Ivan 1937 - 1950     page 4

There was a rule about fighting on the job, this was a Federal job. So there was a professional "strong man" on the job. He was the kind of guy that could pound nails through a two by four with his bare hands, and bend re-bar around his arms or legs. This was demonstrated after some "scoffing" by some of men at lunch time, when all this took place. The reason I mention this is, after awhile the boss, who was a little guy, said something to the "Strong man" that made him mad, and he hit the boss in the mouth and broke his jaw. The "strong man" went to jail for it. This job ended in December, 1942.

I needed some extra gas stamps to go to Phoenix to get another job. I loaded my wife and two little ones in to the car and went to Flagstaff to see if I could get some more gas to move on. As I walked into the room there was a line waiting. I got in line. As I moved up the line I heard enough of the talk to convince me that I wasn't going to get the gas that I needed to go to Phoenix.

"What can I do for you?" I told them that I needed to move to Phoenix. He asked me where I had been working. When I told him Belmont, he said that they weren't giving any gas to anyone who was working at Belmont. Flagstaff had well prepared for those who were coming to work there. They jacked up the prices of everything, profiting from it. The move-ins had seen the prices of everything go up so that the Unions had built a store there. Where you could buy everything but gas.

I made some bright remark and was quickly grabbed by two men who shoved me into the back room. Upon looking around to see who had shoved me into a back room, one was the Sheriff. I stood there looking around. There was a fellow there, at a desk who was looking at me. I said, "Well, I'll take my A stamps, my B stamps, and depart."

He said, "Let me see your stamps."

"They are in my pocket." So I took them out of my pocket and showed them to him. He grabbed them and put them into a drawer and locked them in. I looked at him for a few seconds, then I asked him if he wanted to see a good power play.

"What's that?" he said.

I told him I knew a man over in Apache County who would take an exception to taking my stamps and locking them up. "He lives next door to me. I'll give him a call right now. His name is Levi S. Udall, the District Attorney who would be happy to straighten out a few things for you." The effect was magical, the man promptly opened the drawer and got out my stamps and handed them to me.

I said, "Thank you, I'll be going now."

The Sheriff accompanied me out the door. He said that if they had kept my stamps he would have accompanied me to the jail, which was right up the street from there.

There was an attempted rescue. The fellow that ran the same "cat" that I did on the swing came in the door while I was being shoved into the back room. He made a move to rescue me, but was blocked by a couple of other guys and was asked if he knew me. He said yes, he knew me, that I had worked the day shift, and he worked the swing shift. His wife came in right behind him and rescued him.

I walked to the car which was parked there. My wife was waiting there for me. I was grateful for her. We were nearly packed and ready to go.

The story of the propane truck that sprung a leak. This was in St. Johns on a day that was hot and muggy and everything was quiet. The fellow that brought the truck in for repair parked it and left. It was inside the garage. (It should have been parked outside, because of the leak.) By the time someone got to it to fix it, it had let off quite a bit of gas. When he lit his torch the whole thing ignited. When he couldn't see what to do, it was already too late. He abandoned the truck and ran outside crying, "Fire, fire."