Glimpses of the Past

By Virley Martin

This manuscript is one of kind, nothing has ever
been written like it before, the story begins in 1941
with the first memory I can date and what I remember
and explains why I grew up so completely different
from the majority of other children that I went to
school with. I begin in Petaluma California as a
small boy and continue through the years telling
of the hardships, struggles and sorrows my family
and relatives faced as they worked and camped in
the different orchards on Highway 99 or the 101 and
barely making enough money to feed them and buy
gas to the next job. Then during the winter each
year Dad worked on chicken ranches or such until
the spring when we would start all over again. That
happened until the summer of 1949 when my family
settled in Yountville California and where the
story ends when I joined the Navy at age seventeen
on the 18th of January 1955.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 17, 2012
• ISBN: 9781465349507

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Copyright © 2011 by Virley Martin.

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Contents

Preface  The background of my mother and father

Chapter 1  The bombing of Pearl Harbor

Chapter 2  Climbing Trees

Chapter 3  The War Effort

Chapter 4  The Ocean

Chapter 5  Uncle Alvie’s Bar

Chapter 6  Going to the Show

Chapter 7  Living at Molly’s

Chapter 8  Smoking and starting a fire

Chapter 9  My sister Shirley was born.

Chapter 10  I begin school

Chapter 11  Christmas 1943

Chapter 12  Mom learns how to drive.

Chapter 13  The summer of 1944

Chapter 14  We move once again

Chapter 15  Fort Bragg

Chapter 16  School in Fort Bragg

Chapter 17  Sebastopol

Chapter 18  The Pleasant Hill School

Chapter 19  Mr. Bushaw’s

Chapter 20  World War II ends

Chapter 21  The Fourth of July 1945

Chapter 22  Off traveling for the summer

Chapter 23  The Beanie Cap

Chapter 24  Wayne, Aunt Clara’s brother

Chapter 25  Tossing Watermelons

Chapter 26  Searching for work

Chapter 27  Returning to the San Joaquin Valley

Chapter 28  The Tar Paper Shack

Chapter 29  Going back to Sebastopol

Chapter 30  Alice and the Second Grade

Chapter 31  Our home at Mr. French’s

Chapter 32  Christmas at Mr. French’s

Chapter 33  Arvil and I get a puppy

Chapter 34  Sleeping behind road signs and under bridges

Chapter 35  The Apple Barn we lived in

Chapter 36  The job at Mr. French’s

Chapter 37  The Show

Chapter 38  The BB Gun Hunter

Chapter 39  The Soda Springs Resort

Chapter 40  Losing a tire on the Model A

Chapter 41  The Indians fishing

Chapter 42  Blackie and the cars

Chapter 43  Alexander Valley

Chapter 44  Mom’s Illness

Chapter 45  Uncle Fred and Aunt Clara visit

Chapter 46  Picking Prunes on the Russian River

Chapter 47  Mom goes into surgery

Chapter 48  We start School

Chapter 49  We move to town

Chapter 50  The fight after school

Chapter 51  Going swimming with Frankie

Chapter 52  Schools out & we explore with Frankie

Chapter 53  A Summer in Sebastopol

Chapter 54  Our new home and the Spring Hill School

Chapter 55  Raising Chickens

Chapter 56  Jumping from a cotton sack

Chapter 57  Making a swimming hole

Chapter 58  The Summer of 1949—From Day Dreams to Reality

Chapter 59  School in Napa

Chapter 60  The Spring of 1950 and more changes

Chapter 61  The Summer of 1951

Chapter 62  My freedom

Chapter 63  Marty decides to enlist in the Army

Chapter 64  Thanksgiving at Uncle Pats and Aunt Cora’s

Chapter 65  Marty joins the Army

Chapter 66  Working for Ray and from dreams to reality

Information about my mother and father

Preface

The background of my mother and father

The way people lived in the past has changed drastically and will be forgotten except in the stories like my parents and relatives told when I grew up.

My mother was born on the land her father Harper Luff homestead in Caraway Arkansas. They were farmers and traveled by wagon to church on Sunday and a few trips to the general store. Those same mules plowed their forty acres, which at times required the entire family to work from sunup to sundown, seven days a week just to survive. They planted their forty acres with cotton and corn which they sold and a family garden for their own food. They had cows giving milk and calving each year, chickens for meat and eggs, some they hatched, and pigs they slaughtered and smoked in the fall for winter food.

My father on the other hand grew up quite different as he helped his father make whiskey and when his father went to prison for bootlegging in 1921, Dad and his two younger brothers were sent to the Reform School in Little Rock Arkansas where he received three years of education before being released at age sixteen.

In the early 1930’s Dad worked for Uncle Pat cutting down trees for fence posts and stakes as they cleared the swampland for farming, which was when my parents met. They eloped and got married in 1934 and lived on the dirt floor of Uncle Pats smoke house during the cold and snow of their first winter, where my older brother Arvil almost died. Then in 1935, they moved to Indiana where Dad worked with Uncle Fred for the CC Boys and later for the railroad.

The economy of California in the 1930’s was booming with agriculture needing farm labor. Posters were sent out advertising the work and because of that in 1939 Dad moved our family to California. Like hundreds or even thousands of family’s answering those posters Dad had little education and no skill other than picking fruit on the highways and back roads of California. Those men, women, and children worked very hard and earned little more than enough to buy food each day and gas to the next job. You may think what a boring life they must have lived, but not so it was colorful and adventurous and I may be the last person with actual experience to write the history of those Okies and Arkies that were also called Fruit Tramps in California.

Although farm labor continues today, that exact way of life is gone and will never happen again.

Synopsis of the story

The story begins with a four-year-old boy living in Petaluma California telling of the day President Roosevelt declared war on Japan and Germany.

The chapters that follow tell of the happiness and sorrows, the imagination and misfortunes that my family and relatives encountered and could be the story of thousands of families from all over America who went to California in search of a better way of life.

It was a life entirely different from today, television did not exist and people used bus and trains to travel. It cost ten cents to see the show and the big band music of Glen Miller, Walt Whitman, Benny Goodman and others flooded the airwaves, but if my family had a radio, we listened to the music of small bands like Hank Williams and the others on The Grand Ole Opry. Everyone listened and laughed at Jack Benny, Bob Hope, and Red Skelton, and I often fell asleep listening to the mysteries of the Squeaking Door and the next morning had to ask how it ended.

On rainy days in school, the teachers read Tom Sawyer who had other kids pay him to whitewash a picket fence. Then as runaways, Tom and Huck floated down the Mississippi on a raft and jumped in to cool off on hot days. My brother Arvil and I were not so lucky, instead we spent hot days sweating and staring out windows in the back seat of our Model A as Dad searched for work and we ask, Are we there yet.

Our family camped under the stars at night, either alongside the road or in the orchards Dad and Mom worked which Arvil and I were still too small to do, but we had chores, we packed water, looked for wood and worst of all washed and dried the dishes. We constantly fought with sibling rivalry and got into every possible trouble we could find.

As we grew older, Arvil and I crawled on Sebastopol’s soft sandy soil and picked up apples as we pushed and pretended the boxes were cars.

When the apple season was over our family traveled to the big valley and followed the farm labor on Highway 99, and in the fall, we ended up near Healdsburg crawling on the hard clods that hurt our knees picking up prunes during the last hot days of summer.

When Arvil and I did begin school, it was weeks after school started and we struggled in our lessons. I fought daily with boys that called me an Okie or Arkie and teased about the holes in the knees of my pants, the buttons missing on my shirts, the loose soles of my shoes, and how different I talked as they acted as if they were better.

When Arvil and I went to the show, we saw Buck Rogers travel in space Arvil was so excited that when we got home he told Mom and Dad, only to have them laugh and Dad say, Airplanes can’t fly around the world without stopping for gas and there ain’t no gas stations in space.

Since the 1940’s, many Presidents have served their terms, communism and other dictators have rose and fell, and World War III has never declared, but with our nation’s military strength, we have fought in many battles around the world.

We now travel in space like Buck Rogers and a space station exists. Atomic energy has a variety of uses and television multiple channels. Phones and electronic equipment are wireless and computers a household item.

All of which, does not come close to mentioning everything that has taken place, since this story began.

Sincerely

Mr. Virley Martin

17 January 1955

I became seventeen eleven weeks ago and I lay in bed trying to go to sleep knowing I had to get up early the next morning and couldn’t. I was very apprehensive about what would happen the next day and wondered if my decision to join the Navy was correct, because I was about to enter a completely new world or way of life, adulthood.

Chapter 1

The bombing of Pearl Harbor

I remembered when I was a small boy how my family went to bed and got up with the chickens, and every night in the winter Dad filled the kitchen stove with wood that always burned up long before morning.

It was early morning when Dad pulled the cord hanging down from the light fixture above the kitchen table and the light woke me up. It was cold and I didn’t want to wake up, so I rolled over and pulled the quilts over my head and tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn’t Dad was making too much noise as he scooped and scraped the ashes out of the fire box into a bucket and then filled the stove with wood. After that Dad removed a lid on top of the stove and poured kerosene on the wood and then struck a match and dropped it in the firebox. Even with my head under the covers, I jumped with the loud puff from the kerosene explosion that started the fire.

Dad also woke up Uncle Wesley who was staying with us and Uncle Wesley spoke from his bedroll saying, Good morning Buster and then complained at how hard the darn floor was. Dad answered, Good morning Wesley maybe someday we will have somethin’ better for you to sleep on.

Uncle Wesley knew he would be in Mom’s way when she started cooking and before the cabin warmed up completely he got up and put on his clothes. As he did, Uncle Wesley teased my brother Arvil and me wanting to swap his bedroll for our featherbed and of course we told him no, we didn’t want his bedroll.

When Mom entered the kitchen wearing her white housecoat with red flowers all over it, the first thing she did was put wood in the stove and water in the coffee pot and then added a spoonful of coffee to the existing grounds in the bottom of the pot that was seldom thrown away.

After that, Mom began banging the skillets and pans she needed to cook with on top of the stove, before she began making biscuits since they took longer to bake than cooking the rest of breakfast. While mixing the biscuit dough Mom ask, Are you real hungry or just hungry this mornin’ so she would know how many potatoes to peel and how many slices of bacon to fry, Uncle Wesley was the first to answer saying, I hate to say it Goldie, but I’m real hungry. Dad didn’t answer, but both Arvil and I did saying, I’m real hungry Mom.

Although Arvil and I were awake from the start, we would stay in our featherbed and out of the way until breakfast was almost ready. When the biscuits were brown on top Mom pulled the pan out of the oven and sat it on top of the stove to keep them warm and told Arvil and me to get up and get dressed. Mom didn’t ask Arvil or me how many eggs we wanted she fried us one, while she did ask Dad and Uncle Wesley how many they wanted and of course that was after she told them how many eggs we had left so they wouldn’t eat all the eggs in one meal.

It had been several years since Mom and Dad had seen Uncle Wesley, who showed up out of the blue the evening before and now as we sat eating Dad and Mom questioned him about what he had been doing since they last saw him.

Arvil and I were not allowed to enter adult conversations but we could sit and listen and we were spellbound by his yarns. Uncle Wesley said that he loved traveling and working in carnivals, calling them Carnies. He continued saying, The Carnies move from town to town where I meet a lot of people, and then added, The only bad part about the job is puttin’ up and taking down the tents and rides.

After breakfast, Arvil took his metal car out of his pocket and began to play with it on the kitchen table and Mom immediately said, Arvil you know better than that; you’ll scratch the table. Then she added, You and Virley get down in floor and play so I can clear the table.

It was nice and warm on the floor next to the stove where Uncle Wesley’s bedroll had been, but that didn’t last long we were in Mom’s way as she walked from the table to the stove and the sink, and she told us to move below the front window.

When Arvil stood and looked out the window he ask, Mom, can Virley and I got outside and play? Of course she answered No, since it had been raining so much she knew the ground outside was muddy and wet. We didn’t play below the window very long before Dad got up and headed for the bathroom, we were in his way and he told us, You boys go play on the floor by your bed. Then before we moved over by our bed, Mom said, Just don’t get on those clean blankets, as she continued to wash and dry the dishes while she talked with her younger brother.

When entering the front door of our small cabin, it was a combination kitchen/living room which had a table and four chairs in the middle and a wood stove up against the front wall. On the side wall next to the stove was a counter top with a sink which had open shelves above and below that were hidden by curtains. The only other thing in the room was a small wooden icebox sitting between the stove and the counter top. It had a front door that opened to a metal cabinet where milk and other food could be kept cold and a door on top that opened to a separate metal box big enough to put a block of ice in, which was replenished when it melted. Hence, it was known as an Icebox.

We spent all of our time in that room since Dad and Mom’s bedroom in back was so small that it was barely big enough for Mom to walk around when she made the bed. We had an indoor toilet that had been added after the cabin was built, but it wasn’t big enough for a sink let alone a shower or a bathtub.

Now down on the linoleum floor next to our bed, Arvil and I began playing and it wasn’t long before we were on our clean blankets. When that happened Mom told us, You boy’s put on your coats and go outside. Arvil and I both jumped up off the floor, grab our coats and head for the door with Mom emphasizing, Stay out of the mud, keep your feet dry, and try not to get too dirty.

Outside Arvil and I were surprised to find what a nice day it was, the best it had been for more than a week which made us happy since we didn’t like being cooped up inside the cabin all the time.

Our cabin was one of five behind Molly Funk’s house on Sunny Slope Dr. off of D St. in Petaluma California. Molly’s garage and two cabins were on the south side directly behind her home while the driveway and three cabins were on the north side. Flat roofs connected the cabins with enough space to park cars underneath since most of the cars had cloth tops and some of them leaked when it rained.

The sun was shining as Arvil and I knelt down on the ground in the dry space between the Model A and the cabin. Arvil used his hands to make roads with straight stretches, curves, and hills to push his metal car around on, while I just pushed my car on the ground. Then watching what my big brother was doing I began building a road just like him.

When it became too warm to wear our cumbersome heavy winter coats, Arvil took off his and threw it on the ground, and so did I. When my big brother Arvil saw me making my road he told me to connect it to his as he began building a community alongside his road. He used small pieces of bark and wood from the woodpile stacked up against the cabin for houses and stores and turned a jar lid upside down for a swimming pool. He used marbles from his pocket for big rocks alongside his road like the small community of Two Rock northwest of Petaluma. Arvil used anything and everything he could find and told me exactly what he pretended each object was.

I was only four years old and followed my big brother Arvil around like a little puppy dog, after all he was two years older, a lot bigger and smarter than me. I did everything he asks and followed his example by building a community alongside my road using sticks and rocks and telling him what each item was; a house, a grocery store, a gas station, and of course a movie theater, everything you would find in town.

I had worn the rubber wheels off my little car months before but that didn’t matter I was in my own dream world as I pushed the little car on the dirt road. I don’t remember why or how it started, but unlike the way Dad drove the Model A, Arvil and I made loud sounds of rapid screeching starts and stops and were deeply engrossed and pushing our little metal cars over the dirt roads we made. We were having so much fun that we would have stayed outside until lunch or later, but Mom came to the front door and said, Pick up those coats, brush them off, and come inside. Arvil and I didn’t want to go inside it was much too nice of a day and we both yelled at almost the same time, Do we haf-ta, I don’t wanna, and both added Were having fun playin’ cars.

Mom a small redheaded woman, wouldn’t take no for an answer and said, Are you goin’ to mind or do I haf-ta tell your Dad and have him take a switch to your rear ends? Mom’s threat was more than enough to make us do whatever she wanted since we both knew if Dad came out he would be swinging a belt and we didn’t want that to happen so we got up brushed the dirt off our pants and coats, and went inside.

I loved going to the show each week where I saw the News Reels of around the world with England and France trying to negotiate peace with Germany. Their attempts were fruitless as Poland fell in 1939 and France in 1940. After the Germans and Italians conquered most of the countries in Europe and those surrounding the Mediterranean Sea, Germany started bombing England and America began supplying airplanes and war materials for its defense and even young American pilots resigned and joined the RAF to help defend England. Still, being that young the war didn’t have a direct or real meaning to me.

That morning Mom heard Japan bombed Pearl Harbor which was the reason she made Arvil and me come inside, she was afraid that at any moment the Japs might bomb us next and thought we would be safer inside the cabin. When Arvil and I went inside we sat on the floor near the kitchen table where Uncle Wesley, Dad, and a young couple from the cabin next door sat listening to the radio, while Mom sat on our small five gallon milk can that she cleaned and painted white; a can Dad said he found alongside the road. Mom used a lot of flour making biscuits, cakes, pies, and breading chicken and other meats, and bugs always got in the flour sack but not in the milk can which was perfect for the flour they often bought.

Everyone was acting much different and had strange looks on their face as they sat quietly listening to the radio as President Roosevelt’s voice faded in and out with static. I sat listening with them, yet I didn’t understand why the news of this attack was any different from the war with Germany that I watched each week on the newsreels at the show.

I clearly remember the sound of President Roosevelt’s powerful, masculine voice as he condemned the Japanese for their Dastardly attack on Pearl Harbor and declared war on both Japan and Germany. In his speech, Mr. Roosevelt used the word dastardly which stood out in my mind since the word rhymed with another that I would get a good spanking for saying, and when The President finished, he told everyone, We have a war in countries and oceans on both sides of the United States of America and encouraged every man and woman to do their part to win those wars whether they were overseas on the battlefront or here at home.

When the President’s speech was over, the young couple from next door got up and as they left the young man told his wife he was going to enlist in the army the next day which was a Monday. After they were gone Mom ask Dad if he was going to enlist and told him that she would be proud to have her husband serve our country. Dad just laughed and answered, Hell Goldie, I am over thirty years old with a wife and kids to support. They don’t want me, now your brother Wesley they’d take him.

Uncle Wesley was sitting laid back in a chair at the table with his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. The pointed toes of his cowboy boots were sticking straight up and his dark hair was slick down and combed straight back. His hands and arms were above his shoulders with his fingers laced behind his head when he answered, The hell they will, they don’t know where I’m at and I ain’t goin’ to tell them. I didn’t start the damn war, so why should I fight in it. Besides that’s the reason I left home when I did, I saw all my friends gettin’ draft notices and I didn’t want to go in the damn Army, and for damn sure I don’t want to fight in no war where I can get shot and killed.

After President Roosevelt’s speech that day the war effort began to affect everyone’s lives both good and bad and even as a small boy I would feel the war effort and forever remember the changes that it made in our lives.

Chapter 2

Climbing Trees

The beginning of War didn’t have much of an effect on a small boy like me and didn’t change how I liked to climb anything and everything. I had already climbed all the trees down in the creek and most of those in our neighbor’s yards that had limbs low enough for me to reach. The next thing I learned was how to lean boards up against the trunk of the trees and walk up the board so that I could reach the higher limbs and climb up the tree.

My big brother Arvil was a lot taller and stronger yet he never climbed as high as I did. I don’t think he liked being that high above the ground, which was the reason I liked climbing trees. I could see a long way and sometimes even over the top of nearby houses, but what I really liked the most was the free ride when the wind blew and the tree swayed back and forth.

For some reason I climbed on a fence between Mrs. Funk’s property and the next-door neighbor. The fence was made of chicken wire nailed to posts and probably six feet tall with two strands of barbed wire at the top about a foot apart. To this day, I can’t tell you why I climbed on that fence. I guess just to climb it since I could see everything on the other side and I don’t believe there was anything I wanted. When I reached the top of the fence and tried to go over, somehow I flipped and caught my right leg in-between the two strands of barbed wire. The barbed wire ripped apart my leg just below the hip and held me at the top of the fence. I can’t remember any pain or even hanging from the fence but looking at the scars, I must have screamed loudly. What I do remember are the stories my big brother Arvil would tell later. Of course, his version of what happened was that he saved my life and was proud that he ran and told Mom and Uncle Wesley that I was hung up on the fence and couldn’t get down. It was Uncle Wesley sitting in the cabin and worrying about getting caught dodging the draft that took me down. Uncle Wesley was a slim young man with dark piercing eyes, a sharp nose and long sideburns. Although I don’t think he ever spent any time working on a cattle ranch he liked to dress like a cowboy and had a cowboy hat and shirt, boots, and only wore jeans never overalls or even slacks like the other men did.

Uncle Wesley took me down and carried me to our cabin where Mom looked at the wounds. I had two gashes just below the hip about a half-inch wide, one was an inch long and the other an inch and a half. I’m sure the cuts didn’t look good to Mom or Uncle Wesley and Mom probably wanted to take me to a doctor where the wounds would have been cleaned and properly stitched only she didn’t have any money nor did Uncle Wesley. Mom didn’t have an antiseptic to clean the wounds nor the money to buy any and she talked with Uncle Wesley trying to figure out what to use and they decided on kerosene. I remember crying and screaming as Uncle Wesley held me on the kitchen floor while Mom poured kerosene on the wounds and cleaned them. The barbed wire had to have been rusted yet somehow the kerosene worked as an antiseptic otherwise my leg probably would have become infected and worse could have happened.

A few days later Uncle Wesley told Mom and Dad that he was afraid of getting caught staying with us and thought finding work on a carnival where he didn’t haf-ta use his real name and got paid cash was the smart thing for him to do. When he said good-bye and left we wouldn’t see him for more than a year.

Chapter 3

The War Effort

Before the war if Mom and Dad had the money they could purchase anything they wanted, but now everything was being rationed. Gas, tires, women’s nylon’s, butter, meats and other items required stamps to be purchased. Each item required a specific stamp and every family was allotted a limited number of each stamp. When the stamp or stamps were gone, the family simply did without that item until the next issue or bought stamps from someone else.

With the rationing when the gas tank was empty and you didn’t have any stamps, you walked, rode a bicycle, used local transit, or stayed at home, which meant the gas stamps were worth far more than the gas itself. Since no one ever had enough gas stamps Dad had no problem selling his at a very good profit. Our Model A got good gas mileage especially as slow as Dad drove and when he learned the Model A would run on just about any kind of fuel mixtures Dad began to sell even more of his stamps.

The Model A’s gas tank was outside the front window in the cowling above the engine and supplied fuel to the carburetor by gravity flow. Dad experimented with different fuels such as diesel, cleaning fluid, stove oil, kerosene, and anything flammable by mixing them with gas. If the engine failed to start, he poured gas directly in the carburetor and if that failed to start the engine Dad took the fitting loose at the carburetor and partially drain the tank and then added gas which usually started the four-banger. Because of the different fuel mixture the Model A left a trail of smoke in different shades of gray and black that could be seen a mile away and it was unpleasant for the family riding inside since the mixtures stunk to high heaven, but the smoke and the smell was ok with Dad since he was making money.

Dad made an even bigger profit when he sold his tire stamps and drove the Model A on worn out tires. Every tire on the Model A was bald and had thread showing so Dad went to the different tire shops and found used tires that were almost as badly worn which they gave to him. If a tire was better than one on the Model A, of course he put it on and if not he continued to drive on tires with the thread showing until they went flat.

The Model A had so many flats that Dad kept an extra repair kit knowing it would soon be needed, since he couldn’t afford to take a flat to a tire shop or even a gas station for repair and fixed the flats himself.

Both the front and rear were solid axles on the Model A and as both Arvil and I sat watching, Dad would put the screw jack under the axle and raised the wheel off the ground. When the weight was off the tire Dad removed it and used tire tools to take one side off the rim and remove the tube. Dad filled the tube with air and used his hand to feel the air where it leaked, but once in awhile the leak was so small that he had to submerge the tube in water to find it.

After the hole was located, Dad scrapped it with a small metal tool and then applied glue to the area. When that was done, he struck a match and lit the glue and after several seconds blew the flame out and then repeated the process until he was satisfied the glue was dry. That’s when Dad peeled the plastic off the patch exposing its adhesive and placed it on the glue and pressing hard for several minutes to make sure it stuck.

Wanting to give the patch longer to dry Dad rolled a cigarette and smoked it before he pumped the tube bigger than normal and held his hand over the patch to see if it leaked. If Dad had any doubts which he did at times, he held the tube under water. When Dad was satisfied with the repair, he let out the air by removing the core from the stem, and while that was happening, Dad rotated the tire and looked inside for any light coming through and if he saw any Dad placed a portion of another tire with the bead cut off over the hole before putting the tube back in and closing the tire on the rim. After filling the tire with air Dad smoked another cigarette while rotating the wheel in a tub of water to make sure it didn’t have any leaks and then put the tire back on the Model A so we could travel another couple hundred miles before having another flat.

Chapter 4

The Ocean

Every year during the summer months our family traveled alone or in a caravan of cars and trucks with relatives and friends as Dad and Mom worked in the different orchards on Highway 99 or the 101. Before the war and without any skill the only work Dad or Mom could find was picking the fruit off trees as it ripened, which my older brother Arvil and I were too small to do, but we did crawl on the ground and pick up apples and prunes.

In the winter, the family returned to Petaluma where Dad applied for work that he wanted but never got. The only jobs Dad could get were on a dairy, or chicken or turkey farms.

On the weekends during the winter months Dad always found money for a pint of whiskey to nip on and as often as possible Dad and Mom would go dancing on Friday or Saturday Night. When they did, Arvil and I went to the show at night instead of during the day and when the show was over Arvil and I waited outside the movie theater until Dad picked us up and took us to the bar they were dancing. We weren’t allowed in the bar and sat out front in the Model A and since Arvil was the oldest, he always got the front seat where he pretended that he was driving while I sat in the backseat and watched. When I ask Arvil to trade he wouldn’t, saying, Dad told me to sit up front so I haf-ta, I cain’t sit in the back seat.

Arvil and I went to the show all the time but as a family, we never went anywhere. Dad didn’t hunt or fish and we drove around the state so much looking for work that we didn’t do any sightseeing either. Even when we passed road markers showing special places of interest to look at we never stopped. The only thing special I remember our family ever doing together was visiting the Pacific Ocean and that only happened because Mom kept insisting Dad drive us to the ocean so we could see exactly what it looked like. It was a warm sunny day when we left Petaluma, but it became foggy the closer we got to the ocean and cooler, and when I first saw the ocean I was amazed at how big it was, it just kept going and going until it went out of sight and it was a lot bigger than any river I had ever seen, and all I could do was asks questions that neither Dad nor Mom could answer except vaguely.

Dad and Mom were just as amazed as Arvil and me, and Mom told Dad to find a place where he could pull over near the beach so we could get out for a closer look. Dad didn’t have to drive very far before spotting a posted sign saying it was a public beach where we could stop. Both Arvil and I were very excited and Mom knew we wanted to get our feet wet in the ocean and made us pull off our shoes and leave them in the car. Then when we got near the water, Mom rolled our pant legs up as high as she could before she let us get our feet wet. Mom told us to be careful and not let a wave take us out into the ocean since neither of them knew how to swim.

Arvil and I enjoyed racing after the waves on their way out and getting our feet wet in shallow water and then we timed the approaching wave and raced back up the beach in front of it. After awhile the thrill was over and I began to look around on the beach and found a strange looking orange creature. I was amazed at how it felt when I picked it up to show Mom and she told me it was a Star Fish. I wanted to keep it and take it home but Mom told me it belonged at the beach.

We walked around on the beach picking up seashells that Mom put in a paper bag to take home and I looked at seaweed and sea wood while Dad lit up several cigarettes and followed, actually he was ready to go and said, Someday we have to come back here, and next time we have to bring a lunch so we can stay longer.

Arvil and I crawled to the top of a sand dune and pushed our feet down into the soft sand. It felt neat to bury them and I watched as Arvil pulled the soft sand up his legs and I followed his example getting sand on my wet pant legs. When Arvil began using his hands to make roads to push his metal car around on, I began playing cars in the sand alongside of him. After Dad looked at the ocean and walked on the beach he was ready to leave but knew Mom would put up a fight if Arvil and I didn’t get our feet wet, look for shells and play on the beach. Now when Dad saw Arvil and me playing in the sand and not following Mom and looking for shells, he told her, Goldie, let’s go those boys can play cars in the dirt at home. Mom didn’t argue and we walked back to the car where she made both of us stand on the running board while she cleaned the sand off our legs and feet with a towel and then rolled down our wet pant legs to dry.

When Dad drove up the hill away from the Pacific Ocean both Arvil and I stood barefooted on the rear seat looking out the window and Dad told us to get our feet off the seat, but Mom told him, It’s ok Buster, they’re barefooted. We stood and stared down the hill until we couldn’t see the ocean and then sat down on the seat and nodded off to sleep after a strenuous day of run and play at the Pacific Ocean.

We went from a very special day back to the reality of the poverty we lived in with Mom constantly asking Dad to spend more money on food and clothing, only he didn’t have the money to spend. What little money Dad was able to save that summer went fast paying the rent at Molly’s and eventually Dad had to find work at chicken or turkey ranch.

I remember the first and only dairy Dad worked. It was on the road to the ocean near the small community of Two Rock. At first Dad thought working on a dairy was going to be a great job because of what he earned, only unlike the other jobs that paid once a week Dad would now be paid once a month. We had a house to live in which saved paying rent at Molly’s and all the milk we could drink. It was a year round job if Dad wanted it.

Then Dad began getting up before six in the morning and bringing the cows into the barn where they were locked in a stall and milked, and it was his job to shovel grain and mash in the trough for the cow to eat while it was being milked and when a bucket was full they poured the milk in a ten gallon can that later was taken to town.

After all the cows were milked and turned out to pasture the men came in for breakfast. It didn’t take Dad long to gulp down his food and light up a cigarette with a cup of coffee before going back to the barn to clean it up. While that was done the ten gallon cans of milk were loaded on a truck to be taken to town and processed for sale in stores.

At lunchtime, the men took a full hour to eat and rest before returning to the barn where they dispense hay and feed for the cows when they came back to the barn that night. During the winter, the daily use of hay in the mangers spread around the dairy meant big trucks loaded with hay came in frequently and by the time they were unloaded it was time to bring in the cows and start the milking all over again.

When the evening milking was completed the men stopped long enough to have supper and then returned to the barn where they cleaned it up and restocked the mangers. If the day went smooth everything that had to be done was completed by six or seven each night which usually meant a twelve or thirteen hour day for everyone.

At first the house, the milk, and the money made the job sound Real good to Dad that is until he found out the long hours he had to work and that he didn’t get a day off. Dad worked seven days a week and thirty days a month since the cows didn’t know when it was Saturday or Sunday and had to be milked, fed, and cleaned up after twice every day.

Before the first month was up Dad realized exactly what his job was and told the owner he was quitting at the end of the month and would find work somewhere else.

Later I would hear Dad tell Uncle Fred Working on a Gawd Dam Dairy was worse than being married to a woman and almost as bad as working on a chicken farm. Uncle Fred had one more year of education than Dad had and never worked on a dairy or chicken farm and ask, Buster, what’s so bad about workin’ on a chicken farm? Dad answered, The damn chicken shit. It ain’t too bad while you’re feeding the chickens and pickin’ up the eggs, then he added, But they keep the lights on twenty-four hours a day and those chickens never sleep. All they ever do is eat, drink, lay eggs, shit, and die, and it’s the shit hangin’ down off the cage wire and piled up on the floor below that has to be cleaned up that I can’t stand. I have to wear somethin’ over my nose, and I ain’t found nothin’ to stop the smell. With that answer, Uncle Fred laughed and said, Thanks for tellin’ me Buster, I don’t think I’ll ever apply for a job workin’ on a chicken farm.

Chapter 5

Uncle Alvie’s Bar

When war was declared Dad and both of his younger brothers received their draft notices and when they reported for their physicals all three were classified 4F and never went into the service. Needless to say since it was none of my business and I was never told exactly why, maybe Dad was right about his age and the size of his family or maybe it was because of his lack of education since he only went to the third grade.

Now with the biggest part of the work force off to war Dad began finding jobs that paid more money than farm labor and our family didn’t follow the fruit like before. Dad didn’t care if the jobs were not permanent or did not last very long since they paid what he called, Good money and he jumped at every chance to work one.

One of the jobs Dad got was working as a laborer at the Hamilton Army Air Force Base near San Rafael and the money he earned per hour was more than he had ever been paid before, and he was earning more money than Mom’s brothers who worked at the feed mill where Dad had applied again and again and never been hired. It made Dad brag loud and proud to all the relatives knowing what he was earning would get back to both of his brother in laws.

There were a lot of Naval and Army bases in the bay area with the Army Air Force base at Hamilton Field being the nearest and soldiers, sailors, and marines flocked to Petaluma regularly. It seemed like they were in town every day of the week. Perhaps the explanation was Petaluma’s Railroad Station since train travel was the most popular mode of travel at that time, which was more comfortable than riding a bus. The station had easy access to diverse directions: down the coastline to San Diego or up to Oregon and Washington and to the East Coast.

Petaluma was a small sleepy town and perhaps the reason service men came was it reminded them of their own hometowns. Uncle Alvie worked as a bartender on Main St. which catered to the service men who came alone or in groups to forget where they were going or where they had been