1950 A.D.

The year of 1950 brought hard times. Dad lost his oil field job. He was 62 years old; too old for the oilfields. He rummaged around for farm work. Cash income was meager. At best he could only earn $3.00 a day working on the Echols Ranch. Baling prairie hay--hard, hot, dirty work, paid a cent and a half a bale.  He sold eggs from the chickens and cream from the cows. We dug a cellar, lining its walls and roof with concrete and shelving. Mother canned peaches, plums and garden vegetables. Dad was worried and depressed.

Our house was a bleak place.  I remember Greyhound buses traveling up and down the highway in front of the house. They were bound for Memphis, if going South, or Los Angeles, if going North. Those were far away destinations. Places I thought about but never thought I'd see.

I did the usual things. I was member of the Future Farmers of America. I entered a Duroc hog and Jersey cow in the County Fair. I won a second place red ribbon with my hog one year. I went all the way to the state exposition at Tulsa, winning nothing there. I took second place with my Cowper peas at the Hughes County Fair.

I liked school. I was in the class set for graduation in 1951. It was a country school. It was segregated. No development existed around it. Students were bussed to school. There were no blacks, no Hispanics. Just white Anglo-Saxon students.

The 1951 senior class amounted to around 20-25 students. A minimum curriculum was presented, no options. It was history, English, science, agriculture, typing and physical education. We put on a class play each year. We had a small choir and quartet. As it turned out typing was the most useful class I ever received at Moss. The school's standards weren't challenging. It was not a large school. It was a country school offering the minimum courses under state law for graduation. The library was very small and limited.

College was not a goal of students at Moss. College was just a word. I do not recall a conversation by faculty or student about attending college upon graduation. We were farm kids. We had no money, no education, no ambition. Not until I attended law school and began practicing law did I realize how limited the academic quality of schooling at Moss had been.

I made friends at Moss that persist to this day. We grew to know each other well. Friendships tended to be strong and close. Crime or drugs were non-existent. Drinking was rare. Smoking uncommon.

I played baseball and basketball at Moss, American Legion baseball in Holdenville, and "cow lot" baseball every summer Sunday. Baseball was a serious enterprise. We had dreams of playing professional baseball in the big leagues. Baseball was viewed as a possible way out of the poverty of farm labor, much like basketball is viewed by modern day urban blacks. I worked my butt off at it.

A quarter of a mile up the highway, North of our house, lived a former professional baseball player named Jack Mealy. He had played professional baseball with the Chicago White Sox or Cubs I was told. He was President of the Oklahoma Sooner State Baseball League, a professional baseball organization. He had sharp piercing eyes. He umpired some of the Moss baseball games. He was respected.

Moss played Fairview High School in the finals of the conference baseball tournament at the county fairgrounds in Holdenville in 1949. We lost 8-7. I had a great game, hitting a home-run, triple and single, driving in all seven of runs. The Fairview pitcher was Tooley Baxter, a left-hander. Following that game Mr. Mealy pounded out ground balls to Don Leewright and me for an hour or more. He was looking us over. I was 16 years old.

I was seriously involved with a girl. My mother was domineering. For some reason she was determined I would focus on another girl. I rebelled. There was continuous friction between mother and me. I was miserable and wanted my independence.

The Korean War began. A change was about to occur that altered the course of my life. I turned 17 on June 7, 1950. I had joined the 45th Division of the Oklahoma National Guard, in order to earn money. Weekly meetings were held at the Armory in Holdenville.

I wanted to leave home. Don Leewright agreed to leave with me. Our plan was simple. Don would come by my house the following morning, pick me up, and we'd enlist in the Marines at Holdenville. I waited for him. He never came. I was determined. I went alone, hitchhiking the 11 miles into Holdenville. I headed directly to the building which housed the Marine recruiter's office. It was closed. Adamant, I walked the block to the Army/Air Force recruiter's office. I was relieved to find him there.

The recruiter asked if he could help me. I eagerly told him yes, he could, I want to enlist. He opened a desk drawer inquiring whether I sought to enlist in the Army or the Air Force. Without hesitation I answered, "Air Force." He ran some paper into his old typewriter and began asking me my name, address, date of birth and on and on. Finally he asked me how long I wanted to enlist for. I asked him what options existed. He replied "4 years or 6 years." I responded "six years." He hesitated, then suggested I enlist for four years, and if I liked it I could always re-enlist for 6 more years. That was fine with me. All we needed to do was get my parents to consent to me enlisting since I was under age 18.

The recruiter loaded me in his jeep and off we went, the eleven miles back to my home. My parents signed the consent. Then to the National Guard Armory to secure my release to allow me to enlist in the Air Force.

The recruiter gave me the paper work necessary for me to catch the Greyhound bus from Holdenville to Oklahoma City for my physical examination and induction.

On July 21, 1950 I arrived at the induction center in Oklahoma City. Following a physical examination I, along with scores of others, was sworn in and transported to the train station and boarded onto a train. We pulled out of the station for an overnight trip to Lackland Air Force Base, San Antonio, Texas. It was my first time on a train. I sat looking out at the passing landscape as we headed south to Dallas, then San Antonio. I was full of anticipation, somewhat scared, but free of mother.

The first night on the train was an adventure. I was put in the top tier bed of a Pullman car and spent the night. When morning arrived we were in Dallas. We were removed from the train and herded into a large dining area for breakfast. A young black inductee called "Dooley" sat down at a large table with the rest of us. The waiter instructed Dooley he would have to eat in a segregated area reserved for the Negroes. For the first time in my life I came face to face with segregation. I had never given it a thought before. Drinking fountains marked "White" and "Negro" were common. The same for rest rooms. I just never gave it a thought. We voiced our dissent that Dooley would have to leave and eat in a segregated area. We protested that he was with us and it was OK. To no avail, Dooley was led away. One of my first lessons of life just took hold.

July 23, 1950: We arrived at San Antonio and moved from the train onto busses to be transported to Lackland Air Force Base. It was dark when we arrived. We were assigned to large tents, which would be our home for the immediate future. Bedding was issued from a supply building. We carried the bedding to our tent. We were assigned a bed and shown the military way of making our bed. The floor was the green grass. The induction into the Air Force was so rapid that there was a lack of housing for all the recruits. We were marched to the latrine (I had formerly known as a restroom). From there we were marched to a mess hall to eat. My first military mess hall meal was wieners cooked in some kind of tomato catsup sauce. Following the meal we were marched back to the tent area. It was now rather late. We were issued our first set of military clothing, called "fatigues." I was dead tired. I noted that I had not seen anyone smile since we had arrived. I knew I was a long way from home and all alone.

I fell asleep almost as soon as I got into my bunk.

I was awaked by a loud voice yelling orders to rise and shine. It seemed as if I had just closed my eyes. It was still dark outside. We were told to make our beds as we had been taught and to "fall in" outside the tent. We were marched back to the mess hall. There seemed to be dozens of marching formations in the darkness, all being marched to the same mess hall. There we were shuffled into single lines moving slowing in the dark up some stairs and into a huge building. Once inside the door it turned out to be the kitchen where the cooks were cooking eggs on large stoves and shoveling the eggs onto mess trays we held. I hate eggs with uncooked yolks. Sure enough, the cook shoveled two soft eggs onto my tray. Through the chow line I went, picking up toast, jelly and coffee. I ate the whites of the eggs, leaving the uncooked yolks. I knew I would have to figure out a way to solve the egg problem, else I would surely starve. The next morning I found my solution. It was simple. Tell the cook you wanted your eggs cooked thoroughly through and refuse them until you could see that the eggs met your requirement. That worked. Plus I learned another lesson. The military put out some foods I had never heard of. French toast, which I learned to like. And SOS, affectionately called shit on the shingle, which was some kind of hamburger sauce spread out on toast. I like that. It stuck to my ribs.

I was assigned to the 3700th Air Force Induction Wing, Lackland Air Force Base, San Antonio, Texas as a basic trainee, military specialty serial number of 521. My military serial number was AF25765133, a number I remember by heart to this day, forty some years later.

Basic training had begun. We marched in formation everywhere we went. We spent hour upon hour standing in single file lines as the induction process progressed. We were administered tests to identify our aptitude strengths and weaknesses. Personal information was gathered and recorded. We were methodically classified and molded into something the military could use. We were learning our left foot from our right foot as we were put through close order drills. Left face! Right face! Present arms! All those basic commands we learned to heed and execute.

August 9, 1950: I was transferred to the 3740^th Basic Military Training Group, Sheppard Air Force Base, Wichita Falls, Texas, to continue basic training. We now were assigned to barracks. No more tents. The drill sergeant, Sergeant Herbert H. Hathaway, was much like those depicted in the movies. I liked the military. I like close order drill. I liked the food. I liked the showers and indoor plumbing. I never had it so good. I had found a home.

August 28, 1950: I scored 167 and qualified as a sharpshooter with the 30 millimeter Carbine. Mother and dad came to see me one weekend. Mother appeared somewhat distraught. She told me she wanted to see about getting me out of there and back home. I told her I did not want out and wanted to stay where I was.

We scrubbed the barracks floor, the latrine, washed the windows, shined shoes, polished brass, neatly arranged our clothing and gear and stood inspection. We were becoming a well oiled military machine with pride in ourselves.

I wrote to my girl friend frequently. I missed her. She wrote me back. We missed each other.

September 8, 1950: I was promoted to Private First Class, still assigned to basic training.

September 12, 1950: I completed basic training. We were marched to Wing Headquarters and stood in formation in the hot sun outside a large long building. Rumors rippled throughout the formations. We were awaiting our orders for our next assignment. Those aptitude tests we had taken would determine our future. Some were expecting to be shipped off for further training at Biloxi AFB, others to Chanute AFB, still others to Lowery AFB. Those that were left would be assigned to permanent Kitchen Police duty for six months, then assigned out.

Suddenly some enlisted man came outside the building ahead of us and shouted, "Anyone that can type 45 words per minute, raise your hands!" My hand shot up. I could easily type 60 WPM and more.

Those of us with the coveted typing ability were extracted from the formations.

September 17, 1950: I was reassigned to Headquarters Squadron, 3750^th Technical Training Group, Sheppard Air Force Base, Wichita Falls, Texas assigned to casual duty (awaiting reassignment to a permanent position).

October 1, 1950: My orders came, I was assigned to the orderly room of the 3383^rd Training Squadron, 3750^th Technical Training Group, Sheppard Air Force Base, with a military occupation specialty (MOS) serial number 70010, clerk-helper on on-the-job-training. My particular assignment was the Morning Report. A daily report of the personnel strength of the squadron. I had a job.

Every squadron had a commanding officer, an adjutant, a First Sergeant and a Supply Sergeant. Sgt. Bobby Bowen was the First Sergeant. I quickly learned that the officers were in class apart from enlisted men. Basically the idea was to stay out of the way of officers. Speak when spoken to, otherwise keep one's mouth shut. Officers weren't around much. They showed up early in the morning, signed daily paperwork presented by the First Sergeant, then left. Where they went and what they did was not known to me.

For a 17-year-old green country kid with a limited background I immediately encountered my problems. I was assigned to be the Morning Report Clerk. The task required that I compile and prepare a typewritten report of the daily tally of the men in the squadron. How many were present for duty, at sick call, on leave, etc. Each day the Morning Report was submitted to the Squadron's commander, signed and hand-carried to Group Headquarters. There the various Morning Report's from each squadron of the Group were accumulated into a Group Report and, in turn, submitted to Wing Headquarters. Ultimately the Morning Reports merged into a report of the entire Air Force so that the number of men it had, where they were assigned and at what tasks was known for the entire nation.

My prepared Morning Report was governed by specific and detailed requirements that were audited for accuracy. My first week was a dismal failure. The commander signs the report in complete faith that what was compiled was accurate. If there was any kind of error the report would be bounced back from Group Headquarters. Mine bounced consistently. I overhead the Commander tell Sgt. Bowen that if I couldn't get it right, then to get someone who could.

Sgt. Bowen fended for me as best he could, but my challenge was clear. I focused in on that report in every way I could think of in order to master its correct preparation. I learned a valuable lesson. Diligent focused attention could overcome my failings. Motivated by a desire to succeed and simple fear of the commander inspired hours of hard work which resulted in success. I succeeded in becoming a good Morning Report Clerk.

I enjoyed working in the orderly room. Sgt. Athol L. Grant was the personnel clerk. He was from North Carolina. A friendly man, he was most helpful in grooming me to fit into the daily crew. Another new clerk had also been assigned to the 3383rd orderly room along with me. Harold R. "Smitty" Smith, also a PFC (private first class), was assigned to various clerical tasks. "Smitty" and I shared a semi-private room in the barracks adjacent to the orderly room. We became good friends. Smitty was from Charleston, South Carolina. He spoke with a decided southern accent. He was even more green than I. He loved Charleston and liked to talk about it.

My girlfriend, meanwhile, graduated from high school, moved to Ada, Oklahoma and got a job as a telephone operator for the phone company. She lived in an upstairs apartment across the street from her older sister, Patsy, also a telephone operator. Each weekend I rode a train or hitchhiked from Wichita Falls to Ada to see her.

Victor Mills begins developing the disposable diaper.

1951:

March 21, 1951: I was promoted to Corporal, still assigned as an apprentice clerk.

May 15, 1951: I took and passed the GED High School level test. I realized that I was a high school drop out, thus the reason for the GED test to attain the equivalency of a high school diploma. I was beginning to recognize the importance of an education.

October 16, 1951: I was assigned to on-the-job training with an MOS of 70250, senior clerk.

November 14, 1951: I was promoted to Sergeant. Now I had three stripes. Moving up! I familiarized myself with the M1 carbine by firing 50 rounds of ammunition.

The Air Force was moving away from the old Army Air Corp. Uniforms were being changed from the Army olive drab color to a new blue Air Force style. Ranks were changing as well. The old private became the new Airman; the private first class became the Airman First Class; the corporal became the Airman Second Class, Sergeant became an Airman First Class; then came Staff Sergeant, Technical Sergeant and Master Sergeant. So, I became an Airman Third Class.

1952:

January 26, 1952: My military occupational specialty number (MOS) was elevated to 70250, Senior Clerk.

My love life was deteriorating. I got an artfully worded, but clear, letter from my girlfriend. She wanted to see Wayne Burkett during the week and me on weekends. I was crushed, hurt and angry. I reasoned that I had left home because of her and now she wanted to see Burkett. I wrote her blistering letter telling her off. To hell with her.

I phoned my contact at Group headquarters and told him I wanted to ship out overseas as soon as he could set me up. He said he would. He did. Within a week or so the orders came through.

March 18, 1952: I was reassigned to the 2349^th Personnel Processing Group, Camp Stoneman, California for reassignment to Japan.

A new world began to open. I rode a Greyhound bus from Oklahoma City to San Francisco. The bus was so full I had to make the trip sitting on my duffel bag in the center aisle of the bus. We arrived at Reno, Nevada. We had a short layover. I made my acquaintance with my first slot machine at one of the casinos. Still a green country kid, I was entranced by the neon lights of the big city.

From Reno the bus proceeded across the Sierra Madre mountains pausing high above Lake Tahoe. A spectacular view. The snow was so deep it reached halfway up the telephone poles along the highway. Scores of snow skiers could be seen. Passing through Sacramento we headed on to San Francisco. Passing through Vallejo I saw velvet-like rolling hills covered in lush green grass. I marveled at the luxurious beauty of it. San Francisco was beyond my belief. By far the largest city I had ever seen. My first view of skyscrapers, of the bay and Golden Gate Bridges.

A few days were spent at Camp Stoneman then we boarded the troop ship in the wharf in San Francisco. Up the ramp onto the ship we were guided. The ship was the USNS Gen. Daniel I. Sultan. Down into the interior of the ship to Compartment C-3 and the bunk assigned me. Back up the stairway onto the deck of the ship to look out as we pulled away from the dock. We glided out into the bay underneath the Golden Gate Bridge. I looked straight up as we passed under the bridge and out into the Pacific Ocean. An amazing sight and feeling. I noted that the ship was moving smoothly. How could one get sea sick on a huge ship like this?

In less than an hour I found out. I was sick at my stomach. So were others. People were vomiting all over the place as we began to rise up on the large waves, then coast down the other side in a relentless motion as we headed westward. I made my way to my bunk and lay there hoping to die.

In a day, not having died, I made my way back up to the deck and looked out over the ocean. A sight I had never seen. Food began to have an appeal again. To pass the time we talked, watched old movies, played poker and slept.

April 27, 1952: Eleven days after passing under the Golden Gate Bridge, early in the dim light of morning I could see the profile of the Japanese landscape ahead. We had arrived. Our ship moved into Tokyo bay and docked at Fuchu, between Tokyo and Yokohama. From the ship I was transported to Headquarters of the Far East Air Logistics Force (FEALOGFOR), at Tachikawa Air Force Base, a suburb of Tokyo. Tachikawa would be my home for the next eighteen months. I was an 18-year old Airman First Class.

The sights, sounds and smells of Japan were totally new. A new country. A whole new race of people with a different way of life. I began to learn some basic truths about Japan and the Japanese. My meager knowledge of Japan had accrued during the Second World War. Most of what I learned came from John Wayne propaganda war movies. I expected the Japanese people to be sneaky homicidal fanatics lurking about ready and eager to stab people to death. Instead they were polite, friendly, and industrious. One of the most important lessons I learned was that the government of the United States was not truthful with its citizens when it was deemed necessary.

When I arrived in 1952 the Second World War had been only seven years before. American armed forces occupied and governed Japan. The American dollar was equivalent to 360 yen.

I was assigned to the Personnel Utilization Team for FEALOGFOR Headquarters as their clerk. The team was headed by Major Ralph R. Thomas, supported by First Lieutenant Harold C. Church. I was fortunate enough to travel all over the Japanese Islands, Korea, Guam, Iwo Jima, and the Philippines.

I had my 19th and 20th birthdays while in the Far East. I began to mature. The world was a big place.

On June 28, 1952 Lieutenant Harold C. Church submitted a request for my promotion to the rank of Staff Sergeant. He wrote:

"He is an exceptional airman and has at all times favorably represented this Headquarters while a member of the Audit Team. Airman First Class Wood performs all assigned duties in an efficient and cooperative manner, regardless of adverse conditions under which the Utilization Team must sometimes operate."

A far cry from my stumbling beginnings at the old 3383rd Training Squadron.

Lt. Church commented:

"A/1C (Airman First Class) Wood is at the present time taking I & E courses in English and Psychology. Rating on Leadership can only be based on demonstrated ability in contact with airmen of other organizations in which an audit is being performed as no airmen are under his supervision at the present time."

Major Thomas, bless him, supported my promotion. He added:

"...I agree with the rating official. I have found the airman thoroughly dependable in getting the job done regardless of duty hours. There are few airmen who can turn out as much clerical work as A/1C Wood."

And finally Lt. Colonel Joseph R. Brantley topped off the request:

"I do not know A/1C Wood and I have not yet had the opportunity to personally observe him in his work. However, I have heard many favorable comments from his associates and his superiors with regard to the excellent quality of his work. Further, I have the utmost confidence in the judgment of the Rating Official and the Indorsing Officer."

August 1, 1952: It worked! I was promoted to Staff Sergeant. I was a 19-year-old "non-commissioned officer."

My stay and travels in the Far East was an impetus to maturing and broadening of my understanding of how big and diversified the world is.

The Audit Team traveled--a lot. From our base at Tachikawa we traveled to the northern island of Hokkaido. We traveled throughout Japan, including the islands of Hokkaido, Honshu and Kyushu. From Tachikawa AFB a view of Mt. Fuji rose majestically into the sky. A truly memorable sight. I traveled in Tokyo, Yokohama, Nagoya, Kyoto, Kobe, Hiroshima and into Kokura. Sometimes we flew in small planes, but more often travel was by railroad.

Our travels were not confined to Japan. Periodically we flew to Kadena AFB on Okinawa on TDY (temporary duty).

We made fairly frequent trips to Korea. Generally we flew into Pusan. One very cold day we rode in the rear of a weapons carrier up a long dusty, bumpy road to an ammunition depot at Ulsan. We passed around a fifth of whiskey trying to keep warm. We arrived, half frozen and covered with road dirt, half drunk and hungry. We had to take a cold water shower before we could eat. That night we were rousted out of our bunks because someone thought they had spotted guerillas around the perimeter of the base. Nothing came of it. It was a miserable trip.

We traveled on to Taegu, and on up to Seoul. The war was going full bore. We made our way north of Seoul to a point some 15 miles south of the battle line. That was close enough for me.

Korea bore a distinct pronounced odor. The rice paddies were fertilized with the most horrible smelling stuff that could be imagined. The people walked along the roadways carrying their loads in their distinctive dress.

The island of Guam was another destination I was privileged to visit.

I spent my time in Guam at Agana. The clear blue South Pacific waters of the lagoons were ringed with clean white sandy beaches shaded with cocoanut laden palm trees are unforgettable. A tropical paradise.

I also went to Iwo Jima. The small island had a volcanic hill on one end of the island, called Suribachi. Mount Suribachi is renown for the famous picture of the raising of the American flag by the marines during the furious battle for the island.

At this same site now is a permanent memorial of the flag raising. The island is honeycombed with tunnels which were used by the Japanese in their defense of the island. Strewn around the island are wrecked landing barges which were sunk during the landings on the island. The island is unforgettable.

And I had the privilege of going to Clark AFB on Luzon in the Philippines. Here is a picture of it.

September 30, 1952: My first evaluation as a Staff Sergeant was due. Lt. Georges G. Bond had replaced Lt. Church as my immediate superior. Lt. Bond wrote:

"S/Sgt Wood has been under my immediate supervision for approximately two (2) months and during this time he has continually demonstrated the potential necessary to be a good non-commissioned officer. It is felt by the undersigned that this rating is not adequate inasmuch as this airman has been a non-commissioned officer for approximately seven (7) weeks and judgment can be rendered only on this time."

Major Thomas added:

"I agree generally with the rating officer, but I would have rated him somewhat higher on leadership. He has been under my supervision for six (6) months and I have found him well qualified as a non-commissioned officer. He presents an excellent military appearance, and is very efficient in his work."

November 12, 1952: I became ambitious. I thought I might be able to swing admission into West Point. Oklahoma Senator Robert S. Kerr wrote me a letter regarding my request to be sent to the United States Military Academy. He wrote:

"Some time ago, you wrote me of your interest in an appointment to the U.S. Military Academy for '53, and I advised you, at that time, that I would not have an appointment available to the academy until '54.

"Today, I have received an announcement from the Army that one of my principal appointments to the military academy has resigned, and that I am now entitled to nominate candidates for admission to the U.S. Military Academy on July 7, 1953, to fill this vacancy.

"Therefore, on January 12, 1953, the Civil Service Commission will hold a preliminary examination for my candidates for this appointment, from which I will make a principal appointment and a first, second, and third alternate choice.

"I would appreciate your filling out the enclosed application form if you wish to participate in the preliminary examination this January.

"With all good wishes, I am

Sincerely yours,

/s/ Robert S. Kerr

I submitted the application to Senator Kerr along with the following letter from Major Scott.

December 23, 1952:

"Dear Senator Kerr:

"It gives me great pleasure to write this letter of reference for S/Sgt Jackie D. Wood, of Holdenville, Oklahoma, who is seeking your appointment to the United States Military Academy.

"S/Sgt Wood has worked in the same office with me for a period of eight (8) months and during that time I have had the opportunity to observe him daily. And I say without equivocation that S/Sgt Wood is the type of young man who will make an excellent cadet and valuable officer in the service of our country.

"I am a graduate of West Point myself, and in addition have had the privilege of returning there to teach from 1946 to 1949. I believe, therefore, that I can recognize those qualities and attributes in a candidate for West Point necessary to successful completion of the Academy work and for a successful career in the Army or Air Force. S/Sgt Wood possesses these attributes of high intelligence, enthusiasm, physical stamina, loyalty - and above all, a burning desire and determination to become one of the "Long Gray Line" of the men of West Point.

"I sincerely and wholeheartedly recommend S/Sgt Wood for your principal appointment.

Respectfully yours,

/s/ Ralph M. Scott

Major, USAF

Director of Personnel Services

December 31, 1952: Senator Kerr replied:

"I received your application with reference to your participating in the preliminary qualifying examination for the U.S. Military Academy.

"I have also received a fine letter of recommendation in your behalf from Major Ralph M. Scott, Director of Personnel Services, Hdqs., Far East Logistic Force.

"Your name and address have been given to the U.S. Civil Service Commission, and they have requested that I inform you that your commanding officer will notify you as to the arrangements for your examination on January 12, 1953.

"For any reason you should not hear from your commanding officer prior to that time, I would suggest that you promptly check with his office.

"With my very best wishes for your success in your aims and objectives for the New Year, I am

"Sincerely,

/s/Robert S. Kerr.

I took the examination. The rigid rod of reality hit me quickly. I recognized during the course of the examination that my academic training and ability was far below the level necessary to successfully compete for the appointment. The hard fact was that I did not have what it took to achieve such a level. I felt that I may have had the brain power, but did not have the rigorous mental training that was clearly necessary, particularly in the mathematical field. Moss High School, and the schools before it, and the lack of a lifestyle geared to academic achievement and excellence, left me unequipped to succeed. I was disheartened, but not surprised.

1953:

February 26, 1953: Senator Kerr confirmed my failure.

"In accordance with the ratings made on the two preliminary examinations given for my service academy appointments, I was not able to reach your name for appointment to West Point for '53.

"In looking over the examination rating sheet furnished me by the Civil Service Commission your lowest rating was in Algebra.

"I will have two appointments to West Point and one to Annapolis for '54, and the first preliminary exam will be given some time this summer, with the scheduling of this exam later on in December or next January.

"If you would like to participate in either one of these exams, I would be glad to have you do so.

"Assuring you of my interest in you and of my desire to be helpful, I am

"Sincerely,

/s/ Robert S. Kerr

July 27, 1953: The U.S. and North Korea signed the Korean War Armistice which halted aggressions during the Korean Conflict.

August/September 1953: Sadly, my 18-month tour of duty in the Far East came to an end. I was shipped back to the states arriving through Puget Sound into Seattle, Washington. A beautiful cruise into the Port Angeles harbor. From there I had a 30 day leave before reporting to my next assignment, back at Sheppard AFB, at Wichita Falls, Texas.

I arrived at Santa Paula, California, the new home of my parents. They had moved from Oklahoma to California while I was in Japan. Mother, Dad, and my brother Philip, were living with Uncle Harrison and Aunt Myra Horn in a room they rented. Harrison, sort of a handy man, was helping Dad build a house on the outskirts of Santa Paula. Dad had purchased an old building he tore down for the lumber to use to construct a new house on a lot he had purchased.

My mother was furious with Dad. She had (and still has) an intense dislike of her sister Myra. She resented Dad being the cause of their living with Harrison and Myra. To add insult to the wound Dad was paying them money for rent, food, and for Harrison's labor in building the house. Mother had wanted to remain on the 40 acre farm in Oklahoma.

When I arrived from Seattle Dad had the framework of the house well underway. My interest was to get back to Oklahoma and see what had transpired during my absence. Fortunately Dad had left some items still remaining in the old house on the old farm near Horntown. Phil was out of school for the summer. Off Phil and I went with the car to Oklahoma. Lacking much in the way of money we stayed at the old house. There was no electricity. We slept on the floor of the house and ate when and where we could. After a week or so I rented a U-Haul trailer in which we loaded what we could and headed back to California.

I then reported in to Sheppard AFB. I was delighted to learn that some of my friends from my former duty at Sheppard were still there. During my absence in the Far East they had managed to establish contacts with some girls at Burkburnett, Texas. A small town with a lively night life. I was merged in readily. I resumed a carefree lifestyle of a wayward youth.

September 21, 1953: I was reassigned to the orderly room of the 3750^th Maintenance Squadron. Life was easy. My job duties required little effort. I managed to get connected with a baseball team that played both on and off the base. Life couldn't be better.

1954:

February 23, 1954: Annie Beatrice Smith [1889-1954] died and was buried at Strathroy, Middlesex County, Ontario, Canada at age 64 years, 7 months, 4 days.

I began to hunger to get back to school and try to make something of myself. I learned of the GI Bill where the government would actually pay me money so I could go to college. I jumped at the chance.

June 22, 1954: I applied for a discharge from the Air Force for purposes of enrolling in Ventura Junior College, Ventura, California with plans for an ultimate transfer to the University of California, Los Angeles. My request was granted and my military career came to an end. I was honorably discharged at Sheppard Air Force Base.

As I drove off Sheppard Air Force Base for the last time I pulled over to the shoulder of the highway and looked back at the tall water tower rising high above the base. That tower, a landmark, had become a symbol of my life up to that point. I thought, "This is the last time I will ever see that tower." I recognized I was closing a chapter of my life and about to open another. But, I was comforted by the thought that I had ninety days in which I could return to the Air Force and retain my rank, so the door was not totally closed, just yet.

I moved in with my mother, dad and Phil in the house dad had built. Dad had obtained employment as a Psychiatric Technician Trainee for the California State Hospital at Camarillo, Ventura County, California. We were living in their newly constructed house on Ojai Road on the outskirts of Santa Paula. Having found employment at last, Dad seemed content, mother notwithstanding.

August 1954: Having essentially wasted 60 days of my 90 days re-enlistment option I began looking for work going up and down Ventura Road, a row of oil field related companies. I could find no work. Thinking I wasn't going to find one I stopped in at Oxnard Air Force Base nearby and made arrangements to come in and re-enlist. When I got home I had received a post card of the State of California that I could take a position with the Department of Mental Hygiene as a Psychiatric Technician Trainee at Camarillo State Hospital, the employer of my father.

I took the job at Camarillo State Hospital. I was able to secure a room at the hospital and meals in their dining room and a salary of $200 per month. I also enrolled in Ventura College.

Working at the hospital was a memorable learning experience. I came into daily contact with the sadness of mental patients. Psychotic patients with dementia, schizophrenia, paranoia, drug addicts, alcoholics and some young inmates with a varying range of maladies. It was a depressing and smelly place. The hospital mostly warehoused its wards.

I managed to hook up with a semi-pro baseball team in Santa Paula. I met Bobby Eubanks, one of the ball players, and we ran around together. Bobby's girlfriend was named Eva. She was a telephone operator. Bobby did menial work generally working in packing houses here and there.

October 1954: I left the hospital and attended Ventura College full time while living at home.

Color television broadcasting is launched in the United States.

1955:

February 1955: I left college and began working as an Assistant Signalman for the Southern Pacific Railroad. The job consisted of construction of signal lines along the railroad tracks between Calipatria to Brawley, California. I earned $1.75 per hour. I was part of a construction gang that lived in converted Pullman cars on the tracks. We had a cook who prepared our meals. I learned to climb telephone poles and string signal wires.

June 1955: A better job with Union Oil Company opened up for which I had applied before getting the railroad job. So I left the railroad and joined Union Oil Company at Santa Paula as a roustabout earning $2.02 per hour. The job was doing various maintenance tasks with a maintenance crew in the surrounding oil field leases. One day, sitting on the side of South Mountain having a soggy sandwich lunch out of my lunch pail in the hot sun I decided I was just drifting and must return to college and get serious.

September 1955: I returned to Ventura College as a full time student on the GI Bill.

Fall 1955: Eva lived and worked in Ventura. Bobby Eubanks was working at a packing house at Dinuba, Tulare County, California. Eva phoned me and asked if I would drive her to Dinuba the following weekend.

My earlier high school friends, Leonard and Monte Taylor were living in nearby Visalia, Tulare County, California. I agreed to take Eva because not only would I be doing her a favor, but it was an opportunity to go see Monte and Leonard. That trip would change my life.

I dropped Eva off at Dinuba and headed for Visalia, checked into a motel and located Monte and Leonard. They lived in a small white house just off Mineral King Avenue. There happened to be four of those little white cottages arranged in a rectangular configuration separated by a walkway.

It was an enjoyable reunion with my old Moss High School classmates. Leonard had just gotten out of the Army and was resuming civilian life. He was working at a lumber yard. Monte was employed at some clerical job for the State of California. Monte and Leonard, high school sweethearts, had married.

We decided to go out that night and celebrate. Leonard introduced me to two sisters, Lillie and Margie Morrow, who lived directly across the walkway from him, and to Joy Scruggs, a Justice Court Clerk, who lived adjacent to him.

I liked Lillie immediately. She was cute, bright and fun. She was employed by the federal Agricultural  Stabilization and Conservation Committee in Visalia. We had a lot in common. She had been raised on a farm near Denison, Texas.

I picked up Eva and we returned to Santa Paula. I corresponded with Lillie and drove back and forth between Santa Paula and Visalia on weekends. I was ready to settle down and marry. It was clear to me that Lillie was the right girl. I asked her. She told me she'd think about it. I couldn't imagine what there was to think about, but I had to wait. After she returned to Visalia from a Christmas vacation in Texas she told me she would.

Ray Kroc opens his first McDonald's fast food restaurant, in Des Plaines, Ill.

Disneyland opens near Los Angeles. Walt Disney World, a second and much larger theme park, will open in Orlando, Fla., in 1971.

Seamstress Rosa Parks of Montgomery, Ala., is arrested for refusing to give up her bus seat to a white man. The event helps spark the Civil Rights movement.

1956:

January 21, 1956: Lillie and I married over a weekend in Las Vegas, Nevada. I transferred from Ventura College to the College of the Sequoias, a junior college in Visalia. We rented a basement in Visalia.  The basement smelled like the interior of a damp cellar.

Lillie became pregnant with our daughter, Sheri. We needed money to pay for the medical expenses. My GI Bill increased from $110 per month to $135 but it wasn't enough to pay the medical bills. I got a job reading gas meters for the Southern California Gas Company in Van Nuys, Los Angeles County, California. We moved to a duplex in Burbank, California. My meter reading career began, reading meters in the new housing subdivisions growing up in the San Fernando Valley. A revolution was occurring before my very eyes, yet I could not see it.

Phil, just out of Santa Paula High School, was signed to a baseball contract with the Los Angeles Dodgers as a pitcher. He was signed by Lefty Phillips of the Dodgers on the living room table in Santa Paula. Phil reported to winter training in Los Angeles. Phil, Don Drysdale (also just signed by the Dodgers) and I played 3-way catch during one of the training sessions at Griffith Park. Phil was assigned to spring training at Vero Beach, in Florida, then sent to Fargo, North Dakota to play.

February 28, 1956: Seven months before Dad died, Maude Melissa Wood Foltz [1878-1956], his sister, died at Maple City, Cowley County, Kansas of a cerebral hemorrhage and arteriosclerosis. Maude is buried in the Maple City, Cowley County, Kansas cemetery alongside her husband, Walter Leonard Foltz [1881-1972]. Maude was 77 years old. I was able to visit the Maple City Cemetery in the Summer of 1998. It was not easy to find. It is located on a rural road near Maple City. Maple City is merely an "L" shaped connection of two roads with a few old buildings about.

September 3, 1956: Dad died at home in Santa Paula of heart failure. It was a Sunday, a Labor Day weekend. Lillie and I had driven from our duplex apartment in Burbank to Santa Paula to secure a dictionary to work a cross-word puzzle in the Los Angles Times newspaper. Dad was home. He was scheduled to work later in the day at Camarillo State Hospital. He worked on the various wards at the mental institution. He was dressed in his white shirt, pants, and shoes when we visited briefly that Sunday morning. He appeared to be in good spirits and feeling well. There was no hint of what was about to transpire. As Lillie and I were pulling back into our driveway at Burbank, having returned from Santa Paula, a police car was there to deliver the message that dad had passed away of a heart attack during our drive back. We immediately returned to Santa Paula to attend to mother’s needs and dad. Uncle Guy, Leonard, and Kay were informed. It was a very sad day for me. I still miss him all these years later.

Uncle Guy Manyard Wood [1881-1969] and Uncle Neal Wood [1902-1964] traveled from Oklahoma to Santa Paula for dad's funeral and, of course my brother, Kessler Wood, from Texas.

John Oliver Dixon [1881-1956], son of Arthur Overend Dixon [1855-1915] and Mary Malissa Hartman-Dixon [1853-1910] died.

The U.S. begins construction of its interstate highway system, ending the ascendancy of railroads and reorganizing American landscapes.

1957:

January 16, 1957: Sheri Denise Wood [1957- ], our daughter and first child, was born in a Van Nuys hospital, Los Angeles County, California. Unfortunately Dad never saw his grand-daughter. After Sheri's birth I managed a transfer with the gas company back to Visalia. In September began attending Fresno State College in Fresno, Fresno County, California, commuting from Visalia. Below is Lillie holding Sheri in front of our duplex apartment in Visalia.

1958:

February 1, 1958: I obtained employment as a Boy's Supervisor at the Tulare County Juvenile Hall, Visalia, California while I attended Junior College at the College of the Sequoias in Visalia. I made $238.00 per month. I supervised activities of juvenile male inmates awaiting hearing and disposition before the Juvenile Court.

Visalia supported a Class C league baseball team called the Visalia Cubs. One of the players, formerly of the Brooklyn Dodgers, was Al Gionfriddo. I remembered him. I went out to the ball park one night to watch the Cubs and Gionfriddo play.

Eleven years before I had listened by radio to the 1947 World Series between the Brooklyn Dodgers and the New York Yankees.

In the 4th game Yankee pitcher Bill Bevens had two outs in in the ninth inning with a no-hitter going. He walked Carl Furillo. Gionfriddo was sent in as a pinch runner for Furillo at first base. Gionfriddo stole second. Pete Reiser was intentionally walked. Eddie Miksis was sent in to run for Reiser. Manager Burt Shotton had Cookie Lavagetto pinch-hit for Eddie Stanky. On Bevens' second pitch Lavagetto hit a double scoring both Gionfriddo and Miksis, winning the game for the Dodgers, ruining Bevens' no-hitter and tied the Series.

In Game 6 the Yankees were trailing the Dodgers 8-5. The Yankees managed to get two runners on with two outs. Joe DiMaggio came to bat. With Joe Hatten pitching for the Dodgers DiMaggio hit a drive deep into left field. At the 415 foot mark Gionfriddo robbed DiMaggio of a game-tying home run in one of the most memorable catches in baseball history.

It was the last major league game ever played by Lavagetto, Gionfriddo and Bevens.

One night while at work at Juvenile Hall a new employee reported for work. It was Gionfriddo. We became friends. He, being an Italian Catholic, had a large family to feed, worked two shifts, one shift at the juvenile hall, and a second shift at the County Boy's Camp.

Al and I co-managed a Babe Ruth Baseball League ball team. I was a good baseball player. One evening I pitched to Al. He would effortlessly swat long high fly balls, notwithstanding my best fast balls. It was a humbling experience.

My brother, Phil, a good baseball player himself, entered the US Army and shipped out from Seattle, Washington to the Far East at Korea.

August 7, 1958: Meanwhile Lillie and I had been busy producing kids. Our second child was born. Michael Lee Wood [1958- ] at Visalia, Tulare County, California.

1959:

February 1, 1959: Merlin D. Winter, Probation Officer of Tulare County, promoted me to an Assistant Probation Officer for the Tulare County Probation Department. My income jumped to $464.00 per month. I investigated juvenile criminal conduct, their social background, compiling facts and evidence necessary for the submission of written and oral presentations to the Juvenile Court. I was required to organize and present evidence to the court to substantiate the commission of crimes by juveniles through physical evidence and questioning of witnesses. I also conducted investigations and submitted reports with appropriate recommendations as to adoption of children by step-parents. I conducted juvenile traffic hearings as Traffic Hearing Officer throughout Tulare County making findings of innocence or guilt and imposing monetary assessments or licenses suspensions where required. My supervisor was Probation Officer Ralph Pizarro.

As a probation officer I began investigating cases, presenting and arguing evidence in juvenile court. It led me to law school later.

May 2, 1959: My brother, Phil, married Anita Carol Nowlin [ - ] at Las Vegas, Nevada.

November 12, 1959: My mother married Robert "Bob" Suddath [1904-1968] in Las Vegas, Nevada.

 1960:

When Phil returned from his tour with the army I arranged for Al Gionfriddo to take a look at him as a pitcher. We went out to the ball park and Phil demonstrated his pitching ability. Al referred him to Ralph Kiner of the Pittsburgh Pirates. Kiner signed Phillip to play with the Pirates’ organization.

October 16, 1960: Lillie and I had our third and final child. Timothy Dale Wood [1960-1983] arrived on time. He was born at Visalia, Tulare County, California. Now we have three kids.

The U.S. Food and Drug Administration approves the development of hormone-based oral contraceptives; their availability triggers the sexual revolution of the 1960s.

The Haloid Xerox Company markets a plain-paper photocopier, revolutionizing office practices and ringing the death knell for carbon paper.

World's population reaches three billion.

1961:

May 17, 1961: Lisa Carol Wood [1961- ] was born to Phil and Nita Wood in Santa Paul, Ventura County, California. Their first child.

November 22, 1961: Merlin Winter appointed me to be the first Juvenile Traffic Hearing Officer for Tulare County under a newly created position by law. The pay was $530.00 a month. My job was essentially traveling from court to court in the county hearing juvenile traffic cases just as a judge would do. I determined innocence or guilt, levied fines and suspended driving licenses of juveniles. That led to my discovery of the law library and the annotated Vehicle Code. The doorway to law school opened wider.

Women adopt a combination garment, panty hose, as a replacement for the nylon stockings that had been developed in the 1940s to supplant silk stockings.

1962:

January 26, 1962: I graduated from Fresno State College, obtaining my Bachelor of Arts degree with a major in Education and a minor in Psychology. It had taken me eight years since leaving the Air Force to make it.

February 20, 1962: I applied for a position with the California Department of Corrections as a Parole Agent.

February 23, 1962: No law school was within my reach from Visalia. Not knowing any better I enrolled in a correspondence course to study law through a correspondence school called LaSalle out of Chicago, Illinois. The contract called for me to pay them $450 in installments of $25.00 per month. I would study in the mornings before going to work, complete my assignments and mail them to Chicago.

July 23, 1962: I was employed by the California Department of Corrections as a Parole Agent for the Division of Adult Parole. I was assigned to Bakersfield, Kern County, and later reassigned to the Sacramento parole office at $843 per month.

I supervised about 75 adult male felons on parole from state prisons including investigation into their placement, activities and criminal conduct. Close contact and coordination was required with the courts, law enforcement agencies, employment services, and social agencies. Submission of comprehensive factual written reports were an integral part of the position.

While in Bakersfield two Los Angeles police officers were kidnapped by two men and taken to an onion field along Highway 99 South of Bakersfield. One of the officers was executed by a shot in the back of his head. When the shot rang out the other officer ran, his only chance to get away. The officer succeeded. The entire ordeal, including the later trial, were memorialized into a best-selling book, "The Onion Field" by a Los Angeles Police Department detective.

One of my caseload was a San Quentin parolee named Merle Haggard who lived with his wife and kids in Oildale on the outskirts of Bakersfield. He played guitar and sang with a country music band in Bakersfield and on the "Uncle Herb's Trading Post" a noon time TV show.

Haggard asked me if I wanted one of his records, which weren't selling. He had a stack of 45 rpm records on the floor, one side of which was "Blueberry Hill." I took one. Still have it. Unfortunately I never had him sign it.

One day Haggard appeared at the parole office. He had a telegram offering him an engagement at a Las Vegas nightclub starting the following week. Because he was on parole he needed permission leave California to take the job. The standard procedure is to submit the paperwork with the job plan from Bakersfield to our District Headquarters in Fresno, then on to the Regional Headquarters in Sacramento, then to the Department of Corrections Headquarters. If approved all along the way Headquarters would send the papers to the Nevada parole department which would check and verify the job. If Nevada was agreeable they would send back the paperwork through the same channels to me in Bakersfield. Then, at that point I could let Haggard go.

Obviously that was too long a lapse of time for Haggard to be able to accept the singing engagement. So, I telephoned the Las Vegas parole office directly. I explained to a parole agent there what the situation was. We agreed I would send Haggard straight to their office in Las Vegas so he could accept the job and we would process the paperwork after the fact.

In gratitude Haggard, as he was leaving my office, thanked me for the favor. I responded, "No problem. Just remember when you get rich and famous, who let you go." Little did I know how rich and famous he would become. Soon out came his mega-hit "Okie From Muskogee," his appearance on the cover of Time magazine, the Country Music Entertainer of the Year award and countless hits.

I recall, years later, driving to the Anaheim Convention Center, and paying for a ticket to watch and listen to my former parolee perform. It was great. Our paths would cross again in 1978 when I would ask him for a favor.

August 24, 1962: Susan Katherine Wood [1962- ], their second child, was born to my brother Phil and Nita in Santa Paula, Ventura County, California.

December 20, 1962: I was fortunate enough to receive a commendation from Sheriff LeRoy F. Galyen of Kern County, California. He wrote a letter to Victor Bluestein, Regional Administrator, stating:

"This is to advise you that the action of one of your parole agents was instrumental in the apprehension of a suspect and the clearing of several cases for this Department.

"Parole Agent Jack Wood called to our attention that one of his parolees had associated with a known robbery suspect whose name had appeared in a newspaper article. This information led to the investigation of George Lester Miller, resulting in Miller's arrest and the clearing of five armed robberies, eight burglaries, a grand theft auto, the recovery of a large amount of narcotics, plus the arrest of two additional suspects.

"We sincerely appreciate this type of cooperation and feel that this should be called to your attention.

/s/ LeRoy F. Galyen

1063:

June 24, 1963: I failed the First-Year Law Students' Examination taken at Los Angeles. A total of 560 points was necessary to pass the "baby bar." I got 480. Another failure like the failure to make the appointment to West Point. I felt that I was close enough to passing that if I were able to get to a law school I could make it. I resolved to do so.

August 26, 1963: Anson Vanlou Dixon [1887-1963], husband of Evelyn Tenant-Dixon [1891-1969], and son of Arthur Overend Dixon [1855-1915] and Mary Malissa Hartman-Dixon [1853-1910], died. Anson lived at 700 Liberty Street, California, Pennsylvania when he died.

October 28, 1963: I applied for a transfer to a parole office in Los Angeles so that I could get close to a law school

November 22, 1963: President John Fitzgerald Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Texas by Lee Harvey Oswald. It was an event that astounded the United States.

The events following the assassination were televised extensively. Lillie and I lived in Bakersfield, Kern County, California at the time of the death of President Kennedy. Since my brother Phil, and his wife, Anita, had a color television versus the black and white Lillie and I had, we headed to their home in Santa Paula to watch the television accounts of the shooting and funeral. The following photograph was taken at their home: Left to right are Phillip, Anita, Lillie and me.

1964:

1964-1972: Over 8.7 million American men and women served in the Vietnam War.

January 6, 1964: Anna May Beckman Wood [1890-1964], widow of Elmer John Wood [1884-1953], died.

While working as a parole agent in Sacramento I began attending law school at the McGeorge School of Law, University of the Pacific, Sacramento, California. I was fortunate to have been taught constitutional law by Professor Anthony Kennedy, now an Associate Justice of the United States Supreme Court. Justice Kennedy is a tall man, with a quick wit and mind. He would pace back and forth in front of the class as he lectured and fired off incisive questions to members of the class. I liked him. Later, he wrote a letter of recommendation for me to District Attorney Woodruff J. Deem of Ventura County, California.

Our son Mike's school career begins successfully at Parkway School, Sacramento, Sacramento County, California. Here he is in his First Grade class picture. It is 1984. Mike is standing in the rear row next to last by the flag pole.

August 1964: I took the LSAT (Law School Aptitude Test) achieving an LSAT score of 491. The 491 score placed me in the area of the 46th percentile. The scale ran from a low of 200 to a high of 800. I had no idea of the importance of the test when I took it. Another reminder of the consequence of being a dumb farm boy.

December 25, 1964: On Christmas Day my uncle Neal Edward Wood, Sr., [1902-1964] died of a heart attack at Dallas, Texas.

"Beatlemania" sweeps across the United States; the ensuing British invasion establishes a new kind of rock music.

1965:

July, 1965: I laterally transferred from Parole Agent to Correctional Counselor I at Folsom State Prison. I was paid $843 per month. I was assigned to the maximum security Adjustment Center interviewing and engaging in personal counseling of inmates, both individually and in groups. I compiled, evaluated personal history data on assigned inmates for written reports to the California Adult Authority (Parole Board) with appropriate recommendations as to the feasibility of granting parole. Supervisor was Walter Craven, Warden.

Grace E. Childs [1881-1965], wife of John Oliver Dixon [1881-1956], died.

The miniskirt, at first mid-thigh length and later even shorter, is introduced as part of the mod fashions of the 1960s.

1966:

February 8, 1966: Cherie Ann Moore [1966- ] was born to Robert Waco Moore [1938- ] and my niece, Patsy Wood Moore. I do not know the place of birth. Cherie married _____ Trowler. She has a son, step-daughter and step-grandson. The following two photographs are of Cherie.

March 8, 1966: Crissie Mae Hewgley Ogilvie, daughter of John Bell Hewgley and Laura Lee Wood Hewgley, died at Springfield, Oregon.

April 7, 1966: Lillie was working full-time and trying to take care of the three little kids we had. Sheri and Mike were in grade school. Tim was being left with a baby-sitter. Lillie would arise each morning at 5:30 a.m. to feed and dress the kids. She would then take Tim to the baby-sitter and go on to work full-time herself. I was working full-time at Folsom Prison and going to McGeorge Law School full-time at night. Lillie finally became exasperated. She gave me the WORD: "It's either me and the kids or law school."

I took what I refer to as the long walk around the block, thinking. I didn't want to quit law school and I sure didn't want to lose Lillie and the kids. I concluded that my first obligation was to them.

So, I submitted a letter of resignation from McGeorge School of Law because "I find I am unable to continue and do justice to the study required and at the same time maintain my obligations as a husband and father with attendant financial obligations."

April 11, 1966: Gordon D. Schaber, Dean of the McGeorge School of Law requested I contact him about continuing law school. I did. He urged me to continue. I reversed myself, rationalizing that we'd come all the way to Sacramento to get through law school, and dammit, root-hog or die, we were going to finish it. I resumed law  school the next day. Lillie didn't quarrel with me about the decision, for which I was grateful.

June 1966: I transferred from Folsom Prison to Department of Corrections Headquarters in Sacramento to work as an Assistant Administrative Analyst for the California Department of Corrections, State Office Building #1, Sacramento, California at $863 per month. I was assigned duty as a Records Management Analyst involving statewide systems analysis of administrative procedures relating to forms control, design, standardization and elimination. Also, to evolve, implement and maintain a records disposition program of departmental records. Supervisor was Elton W. Farmer, Fiscal Officer.

1967:

February 17, 1967: John Otis Hewgley, 7^th child of John Bell Hewgley and Laura Lee Wood Hewgley, died at Lawndale, California.

June 30, 1967: Ronald Reagan was now Governor of California. He decided to cut back on the state's budget. In the process my job was eliminated. I was faced with a choice. I could revert back to my position as a Correctional Counselor at the women's prison in southern California or leave. I was in my last year at law school. I couldn't afford to lose the job and I couldn't possibly transfer to southern California and forfeit all the hard work getting through law school. I decided to try and find another job in Sacramento so I could finish school.

I was terminated from my position as Assistant Administrative Analyst for the California Department of Corrections. I have always blamed Reagan for this.

July 28, 1967: I found a job as an Intermediate Clerk with the California Board of Equalization, Business Taxes-Central Files, Sacramento, while attending law school. My salary was $480 per month, half my former income as an Administrative Assistant. Law school is expensive and there was no GI bill. I had used it all up getting through college. Every dime it cost to attend law school came out of our pocket. I was desperate.

A friend and fellow class-mate at law school tipped me to another Administrative Analyst position with the California Department of Mental Hygiene. I got the job. It paid the same as my position with the Department of Corrections. I was just months away from graduating from law school. I forthrightly informed my supervisor at Mental Hygiene that as soon as I graduated I'd be leaving the job. She, bless her, had no problem with it.

1968:

Nearing the end of law school I sent out 15 or so resumes to various District Attorney, Public Defender and County Counsel offices along the coast and southern California.

May 10, 1968: Anthony M. Kennedy, my constitutional law professor at McGeorge School of Law for two years, now Associate Justice of the United States Supreme Court, wrote a letter to Ventura County District Attorney Woodruff J. Deem recommending my hiring as a Deputy District Attorney in Ventura County, California.

June 2, 1968: I graduated from McGeorge School of Law, University of the Pacific, Sacramento, California with a Doctorate of Laws degree. Graduation ceremonies were conducted at the Scottish Rite Temple Memorial Hall, 6151 H. Street, Sacramento, California. Lillie and the kids looked great. It was a family affair. We all worked to get me through school. My freshman class numbered 315 people. 33 of us graduated. Lillie and I worked fulltime and I attended night law school for four years. Any spare time was spent studying. It was expensive and very trying. Not bad for a farm laboring high school drop out from a 40 acre farm in Hughes County, Oklahoma.

Myself and two other graduates headed for San Francisco. The traditional step after graduating from law school was to undergo a two month cram-course reviewing the entire subject-matter of the four years in law school and taking practice law school examinations. The three of us rented an apartment in San Francisco. Lillie and the kids remained in Sacramento. For two months we lived like hermits, attending the law review courses all day, studying half the night, day in and day out. That was expensive too, and I was no longer employed. We were being sustained solely by Lillie's income which wasn't enough to keep us going long.

August 27, 28, and 29, 1968: The California bar examination was a two and one-half day affair. The exam was an essay type racing the clock. Lillie and I found a cheap motel in downtown San Francisco during the examination. I was so tense I could hardly sleep at night. My brain was racing. I realized how much was at stake for Lillie and I. I had to succeed. I could not afford to re-take the bar exam the following year. The first night I got up from bed around 1:00 a.m. and went to a bar around the corner to drink some beer in hopes it would help me sleep. I needed a clear head the second day of the exam.

The examination was held at the Masonic Temple and Scottish Rite Auditorium in San Francisco. I used a typewriter to type the answers to the essay questions of the bar exam. I could type faster than I could write by hand. (God Bless you Mrs. Taylor!)

The Ventura County District Attorney's office was a superlative place. While in law school I didn't realize that recruitment of law school graduates by law offices took place during their junior year in law school. The Ventura DA's Assistant Attorney traveled to the major California law schools each year interviewing prospective prosecutors. They scoured UCLA, USC, Boalt Hall, etc. Hundreds applied. Few were hired. Almost all those interviewed were 26-27 years of age, having gone directly through high school, then college, then law school.

I learned later that the Ventura office had recruited their new attorneys in the spring of 1967. Seven were hired. As it happened one of the seven had to drop out at about the same time as my resume in the spring of 1968 arrived at the Ventura DA's office. It was a pure stroke of luck that my resume arrived at the same time Ventura was losing their new prospect. My resume attracted the attention of the Assistant District Attorney, George Eskin.

Eskin telephoned me in Sacramento and arranged to interview me in a state Senator's office at the Capitol building across the street from where I worked. He grilled me for over an hour. He wanted to know all about me. What my prior employment had been. How it was that I went to law school. What kind of track record McGeorge School of Law had with the bar examination. What kind of grades did I get during law school. What my future ambitions were. Everything.

During the interview I learned that Eskin was a graduate of UCLA. He was a polite, polished, friendly man, but incisive with his probing. When we parted he wanted me to send him a transcript of my law school grades and the track record of McGeorge.

I was disheartened. I was convinced that I'd never be hired by Ventura. Here I was an unsophisticated, dumb, country Okie having gone through an unheard of night law school. I contrasted myself with Eskin. He appeared to be from the right kind of family, on the right side of the tracks, had gone through his schools with the luxury of the right fraternities. All that. A "silver spoon" product.

I sent Eskin a letter with the information he had requested. Sarcastically I pointed out to him that some 95% of McGeorge's law school graduates successfully passed the California bar. UCLA's record was decidedly less than that of McGeorge. I didn't expect to hear back from him.

To my astonishment he called and invited me to Ventura to meet the District Attorney, Woodruff Deem. Lillie and I went to Santa Paula that weekend. That Monday morning I appeared at the Ventura DA's office. I expected to be interviewed by the DA himself. Eskin introduced me to Mr. Deem. He was cordial, friendly, even likeable. He had sharp penetrating eyes which examined me thoroughly. We didn't talk about much in the way of law school, but he was simply trying to become a bit acquainted and get a feel for what kind of guy I was.

I had been erroneous about my expectation of that Monday. I had assumed that after the interview with Mr. Deem I'd be finished. Not so. After meeting with Mr. Deem I was then escorted to the office of the Chief Trial Deputy. He grilled me for about a half hour. From him I went through interviews with a succession of trial lawyers. It was an all day affair. I was exhausted when I finally left that day.

September 3, 1968: While awaiting the results of the bar examination I was hired as a law clerk by the Ventura County, California District Attorney, Woodruff J. Deem.

December 17, 1968: I passed the California Bar examination. Hooray! My career as a lawyer.

1969:

A mischievous but good kid, here is my son Mike in 1969 when we lived in Santa Paula, Ventura County, California. Mike and I not only look alike but we have many of the same characteristics, including stubborn determination.

Actually Mike was always something of a ham, a talented one at that. He was excellent in his Barbara Webster School stage performance in The Wizard of Oz.

1971:

Mrs. Bowman sent the poem to the local newspaper. Bob Holt, a reporter for the Ventura Star-Free Press, wrote a column he entitled No Poem Lovely as a New Trial. He wrote:

In my years of reporting on the courts for this newspaper, I have heard various reasons advanced for asking a new trial but not, until now, verse.

A lady juror who works at Point Mugu, and who sat on a sanity trial in Superior Court, penned a poem entitled "My Day In Court."

The first verse ran: "To serve on a jury was my civil duty, this I’ve been told since I cast my first vote; to be chosen to judge a case such as this I found it offensive and really no joke."

Now, because she showed the ode to her fellow jurors before the verdict, defense attorney James T. Sherren Jr. wants a new trial.

That is really not very gentlemanly of Jim, because the lady spoke very highly of him in her verse, calling him "attractive and handsome." She had the same good word for Deputy District Attorney Jack Wood, praised Judge Edwin F. Beach’s smile, and Court Reporter Phil Stubb’s hair.

Apollo spacecraft lands on the barren and lifeless Moon, an event seen on television by millions. It emphasizes Earth's unique suitability for life.

1972:

April 15, 1972: I became a charter member of the Westlake Rotary Club at the Los Robles Inn, Westlake Village, Ventura County, California.

July 1, 1972: I entered into a law partnership for the practice of law with Scott Dool with the firm name of Dool and Wood, in Thousand Oaks, Ventura County, California. Our partnership agreement was memorialized on a dining room napkin.

1974:

The House Judiciary Committee recommended President Nixon be impeached on a 27-11 vote for obstructing justice in the Watergate investigation.

August 8, 1974: President Richard Nixon announced he was resigning for his part in the Watergate scandal, effective midday August 9, 1974.

1975:

September 3, 1975: Jeremy Paul Batts [1975- ] was born.

Cora Belle Hewgley, 6^th child of John Bell Hewgley and Laura Lee Wood Hewgley, died at Moberly, Randolph County, Missouri.

World's population surpasses four billion.

1977:

The year of 1977 was an interesting and busy year for me. I dipped my toes into local politics, ran for District Attorney of Ventura County, California. Met a lot of people. Made a lot friends. Learned an awful lot about the inner workings of politics, the Republican and Democrat parties. Spent a lot of money. Came out second in a field of five. Vowed I'd never do that again. Just like all those other baby kissing politicos I rode in the local parades. This one is going down main street in Ventura. My son Mike is driving the little green car, my other son Tim is the passenger in the red shirt:

The Apple II, the first mass-produced practical home computer, is developed by Steven P. Jobs and Stephen G. Wozniak; the IBM PC will follow in 1981.

1978:

Spring, 1978: Kessler Wood [1915- ], operated a Phillips 66 service station at Odessa, Ector County, Texas for a number of years. He sold the station. He wrote me that he "just more or less loafed, would work when the notion struck, worked some on those old drilling rigs, would work as a clerk in some friends liquor stores."

December 16, 1978: George Leonard "Cocky" Wood [1919-1978], on the anniversary of the Boston Tea Party, died at Albany, Shackleford County, Texas. He was 59 years old. I don't know the precise cause of his death. My mother told me he had developed diabetes and lost one of his legs.

Leonard, as he is known to me, was an oilfield rough-neck. In 1951 he lost his left arm in an auto accident. He was driving, late at night. He had the driver's window rolled down. His left arm rested on the driver's door. His elbow extended outside. He fell asleep at the wheel, drifted across the highway and sideswiped a mailbox. The impact shattered the bones in his left arm. I was visiting him in Albany, Texas while on a three-day pass from Sheppard AFB, Wichita Falls, Texas. I was asleep in the back seat of the car. He woke me up and I drove him to a hospital. Unable to work in the oilfields anymore he became a Justice of the Peace in Albany. He died in 1978. His wife, Joan (pronounced "Joe Ann") succeeded him as Justice of the Peace. When Joan died in 1988 the daughter of Leonard and Joan, Judy, succeeded Joan as Justice of the Peace. Judy is currently in that office. The following is a copy of a news article showing Joan being sworn in as Justice of the Peace at Albany, Texas in 1978.

1979:

Jessie Maude Batts [1903-1979] died and was buried in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma County, Oklahoma.

1980:

William Thomas Batts, Jr. [1901-1980] died and was buried in Jamison Cemetery, Lincoln County, Oklahoma.

June 1980: The following article about Margaret "Polly" Wood Clark  was reprinted from HCHSQ, June, 1980:

WHO WAS MARGARET WOOD?

Submitted by Donald A. Clark, Lexington, Kentucky

From the memoirs of the Rev. W. L. Clark came the information that My Grandfather was Elias or Elijah Clark and settled near Ft. Royal (sic) Kentucky in Henry Co. "L" would ride to the mill at Tom Town (near Turners Station) with the corn to be ground when he was a boy.

Little did I know when driving through Tom Town up to Turners Station last fall that my roots would connect to Joseph Burch Turner for whom the town was named. The first trip to New Castle did reveal that Elias Clark had married Margaret Wood, 10 Aug 1831. Subsequent checks of the Court House records showed that William Wood had died in 1819 leaving a widow, Nancy, and children Sally, Ann D., Eliza Jane, Margaret and George E.

Still later, Miss Clara Davis discovered that William Wood had made an oath before the "J.P." that he had come to the county "the 15th day of May last (1816) from Fauquier Co., VA., and brought one slave for his own use and not for the purpose of traffic of merchandize." This very important key led to a search of Virginia records for the marriage of William Wood to Nancy. It was located in Fauquier County and contained the documentation needed. The abstract had noted a reference to 19 Ky. Reg. 55:15. this turned out to be a story of the Turners and how they came to Henry County and the later naming of Turners Station that has been published in the Register of the Kentucky Historical Society. Central to the story was the 2nd marriage for both Joshua Turner and Mary Ann Maddox Corley on 3 Dec 1792, in Culpeper Co., VA. She had Nancy Corley and Aquilla Corley, Jr. by her first marriage.

Nancy Corley married William Wood Nov. 1805 and, along with the Maddoxes, Magruders, and others, came by flatboat to Carrollton in the spring of 1816.

They brought their Negroes, stock, household goods and some crude farming implements. They landed at Port William (Now Carrollton) at night. They went to secure lodging and the man to whom they went refused them. They then told him they would sleep in his barn, but he told them he would rather have them in his house than his barn. The chances are they stayed with him. At dawn they started out in search of a place to locate. The Maddox and Magruder families located near where Pleasureville now is. The Turner family decided on a place in Henry County, adjoining the Barker farm (the land surveyed by Shepard).

Joshua Turner was 75 years old and Mary Ann, 53 when this trip was made. Their youngest son, Joseph Burch Turner, was born 3 Feb 1803, in Culpeper Co. VA. Joshua died in 1825 at age 84 as young Joseph began his farming career. Joseph began his farming career. Joseph became a deacon in the Sulphur Fork Baptist Church for many years. He gave valuable assistance to the Short Line Railroad and in appreciation the station established near his farm after 1869 was named in his honor. He died in 1900 at age 97.

His mother had died in 1856, also at the age of 97. The cause was listed as dropsy in the Vital Statistics. Those same statistics also showed that Margaret Wood Clark died at age 47 (7 May 1859) of phlistic [sic] (asthmatic consumption)

Whether Margaret Wood knew about her family history will never be known. Her oldest son, Monterville, named his second son Joseph Turner Clark ("Joe T.").

Margaret's grandmother, Mary Ann Maddox Corley Turner, was proud that her father, Notley Maddox, distinguished himself in the Revolutionary War and equally so that their brother, John Maddox, was a respected mathematician and surveyor.

1983:

March 29, 1983: Vincent Boen Batts [1983- ], son of Phyllis Willette Bowen Batts [1949- ] and Phillip Wayne Batts [1951- ], was born.

July 10, 1983: While home on leave from the Air Force the most horrible loss fell on us when our beloved son, Timothy Dale Wood [1960-1983] was killed in a solo vehicle accident in Paradise, Butte County, California. The night of the tragedy began like all others. Mike and Tim went out somewhere. Lillie and I went to bed. Around 3 a.m. I heard an insistent knocking at our front door. It was Paradise Police Officer Jim Lightbody, a policeman with whom I was well acquainted. He told me Tim had been seriously injured in an accident and that Lillie and I should go to the Chico Community Hospital emergency room in Chico. Chico is about 18 miles away. At the emergency room we were not permitted to see Tim. The attending physician informed us he was seriously hurt, with severe head injuries. Thus began the longest week of our lives. Tim had dropped Mike off at some friends and was driving to our home, alone. He was unfamiliar with the streets. Paradise is a mountainous community in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains. The streets are generally narrow and curvy. Tim failed to negotiate one of the curves and struck a large pine tree head-on.

Firemen had to cut through the car to extricate him. So far as I know Tim was unconscious from the moment he hit the tree. In the hospital Tim lay inert, his breathing and heart beat being maintained by life sustaining equipment. Ultimately we were informed that Tim was brain dead; that nothing could be done. The recommendation was to remove him from the life sustaining machinery. Prayers notwithstanding, God had taken our baby. The decision was made by us as a family that night at home. Amidst tears Sheri, Mike, Lillie and I concluded it was all we could do.

The next morning, while Lillie and Sheri waited outside, Mike and I held Tim's hands while the attendant shut off the equipment that kept his breath flowing and the heart beating. As the breathing apparatus stopped I watched Tim's face turn from a normal hue to ashen gray. No miracle occurred to spark life and breath into him. Our son was gone.

Mike selected the cemetery and gravesite at Stirling City, Butte County, California. My brother, Phil, conducted the services. We buried Tim. Lillie and I have our plots on either side of him. Here is Phil and Mike a few days before that terrible accident.

The Internet is established to link computer users worldwide and enable them to share all manner of data; e-mail is one primary use.

1985:

Here is my aunt, Thelma Evelyn Wright Muirhead [1909-2001]. She was a kind, quiet lady.

The Microsoft Corporation releases the Windows operating system, a sequel to its popular MS-DOS; software developer Bill Gates will eventually become the richest man in the world.

1986:

August 15, 1986: Timothy Robert Anderson [1986- ] was born in Ventura County, California. Timothy is a fine young lad of whom I am proud.  He is our oldest grandson and the third Tim in our family. And here is Timothy Anderson, my grandson:

1987:

April 1, 1987: Ruth Hewgley [1889-1987], second daughter of John Bell Hewgley [ -1933] and Laura Lee Wood Hewgley [1865-1940], died April 1, 1987 in Boise, Idaho.

October 1, 1987: When his wife, Lucille, was diagnosed as having terminal cancer, Kessler Wood [1915- ], ceased working.

1988:

January 24, 1988: My oldest grand daughter, Joan Patricia "Trish" Wood [1988- ] was born at Feather River Hospital, Paradise, Butte County, California to Michael Lee "Mike" Wood [1958- ] and Deborah Joan Flores Wood [1953- ]. A beautiful and wonderful child, she has blessed both her "Nam" and "Poppy."

April 1988: My brother Kessler's wife, Lucille Rose [1917-1988] , died of cancer at Odessa, Ector County, Texas. They had five children: Patricia Ann "Patsy" [1939- ], George Douglas "Buddy" [1942- ?], Kessler Edmund "Sonny" [1943- ], Johnny Mike [1952- ], and Donald Kirk [1953- ].

June 1, 1988: My grandson, Aaron Robert Anderson [1988- ], was born in Ventura County, California. Aaron is a bright active cheerful young fellow that I love to have around. Here is my grandson Aaron Anderson:

July 21, 1988: Joan Laura Holcomb Wood [1921-1988], widow of my brother George Leonard "Cocky" Wood [1919-1978], died in Abilene, Shackleford County, Texas.

October 1988: Jane Stomper [ - ], a high school girlfriend of Kessler Wood [1915 - ] wrote to him in Odessa. She sent some old photographs. But, she failed to include her address. Kessler enlisted the aid of the Sheriff, a friend, to help him locate Jane. It was a successful search and Kessler obtained her address and telephone number.

Thanksgiving, November 1988: Kessler Wood [1915- ] and Jane Stomper [ -1999] were married.

Here it is, 1989, I was 56 years old. Way back in 1955 while I was working on that construction gang for the Southern Pacific Railroad there was a free demonstration flight being offered at the small airport in Brawley, Imperial County, California. The promoters were interested in drumming up some new students. I went up. It was a Piper Cub. The man let me fly it. In front of us was a single column of smoke running straight up from the ground. I tried to fly straight to it while maintaining altitude and keeping the wings level. I should have signed up and started learning right then. Unfortunately I did not. But, one day, many years later, while shaving, I looked in my mirror and noticed I was not getting a bit younger and I still did not know how to fly. A lawyer friend of mine was taking lessons along with a private investigator I used. So, I concluded that if I didn't get to it soon I would be too old. So I did. Quite an exhilarating experience unto itself. I bought myself my own plane, a Cessna 182, using it as a tax write-off because I flew to court appearances. Here is the plane with Lillie and me flying enroute to Mt. Shasta, California.

1989:

October 1, 1989: My grandson, Jack Michael "Boog" Wood [1989- ] was born in Paradise, Butte County, California. He has a delightful smile. A fine young man, he is a masterful Nintendo 64 Zelda player.

1990:

Spring 1990: Kevin Don Willingham Hewgley [ - ] interviewed Ara Leone Dixon Smith [ - ] and her sister-in-law. He was told:

James Hershel "Jim" Wood [1852-1935] left Missouri and went to Oklahoma. He had two daughters, one was named Beatrice L. Wood [1890- ].

The Dixon family came from England, then to Pennsylvania and Oklahoma. There is also immediate family in Ohio.

Lucy Alice Wood Dixon [1859-1946], wife of Joseph Edmond Dixon [1863-1942], was a teacher in Monroe County, Missouri.

The Dixons left Pennsylvania to get away from the mines. Joe and George were twins. Arthur Overend Dixon [1855- ] and his older brothers all worked in the mines, brother David died at the age of 21. There are four generations buried in Madison, Missouri. Ara Dixon [ -1955], a girl, and Opel Dixon [ - ], a boy, died of diphtheria, also a set of twins died.

Aunt Nancy Jane Wood Roberts [1846-1919], an aunt to Ara Leone Dixon Smith [ - ]. Ara recalls going to her funeral, she was so short that she could barely see into the casket.

The Secoys in Paris, Missouri, are descendants of Aunt Malinda Butler Wood Secoy [1848-1910], there was one named Frank and possibly one named Orville.

Ara stayed with her grandmother quite a bit, she always "taught" them. Laura Lee Wood Hewgley [1865-1940] was always the joking type and a lot of fun to be around. The nieces and nephews favored her. She was VERY tall and "rawboned and big framed" (note: she was 6 ft. tall in height).

Ara remembered her for her white hair and big cheek bones. Uncle James Hershel "Jim" Wood [1852-1935] looked a lot like Laura Lee Wood Hewgley [1865-1940].

Grandma Wood (Nancy Jane Batts Wood [1823-1905]) was very soft featured and had a nice round face, she was so soft spoken and everyone knew her and loved her. (this is what Ara’s mother in law stated.)

Grandma Dixon’s house was terra cotta with flowers. It was owned by Lucy and Joseph Edwin for some time and now Tom Johnston owns it. It is still standing and in good shape.

The parents of Curtis Dixon [ - ] are Joseph Edmond Dixon [1863-1942] Lucy Alice Wood [1859-1946].

World's population surpasses five billion.

1991:

This is Lillie Mae Morrow Wood [1933- ] along about 1992. She's been my companion for a very long time. Couldn't possibly have made it this far without her. She has always had her feet firmly planted on the ground. A totally devoted mother to the kids. I was so fortunate to have married her.

1992:

July 20, 1992: My youngest grand daughter, Elizabeth Anderson [1992- ], was born in Ventura County, California.

Sears, Roebuck and Co. ends publication of its popular mail-order catalog, "the big book," after 97 years.

1994:

1995:

September 10, 1995: My uncle, Sid Muirhead [1907-1995], husband of Thelma Evelyn Wright Muirhead [1909- ], died on September 10, 1995 at Okemah, Okfuskee County, Oklahoma.

1996:

1997:

1998:

1999:

As the world population passes the six billion mark, a study is issued that projects a serious crisis in 2100 if the current rate of growth is not slowed.

This page last modified on Tuesday October 15, 2002