Day: August 5, 2017

CHAPTER 28

      All the events in this story, all happened in about one year. For the next five years, we were really busy. We were issued a card from that government. We were now citizens of Nicaragua, plus our own United States. So many things happened down there, that I will tell about some. Just hit some of the high spots.

      We discovered more gold clear across the continent. We come back and built another gold dredge. Hauled it to New Orleans from Portland, Oregon by truck, then by boat the rest of the way. It was put to work on the Wakie-Was river. Then we started a bus line. We got a franchise through Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Costa Rica and down to Panama City. We bought six used Greyhound busses from that company. They were all in excellent shape. Completely reconditioned. At that time Greyhound was converting to large cruisers. Those big double deckers. We bought a couple of them in Portland, two in San Francisco and two in Los Angeles. Greyhound loaned us one of their drivers, also a mechanic, then we took off down through Mexico.

      I could write several chapters on that trip alone. But I won’t. But I will say one thing. By the time we got down there, we were all expert drivers. It was a trip that I will never forget.

      When we finally reached Managua, we were greeted by big bands. We were paraded up and down all the streets. That next day we made the headlines of all the papers. The radio was busy. Connie whose real name was, Adailia Mendez welcomed me back by dedicating a song to me… Sabor A Mi. My favorite. Up until this time, I had spent most of my time at the Gran Hotel. At least while I was in the city. But now that we were in big business with the government and internationally known, the brass thought we should have a nice home. A place that we could entertain. Then they found us one that had just recently become vacant. One of the big shots had lived there for a long time. Then he had gone to Mexico City for his health, to a higher altitude. The Refuge, this place was called. It was about eight miles out of the city. Up a steep winding road to the top of the mountain.

      The estate consisted of about five acres surrounded completely by a high, steel fence. There was a big gate that was always locked. In a little shack beside it, for twenty four hours of the day, stood two armed guards. Soldiers furnished by the army. Also down by the front and rear entrance to the house was another pair. The place was a regular mansion, surrounded by a tropical forest. It had eight or ten bedrooms, several baths, one large enough for several to get in at the same time. Back of the place, was the servants quarters, several small houses, a housekeeper, two maids and gardener went with the place. Looking to the west of us, we could see the Pacific ocean far in the distance. There was always a cool breeze coming from that direction. It was a beautiful sight. And we had quite distinguished neighbors on both sides of us. On our right, was the ambassador from Great Britain. On our left, the Vice President of Nicaragua. Another member of the family.

      We had brought down a Chevy station wagon. We made good use of it. Most every day we went down to the city. Dell and Shirley stayed only for a short time. They wanted to get back to the gold dredge over on the east coast. Bill Gardner, one of our friends that had driven down one of the busses, stayed with me for quite a while. I had brought along my tape recorder and lots of tapes. And boy oh boy did we have some parties at that big house. We got aquatinted with our neighbors on both sides of us. That is the men folks. We never met their women. Don’t know for sure if they had any. But one thing for sure, they liked to play. So did my friend Bill. And it didn’t take him long to find his way around. When we thought it was about time for a party, I would send a note with one of the guards, to both my neighbors. In turn they would invite their friends. Men only. Bill and one of the guys would go to town and pick up a bus load of girls from the city and we would throw a party. Nicaraguan style. One to remember. There are about twelve women to every man in that big city and most of them lookers.

      But it wasn’t all play. We had plenty of troubles. Breaking in drivers that could handle those busses was a problem. A lot of those people could only drive an ox cart. Then that big volcano in Costa Rica blew up. It would make that one in the state of Washington look like some kind of a toy. Down there is volcano country. Also many earthquakes. There is nothing like a good earthquake to get them going.

      Back in the thirties, Managua was completely destroyed when old MOMBO TOMBO blew up and poured molten lava all over it. Usually from any high position, you can see at least four or five of them smoking away. Just waiting for something to get them going. This big one in Costa Rica, was putting down a couple of inches of ash on the city of San Jose every twenty four hours and had been doing this for some time and no relief in sight. Our busses run into that city twice a week. The ash was falling so fast that we had to run with our lights on. Keeping the mess cleaned up was quite a problem. Bull-dozers scraped the stuff off the streets and highways. The water and sewer systems in the city were plugged and contaminated. For miles around the coffee trees were covered completely. It looked like the city was doomed. Also the country. People were leaving by the thousands.

      We wouldn’t have many passengers going in but sure had a full load coming out. And there was lots of looting going on. One day I decided I would go along and take a look for myself. I sat up beside the driver and we took off. We kept those busses real neat and clean. Instead of a big Greyhound on each side, we had a big jaguar. El Tigre lines. We called ourselves. It was late in the evening when we arrived at that once beautiful city. Now it was really a mess. I got me a room at a nearby hotel and went looking for a restaurant. We would be here all night and return tomorrow. I had a couple of drinks and a good meal. Then I headed for my hotel. As I walked slowly down that street through that falling ash I kept looking over my shoulder. A small taxi was creeping up slowly behind me. Then I was in front of my hotel. The big iron sliding gates were closed. I could see the clerk inside. I grabbed those steel bars and rattled the thing. The clerk got up and started toward me. But he was not in time. Three guys jumped out of that taxi and come at me on the run. In the hand of one was a big knife. It was him that I concentrated on. I hit him square in the mouth. He dropped the knife and staggered back. Then fell flat on the cement. Then the other two were on my back. They grabbed my arms and pinned them behind me. Then one reached into my pocket and pulled out my pocket book. The one on the pavement got up and the three of them took off on the run. The taxi had disappeared. And in it’s place, drove up a police car. Two policemen got out and come walking over. The clerk inside had called them. “What’s the trouble?” one of them asked. I told them what had happened. I had been robbed. “Did you see where they went?” one asked. “And can you describe them?” I pointed down the street. “They ran down that way. I am not sure, but I think they went into that last door at the end of the block. They were three young guys. And right now, one of them has a mighty sore mouth. I landed one good one.” The guys nodded. “I think we know where to find them. That place you pointed out down the street, is a hangout for such trash. So if you will come along and identify them, we will put them under arrest.”

      We walked up a long narrow stairway and into a large room. It was bar and several people were standing there. Several painted women, also my three attackers. What made me certain, was the one that had blood all over the front of his shirt and also had a very large set of puffed lips. I pointed to them, “There is the ones.” They were put under arrest and searched. My pocket book which had contained about fifty dollars, was not there. Naturally, they had got rid of it.

      Up at the restaurant, I had just cashed a fifty dollar traveler check to Costa Rican money. This and a little change was what they had got away with. And this was just about the amount of money they had on hand. Equally divided among the three of them. But they had overlooked one thing. My book of traveler checks. It was still be able to pay my way. The two cops took the four of us up to the police station. The sergeant or whatever he was, fingerprinted us all. Then he pushed a paper in front of me. “If you will sign this complaint, we will put them in jail and hold them until they are tried.” I signed the paper. I guess I shouldn’t have. The next thing I knew those three bastards signed a complaint against me, for false arrest. And so, we all ended up in jail. Two or three days later, I was offered a deal. Drop the charges, and the others would do the same. Then we would all be released. I was sure glad to get out of there. It made me appreciate just how much it meant to live in the good old U.S.A.

CHAPTER 27

      It was shortly after this, that Helen and I decided to call it quits. I won’t go into any of the details, this is something that I don’t like to remember. I think that summer working outside taught her something. She decided to find herself a job and go to work. And this she did. She got a job working at the Ore Ida plant in Ontario Oregon. Several other women from this area worked there. They took turns driving. Helen joined up with them. She rented the Fisher place at Letha. Her and Joe and Sandy moved in there. And another thing, Helen quit drinking, also smoking and also started going to church. For this, I was glad and very thankful. I moved over to Boise and rented a small house and began to look around. I must figure out something to do.

      Early that next spring, I went into business for myself. I understood irrigation. I went into the lawn sprinkling business. I had been called many things. But this one, I tacked on to myself. THE RAIN MAKER. I would put in underground sprinkling systems. A lot of them completely automatic. I hired a young fellow with a strong back. I did all the selling and the supervising. We kept mighty busy. And I was making nothing but money.

      That summer I met Mary Bower. A pretty grass widow, who worked at Albertson’s big store at 16th and State. She was a checker. She had three children. A boy and a girl that had just recently married and a young boy about eight years old, Little Johnny. Mary was a great fisherman. Every weekend, we would take off for the mountains. We had lots of fun together.

      Dell had sold his new house in Boise and had built another. It was a nice place on Greenbriar. Dell and Lillian were also having family trouble. It always seemed to me that when you pass forty, this is a very dangerous age. I guess people just sort of get tired of each other. Wonder what it would be like to go to bed with someone else. There is an old saying, Life begins at forty. For sure, a new life for a lot of people. Including myself. I hadn’t wanted it that way but that was the way it turned out.

      Lately, brother Dell had shown a lot of prosperity. He had a big brand new Olds and had bought one for his new girlfriend, Shirley. It seemed like he had money to burn. One day he come to me. “Ted.” he said. “I got something going. And I want to let you in on it. We have always been partners.” Then he told me quite a yarn. There was supposed to be a ton of gold floating around somewhere. And it could be bought for about twenty dollars an ounce. Leaving a net profit of twelve dollars an ounce. I had heard this story many times. It was supposedly stolen gold. A lot of people were looking for it. A ton of gold was worth a lot of money. Even at thirty two and ounce, it was worth around a million dollars. I asked Dell. “And have you located the ton of gold?” He grinned and shook his head. “No, I haven’t located it yet. But I have been running down a lot of leads. I got some guys that will put up the money to buy it. After I get it located.” Then he went on. “I have followed every lead that I have heard of. I have been from Butte Montana, all of Idaho, Nevada and Utah. I haven’t located it yet but I did find something else.” “And what was that?” He grinned. “I found a couple of guys that have some gold for sale. It is a heavy concentrate mixed with other heavy material. These guys have very important positions in one of the big refineries and don’t want to sell it themselves.” His grin got bigger. “They say they might be accused of stealing it.” I laughed. “And how much have you got rid of already?” “About twenty thousand dollars worth. I get half.” Now I understood all this recent prosperity. “How much of it have they got left?” “I don’t know. They only give me so much at a time. They let me have it on consignment. But they say there is plenty more.” “And why are you telling me all this?” I asked. Then Dell told me his plan. “Gold is gold. And can only be traced by the impurities in it. This that they consign to me, can be traced back to where it come from by the other elements in the concentrate.” “So what do you do about that?” “Pan it down to where there is mostly gold left. Then mix in some black sand that is entirely different. Then it can’t be traced.” “Why are you telling me all this?” “Because.” he said. “To play it safe, I got to have a mine. A place that it could of come from. Make it sound real legal. Also pay income on the stuff. I don’t want to get the government after me. All you got to do, is oversee the mine and work it a bit. Pan the gold, get rid of most of the concentrate and add the new. I will do the rest. We split the profit. Do you want in?” Well right now, I think I have said enough about this. For most of the rest of this story, you can use your imagination. You will probably come up the right conclusions. Anyhow, for the next few years, I made quite a lot of money. I added a new title to my company, The Bench Dredge and Sprinkler Co. I took Dell in as a full partner.

      All of that upper Boise bench, was up for bids to install an underground sewer system. M.K. Co. Put in all the main lines. We did most of the hook-ups. We were real busy. Then Dell and Lillian got a divorce. Shortly after, Dell and Shirley were married. Now there was one sweet gal. One in a million, that is for sure.

      In the spring of 1960, we finished putting the sewer. Then Dell got a wild brainstorm and got in his car and headed for Central America. And didn’t stop until he was in the city of Managua Nicaragua. He was gone for over a month. Mary and I were still going together. She didn’t like standing behind a check stand all day and wanted something of her own. So after her trying a few other things, I built her a child care center just out of Vista. Also I painted her house real pretty. Then Dell come back from south of the border. Yes, about four thousand miles south. He had quite a story to tell. I will cut it as short as I can. It went like this”

      The new Pan American Highway, was just being completed through those Central American countries. A car could now be driven clear through to Panama. Since the beginning of our American history, those countries were noted for having lots of gold. The Spaniards had sent boat loads of it back to Spain. And now for the first time in history, these countries were being opened up to the machine age. Time for the gold dredge to go in. Those natives had only used gold pans and sluice boxes. Most of the gold was still for the taking.

      Dell was never one to start at the bottom. He went right to the Presidential Palace in Managua Nicaragua. To the Somoza family themselves. He told them he would like to bring down a gold dredge. They took him in like a long, lost brother. He was like one of the family.

      “The deal is all set up.” Del said. “You fly down there and find a good spot to set up a small dredge. I will have one built.” Then he grinned. “It will take a lot of money to get going. I will raise what I can.” So we would both be busy. I got a bottle of nerve tonic, got on a plane and took off. I was gone about six weeks. Six memorable weeks. But I had found a spot to set up the small suction dredge. I reported to Dell what I had found. He was all smiles. We bought a new motor home. A Sport King. A beautiful job mounted on a Chevy truck chassis. Down there, we would be the King of Sports. We called it, The Palace. Then we made more plans. We would find someone to go with me, and I would drive it down there. This would assure me of a nice place to live while I was south of the border. When the dredge was completed, Dell would come down and join me. It was being built in Portland Oregon. From there, it would be brought down by a steam ship line. Mary wanted to go along. She liked the pretty new motor home, and she loved to travel. She told me. “Take me with you. I can do all the cooking.” I didn’t think she would be happy down there. I told her no. “You give me something to work with, then pull out. If you really cared for me, you would take me along.” I should of known by now, pretty women don’t like to be left alone. I told her, if everything went well, I would either send for her or come and get her. I thought that it was for the best. We found a guy that wanted to go down with me. A young fellow from Nampa. His name was Chuck Saltz. We got all our medical shots, our passports and we were on our way.

      Several months later, when I returned home for a visit, I wrote my first story. I called it, THEY ALWAYS SMILE. I had kept a diary. From this, I wrote the story. I changed our names from Dewey to Parker. Mary to Maria. And our residence from Boise to Reno Nevada. I was advised to do this by an attorney. “You would be sticking your neck out.” he said. “If you don’t do this, you might get the thing published. You would be leaving yourself wide open.” I took his advice. At that time, I didn’t know one key from another on a typewriter. I got a professional typist to put the thing on paper. I never tried to get it published. Every once in a while, I dig out a copy and read it. It sure brings back a lot of memories. So basically, the story is all true. Taken from my diary. So that part of my life down there, I will not write about. I have already done that. Maybe in places, I did flower it up a bit. And in others, I toned it down. But the story itself, is true. So if you happen to have a copy of the yarn, it would fit right in here.

CHAPTER 26

      We stayed in Boise for a year or so. I spent one of those summers up at Granger Washington, working for a logging company that was cutting cottonwood on the river. I worked as a mechanic and welder, taking care of all their equipment. It was hard to find a job for me in the winter time. A bad back is sure one big handicap. The last winter we were there, I went on the road selling advertising. It didn’t work out so good.

      I had sold my Golden Hawk and was driving an old Pontiac. It caused me a lot of trouble. The sand plant over at Emmett had sure gone to pot. Their sales were way down. They sold a lot more stock in the company, then finally sold out to Del Monte. For Dell and my share, we ended up with only a few thousand dollars. But I guess we were lucky to get anything. We were on the right track alright. That plant today, plus that mountain of sand, is worth millions.

      We moved back to the Emmett Valley. There was an extra little house at the Harwell ranch. We moved into that. At least we would be close to Stan and Gertrude. Brother Cecil and his brother in law Vern Leighty had just planted a young cherry orchard. I told them. “I will take care of your orchard this summer, for the use of the land between the rows. I will keep it cultivated and irrigated. I will raise watermelons and cantaloupes in between.” It sounded like a good deal for both of us. This was something that I could handle. I planted it all. About fifteen acres. We had a beautiful crop coming on. Helen did most of the irrigating, I did the cultivating. She loved to work outside. She was the kind of a woman that needed something to do.

      Then one day along toward the end of July, disaster struck. We were just about to begin to harvest the crop, when Cecil and Vern dusted their prune orchard, which was on the west side of this field. The prunes had got mites on them and they dusted with sulfur. A breeze was blowing from the west that day and the melons also got dusted. That next day, they were a sad looking sight. The vines were curling up. The whole patch would be dead in a few days. I began to look around for the cause of this. Then I picked up one of those sulfur sacks that was lying on the ground. And right there in front of my eyes was the answer. CAUTION, it said. DO NOT DUST AROUND CUCURBITS. Then there was more. This stuff would kill the vines of any of the cucumber or melon vine. And it took very little of it.

      Helen and I were surely disappointed to say the least. We showed the patch to Cecil and Vern, also the empty sack and the warning. I guess they realized what they had done. Cecil said, “We carry insurance. I guess it’s about time that we found out whether or not it is any good.” They called their insurance man. He come and took a look. He shook his head. “A lot of different things could cause this.” he said. Then refused to pay any damage.

      Both Cecil and I went to different lawyers. We both got the same answers. Cecil and Vern were well protected. But I would have to file suit and take it to court. Cecil and I both understood. We shook hands and said. “See you in court.” I began to strengthen my case. I called the county agent and had him look the patch over. He knew what this dust would do. I found another fellow that had killed his own patch by dusting trees close by. I found a neighbor that had a small patch of melons. We dusted a few vines and waited. The next day, they began to wither and die. When the thing finally come to court, the jury wasn’t out five minutes. I won the case. But the insurance company still wouldn’t pay off. They stalled. They said that they would take it to a higher court. Finally we offered to settle for less money than we had been awarded. We didn’t come out with as much as we would have made if the patch hadn’t got ruined, but after the

lawyer got his cut, we still had a pretty good chunk of cash.

CHAPTER 25

      The new Kitty Kat factory would be in Mountain Home. A small town about forty miles south of Boise. We turned the deal over to them completely. Let one of them be called this awful name. I preferred the old one that had been tacked on me. THE SAD SACK, WITH THE BAD BACK.

      There are a few more things that come to my mind that I should tell about before I move on with the story. Some more things that happened back in Emmett.

      Before we left there, Gertrude and Stanley were married. They were very much in love and I was sure they would go a long ways together. They made a lovely couple. Our boy Bill has always been a hard one for me to figure out. He always was and still is, an independent cuss. Wants to live his own life.

      When he was sixteen, he joined the Paratroopers. Forged his birth certificate to eighteen and in he went. After about a year or so, he got tired of that branch of the service. He decided he wanted out. Finally he made it. Proved that he was still only seventeen. After he become eighteen, he once more went back into the armed service. This time a different branch. He and Dell’s boy Phil, were great buddies. They made quite a pair. I don’t think they fought any more after that time back on Pumpkin Ridge. They were full of mischief. Back when they were in grade school over in Emmett, they pulled one that I will never forget. I will tell about it.

      There was an old boy by the name of Katz that lived close to the big canal. He was real old and I guess he was alone and had nothing to live for. He decided to end it all. He wrote a suicide note. Took off all his clothes, laid his pocket book and false teeth on the ditch bank and jumped in. On their way to school, Bill and Phil, found the things that he had left. I don’t think they bothered to read the note, they just divided up the spoils. Mainly the pocket book with a few dollars in it and the false teeth. I never learned exactly how they decided who got what, but Bill ended up with the money and Phil, with the false teeth. Phil gave the choppers a good scrubbing with the ditch water and sand, then tried them in his mouth over his own teeth. I guess he really looked horrible. With these, he would have a lot of fun. That day in school, whenever the teacher would turn her back, Phil would slip the teeth in his mouth and grin at the rest of the class. Some of the girls would scream. He got by with this for a while, then the teacher caught him. She took the teeth and threw them into the incinerator. Phil confessed as to what happened. He and Bill were sent to the principal’s office. He called Dell and me. And poor old Katz was buried without his teeth.