tumbleweeds and rye - washington county historical...

1

Tumbleweeds and Rye

My Tribute To Larry Ray Nelson by Clark N. Nelson, Sr. **** This document may be updated periodically Last Update-06-09-19

Memories – Photographs - Scrapbook – Documents My brother Larry Ray Nelson was born October 30, 1933 in St. George, Utah. The middle name 'Ray' stems from my father's twin brother Ray who was killed in the Escalante Oil Well #1 explosion March 7, 1935 and merely as a bystander leaning against his car. Larry was the good son, the noble son. I was the other son. We endured arguments as most siblings do. They were etched in time; they're indelible in memory, with an impact common to a tragic loss. Our home at that time was the western side of our grandmother's duplex located at 359 East 100 South in St. George, Utah. The year was 1945. Larry enjoyed building model airplanes, these were the balsa wood models.

2

Thin strips of balsa were measured, cut, and held together with glue. These were the basic framework components of the skeletal structure which was eventually covered with paper; appropriate decals and nomenclature proving the final step toward completion. Larry completed three model airplanes. They were suspended from a ceiling

light fixture. One evening Larry and I began arguing. We were very upset. When

Larry left the room, I destroyed every one of those airplanes. This event from

1945 has tormented me for more than 70 years.

I was eventually punished for destroying Larry’s model airplanes, and as one

might expect, our mother served as prosecutor, judge, and jury; punishments

rendered were never to be challenged. Punishments usually came with the

spanking of an open hand. Reprimands were swift, firm, and straight to the

point. There were occasions when the sting of a leather belt was required to

gain our full attention.

Larry was three years and three months my senior. One of his responsibilities was to watch over me, to guide me, to keep me safe. He fulfilled those responsibilities in magnificent fashion. In the summer of 1945 the kids in the neighborhood were looking forward to the motion picture "Lassie Come Home" available at a local theater; Larry and I were equally excited. In the meantime Larry and his friends had thrown a clubhouse together. It resembled a shack in the middle of nowhere. These were something like 1 X 10 X 10 wood planks drawn together for a floor, supported by 2” X 4” cross bars and located underneath the roof of the tallest barn I’ve ever seen, which was supported by six (6) telephone poles treated with a tar or an oil-based substance to prevent dry rot or termites; one support-pole at each corner and another support-pole midway on both sides. So there it sat, nothing but a roof and six poles, wide open on four sides, never in use, resembling a monument to centuries past. However the Walter Pymm property lay nearest to the east, so it might’ve been owned by the Pymms. This tall barn was located on a vacant lot at the northeast corner of 400 East and 100 South; an LDS Chapel sits on that very site today.

3

Larry and his friends were older, yet I continued my plead for membership to their club. But Larry remained firm regarding that plea. However over time he eventually relented and these were his exact words: "Go ahead but be careful"! After all, the climb to that clubhouse was a feat in itself, bringing to mind a high wire act at the nearest Ringling Bros. Barnum and Bailey. Larry’s instructions to wit were loud and clear; as if chiseled in stone: "When you climb up there don't lean back against the walls. They're only leaning there; they're not nailed. If you lean back you'll fall out backwards". I told Larry that I completely understood, feeling confident that I would never make that mistake. Once I reached the clubhouse, I sat down then leaned straight back, and out I went. The distance to the ground was at least 15 feet, if not even farther. I still recall a yellow sky as I fell; I landed with a thump. Both bones in my left forearm were broken and resembled cables wrapped around a rear axle. We hurried back home as soon as possible. We were both crying. I was crying

from the pain in my arm. Larry was crying because he felt responsible. He felt he

had failed miserably. But our mother wasn't upset with Larry; she consoled his

every concern, yet my fall had ruined an evening at the movies. We would have

to wait for another showing of "Lassie Come Home".

During the summer of 1946 my parents drove us to Las Vegas for ‘Heldorado Days’. A movie was also being filmed based upon that annual celebration, with the title Heldorado, starring Roy Rogers, Dale Evans, and George ‘Gabby’ Hayes. A number of scenes from the rodeo and the parade down Fremont Street were filmed. There was occasional footage of the crowd in attendance at the rodeo. Our entire family can be seen in three of the rodeo scenes. I have copies of those three scenes. I can see Larry seated next to our mother. These three movie scenes were to capture memories of a very special time; especially, since we would lose Larry one year later. Larry became ill later that year (1946). A lump had appeared on his neck. It was eventually removed and a biopsy was performed. Larry was diagnosed with Hodgkins Disease. The summer of 1947 was especially hot and dry. It was difficult to cool the house and Larry was bedridden.

4

Our mother wiped Larry's brow with a cool damp wash cloth. She'd swing it around until the air cooled it. Larry and I occasionally argued as we had in the past. One afternoon Larry said something that angered me. I picked up the wash cloth and I threw it at him. I was only ten years of age, I had no idea how sick he was. This encounter with Larry remains indelible in memory, if only I could erase it. One afternoon, after returning from a friend's home, several cars were parked in front of the house. The long front porch in front was filled with friends of the family; one in particular was B. Glenn Smith. I walked inside the living room and several individuals were seated. The house was in somber disarray. I was only ten, but I sensed something was terribly wrong. I walked inside the bedroom and my mother and father were standing at the foot of the bed. They called me over and I stood next to them. To the left was the Patriarch George Miles. We bowed our heads as Mr. Miles delivered his Patriarchal Blessing. I recall one phrase that struck me; especially considering my age. Mr. Miles asked the Lord to take him instead, but I was too young to realize the compassion within that sincere request. Yet in times of impending personal tragedy, I have repeated that phrase verbatim, on several occasions. As my parents mingled with visitors, I remained standing at the foot of the bed, the bed that Larry and I had shared for many years. Then my mother told me Larry's body temperature had reached dangerous levels. As I stood there his eyes constantly searched the room. At times, his eyes were fixed upon me. I wanted to help but there was nothing I could do. I was overcome with sadness. I'd never witnessed anything like it. This scene remains indelible in memory. I doubt I'll ever forget it. Larry would ask for water but it was always denied. It was so hot inside the room and the air felt still and stagnant. I remember asking my mother why Larry couldn't have water. She told me the doctor said water would hasten his passing; something to do with red or white corpuscles turning to water, as I recall.

5

Larry begged for water so many times yet it was always denied. I couldn't understand how they could do this. It seemed so cruel. It made no sense. Then as sundown drew near, he was finally allowed one piece of ice in his mouth. I was ordered to bed around 9:00 p.m. but my father woke me before sunrise and told me that Larry had passed away during the night. I didn't know what to think. I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. The date was June 13, 1947. Larry was 13 years of age. They say 'the good die young'. I agree, for they certainly do. The visitation and viewing was held in our living room; Larry’s casket lay north to south. I remember how the living room looked as the visitation drew to a close. My uncle Frank Milne was standing near my father, along with who I recall was my uncle Miles Nelson, my father’s younger brother. I was standing near my mother and my grandmother. My mother walked to the casket and kissed her son Larry on the forehead; my father followed suit. They both stepped back and stood in silence. The signal came to close the casket. As it closed, my father wept openly. He cried out, "Oh, no. Please, no"! He began to collapse and my two uncles held and steadied him. I've never seen a father hurt as deeply as he did; as if his world had suddenly come to an end. And in many respects, it had. The services were held in the old Third Ward Chapel. I remember only part of the services. I have no memory of the graveside services, although services in the sweltering summer heat were generally much the same; exhaustion, grief, sorrow; heads bowed, sighs of heartbreak; a gust of wind, a bend of limb, a rattle of leaves. Tumbleweeds and rye grass, tumbleweeds and tombstones. I've missed Larry every day since we lost him. I'm very proud of him. Larry bore his testimony in the St. George Tabernacle at the age of twelve. I could never equal Larry's accomplishments; especially at such a young age. Several years after Larry died my mother explained what happened during his final hours. She was in the kitchen when Larry called for her. As she reached his bedside he told her that he really liked the pretty lady in white near the bed that told him she would help him die.

6

Then nine years later 15 year-old Karlene Hafen, a victim of acute Leukemia,

described a similar Presence. Furthermore, I believe that something wonderful

out there awaits, as we find ourselves departing a stubborn mortal plane.

I mourned the loss of my wife at her gravesite everyday over a period of six

months, from December, through the following May. I then witnessed an event

there assuring phenomenal peace within; an event that I have since

documented in detail. Accordingly, I believe that Larry did, in fact, experience

Divine Presence.

8

Mother’s personal record of the hospital, the doctor(s) and nurse(s) on duty at Larry’s birth.

10

1935 - Larry (standing) with cousin Mary Lee Higgins (seated at left)

11

- 1942 – Larry Clark

12

Clark Larry

13

Rex Clark Larry Cleo

1944 Larry Clark Dick Bracken

15

Certificate of Ordination (continued)

16

35 mm frame from ‘Heldorado’ (1946) L-R: Larry – Cleo – Rex - Clark ( bottom-center )

35 mm frame from ‘Heldorado’ (1946) L-R: Larry Cleo Rex

17

Patriarch George E. Miles Patriarchal Blessing at Larry’s bedside June 12, 1947

19

Larry’s Scrapbook

Candy and gum from Bob Morris October 4, 1946

20

Get Well card from friend Jerry Law

21

Get Well card from Leland Hall and family - Page 1 of 8 -

22


23


24


25


26


27


28


29

Get Well card from Norman, Evelyn, and Steven Hunt - Page 1 of 3 -

30


31


32

V-Mail to Rex and Cleo from Forrest Gilley

33

1946 Christmas card from Scoutmaster Conrad Larkin

34

Troop 402 – Second Class Scout award with sleeve

36

Larry’s School Insurance Card

Primary Graduation n – St. George Tabernacle (1946?)

37

Letter to Larry and Jerry Law from Virgil - Dec 1, 1944

38

V-Mail from uncle Miles Nelson - December 16, 1944

39

The Texas Ramblers frequented southern Utah during the 1940s providing music for outdoor dances, such as those held during the evening at the tennis court behind the Dixie College administration building and the gymnasium. The Texas Ramblers radio program was occasionally broadcast on Saturdays on station KSUB in Cedar City, Utah. I remember their radio program vividly, because they played a request I had submitted a few days earlier and they mentioned my name . The ‘jitterbug’ remained quite popular as well during those evening dances at that Dixie College tennis court.

40

the Bell P-39 Air Cobra A collector set card from a pack of Wings cigarettes