Digger was a true "Maverick" and as such was able to do and get away with things most of us could never achieve. Some of the stories I have posted about his time at BYU illustrate this point very well. The following is yet another of his antics while there.
Digger had seats in the Faculty section of the Smith Field house and attended all basketball games. I remember one time he had one of his men install a blow horn, that made a loud obnoxious sound when activated, installed up in the catwalks of the Field house with a wire that ran to a button under his seat. The next time there was a home game, Digger "Blew His Horn" as a cheer for the Cougs. After about three or four times of the horn blast, they stopped the game to locate the horn at which time he made a hasty disappearing act so as to not get caught. The next week he had the horn and button removed. And yes, you guessed it, he didn't get into trouble.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Digger's Racing Stripes
In the mid sixties, Digger had a 1949 or 1950 Ford car. It ran good as all of Diggers autos died. All of the family borrowed the Ford when needed in case of an emergency. One time RaNae’s little brother, Jerry, who was going to BYU at the time, had his own car break down and needed a loaner. I arranged for him to use Digger’s ’49 Ford. After that, the car got nicknamed “Jerry.” I don’t remember what happened to the car The following is about Digger and the way he conducted his affairs while doing his job at BYU. It involves the car we called “Jerry.”
When Digger worked for BYU, he was always tearing buildings down, preparing sites for new construction, and general remodel on BYU facilities. It was his custom to carry a can of Blue spray paint in his truck in case he found anything that he wanted for himself. When coming on an object too big for him to move himself, he would get out and spray “Digger” on it in his handwriting in large cursive letters. Every one on the jobs then knew whose it was. Old swamp coolers, fans, pipe, furniture, toilets and other fixtures, 50 gallon drums, tanks, steel, plywood, other kinds of wood, it didn’t matter.
He saw most of this “stuff” as goods he could trade for something he really needed. In 1964 he had an old faded 1949 or1950 Ford. He made a deal with the guys in the BYU paint shop to trade him a new paint job for a toilet one of them needed in remodeling his house. The deal was, the color didn’t matter, just use whatever paint they had extra.
After about two weeks, they called him one night and told him they would finish it that night and it would be dry and ready for him the following morning.
Digger always left for work early in the morning. This was a Saturday and he got me up (We were visiting for the wekend) to go with him so that I could drive his truck back home and he would bring the car. We got there around 6:00 am – summertime so it was light. The garage to the paint shop was locked and no one was there yet but Digger wanted to see what the car looked like.
Digger couldn’t wait. He got a hammer out of his truck and started banging on the lock, but it would not break. Finally, he used the claw on the hammer to pry the door open just enough to put one eye up to the door and look in. As soon as he looked, he exclaimed “sons-a-bitches”, and stomped off to the truck.
I immediately ran up to the door and put my eye up to look in. The lights were still on inside curing the paint so I could plainly see what had been done. The painters had painted Digger’s Ford a most interesting dirt brown color – but that wasn’t what he had reacted to. Starting at the front grill and continuing uninterrupted up over the hood, top and trunk - except for the windshields, they had painted two “Digger Blue” racing stripes about 3” wide the length of the car.
We left the car and went back home. He never said anything. On Monday he went to work with a toilet in the back of his pick-up, traded it for his new paint job, told them how great it looked and drove it for many more years. When he came on campus, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind whose car it was.
When Digger worked for BYU, he was always tearing buildings down, preparing sites for new construction, and general remodel on BYU facilities. It was his custom to carry a can of Blue spray paint in his truck in case he found anything that he wanted for himself. When coming on an object too big for him to move himself, he would get out and spray “Digger” on it in his handwriting in large cursive letters. Every one on the jobs then knew whose it was. Old swamp coolers, fans, pipe, furniture, toilets and other fixtures, 50 gallon drums, tanks, steel, plywood, other kinds of wood, it didn’t matter.
He saw most of this “stuff” as goods he could trade for something he really needed. In 1964 he had an old faded 1949 or1950 Ford. He made a deal with the guys in the BYU paint shop to trade him a new paint job for a toilet one of them needed in remodeling his house. The deal was, the color didn’t matter, just use whatever paint they had extra.
After about two weeks, they called him one night and told him they would finish it that night and it would be dry and ready for him the following morning.
Digger always left for work early in the morning. This was a Saturday and he got me up (We were visiting for the wekend) to go with him so that I could drive his truck back home and he would bring the car. We got there around 6:00 am – summertime so it was light. The garage to the paint shop was locked and no one was there yet but Digger wanted to see what the car looked like.
Digger couldn’t wait. He got a hammer out of his truck and started banging on the lock, but it would not break. Finally, he used the claw on the hammer to pry the door open just enough to put one eye up to the door and look in. As soon as he looked, he exclaimed “sons-a-bitches”, and stomped off to the truck.
I immediately ran up to the door and put my eye up to look in. The lights were still on inside curing the paint so I could plainly see what had been done. The painters had painted Digger’s Ford a most interesting dirt brown color – but that wasn’t what he had reacted to. Starting at the front grill and continuing uninterrupted up over the hood, top and trunk - except for the windshields, they had painted two “Digger Blue” racing stripes about 3” wide the length of the car.
We left the car and went back home. He never said anything. On Monday he went to work with a toilet in the back of his pick-up, traded it for his new paint job, told them how great it looked and drove it for many more years. When he came on campus, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind whose car it was.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Digger and Sand
This posting is one of many I intend to write about my Dad who carried the nickname “Digger” during the last 35 years of his life. He worked at Brigham Young University in charge of many things in the Physical Plant Department of the University. This included roads, grounds, new construction on campus, etc. It was there that he earned his nickname.
In 1954 The University put on a production entitled “Sand in Their Shoes.” It was a play about the Mormon Battalion and was intended as an outside production. The presentation was to take place in the football stadium of the day. At that time the stadium was located just north of the present location of the Smith Field house. The stadium seating was literally built on the side of a hill with bleacher style seating only. (No chair seats) The stadium was able to hold a few thousand people. Little notice was given to the care of the wooden bleacher seats and they showed it from the many years of being put upon by the elements of nature.
As they were preparing the stadium and football field to stage the production, Digger being the one who had the manpower and the means to accomplish this, met at the stadium one day with the school President, Earnest L Wilkinson, Church President, David O. McKay and a couple of other brethren, probably apostles and Diggers boss. The discussion was about the condition of the wooden bleacher seats and whether or not they should be sanded and maybe painted. Whereupon, Digger in his own inimitable style of stating things said: “If something isn’t done, when the people come to see ‘Sand in Their Shoes’ they’ll get slivers in their Butts.” Whether of not the seats were sanded and painted, I don’t know, but the production went on and was, as I recall, a big success – slivers and all.
In 1954 The University put on a production entitled “Sand in Their Shoes.” It was a play about the Mormon Battalion and was intended as an outside production. The presentation was to take place in the football stadium of the day. At that time the stadium was located just north of the present location of the Smith Field house. The stadium seating was literally built on the side of a hill with bleacher style seating only. (No chair seats) The stadium was able to hold a few thousand people. Little notice was given to the care of the wooden bleacher seats and they showed it from the many years of being put upon by the elements of nature.
As they were preparing the stadium and football field to stage the production, Digger being the one who had the manpower and the means to accomplish this, met at the stadium one day with the school President, Earnest L Wilkinson, Church President, David O. McKay and a couple of other brethren, probably apostles and Diggers boss. The discussion was about the condition of the wooden bleacher seats and whether or not they should be sanded and maybe painted. Whereupon, Digger in his own inimitable style of stating things said: “If something isn’t done, when the people come to see ‘Sand in Their Shoes’ they’ll get slivers in their Butts.” Whether of not the seats were sanded and painted, I don’t know, but the production went on and was, as I recall, a big success – slivers and all.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Digger
It seems that all men have a little larceny in their souls. The following incident occurred in 1954. My Dad whose nickname was “Digger” worked at BYU in the Physical Plant Department. He was in charge of all the campus roads, building appearance, Parking lots, etc. He had a crew of six full time men with an additional twenty part-time students. In the summer of 1954 due to a lot of expansion going on around the campus, the University purchased a truck mounted backhoe used mainly for digging trenches, etc. On the day of the purchase, Digger went to Salt Lake City to take delivery of the backhoe. By the time he returned to Provo it was after five o’clock in the evening. He drove the truck into the fenced area where the equipment was kept and went into his office before going home. While he was in his office, he noticed that the president of the University, Howard S McDonald had driven into the yard and was looking at the new backhoe. Digger didn’t pay him any attention and he, Pres. McDonald soon left, as did Digger, locking the yard gate. This was on Friday and when he went to work the next Monday, he noticed that a set of spot lights that came with the backhoe for night work but were not yet mounted and left in the cab of the backhoe were missing. He thought nothing about it thinking that one of his crew was playing a trick on him by hiding them. About four days later, he was digging a trench on the campus and noticed that Pres. McDonald was watching him. Digger stopped what he was doing and got down to talk to Pres. McDonald. During their conversation, Pres. McDonald said: “Aren’t there supposed to be some spot lights mounted on the machine for night work?” Whereupon, Digger jokingly said: “Yes, what did you do with them?” Digger said that Pres. McDonald had a blank look on his face and said: “I’ll go get them.” He got in his car, left and returned a few minutes later with the spot lights, gave them to Digger without a word, got in his car and left. Just goes to show you all men have a little larceny in their souls. This story was related to me by "Digger" who said "To this day, I'll never know what possessed me to ask Pres. McDonald that question. It just popped out."
Monday, May 5, 2008
Carrying
During my Junior High teenage years we lived in a small city in Southern Utah. For my 14th birthday, my folks gave me a .22 caliber rifle. All of my friends had .22’s and almost every Saturday a few of us would get together and go rabbit hunting north of town. We also did a lot of target practice. If one of us shot a cottontail rabbit, we would take it home to eat. Jack Rabbits were plentiful and we shot a lot of them but just left them there.
One of my friends Dad removed the fireing pin from a .32 caliber pistol and we played with it during our “Cops and Robbers” fantasies. The gun had a scabbard so you could strap it on to your waist. We took turns keeping the gun for a week at a time then passing it along to the next guy. One Sunday evening as my parents and I were preparing to go the Sacrament Meeting, they left to do some errand and said they would meet me in church. As I was leaving to go to Sacrament Meeting, a friend who had the .32 pistol came by to give it to me as it was my turn to have it for a week. Instead of taking the pistol and scabbard in the house, I just strapped it on, concealed under my suit coat and went on my way to Sacrament Meeting. I didn’t tell anyone that I had the gun and took my place with the other boys my age on the Deacons row. I passed the Sacrament with the pistol strapped to my waist! Later, I told my Mom and she just about died at the thought of what I had done. To put it mildly I got a good tongue lashing. After that week, I never had the pistol again.
Contrast what I just wrote about and think what would happen if a young, stupid boy did such a thing in this day and age even if joking. Even if the gun had been a cap pistol, he’d wind up in the Slammer and probably put on probation for a year or so. How times have changed.
One of my friends Dad removed the fireing pin from a .32 caliber pistol and we played with it during our “Cops and Robbers” fantasies. The gun had a scabbard so you could strap it on to your waist. We took turns keeping the gun for a week at a time then passing it along to the next guy. One Sunday evening as my parents and I were preparing to go the Sacrament Meeting, they left to do some errand and said they would meet me in church. As I was leaving to go to Sacrament Meeting, a friend who had the .32 pistol came by to give it to me as it was my turn to have it for a week. Instead of taking the pistol and scabbard in the house, I just strapped it on, concealed under my suit coat and went on my way to Sacrament Meeting. I didn’t tell anyone that I had the gun and took my place with the other boys my age on the Deacons row. I passed the Sacrament with the pistol strapped to my waist! Later, I told my Mom and she just about died at the thought of what I had done. To put it mildly I got a good tongue lashing. After that week, I never had the pistol again.
Contrast what I just wrote about and think what would happen if a young, stupid boy did such a thing in this day and age even if joking. Even if the gun had been a cap pistol, he’d wind up in the Slammer and probably put on probation for a year or so. How times have changed.
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