A Brief History of Preston Ray Gledhill
March 19, 1915 -
Ancestors & Descendants

                I was born in the relatively new family home of my parents at 309 West Center Street in Richfield, Utah in Sevier County on the 19th of March 1915. My short, personable, and charming mother was Rebecca May Eames, born 28th December, 1886, who was the daughter of David Cullen Eames (1851-1929) and Elizabeth Cluley Greaves (1856-1942). She was reared on the old Eames 80 acre farm I enjoyed so much as a boy on family reunions every other summer two miles out of Preston, Idaho. (Yes, that is what I was named after.) Father met her there as he worked for her father to earn medical school money during the summer of 1905. They were married in the Logan Temple July 18, 1907.

                My father was Thomas Ray Gledhill who practiced medicine for forty-five years in Richfield. He was the epitome of the old general practitioner: kind, dedicated, and generous. He delivered hundreds of babies throughout central Utah; only a few of them were born in a hospital and many of them were never paid for. I am not acquainted with any doctors today who will come to your home any time, day or night as he did. Ray, as Mother called him, was born February 13, 1883 in Mt. Pleasant, Sanpete County, Utah to Thomas Gledhill (1856-1933), from Oldham, Lancashire, England, and Lilie Belle Ivie (1856-1929). After receiving his M.D. degree from Northwestern University, Father located in Richfield on July 23, 1909. He was one of the most devout Latter-day Saints I have ever known. I am very grateful for the rich heritage of both my parents. They were exemplary, active church workers. Among other offices Mother was Primary and YWMIA president. Father was in a bishopric and a stake presidency.

                As a result of debilitating diseases as a girl and multiple operations as an adult, Mother was never very well physically; in her prime you would never know it. I like to think of her vivaciously visiting with her friends over the telephone and in person, a natural leader of the Richfield Study Club or some other book, giving a book or play review, reading poems, effectively answering Dad’s telephone calls and keeping his books, stimulating and organizing her seven children in their individual household duties and cultural activities. I didn’t ever learn to like scrubbing and mopping the kitchen floor on my hands and knees but I got so I didn’t complain, much. I knew I had to take piano lessons and get in a certain amount of practice, but I wasn’t always conscientious. I got so I liked the sax and clarinet. Marching in parades and being in the all-state band during the summer of 1932 in Logan was fun. Also, thanks to mother, I picked up an interest in dramatics. She soon had me enjoy giving readings and being in plays and pageants. She even helped me win some speech contests. She was a natural teacher: school (pre-marriage), Primary, Sunday School (all her life), home, club, wherever. Too bad I didn’t get her gregarious social vitality. Unfortunately it couldn’t last to the end. Dad had died in February and Mother was staying with my sister Ora in Salt Lake when she had her last stroke and passed away July 25, 1955 after being an invalid for two years.

                On the other hand Father was healthy all his life, had taken very few vacations, and had never been a patient in a hospital. On his 72nd birthday, February 13, 1955, he made some early Sunday calls and then went to Sunday School as usual. My family and I were down from Provo for his birthday dinner and to celebrate the occasion. Dad, shortly after we had begun eating, asked to be excused and went out in the front room. After a few minutes I went to inquire about him and found him lying on the sofa. He indicated he must have appendicitis and that I should take him to the hospital. Dr. McQuarrie operated and found the appendix had ruptured and considerable peritonitis had set in which caused his death five days later. While I was attending the University of Wisconsin Father wrote assuring us he had implicit faith that he would live “the full age of man” or in other words until he was 72. His reference was to the quotation in the Book of Mormon, Third Nephi 28:3. I don’t for a minute think he had any death wish, but he was a very spiritual man and did manage to keep in good health as long as he had predicted.

                My oldest sister Ora was born in Chicago in 1908 and taught school in Preston, Idaho and Eugene, Oregon, after starting out in Sevier County. We have shared three foreign travel tours together. She assisted me in my biggest private tour in 1953. Our last one together was my “Around the Pacific BYU Study Tour” (Alaska, Asia, Southeast Asia, Australia, New Zealand, and the South Pacific) in 1969. Ora retired from teaching at 63 and for several years lived in her basement apartment in Salt Lake. We persuaded her, in early 1965, to move to the Provo Cove Point Retirement Community. Now, as of this typing, she is 78 and is enjoying an active life with many good friends and conveniently close to Utahna, Evelyn, David, and myself, her four Utah County siblings.

                My sister Utahna went to Utah State University and then taught elementary school before marrying Neil McKnight. They had five fine intelligent children. While living in Corvallis, Oregon they were divorced and Utahna moved to Orem with her unmarried children. My third sister Evelyn, after attending the “Y” a couple of years, married an attorney, H. Vern Wentz. They have four devoted children. My brother Theodore Rodger attended the University of Utah and went on the Japanese Mission in Hawaii (was in the midst of the Pearl Harbor attack). He was in business in Salt Lake. As a Cougar Club booster of BYU athletics, he, with others, went on a trip to New Mexico University the first time the Y won the WAC football championship (1965) and was killed in a chartered plane crash at the “point of the mountain” shortly after leaving Salt Lake Airport. Ilah Dean, my fourth sister, went to BYU and married Thad R. Williams of Central, Utah who was an officer in the Navy and after retirement worked for a brokerage firm in California. They have three children who are greatly loved. Ilah has (retired in 1984) an excellent position with the Bank of America in Pasadena. The folks’ youngest child was David Eames who graduated from BYU and served a British Mission. He married Joy Christiansen with whom he had three fine children. He has taught school in Springville (Joy has also) for many years and is a specialist in reading. He has been a bishop and first counselor in the Kolob Stake Presidency. All of my brothers and sisters have been active in the church including temple activity.

                As a further preface to my personal history, I wish to include a quotation from my father’s short autobiography of which the final paragraph pertains to my birth:

                Soon after we arrived in Richfield, May (Mrs. Gledhill) took sick and for nearly two years she was ill most of the time. She had three minor operations and had been to the hospital with no relief. President William H. Seegmiller gave her a patriarchal blessing in which he promised her she should get well and be the mother of additional children. Later she was operated on and a tumor of the uterus was found which was the most fatal of all cancers. The other doctors advised and insisted on removing her uterus. To this I objected because of her blessing for we knew she should live and be a mother of more children. The tumor alone was removed and as the doctors predicted it returned and was removed the second time. About two years later we went to the Manti Temple where the temple president gave her a special blessing and anointing to the effect that she would conceive and become a mother in about nine months from this date. God gave us, as he had promised, an 11-pound son and we named him Preston Ray.

                A much more detailed account of this incident was written by my father in Gems of Reminiscence, Seventeenth Book of the Faith Promoting Series compiled and published by George C. Lambert, Salt Lake City, 1915, under the title “A Remarkable Patriarchal Blessing” which I may include in the appendix to this personal history. (See Appendix A)

                One of my earliest childhood recollections at the family home was going out to pick up The Deseret News for my father. I was just a two or three-year-old toddler. There was a big hedge around the house and an iron gate at the sidewalk entrance. This was where the paper was dropped.

                My earliest best friends were Richard Ross, Deon Nelson, and Shiryl Pace (the latter died of cancer while we were in high school), all of whom lived on the same block as I did. Other school chums were Harry Green, Dick Ogden, Sharff Sumner, Earl Camp, and Jim Peterson. Among the girl schoolmates were Maza, Fern and Mae Christensen, Ruth Cloward, Devona Pectal, Nola Taylor, Anna Lou Peterson, Ruty Neill, Olive Ogden, Bernice Ogden, Anna Dee Coons, Gwen Ashman, Nina Anderson, Zona Morrison, Leone Peterson, and Elethe Fillmore—all of whom I dated. The dating was during my high school years when a rather large group of us were quite active socially. Harry Green, who lived a block east of us, was the only child in a large home which had a basement recreation room and dance floor. It was used frequently. The town dance hall was called the Anona Pavilion which had a good spring floor.

                To headline my high school activities, the following were listed in the 1933 yearbook The Severian under Preston Gledhill, “Doc” (my nickname because of my dad): Band and orchestra ‘30, ‘31, ‘32, ‘33; Future Farmers of America ‘30, ‘31, ‘32, ‘33; Quill and Scroll (literary club) ‘32, ‘33; Opera ‘31, ‘32; School Play ‘32, ‘33; All Boys Show ‘32; Yearbook Staff ‘33; Music Manager ‘32, ‘33; Mask Club ‘31, ‘32, ‘33; Honor Club ‘33.

                William B. McCoard, our drama instructor, (together with my mother) aroused in me a lifelong love of the theater. I took all of his classes, joined the Mask Club when he began it in 1931, and played the romantic lead in the school plays he directed during my junior and senior years. He later married my school friend, Fern Christensen, and later still became a prominent educator and head of interpretation at the University of Southern California. My first lead was in Phillip Barry’s “The Youngest.”  It was in this play that I began living the role to the extent of becoming infatuated with my leading lady who in this case was Ruth Cloward who was also student body president that year. The next year it was opposite Maza Christensen in “The Brat.”  Then in college, among others, there were Norma Pardoe, in “Coquette” and Helen Clark in “We Are Seven” before I met the permanent one, Isabelle Romney in “You Can’t Take It With You”—but I did.

                What whetted my appetite for drama was when I was 14 and played the boy Joseph Smith (kneeling in the Grove, etc.) for a big stake pageant. I also played in several M.I.A. plays. One title I remember because it seems foreign to church drama was “The Killer.”  It did come from the MIA Handbook of Plays, however. I also used to give readings and I wont a first place medal in the church storytelling contest when the MIA used to sponsor them. Two of my most successful monologues were “Gee Whiz” and “What Women Wear and Why.”  Mother was my most ardent fan and critic. “In the Toils of the Enemy” was a not-so-successful performance which I gave at the annual Junior-Senior Banquet in the Little Theater. I hadn’t prepared it well enough to be really secure in it so I had Utahna stand behind the stage curtain holding my script. Well, because I had a crutch, I had to use it and she had to prompt me several times. It was one of my most embarrassing experiences. Thereafter anything I did from memory was well learned and I never even brought my script with me, let alone a prompter. It was something I learned about being self-reliant. I used to memorize quickly, but those days are long passed. Another selection I did more than once was “The White Swam” by Paul Gallico.

                Another special interest in high school was music. In grade school Mother insisted I take piano lessons from Anna Calloway. I took them reluctantly for several years but since I thought I had more important things to do, such as play and read novels, I didn’t progress as much as I should have. Nevertheless, I am grateful to Mother for her persistence since my skill, such as it was, served me well as an introduction to music and in the mission field where in three branches I played the organ or piano for all the hymns. It still gives me some personal enjoyment. In about the 8th grade Dad bought me a B-flat saxophone. This started my activity in the band. I was in the school band every year thereafter until I had finished my freshman year in the BYU band where I played the clarinet under Robert Sauer, composer of “Springtime in the Rockies.”  I became high school music manager under our music teacher H. D. Christensen. By that time I had bought a Selmer metal clarinet and was also playing the trumpet (my brother T.R. had one) and for a year, to help the band out, played the alto and baritone horns. Using the word loosely I even “sang” in a couple of operas: “Oh, Doctor” and “Robin Hood.”  I played Allan-a-Dale in the latter and in the former I was to sing an important bass solo which I couldn’t handle (singing is certainly not my forte). So, since I could act the role, Mr. Christensen had Ed Morrison, who could sing well, do the solo from the wings while I mimed it. One of the highlights of R.H.S. was when I was selected to be in the all-state band and had the privilege of going to Utah State University in Logan for a three-week summer training session. It was a thrill to stay in one of the Aggie dorms, to be away from home, and to savor my experience of college life. I also played in a dance band which brought me in some spending money. I borrowed a tenor sax to play in that band and doubled on my clarinet. We played at the swimming pool dance hall during the summer as well as up in Glenwood’s Canyon resort “The Rendez-Vous,” at Fish Lake and once at Shady Dell in Sevier Canyon. I also played in the Richfield City band on the Fourth of July and for other parades.

                I read many novels as a boy such as those by Zane Gray, but some of my favorites were David Copperfield (I had a passion for dickens), Les Miserables, and How Green Was My Valley. Later I went for War and Peace. As I write this, I note that about the only fiction I read lately are the numerous plays I am required to read as a play director and professor of theater.

                In addition to the drama club and band, I participated in other activities. All my life I have been an avid sports fan but because of a heart problem and resultant shortness of breath was never able to compete in competitive athletics. My first grade teacher was Ada Thurber Luth whom I have seen many times since. Other teachers I remember well are Clifford Reece and Mr. Nelson, my junior high school teacher; in high school Don Kenney, Paul Packard, Joy Buys, Eudora Miller, Golden Wright, and the principal Angus Maughan; also Luella Hood, Grace Crook, John Adams, and Thelma Dastrup.

                During this high school period I milked from two to five cows twice a day to earn my spending money. Dad made it profitable to me in a small way since he generously bought the cows and the feed. I sold the extra milk the family didn’t use to the creamery to make cheese. We received as little as 1½-3¢ per quart in those Depression days. These regular chores, which included feeding the cows and other animals we might have such as pigs, chickens, and horses, did teach me to accept responsibility and be dependable which were valuable lessons my parents taught me. Even in grade school I was encouraged to take a paper route selling the Salt Lake Tribune. This necessitated riding my bike all the way to the depot to pick up the papers. The papers I sold downtown in the Johnston Hotel and other places were the most profitable ones, especially since I occasionally received a tip. I was selling when I was twelve because I still vividly remember the headlines I shouted out in 1927 when Lindberg made the first solo crossing over the Atlantic. My most embarrassing experience as a paper boy was one extremely cold evening when nature called and I could find no appropriate place to relieve myself and I wet my pants while riding the bike. I naturally hurried home and came back to finish my route later.

                In the summers I earned a little cash thinning beets. It was usually less than a dollar for a day’s work. I remember it was a satisfying achievement when I finally made a dollar or more. When I was older (high school age) I earned $3 for blocking, with the hoe, an acre of beets, the financial pinnacle of my youth. In the fall I topped the beets. While I was in high school, Dad bought the Black Knolls Ranch out of Sigurd. I helped there in the summers as well. Dad had a ranch family who tried to eek out a living there but it was an unprofitable enterprise like most of those Dad engaged in other than his medical practice, especially investing in mines. He lost many thousands of dollars in them. He was a dreamer and became an easy mark for con artists and a few sincere miners who truly hoped to get rich. He left dozens of worthless stock certificates and a few we realized a few hundred dollars from. It was because Dad was an eternal optimist which is usually a desirable characteristic. He was one of the finest, most honest, and sincerely religious men I ever knew. He had a gigantic heart and did free medical work for hundreds including all the Indians in that area. Many took advantage of him but I’m sure he is now receiving his reward. I loved both my parents, very, very much. As is customary, I didn’t appreciate them as much as I should have when I was young, but did always try to honor them and let them know I loved them. However, I was sometimes weak and did things they wouldn’t have approved.

                As a youth I felt satisfaction and security in the good name, accomplishments, and reputation of my father and mother. “Dad” was well known for his kindness and integrity as well as his professional skill. It was always a pleasure to have him ask me to go on a call with him to Monroe, Elsinore or a town even as far away as Marysvale which included a beautiful canyon drive. I enjoyed these long rides on the gravel and dirt roads of the 1920s. He often spoke of his early days on the farm in Vermilion or his struggles in getting an education. At other times he emphasized spiritual values and some of his uplifting experiences which were so dear to him. These were for my edification but were not couched as preachments but warm communication with a son he hoped would profit as well as be entertained. Even in his later years he was known as the one “country doctor” who would make urgent distant house calls and deliver babies day or night. I remember times he got little or no sleep and his dashing home just as we were preparing or eating breakfast. He would say, “I’ll be with you in a moment for family prayers.”  Then he would get cleaned up, pray, enjoy a hearty but hurried breakfast and go to his office in the Richfield Commercial Bank Building or start on another round of calls. He served many families of patients for years without earthly remuneration. Occasionally after a long confinement (O.B.) Case he would return with a leg of lamb or a ham from someone who wanted to make a token payment. Mother would keep his books, send out statements to those he felt could afford to pay, and take his calls at home while his receptionist-nurse worked at the office. Our sweet little mother was a tremendous support not only to him but all seven of her children whom she wanted so to achieve. She had considerable personal charm and was our greatest fan. She excelled in any social situation, was a good oral reader, and gave several book reviews to her Study Club and other groups. Unfortunately her natural vitality, talent, and executive capabilities were curbed by many surgeries and illnesses.

                Some of my fondest family memories were in Fish Lake where we had a rustic but very picturesque mountain cabin. What fund we had with Ashmans and other family  friends; especially with each other. Dad couldn’t get away very often, but even those few days in the summer were very special. He instilled in me a love of nature, fishing, hunting, and sports in general.

                The only longer trip going out of the state for the firs time (other than family reunions in Preston, Idaho n the farm of Grandfather and Grandmother Eames) was to California. The younger children were left in the care of our mature and dependable “hired girl,” Lorna, while Ora and I drove with “the folks” to southern California. The boat trip to Catalina Island was a memorable highlight.

                Like many young people of today, I had a love affair with cars and could scarcely wait to get a driver’s license. In fact in a few cases I couldn’t. Once when I took the family car, a 1928 light green Chrysler in that case, for an exciting (rest of the page is cut off). as I returned. He didn’t say a word, but his look spoke volumes. Ora, seven years my senior, wasn’t as adventuresome as I was and Dad seemed to want to please his eldest son and himself by teaching him to drive a bit early but that was supposed to be under his direct supervision. Once the age barrier was attained, I drove the family two-seater most of the time. Dad usually drove his couple. Neither Mother nor Ora felt comfortable behind the wheel. This was a bit of good fortune for me because cars were still somewhat of a novelty in those days which made the experience more exciting. (When I first enrolled at BYU in 1933, only one student had his own car, Spencer Grow.) My first long drive was to Provo to take Ora to school. She usually went by train since Dad was the Central Utah doctor for the D&RG and could get any of us a free pass. My  first train ride to Salt Lake City was also a thrill, as was the city itself.

                As I look back upon my Richfield High School days where I had the most, the closest, and warmest friends of my life, I nostalgically remember with fondness the many schools, music, dramatic, and social activities, pleasant family relations and a lot of carefree fun. But with it all my parents taught me to work and take responsibility. I took my turn washing dishes, scrubbing the kitchen floor on my knees with a scrubbing brush, planting and weeding the garden (Mother had a beautiful flower garden too and the lot was professionally landscaped), watered, and mowed the lawn. The most demanding chores every night and morning were taking care of the cows and other livestock at the corral across the street and one-half block north of our home. After milking and feeding, I had to strain the milk and put it in milk cans for the creamery to pick up. I also had customers to deliver a quart or two to such as Grandmother and Grandmother Gledhill who lived across from the corral and Aunt Ida and Aunt Millie who lived on the corner south of the corral. Aunt Milie and Uncle Ern ran a little convenience grocery store there.

                During all this growing up period, in addition to school, chores, and fun with friends, I was active in church which has always been so important in my life. Looking back honestly, however I realize I didn’t have the maturity to appreciate it as much as I do now, but in my turn I was president of the deacons and the teachers quorum, secretary of the priests (not president until I became a bishop) and participate d(Mother sat to that) in all the road shows, storytelling contests, and ward and stake plays. I am and will forever be grateful for my heritage and am still impressed by the example of faithfulness, testimony, and service of my father and mother. They never complained but sacrificed much for their family and church.  That was their happiness. All three of their sons served missions and I know what a struggle it was in those Depression years. So many people just didn’t pay their doctor bills, but they had faith in the Lord and His work and solutions always came.

Some Faith Promoting Incidents

                Chronologically, the first faith promoting incident in my life dealt with the circumstances relating to my birth, cited earlier, even though that had to do with the faith and prayers of my parents. The second was when I was a two or three-year-old toddler. Dad was in the Second Ward Bishopric at that time. He and Mother were at a church social that evening and had left me with a babysitter. (They had apparently not trusted my older sister Ora.) While dancing with Mother, Dad had a strong impression that something was wrong at home and that they should return. He first dismissed it as his imagination but a few minutes later an even stronger impression, almost as if it were an audible voice, told him to go home and check on the baby. When he told Mother she too knew something was wrong and they left immediately. It was not goo soon for my sitter had gone to sleep and I had got out of bed and had managed to get outside. It was a bitterly cold winter’s night with snow on the ground. I had apparently been crying and searching for my parents. It was so cold I became sleepy and lay down on the snow and went to sleep. My parents’ providential arrival saved me from freezing to death.

                In those days one couldn’t become a scout until he was 12. However, in 1926, when I was eleven, I cajoled my parents and the scout master, Roy Chidister, into permitting me to go up Fish Creek in Clear Creek Canyon on the annual boy scout hike. Roy Chidister, an electrician, was a long time friend of the family. He had great hopes and dreams of profiting from his wealth of information about nature. He was a Jack-of-all-trades and had multiple interests. A remarkable, self-taught individual. He was a good clarinetist and a few years after this incident we played clarinet duets together. The above boy scout camp had been used by his troupe for several years. It was a lovely, isolated spot among the quaking aspens which few people knew about or would go to the bother of reaching because of its inaccessibility. A truck took us as far as the road went and then we put our bed rolls (there were no commercial sleeping bags in those days) and food boxes in a primitive handcart or two and went the remaining six or eight miles to our camp on foot pulling the carts. We purposefully were told to wear old shoes we did not care about getting wet for we had to ford the stream 40 times pulling our hand carts before reaching our destination. At my tender age it was a real adventure. We were gone from home three weeks which was by far the longest I had ever been away from home. We made our camps in the center of four trees. Cross poles were wired to these trees and additional poles laid across them to create a bowery shelter of about 8x10 feet and some much larger. Then with our hatchets we cut low handing pine bows and laid them on top to provide a “soft mattress” upon which to pitch our pup tents and to sleep upon. Underneath we had a shelter from the rain and a place for a primitive table and shelves to organize our supplies on. Some of just used our grub boxes to eat our meals on. Roy insisted everyone have a clean, interesting, and imaginative camp. Our ropes often doubled as fences and clotheslines. We fished, hiked, studied scouting, had contests, and fun games. On one of our major hikes up a high, precipitous mountain we found an old water flute or aqueduct which we found a challenge to walk along. I stepped on a loose or rotted board and fell off the flue down the steep mountain. The initial fall was down a 12-15 foot ledge and from there I went tumbling down the mountain a hundred or more feet. When I first stopped, I was so dazed by the unexpected fall that the only thing I could think of was that I had lost my hat and had better go back for it. I returned a few dizzy steps but couldn’t maintain my equilibrium and fell further down the mountain, another hundred plus feet, when I finally came to rest. There I lay semiconscious for several minutes until the rest of the scouts and Roy could work their way down the dangerous incline to rescue me. Since I was immobile, they said they thought I was dead, had a broken neck, back or leg. Seeing me  roll down that far over the vertical cliffs and landing on rocks they felt there was no way I could survive. I was a bloody mess but was still rational enough to community with them a little bit. My first words were, “Please, someone, get my hat.”  Brother Chidister was an expert at first aid who specialized in mother nature’s remedies. He examined me and could discover no broken bones which he said was a real miracle. He had the scouts make a stretcher upon which they placed me and carried me all the way back to camp. That was an excruciatingly painful trip. I was stunned into numbness by the fall but my sprains, bruises, and abrasions were now coming to full sensitivity. My companions testified I was rolled up in a ball much of the time during the fall. My verification of this was that I was skinned only all over my face and head and down my back to my heels. As soon as we got back to camp, Roy sent the scouts out to get a big supply of pine salve from the blisters of balsam pines, which he carefully spread over all my abrasions. I was made a bed in the biggest handcart and placed in Roy’s camp under his bowery. I was down a day or two before I discovered I could walk. I stayed close to camp for the remaining week and my cuts scabbed over and healed amazingly fast. When I returned home (there had been no way of course to communicate from those wilds until the man assigned to pick us up at the end of the road was scheduled to meet us). I knocked on our back door window glass to attract the notice of Mother who was working in the kitchen. When she saw her boy’s face, which was almost a solid scar, she screamed. After she and the rest of the family heard the whole story they realized I had an amazing escape from serious disaster and was grateful.

                I will mention one more of my narrow escapes which took place during my high school days while driving my friends up to Fish Lake Lodge to attend a dance. In those days the Fish Lake mountain road (a dugway) was of dirt, so narrow that usually there was not enough room for two cars to pass, and it had many sharp, dangerous curves. I had just negotiated one of these blind curves when I met an oncoming car in my same tracks. On my right was the steep dugway with a drop of two or three hundred feet down the mountain. There was no time to think; I instinctively swerved the car to the right to avoid the head-on collision with the approaching car. Then it was as if I had blacked out and an unseen force took over the steering wheel, for although we started over the edge of the dugway road and seemingly were headed down the precipice, through some unexplainable and miraculous way my car not only dodged the oncoming car but righted itself back on the road after giving its six occupants an unforgettable thrill and fright as the car seemed to be sustained itself only by its left wheels. We continued our way very soberly as I explained to my friends that I consciously had nothing to do with that escape. I have known ever since that my guardian angel was riding with me that day. He has also saved my life on other occasions since that time. Later, when reading the last phrase of the last verse of the first chapter in the Book of Mormon, I knew I was a recipient, worthy or not, of the Lord’s “power of deliverance.”

                After graduating from Richfield High School in 1933 I entered Brigham Young University that Fall. I had never had any craving to follow my father’s footsteps in medicine but I had enjoyed high school chemistry and got an “A” in it and algebra so I thought I’d give a go at good solid college chemistry just to see if I could cut it. I took it from Prof. Joseph Nichols who was a good, considerate teacher, but very demanding. I had never worked so hard in my life academically in a class. Most of the other students in there had had trigonometry and more advanced math courses than I, so when I could only get at B+ in there, after a good try, I decided that wasn’t my “bag.”  As a freshman, I also took drama and liked and did well in it. That first year I had the excellent role of Lt. Raleigh in “Journey’s End.”  I also played in the Hindu drama called “The Little Clay Cart.”  I got acquainted with T. Earl and Kathryn B. Pardoe and eventually became a good student-friend. This warm association lasted until Dr. Pardoe’s death and will last with Lady Kathryn as long as she or I live. (Now in August of 1983, as I retype this, we have both had our problems this summer, but I just talked to her on the phone and she is better than she was three weeks ago when she could scarcely talk to us. She is 91, blind, and bedfast.) They were always very friendly, supportive, and helpful to me and it was solely through them that I came to teach at BYU much later in 1947.

                I got a part-time job as a paid stage hand, first at 20¢, then at 25¢ per hour. (After my mission in 1938, it was raised to 30¢.) During my sophomore year I played the lead in Coquette” and my first Shakespearian play “The Comedy of Errors,” and also in “A Merchant of Venice.”  That year I was asked to join the national honorary dramatic fraternity, Theta Alpha Phi, and the male social unit, The Vikings. This gave me a circle of close friends and associates which added much to my school days. I had also decided, at least tentatively, to become a speech major.

                During my sophomore year I joined the Utah National Guard. The 145th Field Artillery was still horse-drawn prior to World War II in the 1930s. My motivation frankly was to get an extra dollar a week for walking downtown and drilling for two hours. I was a medic with the Old Provo Battery F. I was released when I was called on a foreign mission.

                My best friends that freshman and sophomore period were Margaret Boyer, Lyman Partridge, Joe Crane, Virginia Ekins, Clif Boyack, Lorna Wentz, Leola Green, Bill Hasler, Norma Pardoe, Margaret Bird, Norm Freestone, Guy Callahan, Alice Spencer, Beth Paxman, Allen Sorensen, Roy Broadbent, Ariel Davis, Webster Decker, Helen Young, Salt Merrill, Jay Nelson, Kay Hammond, Jack Davies, Tom Peterson, Phil Christensen, George Stoddard, Gilbert Tolhurst, Sherman Wing, Joe Dean, Albert Swenson, Rex Thomas, Helen Harris, carol Bennett, Nadine Taylor, Pearl Callis, Hazel Anderson, Alice and Florence Todd, Ruth Stevens, Afton Hodson, Jennie Romney, and Jessie Kay Magnum. Mae, Maza and Fern Christensen and Anna Lou Peterson were also at the Y.

                My first roommate was Floyd Cornaby. He was teaching his first year at Farrer Junior High. This 6'5" artist was also an excellent dancer who did exhibitions, i.e., various kinds of solo dances in costume. He and Beth Paxman also did duets. He was interesting to associate with as well as talented. We lived at 47 North 400 East at Josh Hodson’s where we boarded. They were  a second family to me and Floyd was like an older brother. Josh died before our second year. Later two others, Gabe Nelson and Neil Peterson, moved in the other bedroom upstairs. Toward spring of my sophomore year their upstairs caught fire and we were forced to move. Neil and I became roommates. Gabe also lived in our new house on 500 North 200 East. It was closer to school and these fellows were older returned missionaries, but we had a lot of fun together. I had one other memorable roommate, Leonard Rice, in 1938-39 after I returned from my mission and lived at Allen Hall, then a new men’s dorm. Leonard was a returned missionary also and more mature and brilliant. He majored in English, later taught here and eventually became a college president in the East. We were very surprised when he married a Provo nonmember (Ruth). We were also deeply disappointed when we found that he had later left the church. We hit it off very well together as I had with my other college roomies.

                Some of the professors I remember well at the Y besides those mentioned already like the Pardoes, Nicholes, and Bobby Sauer were Effie Warnick, Aline Smith, Chick Hart, William Boyle, Guy C. Wilson, Franklin and Florence J. Madsen, LeRoy Robertson, Golden Woolfe, P. A. Christensen, George H. Hansen, Karl Miller, Bertrand Harrison, Buck Dixon, O. Meredith Wilson, John C. Swenson, Joseph Sudweeks, F. F. Larsen, Anna Ollerton, Harrison R. Merrill, Elmer Miller, Wayne B. Hales, B. F. Cummings, Ernest Young, Karl Young, Edgar M. Jenson, A. Rex Johnson (Dean of Men), Russell Swenson, Vasco Tanner, Gustave Buggert, William F. Hanson, Edward Rowe, Mr. William J. Snow (historian and father of my friend Claude who was killed in Italy during the War), L. Weston Oaks, Wilford D. Lee, L. L. Cullimore, M. Wilford Poulson, Thomas L. Martin, Grace Nixon Steward, Sidney B. Sperry, and three I knew only by sight and reputation since I had no personal association with them: G. Ott Romney, Alice L. Reynolds, and Alfred Osmond. My undergraduate work at the Y was under the administration of Franklin S. Harris. Dean of Arts was Gerrit de Jong who was still Dean when I was later hired. Keifer B. Sauls and John E. Hayes were key university officials I knew and have known for more than 40 years. Hayes accompanied me on one of my European tours. During my last years at the Y, I became acquainted with these faculty members: Ralph Britsch, Ariel S. Ballif, Thomas L. Broadbent, Loren C. Bryner, Elsie Carroll, Dean Harald R. Clark (I later was his bishop), Evan Croft, Newburn I. But, A. John Clarke, James R. Clark, Christen Jensen, Ed and Rod Kimball, Harold W. Lee, Wesley P. Lloyd, Alonzo J. Morley, Amos N. Merrill, Oliver R. Smith, and J. Weldon Taylor. I was actually acquainted with many more. During those years when BYU was small and when I first joined the staff in 1947, I knew the names of almost all the faculty. I don’t know nearly as many today.

                I had always wanted to go on a mission so it was a deep thrill when in April of 1935 I received a call from President Grant to the French Mission. I immediately began to take my French more seriously. At the end of the Spring quarter I got sick and missed my final exam in French and the professor didn’t’ hear of my reason for missing it until after he had given me a “D” for that quarter’s work which is the only “D” I ever received before or since. I’m glad to be able to redeem that by noting that in all the upper division French classes, after I returned and in graduate school, I received “A’s.”  My B.A. was for a double major in Speech and French; my M.A. was in Roman Languages (really French Literature) with a minor in Speech, and my Ph.D. was a major in Speech with a minor in French.

                On June 13, 1935, I was given a farewell testimonial in the Stake Tabernacle which included a program followed by a dance which was rather common at that time. It was a very exciting time to plan to go abroad to preach the gospel. The next week on June 17, I entered the mission home in Salt Lake along with about 124 other missionaries including my cousin Clifford. The ten days there was a period of great inspiration and learning. The general authority who impressed me most was Elder David O. McKay. When he shook my hand and chatted briefly with me he seemed to penetrate the depths of my soul. It was a moment I won’t forget. It was a privilege to be set apart as an official Elder for the Church by one of the greatest spiritual giants and orators of the Lord’s Latter-day Kingdom, Elder Melvin J. Ballard on June 26, 1935. I’ll append to this brief personal history a copy of his blessing.

                We crossed the continent by train on the Los Angeles Limited which was a novelty for all of us. My first sightseeing of a big city was in Chicago where we had a 6-8 hour layover. Since we had been sleeping in our clothes for a couple of days, we decided to get a room in what was then the world’s largest hotel, the Stevens, for two hours to bathe, rest briefly and then take a short tour of the city. At noon on the 30th we arrived in Buffalo, New York. We spent the afternoon at the magnificent Niagra Falls, my first time in Canada. July 1st in New York. Spent the day sightseeing New York City under the guidance of Kirk Stephons whom I knew at the Y at Allen Hall. It was exhilarating to see Broadway for the first time, Radio City, Wall Street, New York Harbor, and St. Johns. I saw my first professional Broadway show that night. The next day was with Aunt Ruby (Mother’s sister-in-law) who took me to Radio City Music Hall (saw the Rockettes and Grace Moore). Then she bought me a delicious dinner after which we toured Riverside Drive and George Washington Bridge. That evening I was with the other missionaries at Coney Island. There were 24 missionaries traveling to Europe together. We sailed on July 3rd on the S.S. Washington of the U.S. Lines. There were four French missionaries: Bates, Barton, Claude Robbins, and myself. We bunked together. That was the beginning of a close and long relationship with Don Barton, now a French teacher at the University of Utah who also returned as President of the Belgium Mission. He returned with me on the same U.S. Lines’ sister ship, the S.S. Manhattan, 40 months later after we had gone to school together in Paris for eight months and had done a lot of traveling together. We, country boys for the most part, took enthusiastically to this shipboard luxury where we ate all we could five times a day. Most of us had just enough seasickness at one time or another to experience what it was without letting it mar our trip. I lost no meals. Naturally we did some studying and held some meetings on board. The crossing took eight days. It was a thrill to land at Le Havre and hear the longshoremen speaking French. We wondered if we would ever be able to understand them. Some of us had had some French in school but none in the mission home. The L.T.M. was still many years away. (I am glad at least my son Michael got in on that.)

                Our first mission president, Daniel J. Lang, met us at the Paris station, got us through customs, showed us a bit of Paris, and took us to the Mission Home. That night we went to Bob Allen’s home, founder of Allen’s Photo of Provo, for dinner. I was informed that my first assignment was to help reopen the little branch in the mountains watchmaking center, La Chaux de Fonds, Switzerland. Elder Bates and Barton also went to Switzerland so we took the train together the following day. We were met in Neuchatel by my first companion, George Meredith, and Jim Condie, an older and distinguished elder from Preston, Idaho who translated my first mission talk into French which I gave that first Sunday. They introduced us to missionary life, the French language, and the wonderful Swiss people and their beautiful country. (My love affair with Switzerland has lasted to this day after about fifteen return visits over 40 years. We will get back there again this summer of 1977.) Frere Meredity and I mainly hitchhiked to my first field of labor on July 15, a city of 37,000 called “Chaudy” by the missionaries. After about three or four days of tracting, visiting members, study, and general missionary orientation in Neuchatel we were fortunate to find a boarding house in our own city, Chez Robert at 9 Rue Neuve. After being gone from home four weeks, it was great to get unpacked. A couple of days later our District President McKinnon came to visit and live with us for a few days. He was my ideal missionary. He helped us with French and many things. We hitchhiked to Le Locle to see the president of the branch. Frere Schutz. He has a charming and intelligent family. That night I attended my first Relief Society which was to become a weekly occupance. I even played the old pump organ for them. It was a weird assortment of dear sisters with various infirmities, but I grew to love them. The first family of saints consisted of a 93-year-old brother with one eye and almost deaf. He was bedfast and just skin and bones. He asked for an administration so I had the opportunity of giving my first blessing. He and his old wife lived in the garret of this ancient, decaying building. The next family was also a horrible sight because of the poverty and dirt. The parents had about a dozen children, all shoeless, very filthy, and the odor was obnoxious. We had other peculiar “saints” in that branch, many of whom were really not converted. Among three of the faithful ones, two were cripples and the only regular attending priesthood holder was an epileptic who had rather frequent seizures. We spent half of each day tracting with few results and no baptisms, but our main charge was to reactivate the members and help establish a better esprit de corps, which with the help of President Schutz we did. Part of the day and almost every evening we worked with the members. Frere Meredith didn’t want to work too hard so I also had a good amount of time to study French and the gospel, so it was a good training period. We also spent many hours hunting up old contacts and lost members. We had to clean La Salle (Le Local), the glass water cups, etc.  I also on my time off practiced the organ to be able to play the hymns confidently. The organ wasn’t easy to get any sound from. One of those first Sundays I had a very painful time trying to get through the three sharps in “Scatter Sunshine.”

                In addition to the outstanding Schutz family, people I remember from “Chaudy” are Sis. Neuenschwander, the Rabus (one crippled, one an epileptic) Sis. Droz, Huguenin, Bosso. Walter, and Hadorn. They were all very kind even though some were eccentric. The first named was President Schutz’ sister and an ideal in manners, spirit, and beautiful French diction.

                Routine missionary work was broken up with conferences at Neuchatel, Lausanne, and Geneva. On December 21, 1935, we went on assignment to Besancon, France to visit the members there since they had no missionaries and to help them have a Christmas celebration. The few members received us warmly. Back on the 23rd for our own branch party and 16 pieces of mail. Spent that first Christmas with the Schutz family and went skiing there one and only time of my life. That winter we had snow piled up so high on the sides of the streets you couldn’t see people on the other side of the street. I saw young boys ski right inside a store.

                After six months and three days I was transferred to Neuchatel. New companion was Boyd Van Noy. Others there were Ralph McMurdie and Don Barton who had been there with Jim Condie but now was moved to Paris. A bigger branch and some charming and very active families. Sis. Mattey was special. She translated my patriarchal blessing and Elder Ballard’s blessing when he set me apart. Other special ones were the Rivas, Merons, Bonnys, and the exceptional B.P. and his wife, the Simonds. (Visited with them twice in later years as he became assistant to the president of the Swiss Temple.) We still divided our time between tracting and visiting members and still no baptisms.

                June 15, 1936 I was transferred to beautiful Geneva. L. Edward Perry of Salt Lake was my new companion, the most capable and “sympathique” thus far. We were a foursome living with Rudger Jones and Ray Reeder. It has always since been one of my favorite cities of Europe. The members covered a broader spectrum. We still had the very humble but also had Sis. Penny who was the mayor’s wife, a French aristocrat. Sis. Charlet and one or two others worked for the League of Nations. They were very charming, lovable, and faithful people. Sis. Penny took us in the royal box to more than one gala event at the Kursal where we watched some top international performers.

                After 15 months of pleasant work in clean, attractive Switzerland, I was called to Liege, Belgium to be a senior elder to Nathan Allen (Roosevelt, Utah) and become president (superintendent) of the Mission M.I.A.  Belgium was not nearly as pretty as Switzerland but its members there in Liege where the mission headquarters now were, were friendly, much more numerous and capable and missionary work was more fruitful. It was the first time I had been able to attend church in a chapel. It was rewarding to invite investigators to our building. President Octave Ursenbach was humble and easy to work with. His charming wife and two daughters, Ruth and Jolene, were a boost to mission morale. I worked with Ruth who was also a missionary in compiling courses and plans for the mission M.I.A.  I was mission president of the YMMIA. Traveled to Switzerland, etc., with President Ursenbach. Here I got acquainted with the Lahon and other fine families. Flore Lahon married Gaston Chapuis of Switzerland and moved to Utah where former French missionary Gaston became Utah state handball champ. One of the finest and most intelligent families was the widow Aurore Horbach and her charming small daughters Raymond and Jeanne. Sis. H. was the best French teacher I had and was one of the few I continued to correspond with.

                As suggested, Belgium was more productive in missionary work and we finally baptized a few. Switzerland had initiated me well into the study of the gospel and had advanced my testimony and taught me the basics of French so I could express myself. The last year of my mission in Belgium I was in a condition to be a much more profitable servant.

                After six months in Liege I was transferred to Herstal about six miles away. We still had to come in to Liege once a week for our public baths. A private bath was something we never enjoyed on our missions at that period. Since I still had to do mission business in the office, we often spent most of our Saturdays there. There were more wonderful people in Herstal. We boarded with Mme. LaFleur who was warm and friendly. She fed us a lot of potatoes and other vegetables (the best choux-fleur!) but little meat. One day the old cat disappeared. She said we were having rabbit for a treat, but those bones were much too round for a rabbit. My first companion in Herstal was a Swiss-German from Biel, Edward Dallenbach. The last one was Ben L. Whiting of Wallsburg, Utah. Most of the language training came from the senior companions. I did try to be very conscientious in training my juniors.

                The big event at Herstal and a climactic highlight of my mission was as senior elder in the area to prepare the missionaries, the members, and all the investigators we had contacted at that time or could contact for the visit of President Heber J. Grant. This was to be the first time a living prophet of the church was to dedicate a European chapel. We missionaries also helped complete the building. There was a lot of excitement when President Grant arrived with President Hugh B. Brown of the British Mission, President Richard R. Lyman of the European Mission, who knew my father and had stayed in our home, and Joseph Anderson, the prophet’s secretary. We were elated with the honor and it was very good for our missionary work. More than 200 people crowded into the chapel for the dedication which was beyond capacity.

                Baptisms were hard to come by in the French Mission at this time. Perhaps because of the time or the techniques or the weaknesses of the missionaries themselves or perhaps it was the people, but conversions were slow and infrequent. Here in Herstal, my last mission assignment, we had our most success. At our May conference (15th and 16th) 1937 of the 21 baptisms in the district, 15 of them were from Herstal. Many of them were old and infirm. It took faith to put them in the water, especially Bros. Pincens and Schmetz, the father of Sister Schmetz, and of course dear old Sis. Dufont who had waited so long and had such great love and devotion. She thought of me as her son or grandson so I spent many hours with her. She couldn’t do enough for me. At any rate, it was a special pleasure to baptize her and Sister Peters and Sister Sabine. Other fine converts were Soeur Catherine, Sis. Peters, and Sis. Sabine. Also, Sis. Degueldre and Sis. Marechal (our landlady) of Liege.

La Sorbonne

                Donald K. Barton and I received permission from President Ursenbach and those above him to stay on in Europe and study at the University of Paris. In order to do this we were released a few weeks early in order to begin the new semester which commenced November 1, 1937. We eventually found a nice pension in the Latin Quarter where we could easily walk to school. We had students of several nationalities there (more Yugoslavs than any other) but it proved an educational experience in its own right, partly because our Madame spoke impeccable French and was knowledgeable in many areas. She led us in serious discussions which were much more important than the usual table trivia. We had two meals there in the flat at No. 4, Rue Rollin (part of the big building where the French author Bernardin de St. Pierre was born in the 19th century) and bought the other meal at a little nearby restaurant.

                We took a two-semester course in French Civilization which included various French Literature courses, History, French Art, Philosophy, etc. at La Sorbonne which is the famous school of arts and letters of the University of Paris. (It was really a graduate school and we were supposed to have a bachelor’s degree to be admitted, but we managed nevertheless.) French History was my most difficult subject. We had both oral and written exams (three hour ones in each subject). I did well in all my oral exams except French History and the short gray bearded professor quizzed me in a couple of areas where I was somewhat confused. All my written exams were satisfactory so I received not only the “Normal Degree” but “Le Degre  Supe rieur” which gave me two diplomas from the University. One semester I also attended the National Institute of Phonetics to improve my understanding and practice of the language. After I finished that course it was a shame I couldn’t have begun my mission all over again since I was then so  much better prepared.

                Back in those times we were officially released by the mission president and could participate in normal social activities. We kept good and active in the Paris Branch, but we also had a change of pace by dating some of the girlfriends we became acquainted with in our classes. Any dances or big social events required formal dress, so Don and I each got our first tuxedo (possibly a used one) for a New Years evening gala event. I dated an Eastern American girl that night, but the most interesting friend I made was a Tokyo banker’s daughter. We had neither the time nor the money to go out very often. This was still in the Depression years and it was hard for my father to send me $75 to $100 per month, but will always be grateful. (Some months in Belgium I got by for as little as $30 per month.) This was a very profitable year and gave me cultural background and interests which have enriched my life ever since. I was able to transfer some of that credit back to BYU so upon my return I was able to graduate from the Y with a double major in Speech and Drama and French in three years instead of four.

                Dr. T. Earl Pardoe, head of BYU Theater since 1921 (he and his charming wife Kathryn always treated me like a son) came to Paris as I finished school. It was good to show him around Paris and Belgium. In Ghent I attended the International Congress of Phonetics with him. His main justification for coming over was to deliver a paper there on his Ph.D. research on the American Negro dialect. It was good to hear and get acquainted with some of the world’s foremost authorities such as Daniel Jones of Great Britain. Dr. Pardoe made himself at home in any company, no matter what their status, and held his own extremely well. For a week he traveled with Rudger Jones in Italy and other places where Don and I spent three weeks during our Easter vacation from school. Then we all met in Vienna. I went on to England with Dr. Pardoe where after seeing some plays in London we spent a fortnight at Stratford-Upon-Avon where his father was born to attend the Shakespearian Festival. We saw all eight plays in their repertoire that year. The most memorable one was a novel and colorful production by the Russian director Komissarshevsky of “The Comedy of Errors” which Dr. Pardoe had directed me in the year before I left upon my mission. Pardoe, Jones, Barton and I all sailed home from Southampton on the S.S. Washington which was the sister ship of  the American Lines S.S. Constitution which Don and I first came over on.

                It was a great and emotional reunion to meet the family again after almost 3½ years. I was in Richfield only a week or ten days which included only one Sunday which was stake conference at which I spoke briefly, but I didn’t really have a formal homecoming talk in the ward as was the custom, although I did speak at Christmas time. I was aware of big changes in the family especially Ilah Dean and David. Utahna was going to Utah State and Evelyn started at the Y as I returned in ‘38. Mother’s health started to get a little worse about that time, too. So after a short stay at home I went back to the Y for my senior year. My main professional project was to read my play “If I Were King” (impersonate all the roles from memory). It was in this senior play reading class that I first met a certain Isabelle Romney. At the beginning of the year I was in a play “We Are Seven” in which I played the lead opposite Helen Clark in whom I became interested temporarily. This had happened twice before in high school when I became infatuated with my leading lady as previously mentioned. Well, fortunately the last play of the year was “You Can’t Take It With You” starring Dr. Pardoe as Grandpa and featuring others such as Dean de Jong, Arthur Gaeth (who became a famous national broadcaster and was the first president of the Czechoslovakian Mission), and Lafe Terry, a former professional actor. Then there were Isabelle Romney and Preston Gledhill who played the romantic leads. The Pardoes claim this was specially planned. (Just before my mission I played opposite their daughter, Norma, and the same thing happened, but she got married while I was on my mission to her old boyfriend whom she later divorced, and then remarried, ironically, a former president of the French Mission, Duane Anderson. A few minutes ago as I was retyping this manuscript she called me to tell me that her mother was 91 yesterday and that she was better than when we saw her a month ago and can sit up a little bit again.) With Isabelle it was the real thing and for good. I lived at the boys’ dorm, Allan Hall, (her half-brother Rulon was there, too) and Isabelle lived in the girls’ dorm on the opposite side of the block. It was an interesting and quick romance. I jokingly asked her to marry me before I had a formal date with her. Our first big date was the Delta Phi formal in Salt Lake. The folks were up for general conference since Dad was in the stake presidency. That once was the only time we dated in a car before we were married. (It is factual that earlier in the year we had gone to a dance together in the Women’s Gym but nothing consequential happened as it did during the play and on that memorable date to Salt Lake.)

                We decided there was no use waiting so we made and executed plans to get married on June 7, 1939, also our commencement day. I never had met her folks who lived in Colonia Juarez, Chihuahua, Mexico. They could come up for one big event but not for two so we made it a doubleheader. We received our diplomas that morning at the Provo Stake Tabernacle and since we had both received our endowment, went to Salt Lake where we were sealed by President Chipman of the Salt Lake Temple that afternoon. There was a small family open house at one of Isabelle’s uncles that evening in Salt Lake. After this, her parents went back to Mexico and my Dad took us to our honeymoon mountain cottage in Wildwood in Provo Canyon. It was generously loaned to us by a mutual friend and drama major and member of our play reading class, Fae Clark. It was an idyllic spot to relax after our hectic spring courtship and graduation. By the time Dad got us up in Provo Canyon to our honeymoon cabin he was too tired to drive on to Richfield so we had him sleep on the couch in the front room. It is a good thing Mother had purchased us a box of groceries for we hadn’t given any thought to such mundane things as food and there we would have been and were without a store or a car. The bliss of our honeymoon went unabated despite some minor pranks by the Bricker social unit who was sojourning at Bricker Haven.

                We hitchhiked our belongings back down to Provo where we had rented our first apartment at Isaac Brockbank’s on 500 North just off University Avenue west. I went to summer school to pursue my teaching certificate while Isabelle set up her first experience at housekeeping in 100+ heat in the upstairs southwest part of the house. The second summer session we spent at Aspen Grove where it was much cooler and more enchanting. In order to afford the pleasant Wakefield cabin, we shared it with Floyd Cornaby, my former freshman year roommate, who taught art there. We had no hot water but sometimes the sun took the chill off the water pipes outside to make the shower bearable. Then came the dreaded separation. Isabelle had signed a contract with Juarez Stake Academy before our engagement to teach there and I had received a fellowship at Louisiana State University where I could work toward my M.A. degree. I earned it in French Literature with my thesis on the social ideas in the 37 plays of Eugene Brieux. In addition I got a minor in Speech as I concentrated on the science of phonetics under the tutelage of Dr. Claud M. Wise, America’s foremost phonetician, which proved very valuable to me during the balance of my teaching career as I became the expert in phonetics during my long career at BYU. One my way to Baton Rouge I accompanied Isabelle to her home and my introduction to Mexico. We went over the poor dirt road with her father and brother Gaskell. The car got stuck, then broke down. We finally were hauled behind a blaring sound truck and arrived in Juarez after midnight where there was no electricity. We were covered with dust, so we took a bath in seemingly “muddy” water. After a week of getting acquainted with the Romneys, their orchards, mountains, and picnic areas I was on my way lone to Baton Rouge. I was wearing my wool green sports jacket and carrying all my luggage for the year up to the Maison Francaise (which was a replica of a French castle). I was wringing wet, but soon met our charming Creole French speaking Madame who was the manager of the language center. I also met my Cajun roommate Pierre Drouet. He was a good catholic and very pleasant and easy to live with. He even knelt down beside his bed to say his prayers as I did. We spoke only French at our meals in our beautiful dining hall. I was leader of our particular table. I got a touch of the old South with all of our colored servants and waiters, grits, bacon, and eggs. It was a good educational experience even though a very lonely year for us. I was able to work long and hard to get the degree all finished in the two semesters. The small branch was a happy respite on Sundays. I was able to go to El Paso (again by bus) for a wonderful Christmas and reunion with my wife and a fun visit with Eloise and LaVon including an interesting visit or two to Ciudad Juarez. We had another glorious get together when Isabelle came down to Baton Rouge and stayed with me at the French House during Easter vacation. Her happy visit included a trip to the antebellum South in Natchez, Mississippi where we visited all of the old southern mansions. It was another difficult parting but the last one before I returned to Mexico in June after terminating my work at L.S.U.

                Then we went to Richfield where we rented a nice little house for $25 a month. I worked at Safeway Stores for 40¢ an hour. My folks provided us with a lot of fruit, vegetables, and other things that first year of my teaching. I taught speech and English and directed some plays at Richfield High School. My first year’s salary, after receiving my M.A., was the princely sum of $1,100. I was offered $1,450 at Madison High School the next year so we trecked north. At RHS I had my youngest sister Ilah Dean in two plays. At the state, or “The Rocky Mountain” Drama Festival at BYU she won the best character actress in my contest play, “The Singapore Spider,” which also received an excellent rating. The first full length play I ever directed was “The American Way” there at RHS. (See the appendix for a full list of productions directed.)

                The most momentous event as well as the most traumatic occurred on May 22, 1941 when our first son was born. Isabelle couldn’t dilate properly probably because of a case of rickets as a child and the eight-hour difficult forceps delivery by my father made the choice of sacrificing the baby to save the mother an obvious but sorrowful one. Dad said it had been his hardest delivery in several decades of practice. The baby, which weighted ten pounds, was buried in the folks’ family plot where Mother and Father also rest at the time of this writing. He was handsome and an active child prior to and during the first part of the birth process. Technically it was a still birth but President Joseph Fielding Smith said it is likely that we may have the opportunity of rearing him after the resurrection. We named him Preston Romney on our family pedigree chart.

                Rexburg was my most rewarding teaching experience as far as close relationship with my students is concerned. I had an exceptional group such as David (Bud) Davis, Ted Siddoway, Quinton Klinger, et al who were brilliant and very devoted to their instructor. Other close Rexburg students were Annette Craven, Faunda Ree Nelson, Doug Kerr, Leah Belle Davidson, Marian Heileson, Janet Bitter, Margie Williams, Marian Heileson, Bob Young, Beverly Waltz, Betty Cottle, Bob Poole, Edwin Young, and Paul Stowell. E. S. Stucki was the superintendent and principal. It was the nearest thing I have ever had to hero worship as I taught these eager young people English, speech, French, and Spanish. We lived in an upstairs downtown apartment. We didn’t have a car in Idaho until our second year in Rexburg, a $200 used Chevrolet purchased from Isabelle’s brother Rulon. A memorable day was Pearl Harbor’s attack on December 7, 1941. My brother, T.R., who was a missionary in that area of Hawaii,  viewed the infamous event from his apartment overlooking Pearl Harbor. Our happiest moment was one year later, December 7, 1942 when Robert Barry was born in the Rigby Hospital. Isabelle had had false labor twice and then was in the hospital almost two days in labor before he was born, but he was a healthy and rewarding baby. He was even more special because of our losing the first child. Between the two school years at Rexburg I had to go to Moscow, Idaho to get my Idaho teaching certificate. The summer was enhanced by having Dr. and Mrs. Pardoe just over the border where he was teaching at Washington State in Pullman. We commiserated with each other since they had just lost their son, David, in a hiking accident near the time we lost our baby in Richfield. It was a  weepy time for Isabelle and Kathryn when we both went to a sad movie together in which the young boy died.

                While at Madison High School I started a chapter of the National Thespian Society, Troupe #10. Each year we had a Thespian assembly which was the best one of the year. We also had an annual “Novelty Night” which no one seemed to want to miss. In 1942 our Thespians joined with Troupe #80 of Idaho Falls for a dinner program and dance which was to become an annual affair. There was no work in Rexburg for me during the summer so we left after two pleasant years and I secured a job in Ogden. “A Murder Has Been Arranged” by Emlyn Williams was one of several plays I did at Rexburg (1941-43). Others were “The Case of the Laughing Dwarf,” “Sky Road,” “Jude the Obscure,” and the opera “Shreds and Patches.”  Perhaps the most popular show I did at Madison High was “June Mad.”

                The summer of 1943 we lived in Brigham City where I commuted to Ogden to do some defense work in the Adjutant General’s Depot in order to do my war bit since I had been rejected by the army and was classified 4-F. I was in the service one day when I was called up to Fort Douglas for the official examination. After listening to my heart, the doctor said the military wasn’t interested in me. I kept my 4-F classification for the duration of the war.

                In order to maintain two jobs, I taught French and Spanish in Central Junior High in Ogden until Christmas of ‘43 when I got my first college job at Utah State Branch Agricultural College in Cedar City (now Southern Utah State College). I was made head of English, Modern Languages and Speech. I directed “Our Town” there in a good community and college production. I had as much prestige and as many friends in Cedar as at any other place or school I have worked at. I also enjoyed doing the dramas “Nine Girls There” as well as several radio programs. I was manager of the municipal swimming pool the summer of ‘44 and was an extra in a couple of Hollywood movies there in Cedar and in Kanab. Roddy McDowell (a hot movie property at the moment) and other movie people occasionally pushed their weight around and had me open the pool for them during special hours.

                We made many good friends there in the town as well as at the school among the faculty and students. Robert started getting bad attacks of asthma in the winter at this altitude. His doctor advised us to take him to a warmer place. I went to summer school at the University of Wisconsin at Madison in ‘45 to pursue my Ph.D. program. I made contacts there which led to my being invited to teach at the University of Alabama at Tuscaloosa. My official title was Assistant Professor of Radio Arts and Director of the Theater. I was also sponsor for the Blackfriars, the dramatic fraternity. We drove all the way from Cedar to Alabama in an old ‘37 Plymouth couple which Neil McKnight, my brother-in-law, had had nothing but trouble with. He sold it to us for $125 and was afraid he was cheating us, but it served us well, saw me through my Ph.D. work and got me as far back as Afton, Wyoming (‘47) where it burned out a bearing. I still sold it for $100 for scrap metal after driving it all during the war years with scarcely any trouble. Robert was better in Alabama and there in May 1946 David Charles was born at 8:15 p.m. the 20th which happened to be just the time my opening night curtain rose on my production of “Angel Street.”  The other play I enjoyed doing and staging at “Bama” was “Blithe Spirit”; also among others “Papa Is All.”  I was in charge of staging and all aspects of theater including business and publicity all those years before I arrived at BYU. Back to that exciting night of the 20th when I had a double production. I wasn’t allowed in the delivery room there, but Isabelle’s mother came to visit to comfort us a bit and I did have a telephone just off stage and was able to keep up with the progress of Isabelle’s delivery. When the news came that the big boy had arrived and curtain was rung up on the show, I dashed to the hospital and welcomed the new arrival and congratulated the mother by the time she was out of the anesthetic. We pulled up roots again after making some find friends such as the Osmoses in Tuscaloosa and being treated very cordially by the faculty and administration as well as some close students. My department head was T. Earl Johnson, a speech pathologist. It was a second good year and taste of the deep south. After teaching summer school in that hot, humid climate we packed all our belongings in that small Plymouth the Fall of ‘46 and the four of us headed for cold Wisconsin.

                It so happened that we did arrive in a cold rain and at least Robert got a bad cold so we were rather miserable in the cheap motel we were in temporarily until we could find something more permanent. Wisconsin was and is a huge university. The war housing shortage of housing was at its height. The first couple of days of apartment hunting (a house was unthinkable) were dreadfully discouraging. On the third day I was determined and inspired to sit it out in the UW housing office until something good happened. It didn’t have to wait much more than an hour when our sincere and urgent prayers were answered despite our being repeatedly told that there simply was nothing available for a family in Madison or its environs. A kind old gentleman of Germanic extraction came up and asked me, of all people in that crowded office, where he might list a little new house he had to rent. Needless to say he didn’t ever get to officially list it because it was manna from heaven for us. It was located in Waunakee on the other side of the lake from Madison about seven miles from the university. The house was built near the mouth of a river which emptied into the lake. The kind gentleman and his lovely wife lived next door. We had our own private pier for fishing which was our main meat source for the next year even though most of the fish were catfish and were usually caught and skinned by our kind neighbors. The house was completely unfurnished and when we moved in, which was immediately, it didn’t even have a  hot water heater or furnace. We bought a used hotplate and a few other bare necessities in a Salvation Army thrift shop such as a bed, table, and a few chairs. It was new and clean and we were extremely grateful. I think it rented for $60 or $70 a month and after a month our good landlord generously reduced it $10 of his own free will. LaVar and Helen Bateman, whom we had gone to school with at the Y, were also in the same graduate school department even though in another specialization. They became close friends and other LDS members such as Ron and Helen Larsen came out to our place occasionally since we had the largest house, two bedrooms with a fine living room and kitchen area, of any of the Mormon contingent. When the lake and river froze over we built a bonfire at night and had an excellent skating party on the ice. One memorable experience was driving home from school after a day that was so mild I hadn’t worn a coat and getting caught in a real blizzard. The snow came down so fast I was soon unable to see the road. With no tracks to follow and big snow drifts piling up I had to abandon the car and set out on foot. By this time the snow was so high it covered the fence tops so I could go directly home, about two miles, through the fields. But since these two or three feet of snow were fresh, ploughing through it waist deep was one of the most difficult and tiring things I had ever done. Obviously I was wet to the skin and extremely cold. Prayers and perseverance pulled me through although I was a little worried about a heart attack my chest was pounding so heavily. The blizzard continued during the night after I was safely home, warm and dry. The next morning the one side of the house was embedded in snow right up to the roof line and on the same angle down to the ground. One outside door was completely snowed in but we were able to borough out through the remaining one. We were snowbound for two days as far as using the road and getting to Madison were concerned. I had to walk over a mile to the country store to buy milk and a couple of other necessities for Robert and David. The snow plow eventually cleared the road and uncovered our car and our daily routine resumed.

                We eventually got through the winter and spiring. With more than my average discipline and hard work I did well in my classes. There was more to do to fulfill my requirement because I got my M.A. in French Literature while now I was getting  my Ph.D. in Speech (Interpretation and Theater were my specialities). The reason I was able to get through in the absolute minimum time again was partly because I didn’t have to spend as much time on languages as most candidates do. My French qualifying exam was just conversing in French with my examining professor. I was allowed to take Spanish as a second language instead of German which made it easier for me but still required some study. I was offered a job at the Y in late spring of 1947. President McDonald met me in Chicago for the interview. My starting salary was to be $3,300 if I completed all my course work for the Ph.D., leaving only the dissertation. (They “generously” raised it later to about $3,700.) In order to complete all the course work and qualifying exams, we could see it would be wiser for Isabelle to take the two boys home for the summer and let me concentrate totally on my studies. I got them a roomette on a train to El Paso where they were met and taken on to her mother’s in Colonia Juarez.

                I immersed myself in my studies so I could complete every requirement I was going to need at Madison as far as residency and course work were concerned. The one diversion I indulged in at the urging of my major professor, Ronald E. Mitchel (originally from England and wales and a fine playwright) was to take the leading role in Shaw’s “Arms and the Man” which was quite a good experience. It is strange but I later directed both the Wisconsin shows I was in at BYU. The other one was “Joan of Lorraine” directed by Joseph F. Smith, former patriarch to the church and department head at the University of Utah.

                At the end of the summer, with all exams successfully completed, I packed up the Plymouth coupe and headed for Utah. Isabelle had already arrived in Provo and was moving in the temporary housing of Wymount Village. I just got through Afton, Wyoming when “the old reliable” failed me and burned out the bearings. I called Dad in Richfield to see if he could go up to Provo and get the boys and have Isabelle come and pick me up., she had just recently bought a two seat old black Pontiac from her brother, Gaskell, to get her and the boys up to Utah. It was a happy reunion in Afton. We put all my things out of the Plymouth into the Pontiac and started to get back to Provo or Richfield as fast as possible as fate would have it, when we got to the same spot on the road, two miles south of Afton, the Pontiac burned out a bearing also. Our only alternative this time was to have it towed to a garage where it could be repaired. That wouldn’t have been so bad had they had the parts and could have done it the next morning. Instead they had to send to a larger center for them and it took two full days for them to arrive. On the third day we made it on down to Richfield where we had another reunion. Isabelle and I had a fine visit in Afton but we were a little worried about the children since Robert wasn’t very well and Mother wasn’t either. Then we were having to spend money we had to borrow from Dad which hurt. We finally got settled in Wymount which was very hot that late summer in the upper story. We didn’t even have air conditioning in the schoolrooms in those days.

                My total check for that first year of teaching at Richfield was $89 a month. We soon found we couldn’t afford a car so we sold it when Rulon Romney needed transportation to Sugar City, Idaho to teach. Our first new car was a 1949 light green Ford. To get just what we wanted we had to pick it up at Price. That smell of newness was a wonderful thing; so was the reliability.

                My first office at the Y was a makeshift affair between College Hall and Room D which had been turned into an art gallery and museum. My first class was a phonetics class I taught in the Manavu Ward Chapel. My other classes of pantomime and voice and interpretation were in the College Building. The first play I directed at BYU was Moliere’s “The Imaginary Invalid” which had some of the best and most talented performers I have ever had at the Y. They included Bob Kest (our top comedian), Burnette Ferguson who had played in the movies with Lorraine Day, and Elaine Erickson, another great comedian and dancer. (Her younger but bigger sister Lorna was later to become one of our outstanding comediennes also. She was in my “Arsenic and Old Lace” for one thing along with Julie Groberg (Blair), John A. Green, et al.) We still had to carry our scenery from the old shop across the street on 500 North behind the old bindery, now a cleaning establishment. We have improved considerably on the technical aspects over 30 years.

                I was fortunate enough to have Burnette Ferguson in two more plays on successive years, “Seventh Heaven” and “Arms and the Man.”  The latter was my first direct work with Max Golightly who did an excellent Major Petkoff character. We had a very closely knit faculty headed by T. Earl and Kathryn Pardoe. We met once a month on a social basis: Lorin Jex, Burnett, Bob Kest, LaVar and Helen, Jim and Arlene Ludlow, the Morleys, and the Gledhill’s. There was a very strong rapport. Morris Clinger came up from B.Y. High, I think just before Dr. Pardoe was released. Dean Jones and Merlin Mecham were also warm friends. After ‘52 that era and esprit de corps and open camaraderie ended. Private lessons from such as the Pardoes and Grace Nixon Stewart ended a certain artistry and concentrated struggle for perfection through play reading or impersonations. It was a bitter pill for Dr. Pardoe to have to retire.

                Under the chairmanship of Harold I. Hansen many technical improvements as well as a broadening of the academic program developed. This was the beginning of the era of President Ernest Wilkinson when BYU received its greatest growth in students, staff, and buildings. As an undergraduate student I knew a larger percentage of the faculty than I did after the school underwent its growing pains.

                Lady Kathryn stayed on a few years as a part-time teacher. We did our plays in the Joseph Smith Auditorium and also did some arena plays in sundry locations. My first one was “The Male Animal” which was the first to be done at the Y in that way in the old lower campus Arts Building with such old friends as Jed Richardson, M. W. Smith, Max and Florence Rodgers. I also did “There’s Always Juliet” in the basement of the new Smoot Administration Building. During Pardoe’s era we moved to our own temporary building, “The Speech Center.”  We were at least all together in one building and on the upper campus. From there we were forced to make way for a new Engineering Building and went to some temporary houses, Steadman and Ekins, on Canyon Road and taught our classes in the Page School. We spent our last year there after our sabbatical leave to Hawaii in 1962-63. In the fall of 1964 we finally moved into our academic dream building, The Harris Fine Arts Center. My first production there was “The Miracle Worker” which was a memorable one and the one requiring the most work since I tried out 80 Helen Kellers and used two of them.

                It was a nagging chore during my first two years at the Y to write my dissertation. I worked through the mails under the direction of Prof. Mitchell of the University of Wisconsin. I did much of my research in Salt Lake at the Church offices since I wrote a history of the LDS dramatic activities from the beginning until in 1950 when I completed it. Just before the Christmas holidays I went back to Madison where I defended successfully my dissertation I had been working on for almost five years. The majority of it, however, had been accomplished in the final two years. It was a huge relief to finally earn that doctorate which had been a long anticipated objective.

                As I gave birth to my academic “baby” (my typist had just completed the final draft of my dissertation), Isabelle gave birth to Michael Brent, our fourth son, which was a much more valuable and everlasting creation than my scholarly one. This important landmark in our lives occurred November 25, 1950. He was our first child born in the Utah Valley Hospital under the supervision of Dr. L. L. Cullimore. While Isabelle was very pregnant with Michael, just before going to the hospital, she helped me assemble the five copies of my dissertation. (After 33 years the image of that chaotic picture in our small apartment at 459 North 400 East is still vivid.) That Christmas we felt particularly blessed with our three boys plus the new degree.

                I first came to the Y as an Assistant Professor of Speech. With the advent of H. I. Hansen the department was changed to Speech and Dramatic Arts. After receiving my doctorate, I was elevated to the title of Associate Professor. The final changes were Professor of Theater and Cinematic Arts for the majority of my tenure until on September 1, 1980 I was “raised” to the title of Professor Emeritus.

                The courses I taught most frequently the last 25 years were beginning, intermediate, and advanced acting, all of the interpretation courses which included four on a graduate level, many voice, diction, and interpretation classes, the directing courses on an undergraduate and graduate level, introduction to the theater, theater history, and a few others. I was considered the specialist in phonetics and dialects which I taught from the beginning to the end. In addition to my teaching at BYU from 1947 to 1980, my special contribution was the production of 63 plays, operas, and musicals, the titles of which are listed in the appendix. I was the pioneer in doing arena productions (theater-in-the-round) and in developing a well produced and memorized Readers Theater which became an integral part of the theater program of the department. In these productions in order to heighten the audience’s imagination, I experimented with lighting, music, film, and sound effects as well as in non-realistic staging.

                My first sabbatical leave was granted for the study of the popular open-air theater in Mexico together with a study of the National Theater of Mexico. This was an interesting and profitable spring in Mexico City in 1956 and a big change from the travel and study I had done of the European theater. I was happy to practice my Spanish and be able to finally understand the plays I was viewing. Isabelle stayed with the family until Robert and David were out of school. Then she drove all four of them, with Julie only two years old, down to meet me. They visited in Colonia Juarez on their way and Julie was quite sick before they arrived in Mexico City. It was a happy reunion and we enjoyed sightseeing in a car since I had been without one. Traffic is crazy in that huge city, however.

                January 7, 1954 was a red-letter day in the Gledhill household, for on that day after four boys we finally got our little girl whom we named Julie Anne. It was a profound blessing and answer to our prayers. She has been a joy and a continuous blessing ever since. From her birth until the present she has brought us nothing but happiness. She had good friends and associates throughout her school days and after attending Ricks College one year got her B.A. from BYU in CDFR. She married a fine young returned missionary from El Paso, Joe E. Martin, before they had their degrees. She has taught preschool ever since. They had Tyler, their only child, while we taught our last year in Hawaii. Jody has been attending podiatry school in San Francisco and they are now living in Alhambra where he is doing clinical work prior to his residency. We visited them in San Francisco and plan to go down there for a visit at the end of this month (September 1983) when we will also take in the UCLA-BYU football game on our way to Hawaii for a week. (Julie and Tyler flew up after my second brain surgery and was a real Godsend for me. She made my worst physical ordeal thus far bearable and a lot less lonely.)

                On February 13, 1955, our family drove to Richfield to celebrate my father’s 72nd birthday. In a letter he wrote us in Wisconsin he stated that he felt certain he would live the full age of man (“. . . After that ye are seventy and two years old ye shall come unto me in my kingdom; and with me ye shall find rest.” 3 Nephi 28:2-3). During dinner he left the table and went in the front room and lay down on the sofa. After a bit I followed and he told me I should take him to the hospital. He had a ruptured appendix and already had peritonitis. He died five days later after having lived a full and productive life in good health until that memorable day. My mother had had a stroke two years previously and survived my father as an invalid by five months. She died at Ora’s apartment in Salt Lake. It was even a more tragic event when my brother, T. R., was killed in an airplane crash on Thanksgiving, 1965, leaving his lovely wife RaNae and four children.

                In addition to my own dear wife and children, I am very grateful to have had such choice parents and brothers and sisters. Even more than all the physical comforts and sacrifices, I am appreciative of our parents’ love and spiritual training and example. I just hope that we have given our own children a home environment at least somewhat comparable, since that could be our chief contribution in this life.

                Dr. Pardoe had planned to conduct a European tour during the summer of 1951 but when President McDonald, who hired me, was released and President Wilkinson was chosen as the new president, he indicated he was going to retire faculty at age 65. Dr. Pardoe’s time had come but he felt he was far from ready to retire. His nervousness about leaving town gave me an opportunity to take over the tour he had started to organize. I didn’t have long to recruit but got a small group and we sailed to the Mediterranean where we disembarked at Gibraltar. (A longshoreman’s strike delayed us five days in New York which caused us considerable money and anxiety.) We spent almost three weeks in Spain which was the longest time I have spent there at one time. We were especially impressed with Granada and its Moorish architecture and enchantment. Our first night was in Aljeciras at a luxurious, country club-type hotel where we ate outside to the accompaniment of a symphony orchestra and were treated to a ten-course elegantly served inner by formally attired attentive waiters. It was a glorious introduction to old world tradition and bonne cuisine for the bons vivants.

                This small but intimate and friendly group composing my first of many tours, went on to France, Italy, Switzerland, Holland, and England. Most of my itineraries are fairly accurate and I will place most of them in the appendix, but the strike-caused delay necessitated juggling the order of this 1951 tour. The next and final independently organized tour on my own was in 1953 which proved so successful that to accommodate the 65 people I was forced to use two buses. This allowed me to pay Ora’s way by having her ride with and, more or less, be in charge of the second bus. It was a bargain at $987 for a round trip by boat, three meals a day for over two months. While we were touring, President Wilkinson announced that no professor could compete henceforth with BYU travel study which at its debut was less successful. The tour featured travel through the Mediterranean to Naples, Pompeii, Sorrento, the Isle of Capri, and other tourist highlights of Italy before “doing” France, Switzerland, Belgium, Holland, and England without any retracing.

                My next two tours of Europe were large student groups in 1956 and ‘59 which also provided a great deal for the money. In ‘56 we sailed from Montreal down the St. Lawrence River to England where we saw, among other things, the new LDS temples under construction at New Chapel; then to Sweden, Denmark, Holland, etc.  After traveling more than two months, we emplaned from Paris for a  homeward flight. In ‘59 the order was reversed and after beginning in New York we flew directly to Lisbon, Portugal. Then, after visiting 20 different countries and their capitals and other municipalities including Tangiers in North Africa, we sailed from Cobh, Ireland and crossed over to Montreal, Canada. (Some highlights were the Casbah in Tangiers, then Alhambra in Granada, the famous Bull Run and fights in Pamplona, an open air production in the Colosseum in Aix-en-Provence, also one in Rome at Baths of Caraculla housing the world’s largest stage and the renown “Everyman” in front of the cathedral at Salzburg. The students enjoyed sliding down in the salt mines in Salzburg and riding through the awesome cave at Ljubljana, Yugoslavia. Additional memorable productions were the William Tell pastoral play in its natural setting in Interlaken, my second viewing of this Swiss folk tale. Also, a colorful opera in the floating opera house on the Rhine at Koblenz, and those in New York, Paris, London, Stratford-upon-Avon, and the one in the historic Abbey Theater in Dublin.

                My 1960 tour was a large and interesting one of affluent adults. It featured the Passion Play in Oberammergau, Germany, a great experience. Another unforgettable spectacle was the Rhine Aflame evening which was capped by an incredible fireworks display. This was the first I have done both Atlantic crossings by plane, landing at London and department from Amsterdam.

                In 1961 we visited ten different countries in just a little over a month, by far the quickest thus far. We flew directly to Rome from New York and wound up in Scotland where we flew home from Prestwick Airport.

                My 1962 jet tour of 20 countries was the most ambitious one so far. In addition to the usual countries of Western Europe, after arriving in Portugal we also visited Majorca, Greece, Turkey, Poland, Russia, Finland, Sweden, Norway, and Denmark. We were especially fascinated by Berlin, Russia, Greece, and the International Music and Drama Festival in Edinburgh. My personal highlight of this trip was visiting with Robert who was a missionary in Paris. He had his companion go with the district leader and took me on the back of his Honda or Moped bike tracting in the suburbs. He gave me a harrowing ride through downtown Paris en route. Because of my maturity I was able to get a conversation at each door or with people we contacted on the street. Another factor was our being a strange American “couple” on a bike.

                When Reuben D. Law was appointed president of BYU-Hawaii he asked me to join the faculty. The family didn’t want to be displaced for such a pioneering venture in a permanent situation, but we were glad to be offered a one year’s contract as a visiting professor for 1962-63. I took over speech and phonetics and also had to teach a little English. I was on a sabbatical from the Y to make a phonetic study of the various native forms of Pidgin English spoken on Oahu. I not only worked with local natives and BYU students but made frequent trips to the library in Honolulu. Bob was still on his mission but the other three thoroughly enjoyed their year. We lived in a new frame home on Kam Highway in Hauula where we were only one of two or three white (haole) families in the ward. We experienced a whole new culture and were bemused by the rivalry between Samoans and Hawaiians in the ward. We enjoyed the informality of The Church College of Hawaii, as it was officially called at that time, and fell in love with the islands. The family was delighted with our excursion to the garden Isle of Kauai. I wanted to see more of the islands, so I set up a dream tour of Hawaii which became my 1963 guided outing. Arranged by correspondence with Travel Study, and with the individual members I recruited (I haven’t mentioned the considerable time and effort it takes to organize and lead a tour), this tour was different from my others in that it didn’t really begin until I met the group at Honolulu Airport. We visited the four major islands. Highlights included driving up the Haleakala to watch the sun rise over the largest volcanic crater in the world and one of the most active, a luau and program by church members in Hilo, the Big Island’s Kona Coast where some of us went deep sea fishing and I caught a large mahi mahi. We returned to Laie for the evening for a visit to CCH, the temple, etc.  The next morning Isabelle cooked a delicious mahi mahi breakfast for my group. The local church members gave them a luau as well as native dancing.

                Dave, Mike, and Julie spent a lot of time on the beach. So did their parents. We had never been so close together and done so much as a family. We not only played, tanned, swam, and snorkeled on our beach, but put on 6,000 miles on an old Pontiac we bought over there. Living on the seaside with no telephone or TV was very salutary and fun.

                My 1964 “Around the World Tour” was the best yet offered by BYU or me. It was a deluxe tour of 2½ months which began and ended in Salt Lake first. Went to Hawaii, then included meaningful and sometimes exciting visits to Japan, Formosa, Hong Kong, the Phillippines, South Viet Nam, Cambodia, Singapore, Indonesia, Bali, Thailand, India, cashmere, Kenya, Uganda, Egypt, Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, Israel, Greece, Sicily, stopover privileges in Europe, and ending up at the World’s Fair in New York. Some of the special new highlights to me were the African safari, the ruins near Siem Reap (Anior Wat), the Isle of Bali, the Taj Majal, the houseboat in Srinagar, the Luxor Egyptian temples and monuments, the night spent in a tent city near the pyramids, and the Holy Land. The hardest