28 March 2013
MY Story
Gary Barton Payne
So, how many times do
you think I have started a personal history only to burn out or give it up
before much was written.
This is where I introduce the old adage “you cannot fail
unless you give up”. Or the sign that
has resided on the door of our family fridge for many years, “Never give up And
Never tell a lie”.
I have just waited until I have grown older and wiser so
that ”My Story” will be of exceptional
quality. Or more likely, just waiting until
I had time on my hands and being
frequently encouraged by my daughter Tatia to “get on with it”.
It’s true, I have mental problems
Since a very early age, I have been somewhat of a
problem to deal with as my teachers,
parents and sibling and my wife Sherma Bee will attest to. My problem never had a name until quite
recently, then it became quite chick to have
A D D (Attention Deficit Disorder).
Add to that being Bipolar and you have a pretty interesting
personality. I have come to learn that
people with these personality disorders can tend to be very high achievers, so
it is not all bad. Some names that you
might know are: Terry Bradshaw, Richard
Branson, Glenn Beck, James Carville, Marriette Hartley, Howie Mandell, Michael
Phelps to name a few. As a boy I seemed
to get into more than my share of trouble with authority figures. I count myself very blessed to have not spent
any extended time in the “grey bar hotel”.
And a significant role in that blessing was falling in love with and
marrying Sherma Bee White. When I think
of the patience that was required of her I am astounded. But as Barry Manilow sang “Looks like we made it”.
Just to give you an idea of how this manifest itself, I have
these incredible bursts of energy and creativity. Unfortunately, all the ideas are not
fruitful, or productive. And the energy
often dissipates before the task is complete.
The key is do my best to keep getting back on the bucking bull and never
give up. And to be grateful for a wonderful support system that has
blessed me in every facet of my life.
The down side to this condition is the depression. I have always had a very strong aversion to
pharmacy medications for depression but I love body manufactured
medications. Endorphins is my favorite
and it is free except for the exercise you have to do to get it. But it really works. You just have to have the will power to get
off the couch. Easier said than
done. But what a high I get for
succeeding. I never smoked, inhaled or
otherwise, marijuana, but I can’t see how it could be better that my own
endorphins.
Format
I have chosen a format for my story that is flexible and
free flowing. Each heading will address
a generally associated subject with a reasonable amount of chronology. I hope to emphasize important lessons I have
learned in my sojourn through life and will identify these points. (LL
Life Lessons) I will not
go into much detail about genealogical information as this is available far
more efficiently in the Family Tree software of the LDS Church.
In The Beginning.
Like Nephi of old, I was born of goodly parents. They were both kind and generous to family,
friends and strangers. They were
probably both better parents that their parents. In dad’s case for certain, having been raised
by a tough old hillbilly from Tennessee.
Mom’s parents were kind and gentle people and loved by all who knew
them.
A couple of short stories will illustrate their generosity. When dad had finally achieved a certain level
of success to buy mom a very nice home in a very nice neighborhood, they picked
a home with a double lot. On the second
lot dad planted hundreds of gladiola bulbs for the sole purpose of giving
bouquets to friends, neighbors, and family.
He got real pleasure out of giving away his flowers to make people
happy.
One other illustration, when the church decided to build a
Regional Recreation Center behind our Chapel on 27th & Polk, dad
was unable to be there to work because of his grocery business that demanded
his full attention. So he solved the
problem by sending one of his employees to work in his place, paying him his
regular salary.
Mom working alongside her husband and living in the tiny
apartment “above the shop” through the birth of four children is illustration enough
to show her devotion to her husband and family.
I was born 1 November, 1937 fourth child of Herman Mathew
Payne and Hannah Valate Pickett. (Genealogical format of mothers name used) I remained the baby of this family of six for
eight years, giving me ample time to enjoy the rewards of being the apple of my
parents eye long enough to not resent my two younger brothers taking that
position eight and ten years later.
I learned two very valuable lessons in my childhood. First I knew I was loved, probably derived
mostly by being the baby. Secondly, I
learned to enjoy work and see it as rewarding and fulfilling. This second principle blessed me my entire
life as I never felt that work was a burden.
(LL) These are two gifts that you can give
every child that will keep on giving for a lifetime. Tell them and show them that you love them
often, and teach them the rewards and pleasure of work.
My father was a grocery man.
He owned his own business which he bought from my mother’s father
shortly after they were married. It was
a modest little store as all grocery stores were in the 1930s. I heard my father tell the story many times
of how he met my mother. Herman was the
son of a fruit farmer Andrew Johnson Payne who owned ten acres of land on 12th
street in Ogden Utah. Dad would load the
fruit in the family truck and drive to all the grocery stores in Ogden to sell
his fruit to the grocers.
One day he was at David Picket’s grocery store at 511 31st
Street in Ogden. He was giving his pitch
to Mr. Pickett when into his vision came a very attractive young lady, Mr.
Pickett’s daughter Valate. Herman became
distracted and lost his train of thought and I guess became tongue tied.
Mr. Pickett, a Welshman who was not without a sense of
humor, said to Herman “Did you have something you wanted to sell me or did you
have something else in mind”. Herman not
only sold Mr. Pickett his fruit, but also sold his daughter Valate on going on
a date with him. Subsequently he was
able to persuade her to wait for him to get married while he served a two and
one half year mission in Kentucky in the Southern States Mission for the LDS
Church.
David Pickett emigrated
from Wales in 1893 when he was 14 years of age.
He told me of the excitement that he felt not only about his immigration
to the United States, but of his experience of attending the Chicago World’s
Fair in route to Ogden Utah.
(The World's Columbian Exposition (the official
shortened name for the World's Fair: Columbian Exposition,[1]
also known as The Chicago World's Fair) was a World's Fair held in Chicago in 1893
to celebrate the 400th anniversary of Christopher Columbus' arrival in the New World
in 1492.)
When he arrived in Ogden where his family had settled, he
was promptly sent to Vernal Utah (50 miles south east) where he was employed as
a stage coach driver on a
route from Vernal to Duchene UT. It
astounds me that my grandfather drove a stage coach as a young man. But then of course, the automobile had not
yet been invented! He lived long enough
to fly from Salt Lake City to Los Angeles in a jet airplane to visit Herman and
Valate’s family who has since settled in
Santa Barbara CA. But that is another
story.
Early Years
Growing up as a Mormon boy in a Mormon community made being
a Mormon pretty insignificant in my life.
I believe I was fortunate to escape this insignificance in spite of my parents’
casual participation in the church. However,
my parents as well as both grandparents were sealed in the Temple thus
providing me the blessing of being “Born In The Covenant”. Importantly, I always knew my parents and
maternal grandparents believed in the
church and we were a “Mormon Family” where ever we lived.
Secondly, I was blessed with an irrefutable, undeniable
testimony of the truthfulness of the restoration of the gospel by Joseph Smith,
the Prophet of the Lord. My life would
have many twists and turns, many highs and lows, but no matter what circumstances
I got myself into, one thing I am grateful for is that I never doubted the
restoration. At this point late in my life, my testimony is like a granite
block and I know that my testimony has kept me out of many major calamities in
my life.
No seminary for me
Two things I deeply regret about my youth. By the time I graduated from Jr High School
my family had moved to Santa Barbara, CA.
Notwithstanding all the benefits of living in paradise, there was no seminary for me. In fact, there were only about four Mormon
kids in my high school of 2500. We
attended church in the Santa Barbara Branch with about 100 members. The meeting house was a very large estate
located on Santa Barbara Street that was bequeathed to the church by a member
whose name I am embarrassed to say I don’t know. The present Stake Center for
the Santa Barbara Stake occupies that same land today. The stake boundaries
were then about 150 miles long, going from San Louis Obispo to Oxnard
California.
No Mission for me
The second major regret is that the subject of a serving a mission
was never discussed with me either by my parents or by my Bishop or priesthood
leaders. In today’s world, that would be
inconceivable. But Marriage was discussed
between Sherma and me and that has been the saving grace of my life. We were married in the Salt Lake Temple six
weeks after I turned twenty years old. I
was a sophomore at BYU but that story comes much later!
I’m pleased to say
that I was able to remedy both of these issues (seminary & mission) as time
passed. When our first three children
were of Seminary age, I volunteered to serve as one of the Seminary teachers
for our stake for early morning seminary (6:30am
to 7:30am Monday – Friday). I
taught seminary for four years PLUS one more year as a bonus!
When Candice, our youngest child left for BYU Sherma and I
submitted our papers to serve a mission.
We were called to Birmingham England.
Sherma to serve as Mission President Secretary and me as Finance Secretary.
(LL) Although
I can’t say for sure, I am of the opinion that seminary in your youth, and a
mission before you are married are
probably 10 times more beneficial than having that experience after you are in
middle age and your children are all raised.
I can’t tell you the time that I have deeply regretted not being a
“Returned Missionary husband, and a
Returned Missionary father. God blessed
me with a wonderful wife without whom I would have surely been a lost
soul. But I can’t help thinking what
might have been if Sherma would have been blessed with a Returned Missionary
Gary for her husband and father of her children.
I don’t want to
imply that serving a mission guarantees a perfect outcome in life, but I am
convinced that serving a mission will provide significant advantages over not
serving a mission.
Ogden, Utah
I was born the fourth child of Herman and Valate Payne. My dad owned the grocery store formerly owned
by Grandpa (David George)Picket. It is
interesting to me that this family of six was living in a two bedroom home
behind the store. My mother was working
right alongside dad as the cashier, book keeper, stocker, and whatever else she
could contribute. My recollection was that the residence was
very small and modestly furnished, unless you count the stacks of groceries
stored in the hallway of the residence.
I was about five
years old when my father purchased his first free standing home just six blocks
away at 2825 Adams
Avenue, Ogden. Utah. During those years
it seemed that almost everything was rationed.
It was a good time to be in a grocer man’s family. It seems that we never wanted for anything.
Since mom was working at the store, and since the home was
no longer right behind the store there was a need for child care for the four
rambunctious children. Grandma Pickett
had a brother who had never married. He
had a significant hunch back. I remember
being told that he was stepped on by a horse when he was a young man. My mother said she remembered him when he was
tall and handsome. There has to be a
special place for Uncle Hy (Hyrum Evans) in heaven. He would have been about 57 years old when
he started to provide house cleaning, gardening, cooking, and “chasing the
monsters around the Payne household on Adams Avenue. I remember that he always came to work on his
bicycle, riding from where he lived with his sister who we called “Aunt Matt”
short for Martha Parsons. After work, Uncle Hy as we called him went around the
corner to the VFW (Veterans of Foreign Wars) to get relief with a few beers
whenever he could slip away. I don’t
think we gave it a thought.
The first eight years of my life were World War II
years. I distinctly remember the day it
was announced that the war had ended; dad stood in front of the store and shot
his 32 caliber pistol into the air!!!
Fortunately, the population was very small and I never heard of any
injuries from that practice that seemed very common at that time. We see that practice today in the Middle East
with automatic weapons and I always wonder who is getting hit by those bullets when
they come down. And I think it has
always reminded me of 1945 when World War II ended.
In kindergarten and First grade I attended Lewis Elementary School on 28th street, just around
the corner from our home on Adams Ave. In kindergarten I remember getting to have a
little rest laying down on the blanket we each brought and when we got up we
got a half pint of milk. Kindergarten
was just a half day so I don’t quite get why we needed the rest. I think it was more for the teacher that for
the children!
We moved about 5 blocks east to a beautiful home at 2545 Eccles Ave, a street
that used to be called watermelon lane because in the middle of the block there
was a beautiful grass island in the shape of a watermelon. I think this was my mother’s dream home. It had a full basement plus a full second
story. It seemed very big to me. When we moved here, I started to attend Polk
Elementary School. We probably only
lived here for about one year.
I think my dad had a case of “middle age crazies”. At the age of 40 -41 he began to think he
should retire. He moved the family to
Mesa Arizona. In fairness, I must add
that my brother David had Rheumatic Fever and I believe health reasons for Dave
played a major role in Dad’s decision to
move to Phoenix Arizona. Dad had a new
home built on West Windsor about one block from a golf course which made a nice
playground for me. But in about three
months we moved back to Ogden as it seems that the man he hired to manage
Payne’s Market was bleeding off a lot of capital to open his own store a few
blocks away. I was really too young to
know many details except that I was back in Polk Elementary, probably about the
fourth grade.
When we came back to Ogden, we moved further up on the
“bench” as they called it. This time to 1418 27th Street. Moving up the economic ladder so to speak.
The Papas Family
From about the fourth grade through the ninth grade, the
Papas family had a significant influence on my life. Although I went to school, I have no
recollection of ever bring a book home for home work like I see all of my
grandchildren do these days. I worked at
Payne’s Market after school and on Saturday (more detail about that
later). But all my spare time I spent
with George Papas, my age and Thomas, one year younger, and Leah, two years
older.
It was not until many years later that I reflected on my
activities with the Papas kids that I came to realize that they were not a
particularly good influence on me. As an
adult I was shocked to realize that the father, although very kind and friendly
to his kids and their friends, actually
made his living as a proprietor of a hotel on lower 25th street that
had a thriving “ladies of the evening” business. He owned a bar and the Roosevelt Hotel
adjacent to the bar, two very compatible businesses for his enterprise. They were located about one block from the
Ogden Rail Road Station. I remember going to the hotel for a Sunday
Dinner with his family. We played on the
switchboard which was one that you had to plug in two cords to connect a call. I think the place was essentially empty being
Sunday and not a particularly good day for his type of business.
If I was lucky enough to be at the house when papa Papas came
home, it was his habit to give all his kids a silver dollar and he never left
me out!!! Their house was always well
stocked with Coke, candy bars, and bubble gum, all very hard to come by during
the war.
Besides the three kids my age, they had a little sister
named Madelyn who was about five or six years old. The mother was quite attractive and probably
about ten to fifteen years younger than her husband. She was a perfect mother for this bunch
because she never knew where we were or what we were doing, and didn’t seem to
care. Whatever medication she was on was
definitely working. I think she was
suffering from post-partum depression or something similar. She seemed to stay in her room most of the
time. I can never remember seeing a
family meal prepared, or eaten except for the one at the Roosevelt Hotel down
town. Most of the food I ate with the
Papas’ was a cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke eaten at the local hamburger joint
named Ken’s Burgers located on 30th and Harrison Blvd. The pin ball machine had a special fascination
for us in those days. Hours were spent
with me mostly being an observer because I didn’t want to spend the nickel that
each game cost. I learned much later, to my embarrassment that Ken’s wife was
the sister of RuAyne Herbert, later to become Mrs. David H Payne. Consistent with her class, she never
embarrassed me with stories I’m sure she heard about me from her sister.
Papas’ had more disposable income than most so they had lots
of toys that kids love. I’ll share a few
with you. George had two horses, one for
him and one for a friend I guess. Every
July Ogden held a rodeo and any person who would bring their horse to the
stadium and ride in the “Grand Entry” would automatically get into the rodeo
free. We had to ride the horses about
4-5 miles each way from the stables up in the foothills where the horses were
kept down to the stadium. This got us
home very late every night of the rodeo but no one seemed to notice.
Daddy Papas kept a brand new Buick for his young wife but I
never saw her in it. Our driver was 14
year old Leah and she was happy to take us anywhere we wanted. She was very short so she had a pile of
pillows to sit on so she could see out. She must have been a careful driver because we
never got stopped by the police and fortunately never had an accident.
In the summer we would go rabbit hunting out in West
Weber. We would sit on the front fender
and Leah would drive through the sage brush!
The shotguns, ammunition, car and gasoline furnished by Papas’. In the winter I remember Leah pulling George
on a tow line with his skis on. I was
delegated to be the rearward observer so we could stop when George fell
off. The skiing part was not something I
ever dared to do. These activities were all done out in the dessert west of
Ogden.
I remember a birthday party for Leah. Her dad rented a huge public indoor swimming
pool called the Rainbow Gardens at the mouth of the Ogden canyon. Leah had about 50 invited guests with an open
snack bar.
Looking back at this time it was like Pinocchio living at
the carnival with free access to any thing a boy could want. I feel very lucky to have escaped without major consequences.
(LL) Ideally, parents should
always know where their children are, who they are with, and what they are doing. These things are too important to leave to
chance.
Payne’s Market
I would not like to accuse my dad of violating the child
labor laws, but I think I was about five or six when I was first put to work at
Payne’s Market. Summers were very hot in
Ogden and my dad was very enterprising. He pushed a Coke cooler out in front of the
store and rigged a long extension cord to it.
The Coke was immersed in water which was recirculated through a refrigerant. Frankly, I was a very cute little boy with
Scandinavian type blonde hair. My ancestry was actually English and Welch but I
think every child of our family was blonde during the first four or five years
of their lives. I was the only one who stayed blonde until I became gray!
Dad taught me to approach every customer who drove or walked
towards the front door to put a big smile on my face and say “Excuse me sir, “Wouldn’t
you enjoy a nice cold Coke to cool you off”.
My close ration was record setting.
And I had full responsibility to collect the nickel, and make change
when necessary. I was a six year old
businessman!
Another enterprise was Coke related as well. During the war, almost everything was in
short supply. Soft drinks were all sold
in glass bottles. I’m going to have to
guess what this enterprise was about since I was never taken into the
confidence of the perpetrator.
I had a little red wagon as most boys my age did. Dad taught me to go around the neighborhood and
ask if I might help them out by cleaning all the empty soft drink bottles out
of their basement and garage. I’m quite
certain that no money changed hands. I
was just doing them a cleaning service.
I’m guessing here, but I think there were deposits of maybe one or two
cents per bottle that dad could collect from the bottling companies. Dad was winning two ways. First he kept me busy and thus not finding
mischief to get into. Second, he had a
100% profit margin on all the bottles I collected.
Stay with me here, because I’m not through with the pop
bottle connection yet. My brother Dave
was five years older than me. When I was out collecting empty pop bottles in
the neighborhood, Dave had a very undesirable job both in location and in
function. In the basement of Payne’s
market excess stock was stored. Also,
basket after basket full of empty pop bottles were sent to be “sorted”.
The basement had a low ceiling, and while that did not pose
a problem for me at this time, the basement was famous for some real knock out
contacts with adult employees. But in
addition to the low ceiling, the lighting was depressing to say the least. One bulb hanging from the ceiling on a cord
was not what you would have called mood lighting.
So in this lovely environment, damp and dark, Dave’s job was
to empty the jumbled assortment of bottles and put each bottle into a wooden
crate from the appropriate manufacture.
Coke to the Coke crate. 7 up to
the 7up crate. Nephi to the Nephi crate. Maybe fifteen manufactures in total. You should be smart enough to see where this
is going. Dave couldn’t wait to unload
that job onto me. I think by the time I
was ten years old, Dave never sorted another bottle. Remember, the bottles were dirty, sometimes
one fourth full so they would spill all over your clothes, hands, arms if you
moves too fact. And I always moved very
fast to get the job over with. But it
was never over with. I think 15- 20
basket loads per week arrived in the basement for the sorter. And if you got behind….. Avalanche. Sometimes the bottles were stacked three
baskets deep. A very unstable stack!
But the job was not without its rewards. I got 10¢ / hour for this little task. That doesn’t sound like much, but you’d be
surprised how fast it adds up. So was
dad. He had a very strange bookkeeping
system for the payroll for his 10 year old son.
He would have been a very effective politician. His strategy was defer, delay, obfuscate,
negotiate.
Once I told him I wanted a settlement on my wages. He asked how much he owed me. I replied $32.60. I’m glad he didn’t have a weak heart. Well, a lot of dancing around, foot shuffling
and “oh me, oh my” and finally the offer
to settle: ……. $15.00. Face it. He had all the cards. I didn’t have a union, and I didn’t have
alternative employers at 10 years of age.
And $15.00 was a small fortune!!
And thus I began to get used to having major money for my activities at
a very young age. By the time I was
twelve I was buying all of my own clothes and providing all my own spending
money, and did so from that time on.
Strange that I cannot remember ever stocking the shelves at
Payne’s market. I was required to sweep
the floors, and repeated dusting of the shelves, but I guess I was never
considered big enough to be a stock boy.
In early years, I think I had a hard time staying focused for very long (and
Sherma tells me in later years as well!) so when I was supposed to sweep the
floor, dad required that I “stroke three times, then turn the push broom over
and tap it twice”. This he explained
would keep the dirt from collecting on the brushes. What he didn’t tell me was that when the tapping
stopped he would know that I had slipped out.
My favorite place to slip out to was Grandma & Grandpa
Picket’s house, about three blocks away.
One time of infamy when dad realized the tapping had stopped, he came
looking for me and he knew right where to look. I saw him drive up and quickly dove under
grandma’s bed. He came in and asked “where
is Bart”? Grandma is purported to have
said “I haint seen hide nor hare of him Herm”.
That is the way the story is always told, but in my heart I think
grandma gave dad a wink and looked over to her bed. She didn’t want my dad to worry but she
wanted to protect me from work as well!
Dad was a good sport and went along with it.
Another time of infamy my brother Dave loves to tell is
seeing me motoring off in the back seat of grandfather’s car and poking my head out the window with a big
smile crying out “I’ll work double tomorrow”.
The key to success in a small market like that was good meat
and good produce. Dad was the butcher
and also the produce man. After a while
he hired a cousin of my mother whose name was Walt Wessler. Walt had a forever twinkle in his eye. He had a great sense of humor and was always
teasing. In the corner of the meat
department was a small closet that was the toilet. The fixture had the reservoir of water
overhead so that gravity could supply the water pressure. Being young and forgetful I often forgot to
“pull the rope” to flush the toilet.
Walt would repeatedly say to me “when you smell the dope, pull the
rope”. So I got a lot of teasing about
that. Years later whenever he saw me he would say “when you smell the dope,
pull the rope” then laugh and laugh.
After dad hired a manager and was not in the store every
day, I felt I was abused by the new boss.
I doubt that the manager wanted to be responsible for me and wasn’t very
nice to me. I filed a “labor grievances”
with my dad at the dinner table claiming under pay and over work. He suggested I might find employment
elsewhere. This time I was fourteen
years old and had a bit more leverage.
Next day I came home from school and proudly reported that I had landed
a job at dad’s chain store competition American Food Stores, about four blocks
away and got a 25% increase in pay!!! I
think that was one of dad’s favorite stories to tell about me. He was very proud that I would stand up to
his manager and prouder still that the neighboring store manager recognized a
well trained boy.
(LL) I am a
firm believer that learning early in life to be self-reliant is a wonderful
blessing. It was actually very rewarding
to have a task, see it completed, and reap rewards for my effort. It was here in the dark, dusty basement of
Payne’s Market that I first learned to love work and the rewards it could
bring.
Saturday Morning
Movies
In the summer time the local theaters had Saturday
matinées. The most popular one was the
Paramount Theater where you got a double feature, cartoons, news, and a live
master of ceremonies accompanied by a live organ. Price of admission: 10¢.
About half a block from the movie there was a popcorn store. We could get “unpopped corn” for 5¢. The bus was 5¢ each way so mom game me a quarter. Ten cents for the movie, ten cents for the
bus. and five cents for candy and I was out of her hair for half a day!
I figured if I walked instead of ride the bus I would have
10¢ extra for candy! No brainer! I opted for the candy! We lived seventeen blocks from the movie so I
really had to earn that dime of spending money
Miscellaneous
Ogden Life
The first 12 years of my life I remember that dad seemed to
work 12 hour days and often seven day weeks.
My parents did have an interesting social life however. I remember Mom and dad belonged to a club
called the Debutants. Twice a year they
had a formal dance. Dad would wear a
tuxedo and mom would wear a formal, with a corsage!! Fancy smancy!
Also, once a week they would join friends for a penny anti poker
game. The card party would rotate from
home to home and when it was at our house at 1418 27th street, I
noticed they all drank cocktails.
One other observation I would like to make about the church
in the 40’s and 50’s that is very different from today. I never heard any discussion about temples
either at church or at home. I don’t
recall my parents or grandparents ever going to the temple. In October conference, 1994, after Howard W
Hunter asked the members to make the temple the symbol of our membership, and I
have seen that actually happen. And at
the last general conference, President Monson announced the new policy of
encouraging all youth 12 years and older to be worthy of, to use often, and
have in their possession at all times a limited use (temple baptisms) temple
recommends.
In later life, my parents stopped drinking coffee and cocktails
and were regular temple attenders, even though it was a two hour bus ride each
way to the Los Angeles Temple from Hemet, California where they lived in
retirement. All six of their children
are regular temple attenders. David is a
Sealer at the Los Angeles temple, and Doug has served as a temple ordinance
worker in the Ogden temple for many years.
Ilene and I both serve as Temple Ordinance Workers. Mom and Dad must have done some things right.
Santa Barbara California
One of dad’s fellow grocery man, golfing buddies and social
friends was Jim Bush. In 1950 Jim sold
his grocery store in Ogden, uprooted his family and moved to a place called
Santa Barbara, California. He bought a
lemon orchard and set about becoming a “Gentleman Farmer”. He raved about the weather, the life style,
and the wonderful golf course at the Santa Barbara Country Club. It was too much for dad to resist, for which
I will be ever grateful.
In 1951 I was fourteen years old, just graduated from
Central Jr. High. Dad sold Payne’s
market, the home on 27th street, and headed for Santa Barbara
California. I had the challenge of
attending high school where I didn’t know a soul. Dad found a house to rent on Calle Pollo
Colorado for us to live in while a home was being built on Piedmont Road. Dad love to say as fast as he could “Calle
Pollo Colorado” and over and over again. Our new home was being built at the top of
Ontare Rd. on the north end of Santa Barbara.
It had a beautiful view of the
valley below, and about a dozen avocado trees.
I’m guessing the lot was about one acre.
One of the first things I did when I got there was to get a
job. When I left Ogden, I was getting
paid 75¢ an hour. The grocery clerks in
Santa Barbara were paid $2.14 per hour!
But the jobs were very hard to get so I took a job at Smitty’s Chevron
gas station. In those days they were
full service stations so I cleaned the car windows, checked the dip stick,
added oil when required and filled the gas tank. I also learned how to repair tires with tire
irons, the old fashioned way. It wasn’t
my chosen profession, but it provided spending money and I really liked the men
I worked for.
That first summer, my only friend was Jim Bush’s son named
Bobby. He was two years younger than me,
but he was a friend to keep company with.
If I wasn’t working at Smitty’s, I would be with Bobby at the Santa
Barbara Country club playing golf (very poorly) or hanging out at the
pool. I don’t think I ever had or was
offered to have a golf lesson. When
school started, Bobby was still in Jr. High School so the only time I saw him
was on Sundays at church.
Fairly soon I was able to get a job at Jordano’s
Supermarket. My last job in a grocery
store in Ogden paid 75 cents per hour, up from 50 cents at Payne’s Market. Jordano’s
paid $2.14 per hour!
I wasn’t working there very long when the store manager told
me he had an opportunity for me to make extra money if I was interested. Of course I said. He said he would pay me $20 cash to clean all
the restrooms, floors, sinks, toilets, urinals etc. once a week.
There were probably about 30 - 40 employees there but he chose me
because he knew I would do a good job and not take short cuts.
The same thing happened when I worked at Safeway after my
freshman year at school. The manager
chose four guys to mop the floors once a week and we got paid cash. I was invited to be on the crew. I was never too proud to get my hands dirty
or do the low class work and I think it made me more valuable to my employer.
Payne’s Music
Company
Dad purchased a business from Trevillian Enterprise and
changed the name to Payne’s Music Company.
The business had a route of restaurants, bars, and coffee shops and it
provided juke boxes, pinball and other coin operated games and cigarette
machines.
About one year prior to us moving to Santa Barbara, Dave had
married RuAyne Herbert and they had moved to South Gate California to live near
Ilene and Bill Critchfield, our sister.
Dave tried selling Kirby vacuum cleaners for a while but naturally
gravitated to working in a huge grocery store named Hirams.
Dad persuaded Dave to move to Santa Barbara and be the
manager of Payne’s Music Company. Thus
started a lifetime career for Dave, albeit a short lived Payne’s Music
Company. I worked for Dave after school
and on Saturdays and thus started a close friendship and working relationship
with my brother who was six years older than me. Growing up, that was a bit too much of a
spread to be real friends, but working together in the family business brought many
fond memories and laughs.
One job was to type the labels for the juke box for the new
records. We had a manual typewriter and
the labels had to be error free. It was
tough but I learned for the first time how to type and that has been a great
blessing in itself. Dave rented a home
about three blocks from the High School so it was easy for me to go to his
house to type the labels.
In the field, I would go to the accounts with him where he
would empty the coins from all the machines, count it, and pay the owner his
share. I don’t remember being allowed to
touch the money! The cigarette machines
had to be restocked. And the labels had
to be replaced for the new records being installed. I can’t honestly remember what it was that I
did, except run to the car for this tool or that. I think I was allowed to change the music
labels.
Here’s a real hoot!
The cigarettes sold for 23¢ a package, and the machine would only accept
quarters so we had a big production line at our home on Piedmont Rd. We opened a carton of cigarettes, with a
razor blade we sliced the cellophane wrapper and inserted two pennies and put
the packages back into their carton and then into their case! Hard to believe, but it’s true. Apparently, dad felt that labor was cheap so
we just kept doing it. Our house often
had 30- 50 cases of cigarettes stacked in the halls. When friends came over they must have thought
we had a real smoking habit. Apparently
the change of ownership was confidential so we were not allowed to ever tell
anyone why we had the cigarettes in our house.
One of the benefits of working with Dave was going to the
shop after work and playing the pinball machines and the shuffleboard. We would have tournaments and World Series
(best 4 out of 7). Dave would always
make sure the rules would ensure he was the winner! I didn’t really mind. I just enjoyed his friendship.
Santa Barbara High
School
My sophomore year was very hard for me because I didn’t know
a sole, but by the time I graduated, I was one of the social high flyers. I was invited to join a H-Y club which was
sponsored by the YMCA. It provided a
great opportunity for me to meet lots of guys who had grown up in Santa
Barbara. One of the members of the club
was Charles Schwabb who I knew as “Chuck”.
Chuck was a very serious student
and his best friend was Hugo Quackenbush, later to become his Executive Vice
President. They were both heavy duty
scholars, something I didn’t quite fit into.
Their conversations were often way over my head. As far as I know, Chuck never had any contact
with his high school buddies and would not return any attempts to contact
him. He never attended a reunion. I guess we were too far beneath him.
Hugo lived in a very run down shack right next to the
tracks. I’m sad to say he was the brunt
of many jokes. Since he was a true
eccentric it wasn’t hard to make fun of him.
He got the last laugh though didn’t he.
His son was elected Secretary of State for California. I think Hugo had significant clout because of
his wealth and position at Charles Schwab.
In my junior year I was invited along with twenty or thirty
other boys to go to a formal dance at the Santa Barbara School for Girls in
Montecito CA. It was a boarding school
for girls with parents of substantial means.
There I met a girl that I was smitten by and vice versa I guess. The next year she dropped out of the girls
school and registered at Santa Barbara High.
We dated for probably a year and she exposed me to high culture
living. One night a week her family had
a formal dinner at home prepared and served by a high class chef. I was often invited and I was really
impressed.
I dated one other girl in High School for about eight or
nine months whose name was Marina Costas.
She was a very talented singer and stared in the school play singing the
part of Maria . Mostly, I just dated a
lot of different girls and went dancing every Saturday night.
There was one other exception that was quite strange. She was a cheer leader at Ventura High School
about forty miles down the coast. She
was a knock out and I think I just dated her for a trophy date. But she was spoiled rotten and made endless
demands which didn’t wear very well. And
the eighty mile round trip to Ventura for a date got old pretty fast.
The final chapter of that relationship was a real
shocker. We had not dated for a long
time and one day after I am married and living in Provo UT, I get a phone call
in my apartment with Sherma and it is her!!!
She has come to BYU to find me. I
guess I’ll never know the real story but I told her we wouldn’t be dating
because my wife wouldn’t approve!
Honestly, she was a real nutter so I wouldn’t be surprised if she knew I
was married and called me for shock value.
I don’t think I ever saw her on campus, and now as I think of it, she
may not have been in Provo at all…. Just like her.
Brigham Young
University
BYU was and is one of the great blessings of my life. I honestly don’t know how it came to be but I
just ended up there. I never considered
any other college and the University of California at Santa Barbara was right
there locally. I’m going to guess that
my mom and dad did some very subtle manipulating and made sure that I thought
it was my idea. Candidly, higher
education was not on the top of my things to do list. I was seventeen years old, and more like
thirteen in maturity. I was into having
fun and driving a nice car, and going on lots of dates. BYU was a gift from God for something I must
have done in the preexistence.
I started BYU in the fall of 1955 and graduated in June of
1959. That was a real accomplishment
considering that I was invited to go home and find another school in my first
quarter of my sophomore year. But God
had other plans for me. I did go home
and went to work in Los Angeles in the grocery industry. It took two requests for readmission before I
got back in. I had missed a full year.
But I have gotten ahead of myself. In my freshman year in the first quarter I
met the “boys from Lehi” who became my best friends. Hugh Haws invited me to come live in their home
and enjoy home cookin’ from his mom. His
mother Edith was an industrious and ambitious woman and she would enjoy a
little extra spending money. So all my
friends were from Lehi and I lived in Lehi.
I even dated Lehi High school girls.
One of those friends lived across the street. His name was Brent Dorton. He had a steady girl friend who was going to
beauty college in Salt Lake City. Her
name was Sherma White. Since she lived
and went to school in Salt Lake, I rarely saw her. I remember the first time I saw her I was
coming out of the chapel of the Lehi 5th ward and she was with Brent
and he introduced us. I thought she was
very attractive, but already taken. Soon
thereafter they became engaged. Right
now I am reminded of my grandson Steven Cole who once told me “just because
there is a goalkeeper doesn’t mean you can’t score.” But once again I get ahead of myself.
A great tragedy occurred when the three Lehi Boys, Hugh
Haws, Lyle Barnes, Brent Dorton, along with me and Tom Woodring, a friend from
Santa Barbara, John Shamburg went to
Lake Powell to go boating and just goof off.
Somehow, Brent, and expert swimmer drowned that week end and no one
could ever explain why. It occurred very
near the end of the school year so I soon returned to Santa Barbara for the
summer.
Next fall when I returned for my sophomore year I brought a
close high school friend John Shamburg with me.
He was not LDS so I can’t for the life of me figure out what would
motivate a handsome young man to leave home to attend a Mormon university 700
miles from home. But he did.
It wasn’t long before Hugh thought that John should meet
Sherma so he did, and they quickly fell in love. But it wasn’t meant to be.
When I was invited to leave BYU for disciplinary reasons,
John did not want to stay without me there so we went home and plotted an
adventure. I’m not sure who thought of
it but we both decided to sell our cars and move to Hawaii. The first thing I did when I got there was
get a job in the local super market chain.
The first thing John did was start to miss Sherma. We were on a collision course and I was
destined to loose. I certainly did not
want to live in Hawaii without John so we headed back to Santa Barbara.
I move to South Gate CA to live with my sister Ilene and
quickly get a job in a grocery chain store.
John joins the Marines. Now we
are really on different paths. My goal
was to get back into BYU. I don’t know
what John’s goal was but he shortly thereafter bought an engagement ring for Sherma.
Let me digress for a moment and share with you a couple of
stories about my employment in South Gate.
As I canvas grocery stores I come upon an Alpha Beta store where the
manager says he has no openings but he has a guy home sick that day which was
the day that they received their load from the warehouse and I could work one day
if I wanted which I did. At the end of
the day he called me into his office and he phones another Alpha Beta store
manage and tells him he has the best stock clerk he has ever seen, and I am
quickly employed at this other Alpha Beta store, sight un seen.
After about six months I am approved for re admittance at
BYU on probation. When I give my notice
to my boss he says I am crazy to leave. I
am making more money right now that I will make after I graduate. He is exactly right as it turns out. But I tell him I think a college education is
important. ( I have to credit my father
for indoctrinating me with that philosophy) The Store Manager says if I stay he will make
me assistant manager effective today and I will be a Store Manager within two
years. I take this offer as a high
complement and can see that someone who loves to work is a rare commodity.
LL Many times in my career my high energy and
industriousness, and willingness to go beyond what is expected has gained for
me great advantage and resulted in many promotions.
Education
I started kindergarten one year early, I think so mom could
get me out of her hair, and because she could see I was bright enough to learn
the curriculum. The down side of that
was that I was always the youngest person in my class, and certainly the most immature. So I compensated by often being a
disruption. This continued through High
School, and even my first year at BYU. I
can never remember bring books home to study in High School. I can never think of a time when my grandkids
did NOT bring books home to study.
Consequently, their grades are excellent and frequently receive academic
awards and scholarships. Education wise,
my life took a dramatic change when I got married. All of a sudden, education was a critical
factor in my prospects for earning a living.
College social life was irrelevant.
I really put my nose to the grindstone and got good grades, and got out
of University in record time.
What’s in
a Name
I was christened Gary Barton Payne, but I grew up as Bart
Payne. Until I attended BYU. In 1955 the computer began to intrude in our
lives. It was first name, middle
initial. No exceptions. So I don’t fight it. I am now Gary B Payne. And everybody I met at BYU knew only Gary
Payne. That caused no problems until I
graduated and moved back to California and just naturally introduced myself as
Bart Payne. No problem except that
Sherma only knew Gary.
Funny story. One day
Sherma says to my friends in Lehi, you
always talk about this guy named Bart.
Why haven’t you ever introduced hi to me. My friend Hugh Haws laughs and says, “you
know Gary don’t you”. Yes she says. Well, that Bart.
One more name story.
I have a cousin, Karen Davis, who is also attending the Y. She meets and marries Alan Hemsley, who has
met Sherma at school so they plan to attend the wedding. Karen is going to Bart’s wedding and Allan
says no his name is Gary. So an argument
ensues. Alan says Gary is a red
head. (unknown to him, died that color
by Sherma the cosmetologist). No, Karen
say Bart is blonde! A real donnybrook
ensues. We have stayed good friends for
all these years and have had many a laugh of Gary the red head vs Bart the
Blonde.
So the problem was solved by Sherma being married to Gary
and all of her family knew Gary, but from University days on, only Sherma and
her family calls me Gary.
First name, middle initial has caused me major problems as
life goes on and computers become more intrusive. I frequently can’t remember in what name I
have an appointment because of their computer data base.
LL Never call you son by his middle name. It will drive him crazy in this day of
computer data
The Courtship of Sherma Bee
Sherma had lots of boy friends before I ever got my
chance! She was very popular in School,
and was in school government, and school plays, and school beauty queen, and an
excellent student. How I slipped in
there can only be attributed to eternal destiny. We are very happily married now but Sherma had
to tolerate a very immature husband for far too long, before I finally decided
to grow up.
When I first met Sherma, she was a very serious girlfriend
of Brent Dorton. A neighbor across the
street from where I was living in Lehi, and we car pooled to BYU together, so I
heard a lot about Brent’s beautiful girlfriend, to who he soon became engaged.
Shortly after Brent’s
drowning, my good friend Hugh Haws who I lived with my freshman year, decides that John Shamburg, who came to the Y
with me would be a great match for Sherma.
And why not. John is a very handsome California blonde, 6” 1” and a
great build. Every girl’s dream. But he had a chink in his armor! He was not a member of the church. A major chink!
So, I am back in school on probation after being
readmitted. John has joined the Marine
Corpse. Sempra Fi buddy! On his first leave, he heads straight for
Utah to see Sherma, his future wife, so he
thinks. God has other plans.
John gets in a head on collision and is not expected to
live, so I am told. I drop everything
and get ready to rush home to see John.
In my packing I get a call from Sherma who advises me that she is going
with me. No way!!! Way!!!
My first hint of a very strong mind, but I’m not too quick to pick up on
it.
So we make a bee line for Port Hueneme Hospital (Camarillo)
California. After the visit, we proceed
to Santa Barbara where of course I am the perfect host to my friend Sherma
Bee. Dining and dancing and the beach
are standard fare for new comers to Santa Barbara. Nothing too good for John’s girlfriend. Back to Port Hueneme Hospital the next day,
and of course returning to Santa Barbara for another delightful evening.
Looks like John is not if fact going to die but plans to
marry the fetching Sherma White from Highland Utah. So we skedaddle back to Provo.
It is amazing what can happen when two people of common mind
can achieve when they are alone together for 72 hours in a most romantic
setting. The next day I call Sherma and
suggest that we go to the Pleasant Grove Rodeo together. Ninety days later, it is Gary who has the
engagement ring on Sherma Bee’s finger, and ninety days after that she is Mrs.
Gary B Payne!!!!! How about them
apples!
