Chapter 1 - My Family

 

 

 

My name is Donald Wallace Thorup, but I have never used the name Donald until I got old enough that my Church and the Federal Government insisted on it.  I have just used my initial, ie. D. Wallace Thorup.  I prefer being called Wally, but use Wallace more as I have gotten older, or when occasion calls for it.  I believe only my mother called me Wallace (mostly when I was being scolded.)  I was born July 12, 1926 in Salt Lake City, Utah.   I lived in Salt Lake most of my life.  In 2001, I moved with my wife, Jeanné, to Sandy, Utah.  I was the last of three children born to Alvin Theobald Thorup and Mary Leona Smith, and their first child born in a hospital:  LDS Hospital.  I am told that my father named me “Wallace” after the Scotsman, Sir William Wallace, for whom the movie, Braveheart, was based on.

 

My father, Alvin Theobald Thorup, was born 8 Jan 1888, in Salt Lake City.  My father went by Alvin, or more often, Al.  (I noticed he once signed his name, A. Theo. Thorup.)  His father was John Theobald Thorup (correctly, Johannes Theobald Charles Thorup), born 25 May 1856, in Copenhagen, Denmark, and his mother was Hansine Engeline Andrea Berg.  Andrea, as she was known, was born 18 Jan 1868, in Gjerreld, Denmark.  Both of my paternal grandparents immigrated to Utah with their parents where they later met.  Andrea was John’s second (polygamous) wife and a cousin to his first wife, Johanne Caroline Ostermann, who was known as “Carrie,” but my father's family all called her, "Auntie."   Both Grandpa and Grandma Thorup passed away before I was born.  As you will see, I only had one living great grandparent.

 

My mother, Mary Leona Smith was born 11 Dec 1892.  She went by her middle name, Leona.  Dad called her, "Onie."   Mother's father was Hyrum Joseph Smith.  He was born 27 Apr 1868, in Leicester (pronounced "Lester"), England.  His illustrious name was probably happen-stance as his family did not join the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints until my grandfather was sixteen.  Grandpa Smith's name is spelled Hirum on his birth certificate (a common spelling in England) but he always used the spelling Hyrum.  He was known by his family and associates as H.J., and was the name recorded on the steamship’s manifest when he immigrated with his family to the States.  Grandpa Smith's legal surname was Dilks (there are variant spellings of that name) and is recorded as such on his birth certificate.  The reason for this is that his grandfather, Charles Smith, and his grandmother, Ann Dilks, lived a common‑law marriage until they were legally married in 1856 just prior to the birth of their third child.  Grandpa's father, Charles William Edward Dilks (Smith) was their first child.   English law mandates a child carry the mother's maiden name if the parents are not married.  There was one other son born prior to this marriage, but he died at the age of two so he had no posterity.  Thus both Grandpa’s father, including all of Grandpa's brothers and sisters (born in England), carry the surname Dilks (or Dilkes) on their birth certificates. 

 

 

In 1977 I found these wedding certificates for (above) Charles Smith & Ann Dilks and

 (below) for my great grandfather showing the surname Dilkes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

         All have used the Smith surname throughout their lives in both England and in America.  My mother's mother was Sarah Alice Howarth, born 29 Oct 1870, in Millville, Utah.  She went by Alice.  Grandma Smith's parents, William Howarth and Alice Nuttall Howarth Taggart, were among the last to be called "pioneers," having made the trek to Utah via wagon train from the end of the railroad in Benton, Wyoming to Salt Lake.  The arrival of the railroad in Utah, in May 1869, marked the end of the "pioneer" era, so they are the only true Mormon Pioneers in my ancestry.  Grandma Smith's father, William Howarth, became very ill during the trip from England to Utah.  He never fully recovered, and died from the effects of his illness when my grandma was 2 years old.  Great grandmother Howarth later married Charles Taggart, a blind piano tuner from Ireland, so I always knew her as Grandma Taggart.  She was also my only great grandparent living during my lifetime.  I was nine years old when Grandma Taggart died.  My grandpa, Hyrum J. Smith, died in 1949 the year our first child, Ann, was born.  Grandma Smith died in 1955.  She lived to see all three of my children born.

 

I have one sister, Vera Luana Thorup Heiner.  Vera was born, 18 Jun 1915, making her 11 years older than she me.  Vera married Daniel Purnell Heiner, 25 Nov 1936.  They were blessed with three children:  Judith (Judi), Joan, and Daniel (Dan) ‑‑ all with the middle name, Thorup.  Vera died 24 March 2010, just prior to her 95^th birthday.  I have one brother, Robert Smith Thorup, born, 24 May 1919, making him 7 years older than me.  Bob married Evelyn Jean Olson, 10 Sep 1951, four years after Jeanne' and I were married.  His oldest son, Bob, was born the same year as our youngest son, John.  Their three children are Alvin Robert (Bob), Gary Richard (Gary), and Rebecca (Becky).  My brother died, July 18, 1993, six days after my 67^th birthday.  Evelyn died 19 March 1999.  (My brother was named after another famous Scotsman, Robert the Bruce.   Dad must have been a fan of Scottish heroes.)

My father holding me as a baby.

 

With my brother and sister being older, I was raised much as an only child.  After mother died, in 1981. we three siblings became much closer, than we had ever been prior to that time.  My mother celebrated her 89^th birthday 19 days before her death.  I was 55 years old.  My father was a shoe merchant.  He died 16 July 1956, at the age of 68, four days after my 30^th birthday.  We moved into our home on 2545 Evening Star Drive in September later that same year.  Dad died of uremic poisoning caused from congestive heart failure.  I have been diagnosed with CHF that took my father.  Diuretics available today (like I now take) could have prolonged my father’s life by many years.    Dad was 38 years old when I was born so I only remember him in his mature years.  It is a Thorup family trait to have white hair, (which I did not inherit) and this served to enhance Dad's older appearance.  I have outlived both my parents and my siblings. 

 

While I took many enjoyable trips together with my parents, I was really never close to my father as a boy, as his work kept him away from home most of the time so he was not home much.  The realization of this to seemed to me a real tragedy in my life because of his early death.

 

                                                                   Me age (?)

                                                                                                      

                                                                         

                       My Father                                                                           My Mother    

 

                                                                     

          Grandpa Thorup                            Grandma Thorup                                  ‘Auntie’

    

 

 

 

Hyrum J. Smith family circa 1911

                                         Back Row: - Venice, Anne, Ted Austin, Grandfather Hyrum Smith, Leona, Zetha

                Front Row - Merrill, Grandma Alice Smith  (holding Afton), Effie, Vera (holding Edwin), Kenneth, Virgil

 

 

 

                                                    

Grandpa John Thorup with his two oldest sons

left: Uncle John, eldest son of Carrie; right: My father, eldest son of Andrea.

 

Four generations

Vera, Mother, Grandma Smith, Grandma Taggart

 

 

              Dan & Vera Heiner                                      Robert (Bob) & Evelyn

     

 

Chapter 2 - Childhood Years

Boyhood Years

My family lived at 1042 Lake Street at the time of my birth.                                                                                                                                   

                        

My brother Bob and sister Vera with their new brother at home on Lake Street.

 

When I was one year old the family moved to 1644 Harvard Avenue.  At that time our new home on Harvard was truly on the outskirts of the city.  Until I was in my teens there were few homes to the East or South of us.  When the family moved to Harvard Avenue there were blocks and blocks of open fields around us.

 

Wally at Harvard Ave.

 

I attended Uintah Elementary, Roosevelt Jr. High and East High Schools.  When I was little I used to spend a lot of time by myself.  I don’t recall spending any time with either of my siblings.   My mother said that I could entertain myself for hours.  As a youngster I would help my mother with the weekly cleaning of the house by dusting the legs of the table and buffet in the dining room (mother said I could reach under them easier than she could.) 

There being not many homes to the east to offer protection, and our property being about 2 feet lower than the lot to the east of us, the wind during the winter would fill our driveway with a snow drift.  Drifted snow is very compact and heavy, making it a strenuous task when digging it out!  Dad had a rock garden along the east side of the driveway which was nice-looking.  During the summer months I used to cut my lawn and a few neighbor's lawns.  I took pride in cutting lawns and enjoyed how good I could make them look. 

           

Uintah elementary school was on the north-east corner of 13th South & 15th East.  The old school was recently razed and a new building now stands east of where it used to be.  While attending first grade, I developed what they called, nephritis, but in looking it up it was probably hematuria.  In hematuria, your kidneys — or other parts of your urinary tract — allow blood cells to leak into urine.  I have no idea what caused it.   Today I believe they would have treated it differently, but the doctors didn't have treatment for ‘nephritis’ in those days so my doctor had me stay in bed for almost an entire year.  I am not sure why that didn't put me behind in school; perhaps mother helped me, I don't recall.  A year is a long time to have to remain in bed and Dad would occasionally bring home games or toys for me to play with.  I also remember mother making up games that we could play together.  One of the games was to pretend that we were small enough to fit in a thimble and could hide anywhere.  It was up to the other person to find where we were hiding.  One day, while I was in bed, I heard a sound like someone had thrown a big rock against the side of the house.  I later learned it had been an earthquake! 

 

By summer I was getting better and was allowed to go sit outside in the backyard.  Mother had given me some bread to feed to the birds.  A major part of my treatment had been to be on a salt‑free diet, and without salt most things have absolutely no taste.  Without thinking I ate a piece of that bread (which had salt in it) and I don't recall anything ever tasting so good! 

We were members of the Yale ward, located about 1400 East Gilmer Drive.  I attended Primary there.  One year I was chosen to give a brief talk at a Primary General Conference which was held in the Tabernacle on Temple Square.  They projected pictures of each of us, as we spoke, on a large screen that hung from the ceiling behind the pulpit.  In the picture they had taken of me, my hair was standing up, all wind‑blown.  As it was shown it brought quite a chuckle from the audience!    

 

When I was about twelve the Yale ward was divided and we then became members of the Yalecrest ward.  This chapel was built on the corner of 18th East and Yalecrest Avenue.  Little did I dream that my future wife would one day live in the house one door east of that new ward building! 

 

At that time the church had what was called, "Junior Seminary.”  It was for Junior High School age kids, and was held in the ward house rather than in a building near to school like the senior seminary.  The Junior Seminary class was one of the first meetings I remember attending in our new chapel.  My mother had been called as the president of the Junior Seminary.

The new Yalecrest Ward had a nice Scout Room, located in a large room under the stage.   I only advanced as far as being a Second Class scout because I didn’t know how to swim, and at that time swimming was a requirement for the First Class badge.           

 

I don't recall a lot about my youth.  I was eleven and seven years, respectfully, younger than my sister, Vera, and my brother, Bob.   I only had one playmate my age on Harvard.  His name was Edward (Ted) Hilton.  Ted Hilton, sadly, died when he was in his early twenties from a brain tumor.  I recall going to his funeral sometime while after my marriage while we were living on First South.  The others on my block were all a year or two older or younger than I was. Ted had a younger sister, Rosemarie.  There was Harold (Hal) Swanner who lived next door east of our house.  He had four sisters, Virginia, Barbara, Marie, and I think, Jody.   Across the street and just west of my house was where the Dowells lived.  Robert (Bob) and Richard (Dick), twins -- but as different as night and day.  They had a younger brother Judson (Juddy) and a much younger sister, Catherine.  Juddy Dowell and I raised pigeons and chickens at his house; pigeons did well but we didn’t have much success with the baby chicks, which all died.  Bob Dowell didn’t quite fit in the normal pattern and got into drinking and smoking – don’t know if he ever made anything of himself; his brother Dick had a friend, Dick Warshaw, whose father owned a big grocery store.  Dick went to work for the Warshaw grocery stores and did pretty well for himself.  Ruth Hay who was 2 or 3 years younger than me lived north across my street, a couple of houses to the east.  After returning from the service, my cousin Leo dated Ruth Hay a few times.  She was a cute girl.  Ken Jensen, also a year older than me, lived on Princeton Ave. behind Ted Hilton’s house, and was a frequent visitor on our street.  The Foxes, Haslums and Reisers all had older boys living there, but they were more my brother Bob’s friends. 

           

A block east of our home lived Russell Andersen with whom I spent many interesting hours with while in high school.  We found a pattern in a Popular Science magazine for making a miniature submarine out of metal cans.  It looked quite authentic when all soldered together and it had provision for sealing a small can into the conning tower area which held a chemical which when wet would give off a gas and propel the engine attached to the screw (propeller) and the thing would actually go down under water, propel itself along and then return to the surface! We thought we had created quite an accomplishment – except no place to test in other than the bathtub.  What we needed was a swimming pool – to which we had no access.  

 

Early in my life I developed a love for flowers.  My family would go to the cemetery each year on Memorial Day and I recall digging up some small wild daisies, and bringing them home. I still see them growing in the cemetery lawn.  I planted them in the far back corner of my backyard.  It must have been at the time the movie, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.   I recall cutting out pictures of each of the Seven Dwarfs, mounting them on 3 inch plywood, then carefully cutting around pictures of them with a coping saw.  I then stuck these little stick figures, which I protected with a coat of varnish, into my small garden.  I must have been pleased with the results to remember them to this day!  Dad seemed to encourage my floral efforts (I later found out that he, too, used to plant flowers around his mother’s house.)   When I was older I was given permission to build a cold frame about 3 feet by 6 feet in size in the unplanted area behind our garage.  I made the frame of 1” x 6” boards and covered the lid with cheese cloth.  I put hinges on the lid so that it could be propped open during the day and closed it at night.  I remember growing many flowers from seeds there.  My memory concerning where I planted all of the flowers I grew is rather vague but I do remember planting some lovely cosmos along the back (south side) of our house. 

 

At different times during my youth we had two dogs.  Both dogs died agonizing deaths from distemper, and after the second one died, Mother said that was enough!  There were no distemper vaccines for dogs in those days as far as I know.  For me it was a very sad experience at their deaths, so I wasn't unhappy about not having another dog.

 

I was not much into sports.  As I look back on my life, I didn't have any role models that might have encouraged me in that area, other than the kids on the block who didn’t seem all too fired up about sports, either.  My brother never played with me.  I gues I was really just a klutz when it came to sports.  I was one of those who was always called up last when picking a teamL. In those days the only team games played were baseball and basketball.  I didn't excel (to put it mildly) in either one.  My brother played basketball on the Ward's M‑Men team and I remember watching him play one time at the old Deseret Gym, when they still had Church‑wide tournaments, but Bob didn’t ever play basketball around home, or with me.  Remember he was seven years older than I am.

 

My father worked long hours and he wasn’t home much.  Dad's work required him to travel a lot, mostly throughout Utah and Idaho.   He took me with him a few times, but I also recall that I used to get car sick when I went with him.  (Thank goodness I outgrew that!  Later, while in the Navy, I never got seasick once, nor have I since.)   Dad had to travel “East” a couple of times a year after he was promoted to a buyer – generally to New York and Chicago – to buy shoes; this was especially true after he had his own store.  Many Sundays he would have to meet with traveling salesmen to buy shoes for his store.  They would display their wares in a hotel room.  I went with him on a few occasions and recall how they always commented to me as to how much they enjoyed doing business with my father.  The salesmen would describe Dad as a real gentleman and an honest man and they enjoyed doing business with him.

                                             

                 

Pictures of me over the years – I don’t know my ages except for the last one – I was twelve.

 

One thing that I felt I did well was riding my bicycle.  I had a Pierce‑Arrow bike that had been my brother's.   Gears on bikes were unknown in those days, but this bike had a bigger than normal pedal sprocket, and that made the bike go faster than the normal bike (according to an older neighbor who asked to buy it.)  I could ride that bike anywhere without ever touching the handlebar!  It just seemed to be a part of me.  Coaster brakes were the norm at that time, too.  I don't recall hand brakes on bikes, than perhaps racing bikes, so it just had a brake that worked when you peddled backward – they really worked!   There is a gully that runs east past the current location of the Bonneville Ward (on 15th East, about 10th South) and which curves north connecting to 9th South, just below Military Drive (about 16th East.)  At that time it was just that ‑‑ a gully.  The only improvement in the whole gully was some tennis courts located where the chapel is today.  Anyway, there was a dirt path that ran along the south side of the gully along which I would often ride my bike.  One day I recall I was riding along that path (not holding the handle bar, remember) and the chain came off, putting me into free‑wheeling:  No brakes!  Like a dunce, as I headed west toward 15th East, instead of taking the path which would have taken me up to the road, I took a path that went down toward the creek bed.  What a mistaka to maka!  Fortunately there was a small hill of gravel at the bottom of the path, and as I approached the end ‑‑ and my possible demise ‑‑ I turned (with my hands, thank you) up the hill and stopped my death ride. Boy!  That was about as foolish a thing as I ever did.  I got back on that bike, put the chain on, and rode home.  No worse for the wear . . .  maybe my heart beating a little faster!

 

I had a fun life as a child.  During school summer vacations, I took wood shop and swimming lessons at the Deseret Gym which was then located where the Church Office Building is now.  My friends and I would take the trolley car, which we boarded about a block and a half south of my home, at Harvard Avenue and 15th East.  The trolley went north to 9th South, turned west four blocks and then proceeded north on 13th East (past East High) to First South, and then west to downtown.  I took swimming every summer for a number of years, but never learned to swimL.  I would always get a sinus infection and would have to quit.   We didn't have medication for infections at that time like we have today, so I had to visit my doctor, who was my uncle.  I remember I used to use Argyrol nose drops (a compound of protein and silver.)  Ugh!   I also picked up Athletes Foot a couple of time at the gym.  (I guess I was just a sickness waiting to happen in those days.)

 

                                               

                                         On crutches because of Athletes Foot.

 

 After swimming class, we got to play in the gym.  We would mostly play basketball or handball.  I particularly enjoyed handball.  In the afternoon we went to wood shop which I enjoyed very much.  East of the Gym was a large building that housed the woodworking shop.  I made different items each year; the only thing I which stayed around for long was a wooden stool which my mother kept in her garage for years.

 

I finally learned how to swim after I was married.   Jeanné and I took a swimming class together at the "U".   (I could swim on my back, so that came to my advantage when I had to pass the swimming test while in the Navy.)

 

All the neighborhood kids used to play games in the evening. A favorite was “Kick the Can”  -- where we would hide and see if we could be the last one found – and, if we could, run in and kick the can (which was in the middle of the street.)  Everyone else playing, who had been ‘found’, could then run and hide again.  Who ever was ‘it’ would have to be really good to find everyone!  To call me home at night, my mother would turn on the porch light.  She was too modest to shout or whistle, like some of the neighbors did.  But it worked fine.  Light on – I went home.

 

During the summer, I also took piano lessons.    One of the downtown piano companies (Beesley's, I think) had a store on 1st South between Main and State.  Their piano-teaching studio was under the store in the basement.  It was interesting.  They had two upright pianos in the studio, for the fairly large class; so the rest of us learned our fingering on cardboard "keyboards" that were laid on top of long tables!  Each person in the class would then be given the opportunity to go and use the real piano about once during the lesson.   I did have a piano at home to practice on during the week.  (Mother had been given a piano for her wedding present from her Grandfather Taggart who was a piano tuner and salesman.  When I was married, she gave me that piano which I loved.  We had it for many years and sold it only after Jeanné’s mother gave us her piano.) 

 

One of the things I remember about,, during that period of my life, was that mother let me go to the movies each week after my piano lesson. The price of a movie for those under 12 years of age was 10 cents.  I was tall for my age.  Mother would give me a dime and a note that said I was not yet 12.  And it worked!  My father’s shoe store was on the N.E. corner of Main St. and 3^rd South (Broadway) across the street from the Victory Theater (which is no longer there) where I used to see my movies,.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 3 - High School Years

My sister married when I was 10.  Vera and her husband, Dan Heiner, were so good to me.  When I became a Boy Scout, they gave me a sleeping bag, which I have used for years.  As a teenager Dan would take me fishing with him at his family cabin on the Upper Provo River.  On the opening day of fishing, he and his 6 brothers would all go fishing at daybreak, and soon return with their limit of fish by breakfast time.  Most of the fish were just legal size (6-7 inches long) and their wives would fry the fish and pile them on platters in the middle of the table.  Oh, how good they were.  You could just pick them up with your fingers to eat the whole fish, bones and all!  I had many happy days at that cabin.  There were even a couple of horses that we could ride.   Later, when Jeanné was Laurel leader for several years, Vera used to let us take Jeanné’s  girls to the cabin one Saturday each year.  We would go up for the day, stay overnight, and then all go to church at the Woodland Ward the next day.  I went along as chaperon!   Those were some fun experiences – with enough scary stories told by the girls Saturday night to last until the next trip;

 

I was in junior high when my brother went on his mission to Australia. When World War II broke out in 1941, all missionaries were returned to the States to complete their missions.  Bob was transferred to the Northwestern States Mission.  At that time missionaries traveled overseas via steamship and my parents took me out of school when they went to see him when his ship arrived in Los Angeles as he was being transferred to his new assignment.  What was difficult was for me was to try to catch up with my Latin class after returning.   I never really did!

   

Bob & Wally  1938

 

During the time I was in junior high and high school none of my friends or neighbors ever rode a school bus.  We always walked.  The only schools that used busses in those days were those in rural areas (i.e., Granite High and Jordan High.)   I was never given a ride to school (my father always rode the trolley or bus to work) and "car pools" were unknown. No one ever gave walking a second thought.  There were a few kids, who would ride the city transit bus on occasion, but they were the exception, and that was usually done on stormy days, or if sick, etc.   Very few students had cars in high school, and those that did just parked them on the street.  Uintah elementary was only about three-fourths of a mile from my house.  Roosevelt was about a mile and a half, with East High approximately a mile away.  Sometimes I rode my bicycle to Jr. High.  Problem was that there is a very steep hill between 11th and 13th East on 9th South.  Multiple gears on bikes were unknown then so it was a quite a bit harder going up that hill than using the multi‑speed bikes of today.   I rode my bike straight up that hill.

 

Being several years younger than my brother and sister, when Mom and Dad took vacations, they were in school, or whatever, and I went with them alone.  I don't recall ever being on a vacation with Vera or Bob.   When I was in my teens, possibly while Bob was on his mission, we drove to the National Parks in Utah, Arizona, and Wyoming.  My mother had a extreme fear of heights, so she would never let me get close to the edge of the canyon! 

 

In Yellowstone we slept in a small wooden cabin.  The cabin was just large enough to hold a couple of beds and a small wood-burning stove for warmth.  I remember one time going fishing at Fishing Bridge with my father.  We rented a small motor boat and trolled for the longest time, but never caught a fish.  Neither my father nor my mother could swim, and I don’t think either felt comfortable around water. 

 

Our cabin in Yellowstone National Park

 

On one of thise trips we visited Cardston, Canada and Waterton Lakes, and Glacier National Parks.  It must have been during or shortly after the time that President Franklin D. Roosevelt was president, as a park ranger we gave a ride to through the park, told us how the government had spent over a million dollars building a road into a certain picturesque area so President Roosevelt could be taken there in a car (he was crippled from polio).  When President Roosevelt came he didn't have time to see it!  I am sure many others have enjoyed that road since!

My father's half-brother, Uncle John, was an obstetrician.  He lived, with his family, in Portland, Oregon.   I went with my parents to visit him at least twice.  On one of those visits we visited Vancouver Island and the city of Victoria, Canada.  Butchart Gardens is a short distance east of Victoria, and I fell in love with that beautiful place.  It was a trip I will never forget.  We took the ferry boat from Port Angeles to Victoria on the way there, and then from Victoria to the city of Vancouver on the return trip.  It was such a memorable trip, I have been there several times with my wife and family. 

 

            I continued taking piano lessons for several years into my teens at the home of my teacher, Gladys McGibney.  She lived on Diesel Road (about 16th East & 9th South.)  I learned to play quite well, but in all of my training, I really never did learn to sight-read.  Gladys always insisted on me memorizing my pieces, which was fine, but I would have liked to have learned to sight-read music better.   Gladys had a couple of Cocker Spaniels, and learning of my fondness for dogs, she gave me several books of dog stories that I read with a passion.  I especially enjoyed the books written by Albert Payson Turhune (author of Lassie) about collies.

My family was not wealthy, but we always had everything I ever wanted.  My parents were very good to me.  There were two special presents I received from them: an Erector Set, that I played with for hours, and, when I was older, a Chemistry Set.  My father bought me some lumber from a plan that came with it from which I constructed a work bench.    I was very proud of my "chemistry lab" under the stairway which led to the basement.  I cut a hole in the bench and inserted a sink using a metal bread pan (sadly it would rust as we didn't have plastics then.)  I cut a hole in the pan, soldered a short ¼^” pipe to it, and attached a rubber hose to drain into a gallon bottle.  I made a small "blow‑torch" from an alcohol lamp with which I could make all sorts of things out of glass tubing.  At a local laboratory supply store I bought many additional pieces of equipment, such as Pyrex beakers & flasks, etc.  In those days they would let you purchase single items of this type.  While kids today may have many advantages over what I had, suppliers today won’t sell laboratory items in less than a dozen any more, so today I would have never been able to have the experiences I had. One thing I purchased was a glass condenser with which I could make distilled water.  It was through my enjoyment of, and experience with, my Chemistry Set that I ended up first in Chemical Engineering and later in Pharmacy.  It was amazing what I learned with that chemistry set.  When I took a science class in Jr. High, when my teacher would perform some chemistry experiments before the class, he was amazed at how much I already knew about them.

One of the special things I remember about junior high school was the time I got a small speaking part (I had one whole line!) in the school play.  That was really fun!   At East High I joined the R.O.T.C. because my doctor had found a heart murmur and advised me not to get involved in active sports.  (I still have that murmur today, so it doesn’t seem to have hurt me too badly.)  Considering my excellence in sports, that didn't hurt my feelings too much!  I earned the position of Platoon Sergeant my senior year in R.O.T.C.  I really enjoyed my senior year.   I joined the dance committee and helped decorate the gym for our school dances.  As I look back now I wish that I had participated in even more school activities than I did.  I graduated from East High in May 1943.  I was still 16 years old.  I turned 17 in July. 

In leaving my experience at high school, I would like to copy a insert written in my year book by one of my favorite teachers:  “Dear Wallace, Here’s every sincere good wish to a student whose friendship I shall always hold in high esteem.  Never lose that smile of yours that is contagious as a yawn.   Dorothy Simpson”

 

My father owned and operated the Campus Boot Shop, a shoe store that sold shoes for the whole family.  Dad let me start working at his store during the Easter season prior to my 15th birthday.  I sold shoes for Dad, off and on, for the next 15 years.  I would generally work during holiday seasons (especially Mother's Day, Easter, and Christmas) and during the summer months when school was out.  In all honesty I have to say that selling shoes was not something I particularly enjoyed.  Dad's store was located at #1 East Broadway, on the northeast corner of Main St. and 3rd South ("Broadway"), downstairs.  The building originally housed a bank, later occupied by the Owl Drug Store.  It was Schubach Jewelers while I worked there.  Today it has all been replaced by a multistoried office building.  Dad's store is described in more detail in the biography I wrote about him, but one thing that I might add is that, during the summer months the store was hot and dusty.  Whenever there was any breeze at all, dust off the street would blow right down the stairwell and into the store.  This really bothered me, as the only thing I am really allergic to is dust.  The "air conditioning" that Dad had in the store was provided by some large floor fans, along with an early‑model evaporative cooler.  It had to be filled with water with a bucket, and since they didn't have pumps to circulate the water through the filter like today, a handle had to be cranked frequently to wet the absorbent towel‑like material.  This material was looped up and down on an endless belt, passing through the reservoir of water in the bottom.   Air would then blow through the wet material to cool it.  It was not terribly efficient, but it worked and we all appreciated it.  I am sure that those two disagreeable items (dust and heat) did little to provide me with fond memories of working there and is probably why I didn't develop a desire to follow in my father's footsteps in the shoe business!    Perhaps these all added up to the reason that I had no desire to make a career out of Dad's business, as my brother, Bob, did.  One time I asked Dad why he didn't move to a ground‑level store.  His answer was that at the prices he charged for his shoes the cost of rental for a ground floor store would be prohibitive.

 

1754 Laird Avenue – 1942

 

The year I turned 16 our family moved into a new home oat 1754 Laird Avenue.  I took up the hobby of photography and I built a dark room in the basement and spent many hours using it.  I would develop and print my own black and white pictures.  I don't recall what I did with the equipment I purchased at that time ‑‑ I may have sold it when I was married ‑‑ but when we moved into our home, on Evening Star Drive, I built another darkroom and purchased equipment again to continue my hobby.  My cousin, Leo Thorup, had worked for an engraving company during our High School years, and I used to watch the men make engraving plates, which is also a photographic process.  I tried to get my son, John, interested in photography but it was short-lived.  John did work for a local firm that specialized in commercial printing for a while.   I finally sold all my photographic equipment in 1996 to a girl in Florida with an ad I placed on the Internet!

I felt it wise to get into the university so I enrolled in University of Utah in June 1943 for the Summer Quarter rather than waiting until the Fall Quarter.  Since my birthday is in July, I was still 16 when I entered college.  Like most boys my age, we weren't looking forward to military service, and I had hoped that I might get into some "program" like the military service had offered the in the past -- with the opportunity to become an officer.  My brother had entered the Navy under such a program from which he received a commission as an Ensign a year or so prior to this.   Unfortunately all of those programs had now been discontinued.

At the University of Utah, I enrolled in the School of Chemical Engineering and did very well scholastically during the Summer Quarter.  In the Fall Quarter, I was "rushed" by the Pi Kappa Alpha fraternity.  Both my brother and my brother‑in‑law, Dan Heiner, were Pi Kaps, which almost made it certain that I would be rushed.  When I look back upon that experience, it was among the most foolish thing I ever did.   At the time it seemed such a wonderful opportunity.  The problem was that I began to spend too much time at the fraternity house, and my school grades started to show it. There were other factors involved as well, least of which was the impending military draft that I knew I was facing when I turned 18 the next July.   The country was doing well enough that in my eyes (most young men I knew at that time felt much the same way) I was going to end up being "cannon fodder;" replacing those men who were being killed in the war.  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to defend my country, but to end up being a foot soldier who could easily be shot wasn’t that appealing.  Together with the time I was spending at the fraternity, this all caused a lack of interest in my schooling with the result of poor grades that Fall Quarter.  I failed the first class I ever did in my life – Calculus.  I tried calculus again the next quarter, but the teacher assistant I had was a poor substitute for the excellent teacher I had failed under, and along with my poor attitude I didn’t have a chance, so Winter Quarter was even worse.  I guess you could say I lost interest in school.

Since I was having a poor time concentrating on school, I decided not to continue during the Spring Quarter, and went to work for my father instead.  During this time, the fraternity wanted me to go "active" and so Dad allowed me time off for the initiation.  What a miserable experience!  I went through the "hell" that initiation required (at least then) and became a full‑fledged member of Pi Kappa Alpha.  After getting my head on straight, and acknowledging the poor effect the fraternity had had on my life, I think I only darkened the door of the fraternity house one time after returning home from the Navy. 

My cousin Leo and I were quite close before our going into the military.  We purchased a model‑T Ford together -- and had a fun fixing it up. We painted it bright yellow and drove it around as much as we could.  Since there was gas rationing, it was difficult to get gas for it, but we managed to find some now and then.  A model-T would run on diesel fuel.  The man who sold the car to us had it sitting on blocks for several years.  He sold the car to us for $40 ‑‑ $10 for each of the tires which he had recently purchased!

One of the last things I did prior to entering the Navy, in the spring of 1944, was to go on a fishing trip with Leo.  We drove our Model-T up to the Smith‑Moorehouse River and camped out for about a week.  We made a tent, sewing it out of white muslin, and waterproofing it with paraffin dissolved in gasoline.  It was passable at best -- but it sufficed our needs.  At that time there was just a dirt road along the river -- the Smith-Moorehouse river empties into the Weber River.  We camped at the end of the road where, today, there is a lovely paved campground.  At that time there was nothing.  Having my usual success fishing, and becoming bored as teenagers are want to do, we decided one evening to break camp and head home.  We started back about dusk.  It was about 10:00 o'clock, near Kimball's Junction, when the gears in the rear end of our yellow car broke.  In a Model‑T Ford the brake pedal operates a brake that surrounds the drive shaft rather than the brake drum on the wheel.   When you press on the brake it slowed the drive shaft, rather than the individual rear wheels.  The hand brake operated brake shoes on the wheels which just acted as a parking brake.  Without the gears in the rear end, the wheels were, in effect, no longer connected to the drive shaft and therefore in free wheeling!  There was still the hand brake, but it was designed to hold, not stop, so it was of little use in slowing down, let alone stopping the car.  The motor also was no longer running -- as we had turned it off ‑‑  a mistake, since the lights ran off the magneto, rather than working off a battery.  Thus, when the motor stopped, the lights no longer worked.  I explain all this to help you understand what happened next – it was dark by now. 

Since we were virtually stranded, we began pushing the car.  The road is relatively level at that point.  Also the road had just two lanes, not as wide as it is today.  We pushed it until we came to the hill leading up to Parley's summit.  We thought perhaps we could thumb a ride from a truck, hoping that we could get someone to tow us to the top of the hill where we could coast down hill from there.  A truck accommodated us.   We tied our car to the back of the truck with a heavy tow rope we had, about 2 inch diameter and 20 feet long.  The truck pulled us up the hill - probably faster than we had come down!  We were elated to not have to push the car up hill, until the truck didn't stop at the top as he was asked to!  We had no lights to flash, or horn to honk, to get the truck drivers attention, and it was obvious that we could not control the car at that speed, particularly going down hill.  So, while I steered, Leo took a long hunting knife, climbed out on the hood of the car, and cut the rope!  By this time we were careening down the canyon at a pretty high speed for a car without brakes.  I should explain, at that time the road through Parley's Canyon was a two‑lane highway that followed every turn and twist of the river.   It was now very dark, and the only light we had was a flashlight and our only brake was the hand brake which we used only to try to slow down on the more sharp curves.  Fortunately by this time it was well after midnight and as luck would have it we didn't pass any cars traveling up the hill!  Otherwise we may have been in a lot worse condition than we were, as we were veering all across the road in our attempt to 1) stay on the dark road, and 2) control the speed at which we were traveling!  The car finally rolled to a stop when the road leveled out at about the location of the Portland cement plant two or three miles from the mouth of the canyon. 

We finished our trip home by one pulling (using the rope) and the other pushing the car until we happily arrived home safely about 2 o'clock in the morning; completely exhausted.  Leo, being a few months older than I, was drafted into the Army right after that and I never saw our little yellow car again.  He later told me that he had taken the car somewhere and pushed it off a cliff! 

Sometime during the late spring of 1944, I learned of a Navy program that was available, if you qualified.  As I said, I was not too anxious to join the Army (I had also had enough marching in the R.O.T.C.) so I investigated the program and discovered it was for the Radio Materiel Program, which trained radio technicians for the Navy.  Having no experience in electricity, I wasn't sure if I could qualify, but the Navy recruiter gave me a book (about the size of a residential phone book) to take home to study, after which I was to return and take a test.  If I could pass the test I would qualify to join the Navy and receive the schooling offered.  There was so much information, foreign to me, in the book.   I had no idea where to even start.  After a perfunctory glance through it, I set it aside ‑‑ I have often said I studied for that exam by opening the book and using it as a pillow to sleep on ‑‑ but I took the test anyway.  The test was multiple choice.   The recruiting officer, watched over my shoulder and if I was about to answer a question incorrectly, would say, "Are you sure that’s what you want?"  So I passed the test!  (He obviously had a quota to reach . . .)  I was sworn in the Navy that day, and left on the train the following day, July 11, 1944!  Just one day prior to my 18th birthday!  There were three other men who left Salt Lake with me for the same destination.