Dale's Move to Vernal

     With Dad gone. Mother's family came to our assistance. Uncle Duayne helped move us to Vernal.  Mother's parents (Martha Mae and Andrew Theodore Johnson), were serving a mission. Grandfather Johnson was a mission president in Sweden. We were able to go to their home to live. Uncle Duayne and Aunt Venna were living there, but they needed only half of the house and we were able to live in the other half. When my grandparents returned, we remained and Duayne moved his family.  
     Mother was able to get a full-time teaching position in Vernal. Though she had not finished college, she had once taught in Vernal. This gave her an advantage of getting the position. She had two years of schooling to complete before she could get her degree. Mother had an agreement with the school district that she would go to summer school and take correspondence courses to finish. She took Kent with her to Provo for a few summers until she graduated from Brigham Young University. It was hard but she knew she had no other choice. She was responsible for bringing in an income and provide a living for her boys.
     Uncle Owen and Aunt Evelyn Hacking (mother's sister), gave Mother a building lot near them to build a house. Grandfather hired Turner Supply to build us a home. 

Mae and Theodore Johnson

     One of my early Vernal experiences was a trip to the Salt Lake Temple, with the ward youth to do proxy baptisms.  Mother worried all day for fear I would have a bad day.  I'd be among people I was not yet familiar with, and away from home for several hours.  She said when I arrived home in the evening, she asked me if I had been okay during the day.  I told her that I had not been scared or nervous as Dad was there when I did the baptisms. She said that is one of the things that helped her to gain courage and begin to heal. She came to realize Ray (Dad) wasn't far, was still aware of our needs, and would likely be with us when we needed his support and presence, especially during special times.
     Uncle Duayne, Grandfather Johnson, and cousins became our male role models and mentors. Grandmother Johnson also became an important part of our lives. In addition to the Vernal farm Grandfather Johnson had a ranch on Taylor Mountain. He could, without any trouble, think of things for boys to do. He was successful at keeping his own boys busy. He was well practiced when grandsons became a responsibility. Ray and I killed our share of burdock on the ranch. I enjoyed raising a vegetable garden next to Grandfather's larger garden. Ray and I had our duty to pull weeds and irrigate.
     The farmers used to move hay with horse drawn wagons. My job was to ride on the wagon and walk around tramping down the hay so it would stay on until it was unloaded in the hay barn. My older cousins Mirl and Kenneth Hacking would pitch the hay so it would cover us up.  I really, really HATED getting hay leaves down my neck. One day I rode one of the work horses out to the pasture after we finished working. The other horse was already there and came running up, and whirled around and kicked the horse I was riding. One hoof caught me on my right ankle. I still don't understand why it didn't break my foot or ankle.  I wasn't so trusting after that.

     Ray was older than I by three years, so he often was assigned the more responsible chores and duties. Things like driving the truck, tractor, and repairing fences.  He got more farm experience than I did. He was glad to leave it when he left home after high school. I hadn't had enough! I loved the farm. Kent was just a toddler and then a youngster, so he missed being a farm boy. Also he was with Mother in Provo while she went to summer school. 
     We advanced in the priesthood, attended church, became involved in church activities and were taught correct principles. Dad wanted his sons to fulfill L.D.S Missions. We wanted to please our father and be able to have him say he was pleased with what we had done with our lives when we would be reunited with him again.
     I don't remember a specific time that I gained a testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. If I had a special spiritual experience I didn't ponder or give it much thought. I excepted the gospel and knew it was good, true, and right.
     In Fifth Grade I begin to have bad stomach aches. Mother was teaching school so I'd stay home alone. She decided that we needed some medical advise. Dr. Spendlove put me on a cold metal table and started pushing and asking if it hurt. He decided I had appendicitis and that I needed to have surgery to remove my appendix. He said that I wouldn't have pain in my stomach anymore. It did not take the pain away. I have had pain for many years. I heard once that when people have bad stomach problems they can replace their stomach with the stomach of a pig. Many times I have thought about that idea. Shirleen and our children learned not to mention when they had an upset stomach within my hearing because that would trigger the problem. Shirleen has thought it was physiological. 
     About the time of my surgery, I had a paper route. I delivered newspapers in Vernal from Main Street (Highway 40), east of Vernal Avenue to 500 East, then south of Main Street to 500 South and west to about 300 East. The old tithing office was right where the delivery truck left the stacks of newspapers. We used the old office (vacant at the time), to roll the newspapers before we delivered to the customers. Today the Daughters of the Utah Pioneers (near the Vernal Temple) occupies the building.

Theodore and Mae Johnson's home

     We were living with my grandparents, Theodore and Mae Johnson, on 5th West and 5th South. Grandfather owned some land between 5th South and north to 2nd South. One day on my way home from school I decided I wanted to get home a little faster than usual. I went behind the Seminary building (today it is the LDS Distribution building), where Ole Snip was grazing in the pasture. I got on, bare back of course, but his walk was too slow! I gave him a little kick and away we went. In just a few seconds I knew I was in trouble. There was a gate into the large corral, but for some reason about ten feet in front of the gate, there was a post. Ole Snip did slow just a little so he could go through the opening. He went through the gate just fine but I continued straight ahead into the wooden fence. I don't know how long I laid on the ground. I did survive and was able walk away without help. I learned a great lesson.
     Grandfather had a very large barn where he stored hay. Near the barn was a cement silo for silage. The neighborhood friends and I spent a lot of time playing in the barn and around the silo. In the large corral, one winter Uncle Duayne had a small herd of sheep. One member of the herd was a mean buck that tried to bunt just anyone. A stack of cedar posts in the middle of the corral provided a safe haven. We would run from the fence to the cedar posts with the buck on our tails. We gave him a lot of exercise. He gave us exercise, a lot of fun, and some near misses.
     A lot of pigeons lived in the barn. We liked to go out after dark and climb the haystack and scare the pigeons. Grandmother would fret for fear we would get hurt. Haystacks, in those days, were loose hay. Baling hay came later.
     On my paper route, two dogs gave me a lot of trouble. I got my first bite during that winter at about 2nd North and 5th East. I was wearing a tall pair of buckle winter boots. Without warning, the dog just simply ran over to me and bit my left leg. One tooth was stopped by the boot, but I still have three deep scars from that bite. The second bite happened around 4th South and 4th East. The customer wanted his paper put in his mailbox, so I had to stop and walk up to the porch. After I passed the dog, he came behind me and caught me in the back of my knee. I have scars from that experience too. I decided I'd kill the next dog that wanted to play with me.
     

Kent drew this oil painting of our home on the Maeser Road

     I can't remember moving into the house that Grandfather Johnson had built for us. I've blanked it out completely. I don't know how old I was or anything about the move at all. Shirleen believes anytime I experienced a major change, I learned to block it from my memory. I hadn't thought about it or realize that I may have been doing just that, but it seems to be true. I'm sure I thought I would miss grandfather even though he would be just across town. It would have been another step into the unknown. 
     Ray and I felt the need to work to aid the family income. As soon as we were old enough we did just that. Ray got a job at the Vernal Theater. It was a very complicated endeavor to run the projectors. He worked nights. On Saturdays he worked running the movies for the matinees.
     He purchased his own transportation and fuel. He always seemed to like mini-sized pick-up trucks. He went to Uintah High School and graduated from there before me, of course.  

Ray, Kent and Dale

     We were normal brothers. Ray thought me as a nuisance at times and we had our normal disagreements. Kent and I would function likewise. I'm sure Mother thought some days were difficult, but we did know she loved us, and we loved and respected her.

Shirleen's Early Years

     I, Velma Shirleen Perry Van Leuven, being born the eldest of ten children to goodly parents that taught their family to the best of their ability and knowledge. Velma Rasmussen and Leland LaVell Perry exemplified the importance of prayer, family, love for one another, righteous living, importance of following the prophet, obedience, to remain active in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and HARD WORK. I can still hear my father saying, "always give an honest days work for an honest days pay." Their teachings are still part of the fibers of my being. Of the ten babies born to them, only five reached adulthood, four daughters and one son. We need to back up to tell this story, and proceed in a more orderly manner.

Leland and Velma's wedding picture
June 20, 1938 in the Salt Lake Temple

     I was born August 25, 1939, in the home of Jacob Rasmussen and Sarah Rebecca Howell (my mother's parents), in LaPoint, Utah, Uintah County. The home is still surround by several acres of my grandparent's old farm, which has been purchased or inherited by other owners. It is located at the bottom of the LaPoint Dugway, and overlooks a picturesque view of the the community and farmlands.

Grandparent's LaPoint Home
Picture taken Dec. 2015
Currently being remodeled by present owners.
House looks the same except for addition of top floor windows.

     World War II started the year of my birth and went until 1945. I came on the tail end of The Great Depression, with the bombing of Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. These world events impacted the lives of many, including our family. I don't remember these world dilemmas but they were very much still on the tongues of people and the fears still hung in the air during my early years. Children absorb a lot from their environment in their early developmental years. I was not excluded. Mothers of young families lived in constant fear of losing their husbands to the draft. Mother was not exempt! I soaked up many of her fears in my early years, plus other challenges came along that added to those mentioned world pressures. Let us begin.
      Dad leased a farm in Farm Creek, Utah. The farm was located where the bend is in the road after leaving Whiterocks, Utah and before Bacon Park. We at least lived one meager year there, among Native Americans (Indians), as our neighbors. Mother said she felt quite eerie at nights as often their Native Americans neighbors could be heard chanting and beating on drums. I remember in later years mother had a friendly relationship with the Native American people that lived in the area. They respected her and she respected them. She was a good example for her children. She often would stop and talk to people making them feel liked and important. Often people still say to me, "I just love your mother!"
     Apparently, Dad decided that farming was not going to keep food on the table, so we moved to Salt Lake City, after Dad got a job laying linoleum with mother's brother Reed Rasmussen. Then later on, we moved to the Bountiful area.  Somewhere along those years Dad got his draft papers. When the Draft Board discovered he had a family, they assigned him to serve his time at Hill Field Air Base as a mechanic on aircraft. We again moved. Our home was then army barracks on or near the base. Our Layton, Utah years is when I start to remember existing. Many families lived in the barrack community. Each barrack housed two families with a family on each end of a long narrow apartment building. Dad worked at the base during the day and maintained his job with Uncle Reed. For a short time, Dad drove taxi in Salt Lake City. Mother felt rich, but lonely, and stressed with the rapid growth of her family. Our birth dates tell the story.

Shirleen born August 25, 1939

Raymond Leland Perry born April 8, 1941 in Salt Lake City, Utah.

Mary Jean Perry born September 23, 1942 in Salt Lake City, Utah.

Terra Perry (stillborn) born July 24, 1943 in Ogden, Utah.

Vonae Perry born November 21, 1944 in Ogden, Utah.

      It seems as if Mother experienced one nervous breakdown after another. She often had blind spells (blind staggers), which would scare her nearly to death. Being the eldest, I felt and feared these occasions. She put a lot of responsibility on my shoulders to help take care of her and my siblings. She didn't totally realize the fear she was planting in my innocent mind when often she would say something like, "Watch that baby! If she falls out of that high chair, it will surely KILL her!" Mother would use words like kill, die, sure death. I didn't understand the meaning of these chilling words, but it sounded real serious. The word "hospital" I could relate to. Raymond had gotten pneumonia and had to be taken to the hospital and was gone for several days. Dad also had a serious sick spell and spent a little time in the hospital.
     My siblings and I learned the outside world could be peacefully fun and very treacherous. There was always someone to play with in the play area. It was provided with sandboxes, swings, and I especially remember the mock airplane constructed from real airplane parts. The older children had (unaware of parents) dug a room size dugout in the bank of Kays Creek which became a perfect secret hide-a-away or underground hut.  
     When I entered Kindergarten I dearly loved it. The school playground was close, which provided another place to play. The world was full of noise and things to explore. Raymond, Jean, and I decided do some exploring one day. We wandered beyond the assigned boundaries to the main street of Layton. We soon discovered we were lost. Treacherous became a reality. Entering a phone booth we closed the door behind us, only to soon discover that we were too short to open the door. The hot summer sun added to our dire situation. We begin to wilt like thirsty plants. A lady, passing by, discovered the peril we were in and saved our lives. She made sure we found our way home safely.
     Stark reality came knocking again. The three of us went to the school playground to play. Nearby was a very swift irrigation ditch full of water. Jean fell in and was very quickly taken down stream. Raymond and I ran home for help. Mother's parents happened to be there visiting. I clearly remember Grandpa Rasmussen running barefoot toward the playground along with mother, Grandmother, cousin Eva Rae and of course Raymond and myself. We arrived just as a lady from down stream came carrying Jean in her arms. She told us of the miracle that had just happened. Her small daughter ran into the house to tell her that a little boy was in the ditch. She made several attempts to fetch Jean from the water but she would slip through her hands each time. She made one last attempt just before Jean was to slip under a fence and the ditch emptied into a reservoir. Stepping in with both feet she miraculously caught her. Jean had fallen in face down which she instinctively would periodically push up with her arms and hands to get her nose above the water. Her arms and hands were quite badly scraped from the cement bottom and sides of the ditch. 
    About the same time period, one of the neighborhood barrack homes burned. Children home alone had to be rescued from its inferno. The fire had been started by children playing with matches. Our parents used these real life experiences to teach. I clearly remember the match lesson!
    Death, dying, accidents, world hazards became very frighteningly real.      
    

Mary Jean, Raymond, Shirleen

    I LOVED our 'cute Sunday School.' Church each Sunday was a special time. I learned early in my life to feel the peace that comes inside the Lord's House. My parents wisely set the importance and pattern of weekly church attendance, and has been a cherished blessing in my life.

'Cute Sunday School'
Our Layton Ward Chapel

     World War II ended and would bring new changes for our family.

Dale's Early Years

     I, Dale Anson Van Leuven was born 14 March 1938, in Takoma Park, Montgomery County, Maryland. Weighing in at 8 pounds, I was the second child of Cornelius Ray Van Leuven Sr. and Vera Johnson. Their first child, Cornelius Ray, Jr. was born 29 April 1935 also in Takoma Park, Maryland. They addressed him as Bud, which he hated, but that was how the family distinguished his name from his father, as their names were the same.

Bud's (Ray's) fourth birthday, 1939

     Not long after I was born we moved to Greenbelt, Maryland. Greenbelt was a government project to give people an opportunity to leave the cities and move to a more urban/country type of living. Greenbelt was about ten miles from Takoma Park, which took us from an apartment into a home. We settled in and enjoyed some good years there which Mother spoke of years after.  Dad served in the bishopric and Mother in the Relief Society, mostly as President of the Relief Society. Also Dad got a new job working for the Red Cross at Ft. Meade in Maryland, near Baltimore. As the director of the Red Cross, he had a lot of responsibility, but he loved his job.
     Since he worked for the Armed Forces, Mother and Dad were always concerned that he maybe sent overseas. Dad was not enlisted in the Armed Forces as he had an eye damaged by a BB pellet shot from a BB gun when he was young. The Second World War was going on at the time. During World War II, the descendants of the Japanese people who lived on the West Coast were brought together and made to live in camps. Tall fences surrounded the camps to keep the people inside, plus guards guarded the entry ways and gates. It was believed by the United States Government that these people would help the Japanese soldiers or airmen if they landed on the West Coast.
     On the East Coast the descendants of the German people were also brought into camps.  Since my father worked for the Red Cross, he had to be concerned about the welfare of these people. One must understand these were German born American citizens. We had some 8mm film that gave me the strong impression that Dad was well liked and loved by these people, of whom were actually prisoners.
     During the war, the people were required to cover their windows at night so the light would not show through. Men walked through the neighborhoods to make sure the windows were blacked out. We lived fairly close to Washington D.C. so the authorities didn't want light showing at night to give enemy planes an easier target.

     A lot of things were rationed during the war. Car tires were probably what I remember the most.
     I remember when the war ended people were making a lot of noise and racket. I was given a pan and large spoon to bang on and make some noise too. To a young child what is war? The only thing I had to compare to was my big brother and I had our disagreements.

Bud at 17 months
Bud is detected due to curly hair.

Dale at 19 months

     In 1945, my sister Myrna was born. She was full term, but arrived as a stillborn. The doctor said she died six weeks before she was born. As one may assume we were greatly disappointed, especially, our parents. I was close to 6 or 7 years old and Ray would have been about 10. It would turn out that Myrna would be the only female child born to our family, as Kent was born February 2, 1946 in Ft. Geo. G. Meade (a military hospital), Anne Arundel County, Maryland. My mother and Kent did not do well after his birth, so they were for quite sometime in the hospital and Ray and I were taken care of during dad's working hours, by a friend of our parents, Helen Anderson.

Cornelius Ray and Vera Van Leuven
      

     The first time I sloughed school was in Kindergarten or First Grade in Takoma Park, Maryland. Some of my friends and I were playing by a metal grate over a cement hole that let light into a basement window of the school.  A toy had fallen through the grate and down into the hole. We decided that we could lift the grate and reach down and get the toy. It went as planned, but as I started to put my hand down to get the toy the grate fell and caught my fingers. Somehow I was able to free my fingers.  In a lot of pain I headed for home.  I must have been crying, but no one stopped me.  Even though the school was only about a quarter of a mile away on a small hill, I went down the hill and through the overpass. The overpass had a road on top and a walkway underneath.  I made my way home to the security and love of my mother.
     My parents were unaware that my father had a bad heart until he had a heart attack. He was in Baltimore at the time and went to the doctor.  The doctor put him in the hospital for a few days, and then he missed work for more rest and relaxation for another several days. My father took it really easy during the rest of the winter months even though he continued to work. Then during April, 1946 LDS General Conference, my father being a member of the bishopric in the Greenbelt Branch, went to Salt Lake City to represent the branch for conference. While there he learned that there was an opening as Manager in the Red Cross. He applied and got the job. They wanted him to start work at once. By June my father came for us, and we were on our way to Utah to live. We left many good friends not knowing if we'd ever see them again. Those I recall the most are the Shaffers, Crowthers, Andersons, and Thomas'. In those days people did not lock their cars and homes.  They didn't need too.  If we'd visit and not find anyone at home we'd enter their home and stack dishes, or furniture to let them know someone had been there.  It become a tradition. A tradition we brought to Utah with us. We had a lot of fun with it, because it became a guessing game as to who had been there. There is an old saying, "curiosity killed the cat". 
     I remember vaguely the train trip. We had a compartment to ourselves and enjoyed the train ride. 
     We went to Grandmother Emma Eliza Beardall Van Leuven's in Springville. She lived alone. Father went to Salt Lake City each day for his job at the Red Cross. The responsibility as manager, a full day of work, and the commute was hard on him. He had made a down payment on a building lot and was planning to build a new home in a new housing development area. All of this was a great worry to him, even though he liked his work.
   

A photograph taken after the school was completed in 1906
shows a group gathered in front of the two-story building as it originally stood,
complete with the bell tower.
Grant Elementary educated youths and served the area for a century.

 I attended Third Grade at Grant Elementary, 105 S. 400 E. in Springville, Utah. The school was a two story building when I attended school. Later the second floor was removed, remodeled into a one story building.
     I liked school. I had a girlfriend. Kaye's classroom was on a separate floor than mine. I would meet her at her classroom door so we could walk home together. Her teacher would detain her class until they were excused after they gave a correct answer to a Times Table. Hidden from the teacher's view just outside the door, I would mouth the answer if she didn't know it so she could get excused quicker. Her home was between the school and my home.  I'd see her home and then I'd go on home.

Emma Eliza Beardall Van Leuven
Picture taken in front of the old High School.
Old High School is across the street from her home.
Today the building is Springville Museum of Art.

Emma's home
483 S 200 E, Springville
Photo taken December 2015

     I also remember playing at a friend's home when I decided to slide down a board. Wrong choice! I got a large sliver in my bottom. I went running home for some help from mother this time also.
     The awareness of Dad's heart condition had prompted the move to be closer to family. In September, 1947, father had another heart attack. He seemed to know life was short for him. He commented that it was the time of year when everything died or went to sleep.
     The evening before his passing, the family, including some extended family, were gathered in the living room visiting. For some reason I was near dad with my shirt off, likely I'd just had my night bath and was preparing for bed. Dad wrote something on my back with his finger or an object he had in his hand. I have often wondered what he wrote. This would be my last contact with my father. During the night Ray and I were awakened by some commotion in my parents room, others had come to help. Ray and I got up to go see what was going on. When they discovered we had come into the room we were told to go back to bed and shut the door. The next morning father was gone. At the young age of 47, on the 3rd of October, 1947 my father passed away. I still fight back the tears when this memory is shared, which I very seldom share. It is painful!

This picture of Dad is how I remember him.

     I remember little about the days that followed Dad's passing, except that I was with Mother when she asked if she could be with Dad for a few minutes alone in the room with him before we departed for the cemetery. I am sure Ray (my older brother), was with us to say our last good-bye. Kent would have been a toddler and was probably being cared for by someone, I just don't remember. Then the casket was closed and LOCKED. One can't comprehend what we were experiencing emotionally. My mind has blocked much! I do know the responsibility of our future well-being rested heavily on mine and Ray's young shoulders and minds, as the day of Dad's passing we did not attend school, so I went job hunting. I crossed the street to the High School and helped the custodian.  He gave me a nickel. I took it home and gave it to mother.
     Shirleen Van Leuven (Dale's wife) interjects, "My observation now and over the years is and has been that tears are still at the surface and ready to spill over. The subject is always very short and to the point.  To the point of sacred! Cornelius Ray Van Leuven, Sr. must have loved his family dearly, and when he had to leave them the void was huge, and the suffering has been beyond any ones comprehension.  It is still evident at this writing, December 2015."
     Dad was buried in the Springville Cemetery, October 6, 1947.
     I do not have in my position a baby picture of Kent. One has to realize that Kent's short time with Dad was not a smooth one for my parents.  I'm sure taking pictures of joyous times was far from their minds. During Kent's short few months with Dad, all the memories we have are recorded in our minds and words, not photos. The last week before Dad was taken from us, he spent at home in bed getting some needed bed rest. This time gave Kent an opportunity to crawl around on the bed and play with Dad and they both seemed to enjoy it. We do know that Kent yearned for stories and inspiration that brought him in touch with a father he did not have or know.
     I was not connected with Ray's understanding and emotions of the family perils.  I'm sure a thirteen or fourteen year old's recorded memory was clearer than my nine or ten year old brain. 
     My brother Bud, was able to take on his real name, Ray. I'm sure he liked that over Bud. He really did hate the name Bud! I'm sure I used it as thumping stick at times. We were normal brothers.