1956 TRANSITION FROM BOY TO MAN We rolled headlong into 1956. By this time, Peg and I were engaged and she also had a job at Aerojet as a secretary. Things were going right along per the family plan. Peg was nineteen and I was twenty. We set our wedding date and were married at The Chapel of The Roses in Pasadena on February 9th 1956. We honeymooned in Acapulco Mexico. A wedding gift from our parents.

GARY CAME HOME FROM DENVER WITH A DIPLOMA AND A NEW WIFE In the meantime, my buddy Gary had graduated from Denver University. He not only brought home a diploma. He had his fiancé with him. Joyce was from Lindsay California, where they grow olives. Her father was a General Motors dealer in Lindsay. We ran off with them to Las Vegas where they got married. They got hitche d in a wedding chapel by a gay minister dressed up like Elvis Presley. The highlight of the ceremony was when the minister started to talk with a very gay lisp, Joyce got the giggles and the whole wedding party almost lost it.

1956 HONEYWELL CAME TO TOWN Peg and I were living in Monrovia when word got around that Minneapolis Honeywell was opening a new division in Monrovia to design a new anti-submarine missile called ASROC, and they were hiring engineers and draftsmen. A couple of guys I worked with a Aerojet applied and I filled out an application also. It turned out that John Schober, Joe Murray and myself all landed jobs. John was an engineer and Joe and I were draftsmen. I went from $195 a month to $300 a month. The three of us worked together for many years after that. Peg and I were on top of the world. In the meantime Peg’s folks built a house in Glendora. We loved Glendora, and we bought a house on Renwick Ave in Baja Glendora.

This division of Honeywell was opened in a small store front building on Mountain Ave in Monrovia. They brought back a retired Honeywell executive by the name of Paul Felt to startup this new division. Monrovia was selected as the site because of the proximity to NOTS ( Naval Ordinance Test Station) in Pasadena and testing site at China Lake in the Mojave Desert. NOTS was the governing interface. They opened the doors to the CALOC (California Ordinance Center) in early 1956. When John, Joe and I were hired in December there were about 50 people on the team. We were to design and build an ordinance device that would deliver either a homing torpedo or depth charge from the deck of Destroyer to an area within range of an enemy submarine so that the payload would then seek and destroy.

It was really an interesting project. It turned out to be a great opportunity for me. Over the next couple of years I transitioned from draftsman to designer and started back to school at night to pursue a degree in Mechanical Engineering. And Honeywell was paying for it. I found I had a passion for what I was doing and was good at it.

1957 THIS WAS THE YEAR MOM AND DAD MOVED TO CARSON CITY This was the year that my dad and his best friend and neighbor in Temple City, Woody Johnson, decided to move to Carson City Nevada and start a contracting business, free from the Unions that they had to contend with in California. The building business was not exactly booming at that time, but they were getting established when a terrible tragedy happened. Woody’s eighteen year old son Dick was deer hunting on the mountain just north of Carson City with a friend. And his friend accidently shot and killed him. My dad and mother stepped right up to ease the burden of such a tragedy. That’s what best friends do.

1957 GEORGE AND CAROLE GOT MARRIED On the 1st of September 1957 my buddy George got hitched to a Canadian girl named Carole he met at Whittier College. He graduated with a degree in education and was teaching and coaching in the Whittier School District. He found his niche, he loved teaching. And faster than a speeding bullet he had three little ones, Mat, Sherry and Tracy running around the house.

JANUARY 1ST 1959 MICHAEL WAS BORN Peg and I were married just under three years when our first child Michael Wayne was born on January 1st 1959. It’s hard to put into words what it feels like to hold this tiny thing in your arms and not be awestruck by the miracle. We did this and he was beautiful.

JUST 17 MONTHS LATER, MAY 26TH 1960, MARK WAS BORN That was so much fun we did it again on May 26th 1960 when Mark Alan arrived. Mark’s landing was not as stress free as Mike’s. First of all Peg’s water broke at like three in the morning. I called the doctor and gave him a description of what was happening. He said he would meet us at Huntington Memorial Hospital in Arcadia. We jumped in the car and headed across town to the hospital. Well the boat started taking on water. We were not even close to Huntington Memorial and the boat was sinking. I made a U-turn and headed for the Glendora Community Hospital. It had a terrible reputation, but I had no choice. I called the doctor at Huntington Memorial and he came to the Glendora Hospital. Everything went fine and we all survived without a problem, but it was a little stressful for a time.

THE CLUE I MISSED IN HUNTINGTON BEACH IN ’51 Life was good, we had two beautiful baby boys. But that was about to change. Without a clue and out of the blue I found out my wife was cheating on me. My whole life just fell apart. I can tell you there is nothing more devastating than having the very person you trust the most in your life, betray you. I’ve never felt so violated. We talked and decided we should try to save the marriage for the boys. But this time I was paying attention. It just wouldn’t work. She was sorry she got caught, but she would justify that somehow. One thing I had concluded for sure, I could never forgive her. And I knew I would never forget.

I was going to school at night. I was sitting in class, but my mind wasn’t there. All of a sudden it hit me. I gathered up my stuff and went home. I walked in and started to pack. I told her I was leaving and wasn’t coming back. I told her I could never trust her again. And would not live that way. (Of course with my ability to peek into the future, time will prove that I made a marvelous trade up). It just happened that my best buddy Gary Nelson had a crumbling marriage. About a year after they were married, Joyce gave birth to a baby boy, Craig. There were complications with the birth, the baby had a bowel obstruction. Immediate surgery was necessary. As a result Craig was slightly impaired. He cried constantly. It turned out to be more than two young people could handle. Their marriage slowly decayed and they separated.

Gary was moving out of their apartment when I showed up at his door. He didn’t have any idea Peg and I had any problems. He wasn’t alone; it was a surprise to me also. Gary was an underwriter for Allstate and he had arranged to move in with Jerry Traylor, one of the underwriters he worked with at Allstate.. Jerry was a little older than the two of us. We were 26 and he was about 38. He had a one bedroom apartment on Huntington Dr. in Arcadia, just across the street from Santa Anita racetrack. It was obvious that I needed a place to stay so Gary called Jerry and we all agreed that this apartment was not large enough for three, but they were looking for a bigger place anyway and in the meantime the bachelor unit next to Jerry was for rent. I took that until we could find a bigger apartment. Then talk about timing, I ran into an old high school basketball teammate, Ron Campbell, who had just been booted out by his wife. He needed a place temporarily. He moved in with me and shared the rent. It was cozy. Ron was quite a guy. He was a bookie and he worked for the telephone company and ran his little side business from a telephone booth. It worked pretty well until the Mob got wind of it. He was contacted and they made him an offer. They would finance the operation 100% and he would get to keep 50% of the take. He decided he didn’t want to play with these guys and went out of busines

1961 STARTING OVER AGAIN I sold the house. Gave her the car and bought a used car for me. Took money from the house and what we had in the bank and paid off any bills and split what was left. Then I went to my attorney, Revis Call, and filed for divorce. The first thing Revis said was that California is a community property state. That means we split everything down the middle and then fight over your half. When I told him what I had done with the community property, he just sat back in his chair and said “if you never do anything right again, you just did it”. We sat up a meeting with her to get an agreement on child support and filed the papers. I have never felt more defeated in my life.

Adding to the hurt was the fact that her mother and father and I had really bonded. They were an important part of my family. They continued to invite me to the family functions like Christmas, Thanksgiving, etc. I think they were at a loss on how to deal with it. I finally sent a letter with a dozen roses telling them how much I was going to miss being part of their family. But I must move on. It broke my heart.

1961 RUNNING HEADLONG INTO THE LIFE OF A BACHELOR I needed something to raise my spirits so I went out and bought a new 1961 Thunderbird. It was white and had a stirring wheel that rotated out of the way so you could get in/out. Now that was a bachelor’s wagon.

1961 A THOUSAND DOLLAR EDUCATION Normally I’m a pretty conservative type of person. Not a chance taker. But at this stage in my life, I was looking for a little adventure. Something wild and out of character. Well, it just happened that a friend at Honeywell, Karl Hardgrave, was trying to get me interested in one of his business ventures. Ever since I had known Karl he had been looking for that opportunity or business that would elevate him economically. An old buddy of Karl’s, Walt Baker, just got out of the navy and he was looking for a way to make a few bucks. Both Karl and Walt were raised around San Pedro and Long Beach. Walt’s family worked in the marine salvaging business. They had spotted a 125 foot yacht at an old dilapidated power company dock in San Pedro. The boat was listing to the port side and appeare to be abandoned. Walt decided to find out what the deal was. He did some extensive research and got a great deal of information on the old boat, It was owned by the two partners and owners of a company that made some kind of health food product. These two guys got into a serious disagreement over this property and they were just letting this gorgeous boat decay away. It was rumored that it was once owned by Howard Hughes who brought it from Europe through the canal to California. It was originally built for a German Prince. It had a ½ inch Swedish steel hull and fourteen state rooms. She was called “The Oceana”. We could have her for a salvage fee of a thousand dollars. Walt was very convincing and Karl and I were young and ready for an adventure. After all, how many people own a 125 foot yacht ? Walt had two alternative plans. We could either convert her to a cargo vessel and haul produce from Baja or get backing and convert her to a party boat. Walt said we could always salvage things like the teakwood railings and the steel like they do with cars. So we bought this turkey. Walt was the registered owner and within a week we were notified that we were illegally parked and given twenty-four hours to vacate.. Of course Walt was designated as the Captain and Karl had been around boats all of his life, but I was a total neophyte. I was probably the only other idiot they could talk into such a dumb idea. Get real, this was not a boat it was a ship. So what’s the problem? All we had to do was move this listing monster to an unknown destination in the middle of the night. Oh, and I forgot to mention that the engines were not operational. Fortunately Walt Baker turned out to be one fine sailor. For a young man, he knew what he was doing. First we emptied the port tanks to correct the listing,. and rigged up running lights. He had a friend who owned a small tug and believe it or not we towed her out of San Pedro harbor and down the coast into Newport, up past Balboa Island to the warehouse dock where the Cannery Restaurant is now. That property was up for sale and Walt’s girlfriend was the realtor. We had her docked there for three months and never paid a dime. We figured it would take $125,000 to get her operational. Between the three of us, we agreed that our only goal was to get her rigged as a party boat. At this same time there was a TV program about a party/gambling ship called “Mister Lucky”. It looked exactly like The Oceana. We knew it was a long shot. We had to get backers in a hurry or get out. The closest we came was about a month after we got her to Newport. There was not much we could do except clean her up and make her as presentable as possible. We washed her down, scraped and primed. Karl and I worked full time and Walt was working on getting in the longshoremen’s union. Normally we were only there on the weekend. But Walt had called and asked us if we could meet him in the middle of the week. We met him on board for this important mystery meeting, as he requested. Then right on schedule a big black limousine pulled up. An older gentleman got out. He was dressed in a business suit and tie and he was accompanied by four husky gentlemen. He came on board and shook hands with Walt . Then Walt introduced us to Frank Foust. We showed him around and answered some questions. He was there less than an hour. After he left, Walt told us this gentleman was very connected. He was sent to evaluate the possibility of putting a ship like this In the harbor in Acapulco Mexico as a floating casino . He said his people had looked into the feasibility of such an operation and determined that it was a long shot at best and they were not interested. Two months later we signed over the Oceana to a missionary group. The experience cost us about a thousand bucks each (and believe me that was lot of money in those days), It was one of those times in my life when I needed to do something out of character. Mister conservative was going take a risk. Where can you get an education like that for a thousand bucks? Karl left Honeywell shortly after that. About two years later, Karl called me and said he heard through the grapevine the missionary group had converted her to floating hospital somewhere in the South Pacific. That was over fifty years ago and I haven’t heard from those two guys since then.

BEING SINGLE WAS A NEW EXPERIENCE We stayed in the Huntington Drive apartments for a while until Ron moved out. By the way, I haven’t seen him since.

Gary and Jerry and I found a brand new apartment complex in Duarte that was convenient to Allstate in Pasadena where they worked and my office in Monrovia. We had our choices of a number of two bedroom units. The apartment we picked had a large and small bedroom. We flipped to determine who got the small bedroom alone. The other two would share the larger bedroom. I got the small bedroom. Being able to share the rent between the three of us was a good thing. It really worked out well for Jerry because he was under water when we pulled him in the boat. His wife had really taken him to the cleaners. He was living on a very tight budget. He didn’t have a house or car, but he had payments for both and child support for Jerry Jr. I never did get the grounds for his divorce, but I do know he made the mistake of not being represented by an attorney and she ate him for lunch. After getting to know Jerry, the whole thing leaves me wondering how this could happen. He’s a smart guy. He graduated from USC and he owned his own insurance business. But then again it was none of my business.

Life takes funny little turns that in retrospect leaves you wondering who’s driving. This was one of those turns. I don’t know what I would have done without the help of those two guys. And I think they were in the same boat. We were survivors of different shipwrecks ending up in the same life boat.

I had never really experienced the singles life. It was hard to think of myself as single. All of the single people at Allstate congregated at Mister Steak in Pasadena on Friday after work. Sam the owner had a fifty cent dinner of Fridays. You got goulash or spaghetti or something along that line with bread and salad. The place was packed on Fridays. Of course he would keep you in the bar as long as he could

On one of those Friday evenings at Mister Steak we were having a drink waiting for our 50 cent meal when someone said there was a company holding a party in a tent down the street. They had all kinds of free food and drinks. So, we walked down to see what was happening. It was some big company, I can’t remember the name, and they were having a promotional party for their big customers. We found out that you needed a badge to get in. We started to leave, but there was a group of guys coming out that had been consuming some of the free booze. They said they were leaving and offered us their badges. Why not? We went in and found a fabulous party going on. They had any kind of drink you wanted and the most beautiful fancy hors-d’oeuvre I had ever seen. They had jumbo shrimp, crab and an assortment of cold cuts. We had some food and a number of drinks. It was getting late and they were starting to close the place. Jerry and I started to look for Gary. No Gary to be found. We ran into a couple of guys from Allstate who told us they ran into him a while back and he told them he was leaving to go someplace, they could not remember where or with whom. Gary had his own car. So we left and went home. Gary hadn’t arrived home yet. It was late, we were really tired and we went to bed. Sometime like 3 or 4 in the morning, he got home, crawled in the front door, leaving clothes as he went and fell asleep on the rug next to his bed. When he came to the next morning, we asked him where his car was. What do you mean he annoyingly said, it’s in the car port. No we said. Then it’s out front on the street. No again we said. The answer was he didn’t know. He had lost his prized 1948 Plymouth coupe (we called it his Fury). Remember he divorced a daughter of a General Motors dealer, who gave him a new car every year. We proceeded to drive all over Pasadena looking for that Turkey. We finally found it parked on a side street. How it got there and how he got home we’ll never know. This is the kind of adventures bachelors have

1960 A TEAM EFFORT TO GET JERRY A JOB OUTSIDE THE U.S Jerry really got tired of living on the edge of poverty and he decided to try to get a job outside the U.S. So, the three of us spent a couple of weeks composing a Resume; His education, background and experience, particularly running his own insurance business, with a little embellishment, made quite an impressive resume. He applied to about fifteen companies. I believe he got the leads from his USC network. He got several responses. The most promising being from Singer Sewing Machine Corp. It seemed they owned an insurance company in Lima Peru and they needed a manager. Singer sent him a plane ticket to go back to their corporate office for an interview. Two weeks later we saw mister Traylor off to his new job in Lima. He had a little trouble with the language. He had taken Spanish in college, but was far from fluent and the dialects were different in Peru. But he got up to speed pretty fast. He had a big house with servants and the whole nine yards.

About that same time Jerry took off for Lima, Honeywell moved to a new facility in West Covina. It was a nice spacious building with shop and assembly areas and big enough for about 300 people. It was really neat

Jerry was off to Peru and had it pretty good for about a year and a half. He was one of those people who liked to get involved. He got into politics. The people he was in thick with lost a hard fought bitter election. Being a foreigner he had made enemies of some very important people. His stay in Peru ended like an action movie. In the middle of the night, he took a bus loaded with chickens and goats (just like you see in a movie) cross country to the northern border of Peru and Ecuador. Talked his way through customs and took a train through Ecuador north to Colombia where he ended up taking a plane to Miami and then home to L.A. He stayed with Gary and I for a couple of months. We accused him of hiding out. Then his ex-wife accused him of being gay. She really knew how to make him boil. During that time we moved to a new apartment in Rosemead. He bought a little sports car (I think it was an MG) and moved to Manhattan Beach where he met Doris, his wife to be. Doris was a smart attractive lady with an adorable British accent. I remember one time they were having a little conflict over something and Jerry made the mistake of remarking that sometimes she could be a pain in the neck. Well, it was only a short time before she picked up her custom diamond ring with the letters PITA set in a cluster. I don’t know what it cost him, but she made her point

1961 LEARNING TO FLY One thing I had always wanted to do was learn to fly. There was a group of guys at Honeywell that took on the task of getting a pilot’s license. It turned out to be one of the most enjoyable things I had ever done. I joined the KV Flying Club at Bracket Field airport by the Pomona fair grounds. KV was originated at Cal Poly. The club had twenty-five airplanes ranging from little two place Cessna 150’s to a twin engine Cessna 320. The club had about 200 members. It was all based on the honor system. You could reserve an airplane for a couple of hours or a couple of days. You logged the hours used. You paid by the hour of tack time. In other words you only paid for the time the engine was running. You didn’t pay for down time (when the airplane was parked). And we had instructors that were members, that gave special rates. It takes a minimum of about 40 hours of flight time to get a license. That’s about 20 hours with the instructor and 20 hours solo. You start out with the instructor in the airplane with you at all times. You must reach a point when you can fly the airplane alone or solo. When the instructor is confident you can take-off and land the airplane by yourself, he climbs out and tells you to take the airplane around the landing pattern of the airport and do touch and go landings (you touch down on the runway but don’t stop) until he waves you in. At that point you can practice landings and takeoffs by yourself. I soloed in 8 hours. It was really a fun and satisfying thing to do. Once I got my license I could fly to Carson City for the weekend. On the weekends there was always a group of guys, either club members or airplane owners hanging around the airport that would put two or three planes together and fly to someplace like Catalina, Apple Valley or Solvang for breakfast or lunch

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