Arthur James Dias

Arthur James Dias

Pajaro, Monterey County, California, USA
Death 29 Dec 2013 (aged 93)
Lincoln, Placer County, California, USA
Burial San Jose, Santa Clara County, California, USA
Memorial ID 123052820 · View Source
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Arthur James Dias
Dec 23, 1920 - Dec 29, 2013
Resident of Lincoln, CA

Veteran of WW2

It is with sorrow that we announce the passing of Arthur J. Dias at home in Lincoln California.

He was preceded in death by his wife Janice C. Dias of almost 57 years, and by two of his 14 children, Cathy and Matthew. He is survived by 12 children: Marjorie, Andy, Mark, Christopher, Cecilia, Dorothy, Paul, Gene, Greg, Aileen, Bryan and Becky. He is also survived by 33 grandchildren and 14 great grandchildren. He has one surviving brother, Robert Dias.

A rosary will be recited at St Joseph's Catholic Church in Lincoln, California 280 Oak Tree Lane at 11:00, with a funeral mass at 11:30 on Jan 9th with a reception at the hall immediately after.
The burial ceremony will be held at Los Gatos Memorial Park, 2255 Los Gatos Almaden Road at 12:00 p.m on Jan 10th.

Published in San Jose Mercury News/San Mateo County Times on Jan. 9, 2014.

His memoirs

On Dec. 23, 1920, I was born in Pajaro, CA, which was the junction for the Southern Pacific railroad. Pajaro (pa'ha row) was attached to Watsonville but, being in another county, it was not considered part of the city. Pajaro included a railroad station, roundhouse, a few lettuce & apple packing houses & one or more apple drying houses. Oh, yes, there were a couple of brothels, too.

In those days, it was common for a doctor to go to the house to deliver a baby and a friend or family member would help with household chores until the mother could resume her normal duties.

My father made quite a reputation as a cook. His first restaurant was called the Railroad Café (I think); his 2nd, was The White House Grill; but I don't remember either restaurant. My mother said that she talked him into giving up the business, because he couldn't get a day off, and he was getting severe headaches.

Later, my folks paid $50 for a lot and had a house built on it in Watsonville. The house had a wood burning stove in the kitchen & dining area (one room). One cupboard in the pantry had a built-in cooler but no refrigerator or icebox (until later); 3 bedrooms, a back porch, and a small living room made up the rest of the house. There was an outside toilet and small detached garage. Behind the garage were a chicken house & a cowshed. I don't remember much about those early years, but a few things did stick in my mind like bathing in a washtub with my brother, Bob, under the supervision of my older sister, Viola. Part of the back porch was partitioned off for the adults to bathe in a wash tub. The interior walls were made of rough 1 by 12 redwood running vertically from floor to ceiling. Wallpaper was pasted on this rough wood for looks and to cover cracks between the boards.

I don't remember my oldest brother, George, who died in 1923 from tuberculosis (tb), but there was a snapshot of him with me standing next to him. I had long light brown hair! My mother saved a clipping of my hair and gave it to me. Later, I showed it to Jan when she expressed doubt that I had light brown hair when I was young. My hair didn't get real dark until I went into the army. -Now, it's turning light again!

I remember using a pocketknife to carve a simple airplane and learning to skate on the sidewalk with steel wheels. I started the first grade in about 1926 & flunked. Then, I had a tonsillectomy & a broken arm before starting the first grade again. There was an old apple orchard at the end of our street, which was plowed and left fallow. One day, I was climbing in those trees and learned to hang by my toes. My brother, Clyde, came to get me for dinner, and I said, "just one more trick". Well, I had no easy way to get down except to just kick my feet off the limb. When I did this, I landed on a big dry clod and broke my arm. My mother had been to see my brother Albert in a "TB" sanitarium and got a little surprise when she returned! The "rest" must have been good for me, because I was an honor student after that summer until High School. My 1st book was "The Life of Buffalo Bill Cody" which I read in the 2nd grade. Oh, yes, I had another accident when I fell while rolling old automobile tires and broke my arm again. I didn't know it was broken, so it didn't heal properly. When the doctor heard about it, he decided it was not worthwhile to break the arm and reset it. It doesn't seem to bother me, so, I guess it's ok.

I don't remember the year, but some of us "kids" got together to roast some
green apples using dry grass and an old chamber pot that we found nearby. Well, the fire got away from us and turned into a wild grass fire. All of the nearby neighbors got together to put out the fire. When the fire was out, they saw the little old pot lying there with a few little green apples in it. It wasn't long before my mother came home to find me hiding under a bed. She looked at me and burst into laughter.

My father worked 10 hours a day for 6 or 7 days a week. He didn't discuss money with us but my sister; Viola told me that my dad got as little as $60 a month for a while during the depression. My older brothers worked as farm laborers to help out until they got better jobs. I remember running to meet my Dad when he came home to carry his lunch pail. Often, he had not eaten the desert in his lunch, so we relieved him of it when he came home. He walked about 3 miles to and from the vinegar factory where he worked as a laborer so he was very tired when he came home. After dinner, he usually fell asleep in his rocking chair before going to bed.

My first girl friend in the first grade never knew that she was special until I gave her a special valentine in the 5th grade. One day, she offered to race me in the school yard. She surprised me at how fast she could run when I couldn't catch her.

There was a small house and large barn on the property next door. We used to play in the barn. We called the house, "the Mexican house", because some Mexicans had lived there for a while. Later, 2 houses were built on the lot & 3 were moved onto the property over the years before 1936 or so.

I remember the doctor's washing his hands before or after the delivery of my sister in 1927. We all sat around the kitchen table to choose her name, "Beatrice Shirley". I don't remember, but, was told that my youngest brother's name was chosen by siblings, too, Melvin Elvin, in 1924. Recently, my sister said that my mother told her a different story. She was asked what the new boy's name would be while she was still groggy from the birth. She mumbled, "m melvin..m..elvin'. I suspect the latter explanation was correct, but she never changed the birth certificate. At any rate, he was always called "Peewee", because he moved so fast and was little.

My brother, Albert, was able to come home for a while before he died of "TB" Dec. 23, 1929 (my birthday). My mother said that Albert sang "Bye Bye Blackbird" shortly before he died. We younger siblings celebrated Christmas at Mrs. William's (a neighbor's) house that year.

When my brother, "Gene", was about 20, he was able to hook up a real bathroom on our back porch. He had a good job with the Ice Company. The outhouse had been replaced some time before, but I do remember that one of the neighbors still had an outhouse.

A big house was moved onto the empty lot next door and a carpenter with 8 children moved in. We became friends but had disagreements at times with them. Once, when I was skating home with my arms loaded with groceries, the littlest of the carpenter's children came up and poked me with a baseball bat. This made me very angry, so the next day; I caught him and hit him. Then, he got his big brother and my big brother poked his face over our back fence. Words were exchanged. Finally, his father and my father showed up, and the whole thing was dropped without any further escalation. After about 50 years, that same boy that started the whole thing called up and invited me out to dinner without even mentioning our squabble. Looking back on it, I think we got along very well with that family. They didn't complain when I practiced my trumpet. We took trips up Mt. Madonna in their old Star touring car and helped push it up the steepest hill. Once, as we were going down the alley, I jumped off the running board and sprained my ankle. Later, I was very sad, because my bad ankle didn't allow me to go to our church hall for a Christmas celebration for children.

My father and Uncle "Eddie" had a one room house built in the back of our lot for my grandfather, Benjamin Dias. Grandfather lived with us until he died of old age in 1931. Grandfather would get out of bed, take off his clothes to cool off, and try to walk but would fall down. Once, my mother found him outside hanging onto the clothesline in the nude. He was too big for my mother to get him back into bed; so she tied him down to the bed after my older brothers helped get him back into bed. Apparently, he was too weak to break the small strands that held him down. I remember that he wanted me to cut his bonds, but I was afraid to oblige.

After Grandpa died, my Uncle Harris came to live with us. He had a good business somewhere in California, but his landlord kept raising the rent so much that he couldn't stay. He said that he should have had a lease. The word "lease" was new to me at that time. His wife left him at the same time, but I couldn't say why. He stayed with us for quite a while during the depression. One day Uncle Harris took me on a fishing trip to the headwaters of Soquel and Corralitos creeks in the Santa Cruz Mountains. The most memorable thing about that trip was that I caught more fish than my uncle did. I used a willow pole while uncle used an expensive rod and reel.

I don't remember the time, but there was a riot in our town one year against Philipinos, because they would work for less money than other Americans. (At that time, the Philippine Islands were a protectorate of the U.S.)

I don't remember seeing the cow, but the chickens were slaughtered shortly after the death of my brother, Eugene (Gene) in 1934.My mother baked the chickens, and we ate them on our trip to Oregon to look for work and fun. We camped in a trailer park one night. Then we were told about free camping along the Rogue River. The water was not very deep, but it shocked me to find how difficult it was to stand up while wading near shore. Some of us walked upstream a little to a small dam where we saw salmon trying to go past the dam in a fish ladder. I was shocked at the size of those fish. We stayed there a few days and then, went into the hills to a dam where we caught "zillions" of fish (crappy & bluegill). One of the things that stuck in my mind was watching a chipmunk nibble on a green pinecone.

Somehow, my mother received a note from my dad, and it was decided we should go home. We were stopped at the California border for inspection. The inspector found earwigs in our gear, which we had acquired during our stay in a trailer park. It was the first time I had seen such weird looking bugs. Now, these same bugs are all over California. Later, on the way home, there was a sharp turn in the road causing us to have a near wreck. We stopped to talk to some people who had broken a trailer hitch as they went around that same curve. I remember that it was very dark. The road was probably, highway 99.

On the way back from Oregon, my leg was cramped between pieces of luggage so that it had poor circulation. Anyway, my leg developed an abscess at the knee so bad that I couldn't walk. The doctor came and lanced my knee to drain the abscess. That doctor bill was not paid until I received the bill in the army, about 1942. Those were the days when doctors made house calls and were very slow to ask for money. Of course, very few people had any money.

There was a man living across the street called "Slim" who was a friend of the family for a long time. Slim, although about 52? years' old, loved to play with us kids; such as, "kick the can" or baseball. Slim would take us out to the river around the 4th of July to shoot off some expensive fireworks. This was in addition to the official fireworks display at the High School athletic field.

During the "dust bowl days of the depression" people from Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Texas swarmed into California. Because these people were experiencing extreme poverty, they would work for very little pay. My mother often invited Slim to dinner at our house. The "Oakies" and "Arkies" were disliked by us "native sons" in those days of "The Grapes of Wrath". One evening when Slim came for dinner, I made some snide remark about "Oakies". My father said. "You know Art that Slim is from Oklahoma. Well, I felt like sinking through the floor, because Slim was my friend. Then my father said, "Well Slim has been here long enough to become civilized." Everyone laughed, and I learned a valuable lesson.

Recently, 1999, I heard a little about my mother's parents. Grandfather, Timothy Munger, was a wife beater and ran a grocery store. He was justice of the peace in Pismo Beach for a while. Grandmother ran off with a brother of her husband and took my mother with her. My mother started caring for herself at an early age by doing housework for a wealthy family. Grandmother (Charlotte) was run over by a streetcar while she was drunk in Long Beach. I'll try to find the truth of these stories when I get the chance. I know very little about the Dias or Munger side of my parents' families. I do know that my parents raised 10 children, and only five were still living in 1998. Francis died in 1999 leaving only Clyde, Arthur, Robert, & Beatrice.

A few other things stick in my mind about my childhood: There was a 4&1/2-year difference between my next older brother and me. It was like two different families. The older brothers died before the birth of the youngest children, so the whole family was never together at one time. My older brothers built a very big swing in the back yard and a sandbox for us. I also remember trying to saw a piece of wood and having to quit because I couldn't make it work. Much later, my father built the frame of a small shed for me to make into a clubhouse. I found enough wood to cover the outside and used "my" clubhouse for years. Also, I traded some of my toys for my brothers' share of our dog, Buster. So, Buster was "my" dog from then on until I went to college. We had a lot of fun with Buster. I made a harness for Buster to pull our wagon. We tried to keep a beautiful white police dog, too, but Buster would have none of that. My mother finally gave Von, the police dog to a friend in the country. Later, we heard that Von was killed chasing cars. While I was away in college, my mother sent Buster to the pound, because he was too hard to care for. One characteristic of Buster was the way he would growl all the way home when we said, "in the back yard" in a loud voice, but he would go. I taught Buster to climb ladders. After that, it was more difficult to keep him in the yard. Barbed wire on top of the fence didn't hold him back much. My wrestling with Buster taught me not to be afraid of dogs. One man can overpower one dog if he uses common sense. However, there was one exception: I was riding my bicycle on the campus of UC Berkley when I bumped a great- Dane. That dog turned and with a growl put his jaws over the calf of my leg but didn't bite! I got the message!

One year, my brothers Clyde and Francis decided to buy a truck and haul chicken manure from Petaluma (the chicken capital of the world) to Salinas. One day, we went up to Mt. Madonna to get wood, which was available for cleaning up part of the park. The wood was fallen madrone and scrub manzanita, which we dug up by the roots. Manzanita roots burn as hot as coal. My brothers, Bob, Peewee, and I spent our summer vacation chopping wood in the morning and swimming in the Pajaro River in the afternoon. We didn't have any trouble sleeping at night. It was about 2 miles from our house to the swimming hole. Of course, we didn't take towels or swim suits with us.

We had friends living in the country next to Pinto Lake. These people raised apples, beans, and miscellaneous row crops. One day, while visiting them, I was allowed to take the wheel of an old model T truck for a trial run. Well, I squashed pumpkins on both sides of the road before I stopped. After a good laugh, the farmer's son took over. It was a long time before I finally learned to drive.

The times were rough, and these friends were on welfare. One of the New Deal programs was to distribute excess food to poor people. These people, trying to sell their apples were given apples from Washington State as a food supplement! So much for bureaucracy.

One day, we caught fish in the lake and took them home on a string. We had quite a few, but many passing drivers were so surprised to see so many fish on a string that they slowed down to gawk. It was about 3 miles from our house to the lake by road. We seldom took shortcuts through orchards because it was rougher walking on plowed ground than along the roadside

We sometimes took an empty lard pail to a farmer and offered to buy some cherries. The farmer took a look at the small pail and decided it was only worth 5 cents to fill it, but he ignored the fact that we would also fill our stomachs, too. Every fall, Bob & I would offer to clear the brush left after pruning. We got $20 for 20 acres. We did this in our spare time. Many years went by before I went to visit that farmer. He told me that he left those cherry trees for us kids, as they weren't profitable. They were big black and delicious. We tried not to break branches. Actually, there were two farmers with cherry trees. The farmer that charged a nickel had royal annes and bings. The other farmer had better tasting cherries but didn't charge us. We thought we were stealing them.

When I was 14, my mother let me use a gun. One of my customers on my paper route gave me an old 22 which I used to shoot birds in the orchard. There were houses around, but I was careful to shoot so the bullets would not go near a house. We spent many hours in those orchards near our house. Now, 1999, those orchards have been plowed up to plant houses, macadam, and concrete. Too bad!

The boy across the street gave me his 12-mile route delivering 90 Examiner papers. I had to lean over the handlebars to make the front tire touch ground on Sunday mornings, because those 90 papers were so heavy. I seem to remember that I received 10 cents for delivery and 5 cents for collection per month. I had to get up at 4:00 AM and roll the papers before starting the route, which took about an hour. One side benefit was that I traded a paper for fresh doughnuts each morning. The free paper that was supposed to go to the police station I delivered to the home of a girl that I liked. I borrowed Peewee's bicycle for this route. I was surprised at my brother's generosity and the strength of the bicycle, because the bike was a racer.

The sporting goods store where I bought the $35 bicycle (see a later paragraph) was owned by a kindly old Japanese fellow who let me use his tools to make repairs, etc. A few years later, after WW II started, I was sorry to read in the paper where he was arrested for having so much ammunition and guns. I don't believe he was any kind of security risk.

One day after school, Bob, one or two neighbor boys, and I rode to the top of Mt Madonna on our bicycles. On the way down, I decided to go ahead and took off, saying, "see you at the bottom". Everything went well until I hit some ruts in the road. I got through the first batch and hit another batch where my bicycle stopped but I kept going over the handlebars. I sat there stunned. When Bob caught up, he said,"are you ok?" Holding my head with both hands, I said."I don't know". Bob laughed, and I became angry. Well, Bob straightened my front wheel as best he could and we went home. After some soap and water and bandages I thought everything was OK Well, a week or so later, while wrestling with Peewee, I broke the scab on my elbow causing an infection. The infection caused swelling in my arm and the doctor said I almost lost my arm.

I took mandolin lessons in the 4th grade at 25cents a lesson. We had a mandolin so that's the most probable reason why I started with that instrument. After one year, I started trumpet lessons. Somehow, I managed to pay for that, too. Later, in High School, I bought an Olds trumpet which was the best you could buy; it cost $160 and it took me quite a while to pay for it. I was only able to get $20 for it when I went into the army. A musician once told me that that trumpet was like a Stradivarius. I wonder what it would cost today?

I started mowing lawns and doing gardening at 25cents an hour in the 3rd grade. I started selling Liberty magazines about this time. I would knock on a door and say to anyone who answered the door, "Wanna buy a Liberty?" The magazine cost 5 cents, and I got 2 cents for each one I sold. These little businesses helped get me through those depression years. I even loaned my Dad about 2 dollars and some cents, which I magnanimously told him not to pay back! My brother Bob and I tried delivering the Register Pajaronian and gave up because of poor pay. This was when Social Security started, so we both were given SS numbers. Later, the company made us contractors so they wouldn't have to pay SS taxes. I bought a balloon tired bicycle for $35 and was supposed to pay it off at $5 a month. I, also remember loaning my brother 40 dollars for a car payment. He was supposed to teach me to drive but gave up when I ran the car into a fence.

Some of us kids got together to form an orchestra for a while, but that didn't last long. There were too many other things to do. They let me play in the school orchestra in the 6th grade. Then, when I went to grammar school, I played in the band, too. Our Grammar School band took one trip to San Francisco for some kind of occasion. I was able to play in our High School band playing first trumpet for two years. The leader demoted me to second place, because a new kid played better. The song was "Pavanne" a neat little tune that required a better sense of timing. Oh well, I got 2 trips to the San Francisco Worlds Fair with the High School Band and 2 trips with the local Southern Pacific Band. Playing in those bands (High School and Southern Pacific) was a lot of fun where I was able to participate in some functions expense free. I remember the difficulty trying to march and play the trumpet at the same time. Once, we marched the length of Market Street in San Francisco. One of our graduated trumpet players could play "Carnival of Venice" so well that he sounded like Harry James. He sometimes came back to school to help us on special occasions. I wonder what happened to him? He drove a car to school from a ranch out of town. (Farms and orchards were often called "ranches" in our town.) (For you young people, Harry James was very popular in those days.)

Sometime during my 1st year of school, the teacher marched our class from the old primary school to a brand new building about 10 blocks away. The first grade was allowed to play in the new sandbox during recess.
It must have been the 2nd or 3rd grade students that were allowed to use bars. I remember getting thick calluses on my hands from swinging on those bars. My memory of the 3rd grade was of a kindly old teacher that admired my little jug that I made out of adobe mud enough to place in the class cabinet. The 4th grade teacher taught me long division and took the class on a picnic at the end of the school year where I ran through the brush and caught poison oak. Our 5th grade teacher let us know that she was Baptist and, later, was very proud of one of her students that decided to become a priest. I forget the grade where we read bible stories in class. The schools now seem to be much more bigoted. Our 6th grade teacher was, also, the school principal. I copied a picture of FDR and showed it to her, which she put on the wall, because it could be recognized. I liked all of my teachers and they seemed to be doing a good job with large classes of 30 to 40 students. I wonder if the class sizes could be verified because modern teachers don't believe me. We learned the decimal system in the 5th grade.

Our playtime was segregated into seasons. We played "marbles for keeps" most of the year. There was a top season, but I don't remember the time of year. Kite season was usually in March when the wind was blowing. Of course, only sissies flew "boughtn" kites. Football was in the fall, and baseball was in the summer. I remember counting 40 kids playing together at different times from toddlers up to 18 year olds. We especially liked to get the adults to play baseball with us. Girls were welcome, too. Another game that we liked was Peewee, which was played with sticks one little (6"), and one longer (18") stick. A hole was dug into the ground wide enough for the big stick to move freely. The little stick was laid across the hole: then the big stick was used to knock the little stick out of the hole as far as possible, players in the field would try to catch the little stick. Whoever caught the little stick would take the place of the one who had the big stick. If no one caught the little stick, the big stick was used to measure the distance from the hole to the little stick to determine the score. This was a favorite until a neighbor gave each one of us a nickel not to play that game again because his daughter had broken her glasses in that game. For some reason, we didn't play that game again! A variation of Peewee was to use a stick having tapered ends and numbers on the sides instead of being round, but I don't remember the rules.

Another game was "rubber guns" where we would wage a fight against an opposing team. We chose sides like we did in other games. The guns were "home made" from scrap wood and clothespins. The ammunition was rubber bands cut from old inner tubes. The best ammunition was a single band with a knot tied in the middle stretched tightly from the clothespin to the end of the gun. If the barrel was the right length, the band would go far enough to make the enemy feel the impact.

7th & 8th grades seemed to be a review of what we were supposed to have learned in the 1st 6 grades. I remember reading "The Sea Wolf" and expecting a war with Japan from reading the newspapers and magazines in the year 1936. In those days, I read everything I could, especially, Western novels. Science fiction was "Buck Rogers" in the funny papers and "20000 Leagues under the Sea". Oh, yes, I also read "Doc Savage" in pulp magazines and "Tarzan of the Apes". Wood Shop was a favorite class in grammar school. I made a sewing cabinet for my mother, which is still stored under my house today. It's difficult to give it away, because no one wants a sewing cabinet today. I remember one girl that I liked in the 8th grade that remarked that I was very slow, and I answered that I couldn't do anything about it.

With hindsight, I think I grew up when I didn't throw my brother onto the cast iron stove in our kitchen when I had the chance. Instead, I gave up and the scuffle was over. This was, maybe, the first time I considered the consequences of my action. Oh, yes, I don't remember what the fight was about. A long time before that, I had a disagreement with a little neighbor, so I grabbed him. While I was trying to figure out what to do with my little friend, he broke loose and hit me with his fist. I ran and caught him again and he repeated his actions. Finally, he repeated this until he could run into his house. Again, I don't remember what precipitated the whole thing. Many years later, I learned that my little friend was stationed on Iwo Jima, so I arranged to send him a bottle of Schendleys "hair tonic". I contacted him after the war in Santa Cruz and we went bar hopping. I didn't know Santa Cruz had so many bars.

Once, while our gang was playing football, my little friend got the ball and started running for the goal with a great big 6-footer running after him. It seemed so funny to see this little 4-footer outrun the 6-footer, that it broke up the game because of laughter.

Graduation from grammar school to high school was not a big deal. Now days, some schools celebrate graduations from kindergarten. High School class choices depended upon your goals. My choice was college, so I started with Algebra, Geometry, Advanced Algebra, Trigonometry; I missed solid geometry, because I took band and shop. Four years of English helped me to pass the Subject "A" exam and avoid "Bonehead English" in college. Physics and Chemistry were required and I liked these classes very much.
During my 2nd year of Latin, we had a fire in my house, and I had to use a lantern to do any homework, until the house was repaired. This was one of my excuses I used to switch to Spanish thinking it would be easier and more useful. Graduation from Watsonville High with a "B" average meant entrance exams would not be required for entry into the best Universities. After WWII, all new students were required to pass entrance exams, because there had been a relaxation of school standards. Apparently, those standards did not get better since then. I did very little homework through 12 grades and had "B+" average.

Two things happened while I was in High School. My father died from "a tumorous growth in his stomach so that he literally starved to death. The doctor didn't get to finish his examination. Before he died, I remember visiting my dad at his work when he looked very weak, but he kept working. This made me very sad, but there seemed to be nothing we could do for him. He suffered a stroke on a Thanksgiving Day while he, my 2 older brothers and I were pruning an apple orchard. We took him home, and he died about a week later.

One day, a friend told me at high school that our house had burned down. When I got home, I found that he was right. My mother had salvaged some things from the house such as a hope chest and important papers. My older brothers and my mother managed to get a tent and set up housekeeping in the garage. We lived that way until the house was repaired. Fortunately, the weather cooperated.

When I was a junior in High School, I met a special girl. We went to many functions together. Her folks did not want her to go out too much by herself, so they took me along to some restaurants, and even gave us some tickets to the local movie house. I did have some spending money, but not much; so I appreciated their generosity. This girl and her friend became Catholics, and I was their Godfather.

We had an obligatory Physical Education Class every day, which usually consisted of playing some game like volleyball, basketball, or boxing. One day, a bully became angry with me because I wasn't doing very well in volleyball. The bully came at me and pummeled me with his fists; it didn't seem to hurt. Later, he came at me again, and I socked him good in the jaw. He was surprised at my action. Later, the coach's assistant put gloves on us to finish the fight. Every time I rushed him, the bully would cover his face. Finally, the coach stopped the fight, and I never had any more trouble with him. Another time when I was boxing with a Japanese boy, we both connected with hard rights to the jaw. We both had to stop to recuperate. The boxing gloves we had were like pillows, but they could still make us be careful to avoid being hit

When I had a chance to go to Coalinga Junior College, I took it even though it meant living in the hills 20 miles from town with a bachelor. When I took the subject "A" exam in Coalinga, I got a very high score, which I did not know until a young girl complained that my score was higher than hers. Apparently, she was used to high scores. My college class in Physics made me feel like a dunce. High School had not prepared me for this, but Chemistry was a breeze. Our teacher gave us a final exam in Chemistry used in Fordham. Although I scored a "B", he only gave me a "C" because I didn't do enough work. I thought knowledge was more important. I suppose he wanted us to be future scientists. I took a course in drafting, which was a high school course that I missed. My project was a chicken house, which I might build on the ranch where I lived. I tried playing in the band but quit before they kicked me out. It's not possible to play after a long period of inactivity.

The farmer usually took me to town every Sunday to go to church. He wasn't Catholic but tried to accommodate me.

The winter was a little rough causing me to lose about 6 weeks of school, but I was able to get the homework assignments by phone and turn them in when I got back to school. There were 23 creek crossings on the road where there were no bridges. When the water got too high, only horses could get through. The school bus went by our shack where I caught it along with the children from the various homes along the way. Some of the children were in various grades from 1st to 12th grades. I was the only college student.

Life on the ranch was varied. I milked 2 cows by hand morning and evening until one died. We went to an auction and bought some pigs to raise, so sometimes I fed the pigs, too. I learned to pitch hay during the summer. Also, I learned to build fence using juniper posts and barbed wire. Th farmer said that redwood would only last 2 yeas, but juniper would last a long time. I was surprised to find many seashells on top of the hills along with yucca plants. Horned toads appeared, too, at times.

Sometimes I herded a few cattle from one pasture to another. One horse was good for herding; the other horse was also used for plowing. The farmer taught me how to split logs for firewood using wedges, axe, and sledge hammer. We had a "one lunger" engine to pump water from the creek into a tank on a little hill nearby which was our water supply for the house and garden. We had to start the engine using the belt drive. I doubt I could do it today. At first, we took baths in the creek. Later, I took a bath in a bathtub. The water had to be heated on the wood burning stove and poured into the tub. After my first bath in that tub, I decided to build a shower, because the water looked too muddy after I got out. The farmer had enough parts to build a heating system for hot water. We hooked a line from the house line through an outside stove to a hot water tank so that the water was heated when we heated tubs of water to do our Saturday laundry. The shower room looked like an outhouse, but it had a concrete floor and was much better than the old tub system. All of the water from the "house" and shower ran out to the garden. Of course, we didn't take daily showers. I can't remember for sure, but I think I took showers at school, because it became very hot during late spring and late summer. During the summer, I also learned to pitch hay.

When deer season came around, I tried my luck but didn't even see one buck even though I went hunting on horseback and on foot. Does and fawns were visible, but the bucks kept hidden. The farmer's son got one buck when he came up for a visit, and so did another visitor. That was the last time I went hunting.

One day, I saw some pigs eating our garden. This made me angry, so I shot one and butchered it just like the farmer had shown me before. Well, this was observed by a neighbor who then told the pig's owner. The pig's owner became very angry and talked to my farmer who talked to me. My conscience bothered me so I gave one of my pigs to the neighbor with the explanation that my farmer had to live there but domestic pigs should be kept in pens to protect any neighbor's gardens. My farmer had purchased a couple of pigs for me to earn some cash by feeding them table and garden scraps as well as skim milk. We even fed dishwater to the hogs. The hogs got grain to fatten them for market. Our pigs were healthier than the neighbor's pigs that had been running loose, so there was no great friction between the two farmers when I left. After school let out, I took a job working for an electrical contractor and moved to town to rent a room with a classmate I met in school.

I was first exposed to a serious discussion of euthanasia with a classmate who had a shriveled arm. I thought to myself, "Do you want to commit suicide? You'd be one of the first to be euthanized. One student in my chemistry class liked to smell gas from the Bunsen burner without the flame. Years later, I read about gas and glue sniffers among young people.

The second summer vacation was in 1941. While working in a gas station, I was offered a chance to take a CPT training class to get a private pilot's license. One of the college teachers offered to lend me his car to drive to Bakersfield to take the required physical exam. The trip down was on a hot day where we could see the heat waves. The road was about 90 miles straight and so boring that I fell asleep with my eyes wide open. When the car drifted off into the roadside gravel, I woke up with a start; but when it happened a second time, I saw a bridge coming and jerked the wheel. We made it across the bridge but ended up with both front fenders dented from hitting fence posts and going backwards out of gear. The fellow riding with me offered to take over the driving, and I was glad to let him drive the rest of the way. I used up a lot of nerve to report the incident to the owner of the car.

I did well in the class and received a license, but I never was able to fly after that, because of the expense. Once, while practicing landings, a squadron of P-40's came to practice landings, too. A P-40 would zoom in to a landing and I would follow Put-Putting along in my little Piper Cub. My instructor nearly had a heart attack and flagged me down. He said, "Get out of here!" so I went to a farmer's field where I could practice almost landing. That is, I'd go down just as though I meant to land but would take off just before actually landing. One of the requirements in the final flight test was to go into a spin, turn two 360-degree turns, and come out facing a certain direction. This was more difficult because the Piper Cubs were designed to avoid spins. Anyway, my spin turned into a downward turn, but, fortunately, I gunned the engine and went up for another try, which worked out OK. When I got out of the plane, I was angry with myself and said so. My instructor told me never to point out my own failures. Later, my instructor wrote into my flight log, "It's been fun teaching you how to have people look up to you".

In the days when we were still in Primary School, my brother Bob and I went to mass every Sunday at the children's mass where a nun would watch over us. It was a struggle to keep still for the whole hour. After mass, there was a catechism class in the church conducted by eighth grade students from the Catholic school across the street. Of course, we used the Baltimore Catechism. While reading this again, I realize that the teachers must have been from the High School instead of the eighth grade. Most of the students dropped out of Catechism after Confirmation. This has been one of my pet peeves about our church. There is too much to learn to stop after Confirmation. That is why so many of our good Catholics fall away from the church. That is, also, why Catholics allowed dictators to take over their countries. If we vote for the right people, the government will be good. Of course, we need to have a valid concept of "right" first. That's why morality cannot be separated from government. Our government has sanctioned divorce, abortion, blasphemy, pornography, homosexuality, and is drifting towards euthanasia and assisted suicide. The US people seem to have adopted their pocketbook as their god. "I never discuss Religion or Politics" is an excuse for ignorance. If the economy is good, "Character is unimportant." Graft is mostly ignored, but most citizens admit that it's going on. I could not understand why certain politicians keep getting elected until it dawned upon me that those politicians kept the "pork" going into their districts. These politicians can say "look what I got for you".

Back to the summer of 1941. While taking the CPT course, I was given the opportunity of working with a crop dusting company. This was quite an experience. I learned how to load 1500 pounds of sulfur into the plane's hopper in less than 3 minutes. A crew would throw a bag onto a loading plate; I would slit the bag open and dump it into the hopper, discard the bag, and repeat the cycle until the hopper was filled. The planes could only dust under the right conditions, so time was extremely important. I had to stop work with the crop dusters to finish the pilot training, but I'm glad for the experience. A paraphrase of an old saying goes "There may be bold crop-dusters but there are no old bold crop-dusters."

At the end of the summer of 1941, I went back to Watsonville and soon took a job working as a furlough laborer in the roundhouse in Pajaro. My job was to light boiler fires in the locomotives to get them ready for use. I was surprised to find that the fire was started with hot steam spraying oil over a burning rag. One day while having lunch in the restaurant across the street, I heard about Pearl Harbor. After lunch, I told someone what I heard. Then a friend came to me and said, "What's this you are saying?" We were all sad to hear the expected news.

I applied for a job as locomotive fireman and was given a job as a student. Then, I worked a month for nothing to learn the job. After working 10 days, I was laid off and never worked on the railroad again. My brothers moved to Richmond, California to work in the shipyards or build houses for defense workers, so I followed, too.

My brothers, Bob & Peewee, and I decided to buy a house in Richmond. The house had 3 bedrooms, one bath, and cost $4500 total. We each gave my mother $20 a week to make the house payments and run the house.

At first, I worked as a construction laborer helping to double the biggest oil refinery in Richmond; then, I took a job as a shipfitter trainee. I was assigned to work with an old-time fitter who could build a whole ship by himself having learned the trade in Scotland. This old man wouldn't even talk to me. I was supposed to watch and learn. The company showed training films to new workers, and I watched one of them. After a while, I was allowed to work without a journeyman and started to turn out 3 times as much product as the older journeymen. The secret was in learning a small job well. One day, when we had no steel to work with, I had a discussion with my original trainer about how to do a job. The discussion lasted about 4 hours. Finally, he came to me and said, "You're right Art. I used to know that but forgot." We were good friends after that.

Art's History - Chapter 2

One day, I received a draft notice. I had tried twice to enlist in the air force because of the pilot training but couldn't pass the color test. I tried for a deferment claiming to be a defense worker, but, secretly, I still wanted to fly. My deferment was refused because the request was too late; so the draft board sent me the "greetings". I was sent to the Monterey Presidio for processing. One of the first questions was "where do you want to go?" My answer was "Army Engineers". The interviewer said, "Oh no, those guys go in before the infantry." My next answer was "Air Force". So I was drafted into the Air Force where I wanted to go in the first place. The group that was inducted with me was given basic training at the Presidio in Monterey, and then some of us were shipped to Wichita Falls, Texas.

Some qualification tests showed that I had an aptitude for radio code even though I fell asleep in the middle of the test. The next thing I knew was that I was being shipped to Sioux Falls, South Dakota for radio operator mechanics school. The train was overheated to 80 degrees F. After stopping in the Sioux Falls air base, we were ordered to stand at attention for an hour in 20 degree below zero weather in our summer khakis. I spent about 2 weeks in the hospital after that. The schooling consisted of learning to type in the morning and learning about radios in the afternoon. I flunked the mechanical test by calling a capacitor a resistor, so they shipped me off to radio operator school in Madison, Wisconsin. My experience in Sioux Falls gave me the impression that it's like the North Pole in winter and the Sahara desert in summer. A beautiful blond student attending the local college made things much brighter.

Shortly after arriving at Truax Field, five of us Pfc.'s got together and called the dormitory at the University of Wisconsin and made dates for 6 before we even went to town. We all had a few dates again before it was time to move on to Selma, Tennessee. School at Truax consisted of practicing typing and receiving Morse code.

Selma, Tennessee was a place to get ready for overseas duty. I had to get some dental work done. The main thing I remember about Selma was the long times standing at attention under the hot sun. Some of the soldiers couldn't stand the heat and fainted. I was careful to take sufficient salt tablets, so the heat didn't bother me much even though I hated marching and standing at attention We were told at that time that we needn't worry about taking too much salt. Now, we know that salt use can be overdone like most anything else. It never occurred to me that I was in good shape until an instructor told me that he wished he was in as good shape as I. I never went out for sports except to play in the neighborhood. I was too busy working to have time for sports. Music practice took one hour a day, and that's one reason why I stopped in the first year of college. Most of the work I performed as I was growing up was manual labor, so that's one reason why I stayed in shape.

I was given a furlough while stationed at Selma; so I spent 5 days going to and 5 days returning from California. The girl I met in Sioux Falls went with me part of the way, because we thought we might marry. It was a fine trip even though tiring with no stopovers. Shortly after I returned, my group was shipped to McClellan Airforce Base in California. I enjoyed the weekends for a while, because my home was only 80 miles away (easily reached by hitchhiking). About a month later, we were sent to Angel Island to board a liberty ship for Hawaii. The ship left port on Thanksgiving Day. The cooks had prepared a fine dinner for us, and I went down to wait in the chow line. After about a half-hour waiting in line, I had to give up. I was nauseated for the rest of the 5-day trip to Pearl Harbor. This was my first real trip on a ship (the Matsonia). The land kept moving for two days after we landed! We were stationed at Hickam Field for a week or so and then shipped to Tarawa to set up and run a radio station.

When we arrived at Tarawa, we took a landing craft from the Liberty ship across the lagoon to a small island called Helen. I was able to see the bright colors of coral on the way, and it was very spectacular. When we landed, we were told to dig foxholes, but we delayed doing that for a while. That night, we had an air raid. The next morning, there were foxholes all over the place! One night while sitting on the edge of a foxhole, a marine fresh from Guadalcanal, told us about taking some prisoners back to camp, but the prisoners were all shot while trying to escape. ( So much for American altruism).

After a few days, our unit was moved to another small island to set up and run a radio station. Tarawa is an atoll, which consists of a ring of very small islands in a circle. I don't remember the names of all the islands in our circle, but the Armed services had code names for all of them. Betio was the one that received the most damage from bombs and big navy guns. Our little island had some foxholes built by the Japanese. The top consisted of two layers of coconut logs and sand with peepholes around the side. It would take a direct hit from a very large gun to knock out one foxhole like this. The Marines had to wade through water waist high for about 1000 yards to get to land or take landing craft open to mortar fire. The number of Marines lost in that one battle was very large. I heard numbers like 4000 to 8000. Anyway, I could envision Japanese taking pot shots at the poor enemy coming ashore with no protection. I decided that the Marine leaders were either careless or ignorant, because the Army took a similar atoll (Kwajalein) with only 27 losses. Tarawa is part of the Gilbert Islands held by the British before WW2, so the Marine leaders should have known what to expect.

Life on our little island wasn't all bad. I Learned what "midnight requisition" meant when I acquired a mattress from a navy storage building. Up until that time, we had no Mattresses. 6 of us Pfc.'s were assigned to one tent. I felt proud that we got our tent up before the sergeants. Somehow I acquired a machete but never got around to using it. We set up a barrel outside one corner of our tent with a screen made of gunnysack to keep out mosquitoes. This barrel collected water from the top of our tent, which we used for washing. The Japanese had left barrels of gasoline, which we used to heat water for washing clothes and hot showers. I found some Japanese rifle bullets which would work in my gun and used them for target practice. In basic training, I made Sharpshooter with a rifle, but missed the total target trying to shoot a 45-caliber pistol. I could do better with a rock! Many years after the war, when I told this story to a friend, he let me try his pistol, and I hit the can every time. There was a rumor that the admiral was coming around to inspect the premises, so I hid my mattress in an empty barrel for a few days. We could see a movie at night in an open-air theater. Some of the guys saved beer rations until they had enough to get drunk. I swear that some of these guys acted drunk before they had a drink. Others liked to gamble. Sometimes, a few would gamble away their whole month's pay. I tried a little poker but couldn't get excited about it. One of the guys bought some "torpedo juice" that was real alcohol. Alcohol mixed with grapefruit juice wasn't bad tasting, but one of the guys drank so much that he started to spit up blood. They also tried making "raisin jack" but I didn't taste it. Some of us collected cowry shells. We would choose the most colorful shells, then lay them in a dry spot for sand crabs to eat out the insides. After that, they could be strung like beads. I heard about "Dear John" letters and didn't pay much attention until I received one from the girl I had met in Sioux Falls. The surprise to me was a feeling of relief rather than sorrow.

After about a year, I was shipped to Kwajalein where life was different. The base was bigger, but the water was still warm and I liked to play in it. Once, I spent about 4 hours in the lagoon until my buddy got worried and called me to shore. When I reached the beach, I had to crawl to a dry spot because I was so tired. One thing I remember is that the water was cold about 3 feet below the surface. I didn't like the cold water, so I spent more energy keeping my feet up. On both islands I could go swimming after walking 5 minutes in any direction.

I think radio teletype was installed while I was on Kwajalein. The teletype ran on two frequencies at 60 words a minute and was not too reliable at first. I tried sending and receiving on 2 frequencies, too, to see if it would help. The results were good. I remember receiving 15 messages in 15 minutes using the manual methods, but I don't remember whether it was with 1 or 2 frequencies.

I tried my hand at wood carving by taking a solid block of 2 by 4 wood and carving a monkey in a cage. I still have that monkey in a cage and a nude hula dancer that I also carved. No one seems to be interested in them now.

After about a year on Tarawa and another year on Kwajalein, I was flown back to Hickam Field where I was assigned to work as a radio-teletype operator.

A buddy and I went to town one day to try a little bar hopping. I remember having 13 drinks but I think they were watered. Anyway, my buddy was staggering when we got back to the base. I was surprised that I could hold that much liquor. Another thing that I did on Oahu was to climb to the top of the left peak of Pali Pass with another buddy. The view was spectacular. There was no path, and some of the way up was over loose shale; I remember we would never have made it up without grabbing one little bush that was well rooted in the shale. Fortunately there was no shale at the very top.

We visited the very beautiful waterfall and pool called Waimaia Falls. The water was warm and clear so that we could see the bottom of the pool. I visited the same spot about 30 years later and was greatly disappointed at the commercialization. There were a lot of cheap vendors trying to attract some tourist suckers.

Finally, I was allowed to get on a battleship, The West Virginia (I think), to go home. You're not supposed to get sick on a battleship but I did. We went through a storm on the way back, but it wasn't much. We embarked at San Pedro where the cooks had cooked steak for us. Even cold steak tasted good.
I don't remember how long it took, but my next stop was McClellan Field in Sacramento. It took a few days for the army to process the paper work, give me a physical exam and let me go home for good with $150.

My mother met me at the front door with the greeting; "do you have any money?" That sounds heartless, but two of my brothers were sick with TB. I soon dropped my idea for a bicycle trip across the US and applied for a job in the shipyard where I used to work. The yard had some repair work to do, and I was able to get paid until school started again since veterans were given priority when they applied for work.

I was accepted and started the next semester at U C Berkley. If I took the bus to school, it took over 1 hour to go the 12 miles, If I hitchhiked, it took 20 minutes. I soon found out that army life had ruined my brain. I should have repeated much of my freshman year to get back my study habits and refresh my memory. I was aiming towards electrical engineering because of my army training. One day I looked around my classroom where it seemed that everybody and his brother was studying electrical engineering, so I switched to the new field of Industrial Engineering, because I feared no jobs would be available for me. I had contacted a professional electrical engineer to see how the future looked for me. I didn't get a good feel for electrical engineering from him. As I write this, An electronic engineer can just about dictate his own salary if he kept up with the changes caused by the computer age.

The first class that gave me trouble was Math, which was a surprise, because that had been one of my strengths before the war. Another problem course was descriptive geometry, because the reader did not like my printing and I, also, had trouble with some of the concepts. Perhaps the worst course was Metallurgy. The textbook was so bad that it was of negative value. The professor could explain the concepts very well, but every word and diagram that he drew on the board was important and I could not remember all of this after the class was over. Even so, some of the information stuck with me and proved useful later.

Now, when I hear teachers say that smaller class sizes would solve all their problems, I think of the class I took where one professor taught elementary statistics to 1500 students in wheeler auditorium. That was another valuable class, because it taught me to be very skeptical when someone mentions averages or quotes a theory as fact. Some of my primary school classes had 40 or more students in public school. I heard that some private schools had as many as 5o students in a class. I don't doubt that smaller class sizes can be better than larger sizes, but I don't see much use of modern technology except as expensive baby sitters. Some students can be using computers while others are given special help. I remember being given a reading assignment while the teacher spent time with slower students before computers were invented.
I once heard a good argument for the old one-room schoolhouse. The older students learned responsibility by helping the younger children and obedience was expected.

Although the "G.I.bill" paid for tuition and books, I was having a struggle to pay for room & board. My brother, Bob, wanted to build a house for my mother in San Jose. So we decided to sell the house in Richmond and use that money to build in San Jose. Then, I moved into an apartment with a fellow student for a while.

After a few months, I got a job as cook in Berkeley in a place called "Termite Terrace". I was able to get a place to sleep & study for $15 a month. A GI student bought a house in Berkeley that needed to be repaired for termite damage; The new owner couldn't make the house payments so he took in some roomers; the roomers needed a place to eat; the roomers had friends who needed a place to eat; so, they started calling the place, "Termite Terrace" and provided meals and snacks to anyone for $50 per month. Even in those days, that was a very good deal for the students. The owner started to make money until some of the customers provided free food for friends. I was paid $1 per hour while the going rate was $.85 for part time work. (A haircut was $.85.)
UC Berkeley was a rough school. Someone told me that 1500 students would start Freshman Chemistry, but only 500 would pass the course. Sometimes, it did seem like the faculty wanted to flunk as many students as possible because the enrollment was too large. I was pleased to find one of my junior college teachers was on the faculty at Berkeley. This gave me a feeling of confidence but didn't make thermodynamics any easier, which was his subject.

One day I looked around and decided that "every body & his brother" was taking electrical engineering and there would not be a job for me after graduation, so I switched to Industrial Engineering. Industrial Engineering was new at the time and seemed like a good field. The switch was not good from a monetary standpoint, but I had a good time in Industrial Engineering at Friden Calculator and IBM.

One early morning, I went on a ski trip and met this crazy girl. I kept trying to fasten her skis on her feet and never did any skiing, but I did make a date with her for a Saturday in the next month after some tests. Well, when it came time for the date, I took the bus to her house and arrived 3 hours late. This was because it was necessary to wait between two or three transfers and the normal slow speed in the city. Fortunately, my date was still home, but she had made another date for later in the day. I did have a nice visit but didn't make another date for a while. Girls were not my top priority at the time. I was having no time for fun. After a few weeks, I called this girl again, and she invited me over. I explained that I was broke, and she said, "That's OK." After recovering from shock, I went over, and that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. We dated for about a year before I asked her to marry me. She was crazy enough to say,"yes", and we were married at the end of that summer vacation. Our first baby came along about a year later forcing me to think about a job. I got permission to finish my degree by correspondence and went out looking for a job.

My first job was working in a small factory making flow meters. The next job was as a scheduler in a shop making valves to order for Nordstrom Valve Company. Some of these valves were large enough to crawl through. The union was very strong at that shop and had agreed to a kind of piecework where some of the machinists were able to claim 10 hours while only working 6 hours. When the union went on strike, I had a chance to work in the tool design department and stayed there after the strike was over. This gave me a chance to learn the value of good records, the tool room made tools to "work", but not necessarily according to print. When the company decided to set up a plant in Texas, many of the tools wouldn't work, because they were built to print.

About this time, we decided to buy a house using the GI bill. We could only qualify for a tract house, which had concrete floors, 3 bedrooms, one bath, and a double garage. About a year earlier, I had said that I wouldn't live in a tract house or a house with a concrete floor, but here we were; and we liked it.

After my boss left to work at Kaiser Machining, I decided to follow and got a job similar to my first job at Nordstrom Valve Co. After a few months, I took a job at Friden Calculator as a time study and methods engineer. Finally, I was using my college training. My most successful endeavor at Friden was a workstation set up for the riveting dept. After IBM opened its plant in San Jose, I applied and got a job as an estimator. The pay was a little better than the job at Friden, and the fringe benefits were better, too. I spent most of my time at IBM estimating development projects, which gave me the opportunity to meet and argue with many intelligent people. There were two things that gave me the most trouble; what am I estimating? & How many over what time period? When a future product is in development, the engineer can only guess at the answers, because marketing is not his field. Sometimes, I had to guess with the engineer in charge. When the product went to manufacturing, the design and quantity were nearly firm, and I had little to do with it unless the program got into trouble. Once, I had to show manufacturing management that they were beating my target. Other times, I had to show why they were not meeting targets.

My marriage to Janice Frier in 1948 was exciting and fun. I was careful to park my car on a hill so there would be no problem getting it started. It was a 1942 Packard 120 (the car that broke the company). Jan's uncle furnished the liquor for our reception at her folks' house. Some of the guests enticed the maid to drink too much, so that she couldn't do her job. Jan and I took off in the afternoon for Sacramento, but the party continued until the last guest was "poured" out the door at 10:00 o'clock so we were told later. When we got to our hotel, they let us eat dinner at about 11:00. The next day, we made our way to Emerald Bay, Lake Tahoe. We rented a cabin and spent about 10 days exploring and visiting. We met a young couple from Fresno and have not seen them since.

We did visit a friend of Jan's uncle who was a millionaire. When we went to the house, we knocked on the door. The person that answered the door, said, "This is the gardener's house. The owner lives over there." The owner treated us royally with dinner and a boat ride. One room was set up for an orchestra as they were planning a party.

We went through Reno on the way home and tried some slot machines after watching a blackjack game. The dealer was so fast that we decided we wouldn't even know whether we won or lost. It's a good thing that we won a jackpot, because we were about out of money. I was afraid we might have to phone home for money. We left Reno with about $15 to the good. After leaving Reno, we went down 395 to take the Sonora Pass back to Calif. The car began overheating and couldn't make it up and around one particular hairpin curve. A "Good Samaritan" came by and helped get us going by gunning the engine enough to get us around the bend. After that, we were able to keep going. We stopped at the top to let the engine cool off. The "Good Samaritan" came by again to be sure we were OK. After that, we were able to limp into Jamestown to visit my sister

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  • Maintained by: Mark Dias
  • Originally Created by: Mark Utley
  • Added: 9 Jan 2014
  • Find A Grave Memorial 123052820
  • Find A Grave, database and images ( : accessed ), memorial page for Arthur James Dias (23 Dec 1920–29 Dec 2013), Find A Grave Memorial no. 123052820, citing Los Gatos Memorial Park, San Jose, Santa Clara County, California, USA ; Maintained by Mark Dias (contributor 48270446) .