the street, went down in the Arizona.
Captain Jack from the corner house was was blown from the bridge of the West Virginia.
Carol, the bride next door, prayed her Wally was alive somewhere. Their baby was due in June.
Christmas had been dreadful.
For me there were packages from Johnny and David mailed from Manila before the seventh.
In the morning, a submarine surfaced off Palos Verdes. Crowds stood on the cliffs and watched the ABSAROKA get torpedoed. ( NOTE: 12/25/1941: Japanese torpedoed lumber carrier SS Absaroka off California coast)
The town children opened presents from dead fathers.
We were all irritable, all waiting.
Manila had fallen at New Year's; MacArthur had escaped.
Now Easter had come and gone, and still no news of our ships. According to the morning radio, the Japanese were mopping up Bataan. We worried about our relatives in Singapore. Could General Wainwright hold out on Corregidor until relief came? Where the hell was the fleet?
Biscuits for breakfast; no butter. All meat, butter, cheese and toilet paper had been shipped out the first week of the year. My youngest sister quoted A. A. Milne, "Marmalade is tasty if it is very thickly spread." Mother reminded her that we did not grow sugarcane.
Father stopped by for recycled coffee. He tried to come home at least once a day.
According to his driver, he slept where he dropped--somewhere in the Harbor.
His responsibility was the safety of all ports from Santa Barbara to the Border.
Poor grouchy, tired Father; his job was vital and challenging, but not a command at sea.
My sisters went grumbling off to school. Many pupils had moved inland. Too many others were worried or grieving. The numerous and popular Japanese were nervous, quiet, and circumspect. School was full of rumors but little fun.
Work took me to the ferry. Our waterfront was notorious around the world. Tattoo parlors and pawnshops enticed seamen of all nations.
Shanghai Red's had a beautiful scarlet and gold dragon across the front. It was still going strong at seven a.m., as I passed. It was a genuine, guaranteed den of iniquity. My regrets to this day is that I never entered those swinging doors. The smell was of stale beer, salt air, and bad drains. The stink of oil refineries combined with the stench of tuna canneries. Anywhere, anytime I open a can of tuna, I am transported back to Shanghai Red's.
The nickle-snatcher ferry had once carried passengers across the Yangtze (River in China). She had a lovely teak wood bench curved about her stern.
Next to the pier, the huge sign advertising an American First Rally was being replaced by a reminder to "Save Gas...there is a Grossman's Mortuary near your home".
The "Save Defense Bonds" billboard now read " Buy War Bonds."
Despite warnings on the bulkheads to monitor our conversations, there was loose talk about the number of ships being built, cargo shipped, and supplies remaining, and, always speculating about the fleet.
Bitterness existed between service families and defense workers. The latter were often dust bowl farmers, enjoying a bonanza for the first time in their lives. They intended, before being caught by the draft to get the most. Serviceman started with twenty-one dollars a month, and more than forty hour weeks. Perhaps to allay their own guilt, the defense workers blamed the Navy for the disaster at Pearl Harbor, hinting at drunkenness and cowardice. Definitely there was ill feeling.
Work was nerve-wracking and secret. The return trip, exhausting. Seagulls screamed and cormorants fought over flotsam. At least the garbage had not been shipped out. A pelican closed its wings and plummeted into the water splashing me. Damned silly bird, the pelican!
Fog rolled, a great bank, in from the sea. Everyone was tired and ugly.
A man complained, "I stand in line for the bus, I stand in line for the ferry, I stand in line to have my lunch pail inspected for bombs, I stand at work, I stand in line for the bathroom. There's only a shower, so I even stand to take a bath."
Two welders and a sailor started an argument about the fleet. A woman joined in; she had not heard from her husband since Thanksgiving. "By God, nobody had better say anything to her about the Navy!" Another woman interposed "If the Navy is so damned great, why isn't it protecting us? What's to stop the Japs from invading any time they want? Who's to stop them, huh, who's to stop them?"
Pushing, shoving...a kick here, a blow there. The Shore Patrol and the police moved in.
I eased up the hill, out of the way, lifted my head to clear it by glancing out to sea. I blinked.
Gliding out of the fog, grey from grey, two destroyers came through the gate . A cruiser followed. Behind was the clumsy, ugly, beautiful old PENNSYLVANIA.
My breath left me; I could not call out. My nose ached across the bridge and my eyes smarted. I tugged at the stranger next to me.
One by one, heads lifted. We were dumb. Then we sighed. A car horn sounded. Somewhere someone shouted. Gradually, the town came to life, the dead town stirred. As the ships came in, we named them like beads on a rosary; the LEX...SARATOGA...PITTSBURGH...merchantmen colors dipped. St. Peter's Church bells to peal, followed by Stella Maris'. The fleet was in, the fleet was in, dear God, the fleet was in!
It was a joyous time and a grievous time. The crews had been separated from their families and one from from another. The return of some made the absence of others more noticeable: no ARIZONA, no CALIFORNIA or OKLAHOMA.
Carol's husband came home wounded but alive. Two young officers embraced, weeping, on the street; brothers, each had thought the other dead. Johnny came back but David, with his red hair never would.
For the first time since the attack at Pearl Harbor, the fleet was together. Assembled, it limped into San Pedro.
All the Okies and the Arkies and the Texans at the shipyards worked so hard and so fast that they finished the repairs two days ahead of schedule. The ships left for San Francisco before half the crews returned from shore leave. Special trains rushed the late comers up the Coast. Not a word appeared in any newspaper. The town settled down with its big secret.
Father came home and slept a whole night.
On 5 May 1942, less a month later...in the Coral Sea...the United States Navy met and defeated the Imperial Japanese Navy.
It was one of the decisive battles of history; it was the turning point.
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Pacific War
Pearl Harbor
During the attack on Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941, the Pennsylvania was in drydock at the Pearl Harbor Navy Yard. She was one of the first ships opened fire on the enemy emerging from the clouds, dive-bomber and torpedo bomber.
After the attack, 15 dead, 14 missing and 38 wounded were lost. Her sister ship, the USS Arizona was destroyed in the attack.
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PEARL HARBOR SURVIVORS ASSOCIATION
The first meeting of what would become the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association took place on December 7, 1954 at the Del Camino Room in Gardena, California where several survivors of the attack gathered to remember their fallen comrades and dear friends. It was at this first meeting that those in attendance swore that they would make the commemoration an annual event. At the official founding dinner in 1958, the eleven survivors who were present at the 1954 meeting were proclaimed the Founding Fathers of the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association. Those eleven survivors were: Mark Ferris, Ed Steffa, Samuel Kronberger, Edward Kronberger, Robert Kronberger, George Haines Jr., Raymond LeBer, James C. Taneyhill, Clarence Bonn, George Schafer, and Louis P. Smith. Following the 1958 meeting, the members began searching for other military survivors of the Pearl Harbor attack. The first organized convention was held at the Disneyland Hotel in Anaheim, California where over 300 survivors joined in commemoration of the event. Over 1,000 survivors attended the convention held at the Lafayette Hotel in Long Beach California December 7 1962. At this meeting, the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association constitution was presented and ratified by the members. Mark Ferris was the association’s first National President. The organization was incorporated under the laws of the State of California and the PHSA National Insignia was registered in Washington DC.[3]
During the 70th Anniversary Ceremony, the President of the association, William Muehleib, announced that due to the ages and health of the membership the executive board had decided to terminate the corporate association as of December 31, 2011. (NOTE: Howard died December 30, 2011, three weeks after going to a nursing home in Los Angeles.)
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Howard Henderson Juhl
1920-2011
Tribute by Bill Whitney
Supplement to Prairie Plains link
January, 2012
I was introduced to Howard Juhl in the early 1980s by one of our Prairie Plains founders, Hal Nagel, then a professor at Kearney State College. A few years before, Howard had stopped in on Hal while looking around for an organization to which he could donate his Buffalo County land. I went out to meet with Howard on his property, located in Nebraska’s central loess hills northwest of Riverdale. There were two adjoining quarter sections, 320 acres, which included a native hay meadow and native rangeland, dryland wheat and irrigated cropland. A small herd of bison occupied the rougher east quarter section. The woven wire bison fence was decorated with garage sale paraphernalia; one prominent hillside in the hay meadow showcased a hay wheel sculpture; a ship anchor chain with Lilliston cultivator wheels attached created a unique cattle scratcher in another spot. As we walked the land, Howard told me family stories and shared his opinions on a variety of topics while I tried to contain my excitement. At the end of our chat, I told Howard that Prairie Plains - then just two years old - was interested in the property.
The next time I saw Howard was in May, 1983, when I was helping Hal burn Cather Prairie near Red Cloud. Hal had invited Howard and a friend of his to the burn, and he drove a considerable distance in his old Dodge van. After the fire I invited him to come to Aurora during his Nebraska visit from Los Angeles. It would be a good opportunity to meet my father, Charles, to get some ideas on how to transfer his land. We agreed to meet the following week at the law office. Howard enjoyed meeting Dad, another World War II Navy man who served in the Pacific theater. He had been given a good reference by another Aurora Navy man, Gar Eckerson, a fellow Pearl Harbor Survivor and husband of ardent Prairie Plains supporter and volunteer, Gloria Eckerson. Gar and Howard knew each other from Pearl Harbor commemorative gatherings over the years. After getting to know each other and swapping some stories of the depression and Navy years, Dad and Howard agreed on a legal strategy whereby Howard would sign the deed to the Buffalo County land to Prairie Plains and retain the use and management responsibility for another five years. In November, Dad and I met at Hal Nagel’s home in Kearney and signed the papers. Howard dedicated the land as the Pearl Harbor Survivors Preserve.
That November trip was significant in another way. Howard wanted to plant 17 acres of wheat ground to prairie and had me order some seed. I delivered the seed that I’d purchased from Stock Seed Farm in Murdock; I also gave him a grocery sack of hand-picked forb seed from Hamilton County. After our meeting, Howard drove around in his van on the green fall wheat field, scattering seed out the window. The following summer the wheat was harvested as usual, and weeds flourished like they do in every new grass planting. I withheld judgment on the success of the planting and its rather unorthodox seeding method. The ensuing years proved that a little seed can go a long way, and that haphazard distribution of seed in a higher diversity mix is not an issue.
This small planting set the stage for prairie restoration techniques we developed in the 1990s. Howard was rightly proud of his work. From the short time I was with him, seeing him on his land with its decorated fence, steel sculptures and bison, and how he did the planting, I learned volumes about his character.
Throughout his life, Howard dabbled in stained glass window making, woodworking, furniture building and sculpting. He began oil painting in his forties.
An independent thinker, Howard said and did what he wanted to. His loyalties were strong, and he had a tender side not always perceived by those who judge the surface of things.
In 1987 Howard purchased a 200-gallon FMC Corporation Bean high pressure pumper/sprayer for Prairie Plains and salvaged a trailer for us to haul it on. Bean sprayer units are excellent prescribed burning tools and we were fortunate to have it. Dubbed “Nellie,” this pumper was instrumental in establishing safe field protocols for grassland burning – much of it at Pearl Harbor Survivors, Bader Park and Lincoln Creek sites. It also enabled us to help local Platte River bluff landowners including Curt Carlson and Mert Griffith with burning their cedar trees. And, thanks to Nellie, we were able to assist The Nature Conservancy with their burn program when Brent Lathrop set up an office in Aurora. Twenty-five years later, this machine is still an important part of the Prairie Plains fire equipment arsenal. I think of Howard every time we use it.
Howard helped us - Hal Nagel and students, Ernie Ochsner and myself - burn a part of Pearl Harbor Survivors Preserve one day in 1990. As we were getting ready to come home, Howard suggested something totally out of the ordinary. He said that we should look for a ranch to buy. He wanted to get a larger place and make another land gift to Prairie Plains. What were we to think?
Well, sure! Curt Twedt, another Prairie Plains founder, suggested a person he knew to contact, which we did. That led to Howard’s finding a 4400-acre ranch on the upper Niobrara River in Sioux County, Nebraska’s farthest northwest county. The ranch captivated him and he became acquainted with the owner, Martin “Fuzz” Marshall. Howard bought the land in 1992, and transferred it to Prairie Plains in 1993, dedicating it as the Guadalcanal Memorial Prairie.
Howard drove back from Los Angeles, where he’d enjoyed a very successful career as a plumber and rental property owner, to the ranch and Buffalo County about twice a year. He really fell in love with the ranch, the people and Harrison, donating to the local historical society and rural fire district. Prairie Plains began its annual June Ranch Trek - a weekend for members and friends to enjoy the high plains wildlife and scenery together - in 1995. Howard was surprised that we could get anyone to come that far. He would have been surprised then to know that it would be a strong tradition these 17 years later.
Howard Juhl's life, like that of so many other World War II veterans and their families, was conditioned by the depression of the 1930s and the war experience. He left the farm toil of central Nebraska near the end of the drought years, joined the Navy to see the world, only to end up as a participant in some of the most historic and tragic events of the time. He never lost the sense of thrift learned during the depression, nor his attachment to the Nebraska land and family he left as a teenager. He spent the rest of his life after the war in California with the intent of eventually giving something back. He chose to give prairie land out of his depth of attachment and appreciation for its beauty and wildness. I can attest to witnessing him taking a quick, audible breath as he looked over the Niobrara Valley as the buttes created long, raking shadows against the brilliance of a June sunset, saying, “How magnificent!” whether anyone was listening or not. He also valued the farming and ranching of these lands and wanted that continued.
Howard will be remembered by me personally, and in the annals of Prairie Plains Resource Institute, as one of the first to believe in our mission and a key figure in our development.
He was recognized in 2006 as the Charles L. Whitney Outstanding Service award recipient. Our job now is to honor Howard’s gifts of land by using them in ways that protect their natural treasures, and that offer enjoyable and educational experiences. In doing so, we will keep and share his story.
---Photos:
Howard at the Pearl Harbor Survivors Prairie, 1990; below, examples of his fence embellishments and his wheel sculpture at the entrance to the Sioux County Ranch.
---The USS California, December 7, 1941, Pearl Harbor. Howard Juhl was there in the water, diving down to rescue trapped sailors below deck. Photo courtesy Howard’s daughter, Mary Juhl.
--Guadalcanal Memorial Prairie (Sioux County Ranch) - June, 2000. Two figures appear in the midst of the undulating landscape, engaged in conversation - Howard Juhl and Wayne Mollhoff.
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Nickie Rantes
Birth: Sep. 10, 1933, Los Angeles
Los Angeles County, California, USA
Death: Jan. 27, 2014
Los Angeles, Los Angeles County, California, USA
Family links:
Parents:
Tom Pavlos Rantes (1883 - 1949) born in Greece
Stella P. Panopoulos Rantes (1896 - 1982) born in Greece
Sibling:
Gus Rantes (1924-1983)
William Rantes (1926-1970)
Tetsa (Goldie) Panagiota Rantes (1927-2006)
Christopher T. Rantes (1930 - 1988)
Nickie Rantes (1933 - 2014)
Angelitsa Mary Rantes (1936-)
Burial:
Forest Lawn Memorial Park (Glendale)
Glendale, Los Angeles County, California, USA
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On December 29, 2014, his daughter Mary became the grandmother of Emil Bastian Diaz Couture. He was born at Kaiser, Los Angeles, CA to Jana Juhl and Francois Couture. Grandmother was present and assisting.
Emil celebrated his first birthday in the home of his Canadian grandparents.
He took his first steps there in December 2015.
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Carla and Ernesto became parents of their first child, a son, named Camilo Perez Juhl, November 30, 2016 in Spain. Mary Juhl planned a two month visit to remove her belongings from her rental unit in Badajoz in preparation for a sale and move the items to Carla and Ernesto's new home in the countryside. She will return to Los Angeles in January 2017.
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On Saturday, July 11, 2015, Howard's daughter gifted the 50 year old son of the niece with the self portrait Howard painted in 1973. A very remarkable oil painting of a complex man by his own hand. A ping pong match followed involving guests at the pot luck enjoyed by 20 guests.
Howard was married twice and divorced twice.
He married Joyce Hubert Higbee on April 13, 1949 in San Pedro, Los Angeles, County, CA. He was 28 and she was 21 years of age. They divorced ten years later. Joyce moved to South Pasadena with their three children. Howard stayed in his Los Angeles 16 unit apartment building. He remained there until the year of his death.
They had two daughters and one son before divorcing in August 1959. The children were born at California Hospital, Los Angeles. They spent their childhood at 321 Pasadena Avenue, South Pasadena, CA with their mother.
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Daughter Mary assisted Howard, her father, moving from his home at 110 South Rampart, Los Angeles to Kingsley Manor, 1055 North Kingsley Drive, Los Angeles 90029 on December 5, 2011. At 3:00 am, Thursday, December 29, 2011, he was admitted to Kaiser Sunset emergency room with pneumonia. He was a Kaiser member.
He had prepaid the Neptune Society in October 2004 for $1,546.11.
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Mary Higbee Diaz Juhl of Badajoz, Spain and Los Angeles
Stephen Frank Juhl
South Pasadena High School Class of 1971
Reed University, Portland
B.A. Economics
Born 15 Sep 1953
Died 18 May 1989
Katherine Dolores Juhl
South Pasadena High School Class of 1973
Oregon State University
B.A. Journalism
Born 1 Dec 1955
Died 28 Feb 1984 in San Francisco, CA
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PRAIRIE PLAINS RESOURCE INSTITUTE
Here is a link to the Prairie Plains Resource Institute's Tribute to Howard.
http://prairieplains.org/assets/files/prairie_plains_link/Supplement%20to%20Jan.%20Link.%20Howard%20Juhl.pdf
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This 4944-acre property owned by Prairie Plains Resource Institute (PPRI) offers visitors access to a beautiful northern high plains landscape with its diversity of unique landforms, plants and wildlife. This property will eventually serve as a site for educational activities and research and as a meeting place.
History
The Prairie Plains Resource Institute received this land gift in 1993 from Howard Juhl. According to the original gift agreement Mr. Juhl maintained the use and management of the land until 2005, whereby he assigned full ownership to Prairie Plains. His dedication of the property is in memory of the World War II Pacific campaign at Guadalcanal, where he was involved as a Navy diver. This is the second land gift from Mr. Juhl - the first was his 1983 gift of his family land of 320 acres in Buffalo County, Nebraska, which is dedicated as the Pearl Harbor Survivors Preserve.
Mr. Juhl purchased the ranch in 1992 from Martin Marshall. He was impressed by the beauty as well as the history of the area, and was able to visit for extended periods at least twice a year from his home in Los Angeles.
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Howard Henderson Juhl was born on June 9, 1920, in Riverdale, Nebraska to Evalena Henderson Juhl and Alexander Juhl. A long time resident of Los Angeles, California, Howard passed away on December 30, 2011 at the age of 91 years.
Howard was a World War II Navy veteran and was on the USS California in Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. After being trained as a "shipfitter" in the US Navy, he owned B&B Plumbing, Los Angeles.
He was a life-long member of the Pearl Harbor Survivor Association, Los Angeles Chapter which was founded in 1958. (The Association's last meeting was on the 73rd anniversary, December 7, 2014. His daughter, Mary Higbee-Juhl, attended as did other children of members who had passed.)
Another passion he had was to give something back to Nebraska which he did through the Prairie Plains Resource Institute by donating a 4,344 acre ranch at Harrisburg, Sioux County in 1993 which is dedicated as the "Guadalcanal Memorial Prairie Ranch" and which is to be kept as a working ranch as well as an education and research resource for Nebraska's panhandle region. He had already donated 320 acres of land in 1983 in Buffalo County which was dedicated as the "Pearl Harbor Survivors Preserve."
At the annual meeting in Aurora on January 14, 2006, Bill Whitney, Director of the Prairie Plains Resource Institute, presented Howard with the Charles L. Whitney Outstanding Service Award. He said, "Howard Juhl made it possible for our organization to literally have its roots in the land."
Howard made significant donations to the Crazy Horse Memorial Foundation in South Dakota, Green Peace, The Sierra Club, and to Planned Parenthood Association.
Another passion was indulging in creating oil paintings which he shared with his family members. Skiing at Mammoth Lakes was also a passion. He skied until he was 82.
He married Joyce Higbee in April 13, 1949 in San Pedro, California when he was 27 and she was 21 years of age. Howard and Joyce had three children, all born in Los Angeles. He later had a second marriage to Maureen Berry that took place in a soybean field in 1968 near the Nebraska homestead. That marriage ended in divorce.
His daughter Mary Juhl Higbee of Badajoz, Spain and Los Angeles, California survives him as well as his granddaughters, Jana Diaz-Juhl and Carla Diaz-Juhl. His son Stephen Frank and daughter Katherine Dolores predeceased him.
He is survived by his sister, Dorothy Carmann of Grand Island.
His brother Harold and sisters Romona Hadwiger, Dolores Scott, and Virginia Nelson preceded him.
The Neptune Society of Sherman Oaks, California is in charge of arrangements.
The Memorial Service will be held at the First Unitarian Church of Los Angeles.
Memorials may be made to the Prairie Plains Resource Institute, 1307 L Street, Aurora, NE 68818 or [email protected]. The PPR was incorporated as a land trust in 1980.
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Howard married Maureen Berry in July of 1968 in a soybean field in Buffalo County, NE near the Juhl homestead farm. They divorced in June 1972 in Los Angeles, CA. Maureen's last name was Hibbert on the divorce papers.
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The memorial service celebrating his life was held Friday, January 13 , 2012 at 5 pm at First Unitarian Church of Los Angeles, 2936 West 8th Street, Los Angeles, CA 90005.
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PEARL HARBOR – START OF THE WAR – DECEMBER 7, 1941
written by Howard in 1984.
On December 7, 1941, we had just finished breakfast when I heard some sort of unusual noise going on outside. A kid from Louisiana came running in; General Quarters was ringing, and he said, “Them planes have little red spots on their wing.” Looking at him, I knew he wasn’t kidding and immediately realized this as the real thing. Shortly before, I had read how the Russian –Japanese War had started in 1904. The Japanese had conducted a surprise attack under similar circumstances on Port Arthur in Manchuria.
Knowing it would take five minutes to secure the hatches, I couldn’t resist
running out 200 feet along the passage just to have a last look. This was a
complete reversal for my body, both mentally and physically. The hundreds of hours of training at General Quarters in the sunny Hawaiian waters and
elsewhere meant that you automatically went to your Station, just like a robot.
It was interesting how I had to fight my own instincts to go outside and take a quick glance; it really took only three minutes, and I did not see much, for
allowed only brief seconds. In feeling a portent and without a doubt that it was the real thing this time, my basic feelings were not too far off. As the hatches were secured, there were a number who did not see another ray of sunshine.
My station was starboard, aft, below the armor plate on the third deck. Not too much smoke or bad air at first, because we were on the opposite side of the torpedo hits. I went forward to locate some oxygen for our reserve apparatus, and as I came up to the forward repair locker, I noticed a well-built gunner’s mate coming through the hatch with a glassy look in his eyes, and he fell at my feet, completely out. Had sort of suspected it could be carbon monoxide poisoning; but others were saying it was poison gas, etc. -- the usual chaos from the unknown and instant hysteria.
Shirley Spencer emailed cousins on the 75th anniversary, December 7, 2016. Radio station in Nebraska had a program that included Harold Jr. sharing rembrances about his father and uncle.
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MEMORIES
MT. WATERMAN. February 21, 1965
Howard took Otis and Shirley Spencer on a ski trip. On the way back to Los Angeles, while stopping at a gas station, saw there was a newspaper story about Malcolm X having been assassinated in New York City. Shirley was working as a clerical temp on North Island, San Diego, and Otis was finishing his training in San Diego and preparing to depart in March to go on independent duty on the destroyer USS Henry W. Tucker home-ported in Yokosuka, Japan.
Mount Waterman was the closest Skilift area to the L.A basin.
"The Angeles Crest Highway out of La Canada has recently been repaved providing a nice and safe ride to the hill. There are no gas stations on the mountain so fill up before you come."
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Memorial for Nikki Rantes on Saturday, February 22, 2014, longtime tenant
and family friend. One surviving sister-in-law and one sister. Burial at Forest Lawn.
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December 7, 1941 Pearl Harbor Anniversary
(Shared on the 73rd anniversary, December 7, 2014)
After the surprise attack on the 7th Fleet in Honolulu’s Pearl Harbor, the world did not stand still. It mobilized as it had never before done in world history. The country may have been in shock, perhaps, none as much as the port city of San Pedro, California, home of the Pacific Fleet. The largest harbor on the West Coast, it lay unprotected, seemingly after the surprise we were alerted to that day.
It was in fact under the scrupulous command of Lt. Commander Frank D. Higbee, Captain of the Port, USCG. The President, Secretary of the Navy, and the Commandant of the 11th Coast Guard District had appointed him to the task of preparing the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach for the outbreak of hostilities in anticipation of war with Axis Powers. Higbee set in place harbor security systems that were published and became textbooks for Harbor Security teams and Coast Guardsmen across the country and the world. Higbee immediately sent out a whirlwind of commands, proclamations, and even controversial policies that kept him busy 24 hours a day for weeks on end.
His daughter, Anne, joined the SPARS, the women’s branch of the Coast Guard and served in the OSS within a few months’ time. The Higbees lived in a hillside home overlooking the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach as required to keep an ever vigilant eye on Harbor Activities. If it weren’t Higbee, himself, watching, another member of the family had an eye, most assuredly kept on the comings and goings of the Harbor.
This attached composition was penned by my mother Anne Higbee-Glace after the 7th Fleet, wobbled back to port, following the disaster in Pearl Harbor, for repairs, reunions with loved ones, late Christmas celebrations, and re-provisions. I have always found this composition moving, my mother’s pose well put. I hope you do as well. From nephew Malcolm Higbee-Glace on December 7, 2014.
AN APRIL DAY 1942
By Anne Higbee-Gace (sister to Howard's first wife, Joyce Higbee)
San Pedro, 1942, early in the year; in California we do not call it Spring.
The rare, wet wind from the east blew seaward the fog and industrial smoke. "Smog" was a word yet unformed. Snow-capped mountains shone above the basin, and I could see the Los Angeles City Hall twenty-five miles away. Only bad weather brings good viewing. Another damp, dismal day.
The harbor was busy. Tankers, freighters, fishing boats--vessels of all kinds--crowded the berths and anchorages, leaving only one section empty.
The fleet anchorage was bare. No warships swung at anchor along the curve of the breakwater.
The whereabouts of the fleet was pondered by the morning newspapers. the "Times" also wondered, rather snidely, "Why is it not here protecting us? Is the fleet scattered, damaged, intimated, destroyed? Where is it?"
We were a town bereaved, angry and afraid. San Pedro was the home port of the fleet; the men of those warships had their homes and their families there.
Seven December 1941 had been a deeply personal blow to us. Not a block was without its loss.
Young Bill Beckett, across the street, went down in the Arizona.
Captain Jack from the corner house was was blown from the bridge of the West Virginia.
Carol, the bride next door, prayed her Wally was alive somewhere. Their baby was due in June.
Christmas had been dreadful.
For me there were packages from Johnny and David mailed from Manila before the seventh.
In the morning, a submarine surfaced off Palos Verdes. Crowds stood on the cliffs and watched the ABSAROKA get torpedoed. ( NOTE: 12/25/1941: Japanese torpedoed lumber carrier SS Absaroka off California coast)
The town children opened presents from dead fathers.
We were all irritable, all waiting.
Manila had fallen at New Year's; MacArthur had escaped.
Now Easter had come and gone, and still no news of our ships. According to the morning radio, the Japanese were mopping up Bataan. We worried about our relatives in Singapore. Could General Wainwright hold out on Corregidor until relief came? Where the hell was the fleet?
Biscuits for breakfast; no butter. All meat, butter, cheese and toilet paper had been shipped out the first week of the year. My youngest sister quoted A. A. Milne, "Marmalade is tasty if it is very thickly spread." Mother reminded her that we did not grow sugarcane.
Father stopped by for recycled coffee. He tried to come home at least once a day.
According to his driver, he slept where he dropped--somewhere in the Harbor.
His responsibility was the safety of all ports from Santa Barbara to the Border.
Poor grouchy, tired Father; his job was vital and challenging, but not a command at sea.
My sisters went grumbling off to school. Many pupils had moved inland. Too many others were worried or grieving. The numerous and popular Japanese were nervous, quiet, and circumspect. School was full of rumors but little fun.
Work took me to the ferry. Our waterfront was notorious around the world. Tattoo parlors and pawnshops enticed seamen of all nations.
Shanghai Red's had a beautiful scarlet and gold dragon across the front. It was still going strong at seven a.m., as I passed. It was a genuine, guaranteed den of iniquity. My regrets to this day is that I never entered those swinging doors. The smell was of stale beer, salt air, and bad drains. The stink of oil refineries combined with the stench of tuna canneries. Anywhere, anytime I open a can of tuna, I am transported back to Shanghai Red's.
The nickle-snatcher ferry had once carried passengers across the Yangtze (River in China). She had a lovely teak wood bench curved about her stern.
Next to the pier, the huge sign advertising an American First Rally was being replaced by a reminder to "Save Gas...there is a Grossman's Mortuary near your home".
The "Save Defense Bonds" billboard now read " Buy War Bonds."
Despite warnings on the bulkheads to monitor our conversations, there was loose talk about the number of ships being built, cargo shipped, and supplies remaining, and, always speculating about the fleet.
Bitterness existed between service families and defense workers. The latter were often dust bowl farmers, enjoying a bonanza for the first time in their lives. They intended, before being caught by the draft to get the most. Serviceman started with twenty-one dollars a month, and more than forty hour weeks. Perhaps to allay their own guilt, the defense workers blamed the Navy for the disaster at Pearl Harbor, hinting at drunkenness and cowardice. Definitely there was ill feeling.
Work was nerve-wracking and secret. The return trip, exhausting. Seagulls screamed and cormorants fought over flotsam. At least the garbage had not been shipped out. A pelican closed its wings and plummeted into the water splashing me. Damned silly bird, the pelican!
Fog rolled, a great bank, in from the sea. Everyone was tired and ugly.
A man complained, "I stand in line for the bus, I stand in line for the ferry, I stand in line to have my lunch pail inspected for bombs, I stand at work, I stand in line for the bathroom. There's only a shower, so I even stand to take a bath."
Two welders and a sailor started an argument about the fleet. A woman joined in; she had not heard from her husband since Thanksgiving. "By God, nobody had better say anything to her about the Navy!" Another woman interposed "If the Navy is so damned great, why isn't it protecting us? What's to stop the Japs from invading any time they want? Who's to stop them, huh, who's to stop them?"
Pushing, shoving...a kick here, a blow there. The Shore Patrol and the police moved in.
I eased up the hill, out of the way, lifted my head to clear it by glancing out to sea. I blinked.
Gliding out of the fog, grey from grey, two destroyers came through the gate . A cruiser followed. Behind was the clumsy, ugly, beautiful old PENNSYLVANIA.
My breath left me; I could not call out. My nose ached across the bridge and my eyes smarted. I tugged at the stranger next to me.
One by one, heads lifted. We were dumb. Then we sighed. A car horn sounded. Somewhere someone shouted. Gradually, the town came to life, the dead town stirred. As the ships came in, we named them like beads on a rosary; the LEX...SARATOGA...PITTSBURGH...merchantmen colors dipped. St. Peter's Church bells to peal, followed by Stella Maris'. The fleet was in, the fleet was in, dear God, the fleet was in!
It was a joyous time and a grievous time. The crews had been separated from their families and one from from another. The return of some made the absence of others more noticeable: no ARIZONA, no CALIFORNIA or OKLAHOMA.
Carol's husband came home wounded but alive. Two young officers embraced, weeping, on the street; brothers, each had thought the other dead. Johnny came back but David, with his red hair never would.
For the first time since the attack at Pearl Harbor, the fleet was together. Assembled, it limped into San Pedro.
All the Okies and the Arkies and the Texans at the shipyards worked so hard and so fast that they finished the repairs two days ahead of schedule. The ships left for San Francisco before half the crews returned from shore leave. Special trains rushed the late comers up the Coast. Not a word appeared in any newspaper. The town settled down with its big secret.
Father came home and slept a whole night.
On 5 May 1942, less a month later...in the Coral Sea...the United States Navy met and defeated the Imperial Japanese Navy.
It was one of the decisive battles of history; it was the turning point.
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Pacific War
Pearl Harbor
During the attack on Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941, the Pennsylvania was in drydock at the Pearl Harbor Navy Yard. She was one of the first ships opened fire on the enemy emerging from the clouds, dive-bomber and torpedo bomber.
After the attack, 15 dead, 14 missing and 38 wounded were lost. Her sister ship, the USS Arizona was destroyed in the attack.
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PEARL HARBOR SURVIVORS ASSOCIATION
The first meeting of what would become the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association took place on December 7, 1954 at the Del Camino Room in Gardena, California where several survivors of the attack gathered to remember their fallen comrades and dear friends. It was at this first meeting that those in attendance swore that they would make the commemoration an annual event. At the official founding dinner in 1958, the eleven survivors who were present at the 1954 meeting were proclaimed the Founding Fathers of the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association. Those eleven survivors were: Mark Ferris, Ed Steffa, Samuel Kronberger, Edward Kronberger, Robert Kronberger, George Haines Jr., Raymond LeBer, James C. Taneyhill, Clarence Bonn, George Schafer, and Louis P. Smith. Following the 1958 meeting, the members began searching for other military survivors of the Pearl Harbor attack. The first organized convention was held at the Disneyland Hotel in Anaheim, California where over 300 survivors joined in commemoration of the event. Over 1,000 survivors attended the convention held at the Lafayette Hotel in Long Beach California December 7 1962. At this meeting, the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association constitution was presented and ratified by the members. Mark Ferris was the association’s first National President. The organization was incorporated under the laws of the State of California and the PHSA National Insignia was registered in Washington DC.[3]
During the 70th Anniversary Ceremony, the President of the association, William Muehleib, announced that due to the ages and health of the membership the executive board had decided to terminate the corporate association as of December 31, 2011. (NOTE: Howard died December 30, 2011, three weeks after going to a nursing home in Los Angeles.)
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Howard Henderson Juhl
1920-2011
Tribute by Bill Whitney
Supplement to Prairie Plains link
January, 2012
I was introduced to Howard Juhl in the early 1980s by one of our Prairie Plains founders, Hal Nagel, then a professor at Kearney State College. A few years before, Howard had stopped in on Hal while looking around for an organization to which he could donate his Buffalo County land. I went out to meet with Howard on his property, located in Nebraska’s central loess hills northwest of Riverdale. There were two adjoining quarter sections, 320 acres, which included a native hay meadow and native rangeland, dryland wheat and irrigated cropland. A small herd of bison occupied the rougher east quarter section. The woven wire bison fence was decorated with garage sale paraphernalia; one prominent hillside in the hay meadow showcased a hay wheel sculpture; a ship anchor chain with Lilliston cultivator wheels attached created a unique cattle scratcher in another spot. As we walked the land, Howard told me family stories and shared his opinions on a variety of topics while I tried to contain my excitement. At the end of our chat, I told Howard that Prairie Plains - then just two years old - was interested in the property.
The next time I saw Howard was in May, 1983, when I was helping Hal burn Cather Prairie near Red Cloud. Hal had invited Howard and a friend of his to the burn, and he drove a considerable distance in his old Dodge van. After the fire I invited him to come to Aurora during his Nebraska visit from Los Angeles. It would be a good opportunity to meet my father, Charles, to get some ideas on how to transfer his land. We agreed to meet the following week at the law office. Howard enjoyed meeting Dad, another World War II Navy man who served in the Pacific theater. He had been given a good reference by another Aurora Navy man, Gar Eckerson, a fellow Pearl Harbor Survivor and husband of ardent Prairie Plains supporter and volunteer, Gloria Eckerson. Gar and Howard knew each other from Pearl Harbor commemorative gatherings over the years. After getting to know each other and swapping some stories of the depression and Navy years, Dad and Howard agreed on a legal strategy whereby Howard would sign the deed to the Buffalo County land to Prairie Plains and retain the use and management responsibility for another five years. In November, Dad and I met at Hal Nagel’s home in Kearney and signed the papers. Howard dedicated the land as the Pearl Harbor Survivors Preserve.
That November trip was significant in another way. Howard wanted to plant 17 acres of wheat ground to prairie and had me order some seed. I delivered the seed that I’d purchased from Stock Seed Farm in Murdock; I also gave him a grocery sack of hand-picked forb seed from Hamilton County. After our meeting, Howard drove around in his van on the green fall wheat field, scattering seed out the window. The following summer the wheat was harvested as usual, and weeds flourished like they do in every new grass planting. I withheld judgment on the success of the planting and its rather unorthodox seeding method. The ensuing years proved that a little seed can go a long way, and that haphazard distribution of seed in a higher diversity mix is not an issue.
This small planting set the stage for prairie restoration techniques we developed in the 1990s. Howard was rightly proud of his work. From the short time I was with him, seeing him on his land with its decorated fence, steel sculptures and bison, and how he did the planting, I learned volumes about his character.
Throughout his life, Howard dabbled in stained glass window making, woodworking, furniture building and sculpting. He began oil painting in his forties.
An independent thinker, Howard said and did what he wanted to. His loyalties were strong, and he had a tender side not always perceived by those who judge the surface of things.
In 1987 Howard purchased a 200-gallon FMC Corporation Bean high pressure pumper/sprayer for Prairie Plains and salvaged a trailer for us to haul it on. Bean sprayer units are excellent prescribed burning tools and we were fortunate to have it. Dubbed “Nellie,” this pumper was instrumental in establishing safe field protocols for grassland burning – much of it at Pearl Harbor Survivors, Bader Park and Lincoln Creek sites. It also enabled us to help local Platte River bluff landowners including Curt Carlson and Mert Griffith with burning their cedar trees. And, thanks to Nellie, we were able to assist The Nature Conservancy with their burn program when Brent Lathrop set up an office in Aurora. Twenty-five years later, this machine is still an important part of the Prairie Plains fire equipment arsenal. I think of Howard every time we use it.
Howard helped us - Hal Nagel and students, Ernie Ochsner and myself - burn a part of Pearl Harbor Survivors Preserve one day in 1990. As we were getting ready to come home, Howard suggested something totally out of the ordinary. He said that we should look for a ranch to buy. He wanted to get a larger place and make another land gift to Prairie Plains. What were we to think?
Well, sure! Curt Twedt, another Prairie Plains founder, suggested a person he knew to contact, which we did. That led to Howard’s finding a 4400-acre ranch on the upper Niobrara River in Sioux County, Nebraska’s farthest northwest county. The ranch captivated him and he became acquainted with the owner, Martin “Fuzz” Marshall. Howard bought the land in 1992, and transferred it to Prairie Plains in 1993, dedicating it as the Guadalcanal Memorial Prairie.
Howard drove back from Los Angeles, where he’d enjoyed a very successful career as a plumber and rental property owner, to the ranch and Buffalo County about twice a year. He really fell in love with the ranch, the people and Harrison, donating to the local historical society and rural fire district. Prairie Plains began its annual June Ranch Trek - a weekend for members and friends to enjoy the high plains wildlife and scenery together - in 1995. Howard was surprised that we could get anyone to come that far. He would have been surprised then to know that it would be a strong tradition these 17 years later.
Howard Juhl's life, like that of so many other World War II veterans and their families, was conditioned by the depression of the 1930s and the war experience. He left the farm toil of central Nebraska near the end of the drought years, joined the Navy to see the world, only to end up as a participant in some of the most historic and tragic events of the time. He never lost the sense of thrift learned during the depression, nor his attachment to the Nebraska land and family he left as a teenager. He spent the rest of his life after the war in California with the intent of eventually giving something back. He chose to give prairie land out of his depth of attachment and appreciation for its beauty and wildness. I can attest to witnessing him taking a quick, audible breath as he looked over the Niobrara Valley as the buttes created long, raking shadows against the brilliance of a June sunset, saying, “How magnificent!” whether anyone was listening or not. He also valued the farming and ranching of these lands and wanted that continued.
Howard will be remembered by me personally, and in the annals of Prairie Plains Resource Institute, as one of the first to believe in our mission and a key figure in our development.
He was recognized in 2006 as the Charles L. Whitney Outstanding Service award recipient. Our job now is to honor Howard’s gifts of land by using them in ways that protect their natural treasures, and that offer enjoyable and educational experiences. In doing so, we will keep and share his story.
---Photos:
Howard at the Pearl Harbor Survivors Prairie, 1990; below, examples of his fence embellishments and his wheel sculpture at the entrance to the Sioux County Ranch.
---The USS California, December 7, 1941, Pearl Harbor. Howard Juhl was there in the water, diving down to rescue trapped sailors below deck. Photo courtesy Howard’s daughter, Mary Juhl.
--Guadalcanal Memorial Prairie (Sioux County Ranch) - June, 2000. Two figures appear in the midst of the undulating landscape, engaged in conversation - Howard Juhl and Wayne Mollhoff.
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Nickie Rantes
Birth: Sep. 10, 1933, Los Angeles
Los Angeles County, California, USA
Death: Jan. 27, 2014
Los Angeles, Los Angeles County, California, USA
Family links:
Parents:
Tom Pavlos Rantes (1883 - 1949) born in Greece
Stella P. Panopoulos Rantes (1896 - 1982) born in Greece
Sibling:
Gus Rantes (1924-1983)
William Rantes (1926-1970)
Tetsa (Goldie) Panagiota Rantes (1927-2006)
Christopher T. Rantes (1930 - 1988)
Nickie Rantes (1933 - 2014)
Angelitsa Mary Rantes (1936-)
Burial:
Forest Lawn Memorial Park (Glendale)
Glendale, Los Angeles County, California, USA
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On December 29, 2014, his daughter Mary became the grandmother of Emil Bastian Diaz Couture. He was born at Kaiser, Los Angeles, CA to Jana Juhl and Francois Couture. Grandmother was present and assisting.
Emil celebrated his first birthday in the home of his Canadian grandparents.
He took his first steps there in December 2015.
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Carla and Ernesto became parents of their first child, a son, named Camilo Perez Juhl, November 30, 2016 in Spain. Mary Juhl planned a two month visit to remove her belongings from her rental unit in Badajoz in preparation for a sale and move the items to Carla and Ernesto's new home in the countryside. She will return to Los Angeles in January 2017.
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On Saturday, July 11, 2015, Howard's daughter gifted the 50 year old son of the niece with the self portrait Howard painted in 1973. A very remarkable oil painting of a complex man by his own hand. A ping pong match followed involving guests at the pot luck enjoyed by 20 guests.
Family Members
Siblings
