Matilda

RaNae and I got married in 1955. At the time, I had a 1950 Ford convertible that I had nicknamed "Matilda." It was a great car. The previous owner had split the V8 engine exhaust manifold so the exhaust was twin pipes that had a deep resonant tone. That was in the days before catalytic converters so the engine sound could be heard through the mufflers and exhaust pipes. On the day we were married, (a Tuesday,) we rode to Manti, Utah with RaNae's Mom & Dad. My parents came in their car. RaNae's best friend and Bridesmaid and her husband drove my car to Manti. They came home with RaNae's parents. When we arrived in Salt Lake City, we went to an apartment that had been rented by another of RaNae's girlfriends who was to be married the next week. We had our wedding reception that night and spent our wedding night at the apartment. The next morning, we discovered that the car was gone. Before we even called the police, RaNae's Dad called and said the car was parked in front of their house in Midvale. We took a bus to Midvale but when we arrived at RaNae's home, the car was gone. We didn't go on a honeymoon as I was scheduled to go in the army in eight days. So, I went to my job (A Civil
Engineering firm) and RaNae went to hers. Later that day, RaNae called me and said that her Mom had received an anonymous phone call saying the car was parked on a Salt Lake east side street called Wasatch Boulevard. I got one of the guys at work to take me to the car but when we got there, it was gone. On Friday of that week, another fellow from work and I went to our bosses garage to get some survey stakes and when we opened the garage door, there was my car. It was stolen originally by an old boy friend of Ranae's who was in cahoots with her Mom & Dad and the guys where I worked. I was glad to get my car back. The caper had been done in good fun and we have reminisced about it many times over the past 53 years. We kept the car until 1957 and then traded it for a newer one when I got discharged from the Army.

Eagle Project

When I was twelve years old in 1942, I joined he Boy Scouts of America. It was an exciting program and I enjoyed the meetings, scout camps and jamborees. The ranks of Tenderfoot, Second Class and First Class Scout weren't too difficult to attain and I did so as the time lapse between each rank was attained. I had an ideal to look up to in the person of my older sister's husband. He was an Army Air Corp Officer but was also an avid scouter. He had earned all of the Merit Badges available at that time and wherever he and my sister went, he was involved in the scouting program. Earning Merit Badges for rank advancement is strictly a product of ambition and there were those who advanced in rank from Star Scout to Life and Eagle Scout as quickly as possible. I was sixteen (1947) by the time I had attained the rank of Life Scout. As all know, Merit Badges are not the only thing necessary to attain the rank of Eagle Scout. A Service Project is also necessary. You must plan and organize the project having other scouts help at your direction if necessary. The project I chose was to organize an Assistant Project with the U.S. Forest Service who was planning a reforestization project of Provo Peak located east of Provo behind the "Y" mountain. This required going with the rangers to the base of Provo Peak and then hiking up to the area where the planting would be performed. As I recall, there were six rangers and six of us scouts. We all had back packs filled with pine tree seedlings that we carried up the mountain in addition to shovels and our lunches. We had left Provo at six in the morning and by the time we reached the planting area it was about eight o'clock. I had planned that each scout would work with a ranger and by five o'clock in the afternoon, we had completed our task for the day. The twelve of us planted over five hundred trees. The project was accepted by the Great Salt Lake Council of the BSA and I received my Eagle Award in July of that year. I didn't check up as to the success of the reforestization project until 2007. I learned that the project had been a success in preventing erosion of that area that had been hit hard the previous winter wherein a lot of trees were lost due to the harsh winter conditions. During my scouting career, I didn't earn all the Merit Badges but enough to earn the Eagle Award with two Silver Leafs. I would be amiss if I didn't thank my Mom for the prodding she did to inspire me to accomplish my goal.

Prompting of the Spirit

My Dad worked construction most of his life. Shortly after he married my Mom, he got a job as a "Cat Skinner." The "Cat" was also known as a "Bulldozer." I asked him how he got the job and he said that he taught himself while demonstrating to his prospective employer that he could operate the equipment. For the next forty plus years, he worked construction jobs all over the country from Idaho to the Panama Canal and from Utah to South Carolina. During 1938 and 1939, my Dad, "Digger," was working on the Deer Creek Dam in Heber Valley in Utah. His job required that he, among other things, pioneer a road from the east side of the dam to the Walsberg road
east of Heber City. To this day, the highway follows the route he made. On one occasion, he stopped for lunch and backed his "cat" up to a steep incline that was in the shade to eat his lunch while sitting in the seat of the "cat." He had finished eating and was taking a nap before resuming his work. Suddenly, he awoke and a voice told him to get out of the seat and on to the ground. He did so and within a few seconds a rock from up the hill about four feet in diameter landed in the seat where he had been sitting. The rock must have been jarred loose while he was working the hillside for the road. He told me this story to emphasize the importance of following the promptings of the spirit. Had he not listened to and followed that small voice, he surely would have been killed. He was a very humble man though his outward demeanor did not show it.

Throwin'' The Weight Around

My older sister's third husband was, I think, about twenty yeas older than her. His Son in Law was Governor of Wyoming during the 70's and early 80's. His name was Ed Hirschler. Interestingly enough, I was working for a trucking company as Lease Manager at that time. The company ran about 40 leased trucks. My job, among other things required that the equipment be licensed in the states we ran in. On one occasion, an emergency required that I fly to Cheyenne, Wyoming to get plates for the trucks. The company was starting a new job transporting crude oil from Wyoming and I needed the plates for the next day. While attempting to accomplish this, I was being hassled by the Wyoming license plate division. After several attempts to get the plates, I mentioned that my sister's Son in Law was Governor Hirschler and that I was going to call her and tell her of the treatment I was getting. As I started to leave, the director of that department stopped me and said to wait a minute. Thirty minutes later, I had the plates and was on my way home. It just goes to show you that sometimes throwing your weight around gets positive results.

Memories

As a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I had together. It doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot, anything you remember

Digger and Butch

My dad, Linsey Clair Rogerson, his given name that he hated and changed to Lynn C Rogerson by which he was known except on LDS Church records told me many stories about his youth which occurred around the turn of the century, he being born in 1892. One of my favorite stories is about an incident that happened to him when he was 10 years old. He lived, with his family in Monticello, UT. He relates this story: "In the summer of 1902 a man came to our house one morning riding a white horse. He spoke to my father who instructed me and a friend to put the horse in the barn and then to stay outside and be quiet around the house. My dad and the man then went into our house. An hour or so later the Sheriff came to our house and came up to my father. He said: 'Johnny, have you seen a man ride past here on a white horse?' to which my father replied 'no.' (He didn't lie. The man did not ride past, he came onto our property and went in the house.) The Sheriff said 'If you see anyone like that, please notify me' and rode off. Later in the early evening, my father called me and my friend into the house. The man, who had been sleeping, was still there and my dad introduced us to him as Butch Cassidy. It appears that Butch and his gang had robbed the telegraph station in Castledale, UT the day before and had split up, Butch coming south to Monticello. My father knew Butch from their childhood days when Butch would come to Parowan, UT where my father lived before moving to Monticello under Brigham Young's orders to help settle the town. Butch reached into his pocket and retrieved two 25 dollar gold pieces then said to us, 'Promise me that you will never draw a gun on another man' before giving us the coins. We made the promise. and he gave one to me and one to my friend. I was sent to get the white horse and Butch rode off. I never saw him again. I have kept my promise made to Butch and though I have always owned hand guns, I've never drawn on another man, even in fun." How about that?

My Truck Blew it's Top

In 1965 I worked for a trucking company called W.S. Hatch Co. This company was a transporter of liquid and dry bulk commodities throughout the Western United States. As a driver for that company one of the jobs I did was to operate a “Distributor.” A distributor is a truck with an apparatus attacked to the back of the truck that distributes hot specialized oil through a spreader bar on to the road surface that binds asphalt or fine gravel to it. If you have seen the movie “Cool Hand Luke” you'll remember an episode where a tank truck sprayed hot oil on the road and the men then scattered sand over the oil to resurface the road. The truck that sprayed the oil is called a “Distributor.” After loading the tank at an oil refinery and going to the job site, it is necessary in preparing to spread or “shoot” the oil to gradually heat the spreader bar to prevent it from cracking open with the sudden impact of the hot oil that is, sometimes, 1500 degrees Fahrenheit or more. A gradual introduction of oil in to the bar is required and the oil is circulated through the spreader bar and then back into the tank increasing the flow as the bar warms up. When the spreader bar is hot, it is time to shoot the oil. On one occasion after I had worked for the company for some time and was made a Driver Supervisor,I was sent to instruct and help a new spreader operator on his first job. The job location was near Elberta, UT, 20 or so miles west of Payson, UT. I followed the truck in my company car and when we arrived at the job site, men from the Utah Highway Dept. were there to do their jobs. We proceeded to do the drill as I indicated above but unbeknownst to us, this particular distributor truck had been used the day before to shoot another type of oil and had been cleaned with high pressure steam but had not been dried out. Water was left in the spreader bar and when that water circulated back into the tank of hot oil, there was an explosion of steam and oil that literally blew the dome lid open and sprayed the hot oil all over everyone within 25 feet of the truck. I, along with a State Road worker and the spreader operator had the hot oil sprayed on us. The state guy was wearing a T shirt and no cap. I was not wearing a cap but had a short sleeved shirt open at the neck as did the spreader operator. The state guy got the worst of it with hot oil over his head, shoulders, arms and back. The spreader operator jot some on his arms and shoulders. I had oil on my head, shoulders, back and arms. We all got into my car and headed for the hospital emergency in Payson. When all was said and done, the state guy wound up in the hospital for a stay with 2nd and 3rd degree burns over 50% of his body. When the ER staff started to clean me up the only places I was burned was on my arms and the top of my head. My upper arms, shoulders and back though covered with the hot oil were not burned in the least. Essentially, I was protected where my Temple Garments covered my body. The ER staff noticed this too and one nurse commented about it. That to me was a real testimony builder.