| Joseph Wentz 1850 - 1911 | |||
| Sebastian Wentz 1876-1921 | |||
| Elizabeth Yakman 1855 - 1907 | |||
| John Bernard Wentz 1908-1994 | |||
| Michael DeWald 1858 - 1939 | |||
| Rosina DeWald 1882 - 1977 | |||
| Magdelene Sautner 1858 - 1939 | |||
| LeRoy Bernard Wentz 1933- | |||
| Ira Walter Gardner 1848 - 1924 | |||
| Bernard Edward Gardner 1878-1952 | |||
| Alice Snow 1855 - 1937 | |||
| Ruth Gardner 1913- | |||
| Moses Moroni Mecham 1845 - 1928 | |||
| Alice Maria Mecham 1881 - 1926 | |||
| Almira Jane Duke 1855 - 1894 |
| YEAR | SEASON | EVENTS |
|---|---|---|
| Wentz Origins | My father's parents were both born in the Ukraine, his father in Odessa and his mother south of there on the Crimean peninsula. They were born to German farming families that had been given land in the Ukraine in the early 1800s as enticements to move there from Germany and help develop agricultural usage of the land. Their families were not acquainted as far as I know. In the late 1800s, the Bolsheviks began persecuting the Germans and driving them from their lands. My grandfather's family (father, mother, 5 boys and a girl) managed over a period of a dozen years to immigrate into New York and travel to the Dakotas where they settled. My grandmother's family, the DeWalds, landed in Canada and migrated across to the province of Manitoba and then south into the Dakotas. My Grandparents (Sebastian Wentz and Rosina Dewald) met in North Dakota and were married in 1901. They settled in South Dakota where Sebastian worked on the railroad and did tenant farming. They raised 9 children, 5 boys and 4 girls. They were very poor and struggled to feed their family. My Father, John Bernard Wentz (known throughout life as Jack), was hired out to relatives at eight years of age to reduce the load at home and provide extra family income. Jack broke his arm when young and as a result of it being mis-set, he had limited use of his left arm for the rest of his life. Jack's Father died in the flu epidemic of 1921 (either that or of alcoholism to which he was addicted). His Mother remarried Frank Werner by whom she had one child, Agnes. Jack left the Dakotas for good when he was 20 years old looking for work and ended up in Las Vegas, Nevada in 1929. | |
| Gardner Origins | My Mother's parents were born in Utah to farming families that had come from England in the 1600s, joined the Mormon religion in the 1800s and crossed the plains to avoid persecution in the mid 1800s. The first of my Gardner ancestors came over on the Mayflower and married one of the decendents of John Alden and Priscilla (You know, the story where Miles Standish is too shy to ask Priscilla for her hand so he sends John Alden to do it and Priscilla says, "Why don't you speak for yourself, John?") My Great-Great-Grandfather, Elias Gardner was a bigamist but I have been assured that I am a descendant of the first wife so my line is pretty much legitimate by any standard. Elias and his family crossed the plains and mountains with Brigham Young and settled in the Salt Lake Valley. My Grandfather, Bernard Edward Gardner, and his brother, Ira Walter Gardner, married sisters, Alice Maria Mecham and Mary Mecham. They settled in Eastern Utah in Jensen where my Mother, Ruth Gardner, was born one of 5 girls and 4 boys. Alice Maria Mecham Gardner, my Grandmother, died when Ruth was 13 in 1927. Ruth followed her brother, Arthur Moroni Gardner (Art) to Las Vegas, Nevada in 1932 to escape an ensuing bad stepmother situation. Art and Jack Wentz were coworkers at Rancho Grande Creamery and good friends. Art introduced his sister to Jack and they began dating. They were married on January 2, 1933 and 8 months later, I was born on September 13, 1933. (As the saying goes, "The first child can come anytime, after that it takes 9 months") | |
| Early Years |
Jack and Ruth had two other children, both girls, Lois Rhae born May 29, 1935 and Jackylin Deanna born October 7, 1937. I was born in Las Vegas Hospital, delivered by Dr. Woodbury with instruments whose scars still show on my forehead. I think that he may have squished my brain some. At the time of my birth and virtually through my entire life, Dad worked for Rancho Grande Creamery. Dad's first real job in Las Vegas was for the company that became Rancho Grande Creamery. In July of 1930 he was hired by the Old Ranch Dairy (?). The manager of the dairy was LeRoy Mason who was the son-in-law of the owner. Dad and LeRoy Mason became pretty good friends. In 1932 (?) the dairy was sold to Mr. O'Donnel from Oregon and renamed the Rancho Grande Creamery. After the sale, LeRoy Mason moved to Hollywood California where he appeared in several western movies as bad man bit part actor. When I was born, Dad and Mom decided to name me after LeRoy Mason. A year or so later, LeRoy Mason came to Las Vegas and lost his money gambling. He looked up Dad and "borrowed" $20 which was an important amount of money to my parents those days. Mason never showed up again and never repaid the debt. Thus, my namesake is a deadbeat small time bad actor. We lived in a number of rental units during the first 10 years of my life. The first rental was in the 300 block on the west side of south 1st street. In November 1933 we moved into a house at the rear of Mr. & Mrs. Williams Home (Art Gardner's In-laws) at 609 1/2 South Second Street. The Williams had a dog named Wimpy which I grew quite fond of and a few years later Wimpy became my first nickname. Next we moved to a place on North 11th street where we lived when Lois was born in 1935. We became friends there with a family named Stirling whose daughter, Marilyn, was a classmate when I went to school. We next moved to 5 Lewis Street near Main. I only remember three things from Lewis Street: 1) I had a favorite toy truck with working lights and horn that disappeared the day that a neighbor family moved away; 2) the Petite brothers lived quite near us and though somewhat older, they treated me well; and 3) One of the kids in the neighborhood was named John Enomoto - his mother would call out, "yohaanie" and we all had a laugh at his expense. John played football with success in high school. We then moved to 210 Clark Street between 2nd and 3rd next to an alley. It is at the Clark Street home that I begin to have some real recollections of my life. I remember learning to stay clear of Lois' crib because she was ready to grab a handful of my hair without warning. Then she increased her range by throwing things; a metal bank that hit me in the forehead is one specific recollection. I was very light complected and very blond into my teens. | |
| 1938 | Rancho Grande Creamery, my Dads employer, was about a block from our house across a busy 2nd Street. Next door to the creamery was a small grocery store run by my Dad's long time friend, Louis (Looey) Ball and his Father. I found out that I could get free ice cream at the creamery and either free or very cheap candy at the Ball grocery. They became regular destinations for me until my folks decided that the street crossing was too dangerous and ordered me not to cross it. My solution was to send my three-year-old sister, Lois, across the street after goodies. On one such trip, Lois ran in front of a car and was hit. The occupants of the car got out and picked up Lois' limp body and drove off with her. I ran home crying and told my Mother that Lois was dead. I don't know the details, but I can imagine the anguish on my parents' part until they found out that Lois was at the hospital and was not seriously injured. The father of one of my friends on the block worked on roofs and had a tar pit near his house from dumped tar, I guess. We used to dabble in the tar and get it all over everything until the tar pit became off-limits. | |
| 1939 | January | I started Kindergarten (5 1/3 years old) at 5th St. Grammar School. Kids born before September 1st had started school a semester earlier. I was in a group of 20 or so students a half year off the schedule for the majority of the kids. The neighborhood friends whose names I can remember were Ann Love, Harold Stokes and Clark Heinrickson. Clark was the oldest and not interested much in me, but I remember him as a nice guy with nice stuff. Harold was only a year older than I was and we played together a lot. Harold had an extensive comic book collection that we would spend hours reading daily. Harold had a brother who went off to the Pacific at the start of World War II. Harold had a huge map of the pacific and used pins to track where the war was going on. A favorite neighborhood game was "cannonball" in which one kid would lie on his back and coil his legs back like a spring. The "cannonball" kid would sit on the "cannon's" feet and be projected through the air to a not so soft landing. Lois who was probably 5 was projected by Harold (8) and broke her arm - which put a moratorium on that game. |
| Religion | Mom was a devout Mormon and Dad was a Catholic by name only - he only went to church for funerals. Mom wanted us raised as Mormons and Dad backed her in that. The Chapel (only one Ward in town until the mid 1940's) was at 9th and Clark, 7 blocks up the road we lived on. I don't remember walking to Church, but we must have because we didn't have a car early on. We were in the Moapa Stake and our Stake Center was at Overton, Nevada. I remember going to Overton from time to time, but don't know who drove us. I was Baptized when I was 8 1/2 years old (1942) and my Sisters were Baptized when they reached 8 years old. I do remember going to Seminary at least one year at the 9th and Clark Chapel. (Mr. Brinley was the teacher. He was my Physics teacher later on in High School and was an inspiration to me.) On December 7, 1941 when I was eight years old, World War II started. | |
| 1943 | Ann Love was Lois' age and lived just across the alley from us. I remember her as the first girl that I ever kissed (I was no older than 10 at the time and she 8). I was so embarrassed by the event that it was several years before I ventured to kiss again. In fact, I had an aversion to kissing and being kissed that led me to avoiding contact with any female, relative or otherwise. Ann's Father worked out near Boulder City at the Dam and commuted daily. He was killed in a commuting accident - a very sad time for the neighborhood. I don't remember which year, but once the Creamery caught fire and we watched the action from across the street. The damage was not too severe, but I felt that Dad risked his life many times running in and out of the smoke and Ammonia billowing building for some purpose. Dad kept going in with a handkerchief over his face long after everyone else had given up. I distinctly remember worrying that my Father might not come out one of those times. Each time he came staggering back out and waited until he caught his breath before going in again. There were other times that things would go wrong at the Creamery or they installed new equipment that Dad would be there 24 hours a day for several days. Dad literally built that Creamery (brick work, electrical, plumbing and welding - Dad learned each skill as necessary to do the job) and he was thoroughly dedicated to its maintenance. He was willing to die in the attempt to assure that he did his best at his job. Old Man O'Donnell loved Dad for his dedication and rewarded him fairly well for his loyalty. "RANCHO GRANDE CREAMERY", we were always so proud to be associated with that name. They claimed to have the best ice cream in Nevada and worked hard to preserve that reputation. We loved the ice cream and we believed it was the best in the world. I can believe that it was the very best. The Ice Cream maker was named Roy and was in charge of Ice Cream for all the time that I remember. When about 20 years old, I worked for Roy for several months and learned most of how it was done. However, Roy had a little room that was full of powders that he in secret mixed up to flavor the Ice Cream. Someone else must have had his recipes for when he went on vacation. He certainly didn't let any of the workers know what went into the mix. I know that he used barrels of powdered egg yolk for one thing. I also know that he made a French Vanilla with very high butterfat content (over 18%) that was a favorite of the Las Vegas Strip Hotels (and of mine). | |
| Wentz Siblings | Three of my Dads four sisters and one of his brothers moved to the southwest in the 1930s when Dad sent the news to South Dakota that jobs were plentiful in Las Vegas. His brother, Mike, worked for Rancho Grande Creamery most of his life except for the war. Mike was stationed in the Aleutian Islands and got some permanent eye damage from a phosphorous grenade that resulted in a lifetime partial pension. Mike didn't get married until well into his forties, had one child and was basically a raunchy person (I witnessed him taking liberties with one of the married clerks at the creamery who seemed to hate it but felt helpless). One of the sisters, Rosina (Rose), didn't stay in Vegas long that I know of - she married Jasper (Bill) Perkins and lived in Lomita, California. More about Rose and Bill later. Another sister, Ugenia (Jean), Dads youngest full sister, had an early marriage that ended in such a way that she lost her two children. Dad's oldest sister, Anna, raised a family and spent her life in South Dakota. The other Sister, Elinor, married a railroad worker named Bud Barnett and lived on Main Street between Clark and Lewis in Las Vegas. Bud and Elinor had two children, Jeanine and Jeanette (I guess she was really fond of her sister Jean). Jeanine was a year younger than I was and Jeanette was two years younger yet. Uncle Bud took his family on frequent outings (to Mount Charleston, Lake Mead and such) and included Lois and me on many of them. We truly loved Aunt Elinor and Uncle Bud! When I was about nine we witnessed Uncle Bud slowly die over the course of months of the effects of diabetes. That was the saddest event by far of my early life. We did not own a personal vehicle until about 1941 and Dad had no interest in taking the kids anywhere. This made Elinor and Bud's generosity very much appreciated. I remember that we acquired a coupe in about 1941 that we took on an outing that Mom or some other relative drove to Boulder Dam (I never forgave the government for renaming the dam after Hoover, a Republican). I was on the shelf under the rear window and was amazed at the tiny houses that we passed - it took me years to accept that they were full sized houses at a distance. Another thing that had me perplexed for a while were the speed limit signs that ended with "enforced" - I thought that meant in low gear.
When about ten, I was asked to baby sit a neighbor's infant who was always asleep the entire time I was there. I remember reading "Forever Amber" at their house which was pretty risque' for that era. My father worked long hours every day but Sunday and he went to the creamery on Sundays to check on the refrigeration equipment. Dad was sent to Los Angeles for refrigeration training one week. On his return, he gave me a wooden train with pretty stick-on designs. I remember no other specific gift from my Father until I was 13. Dad loved to shoot pool and spent a lot of his leisure hours at the "Idle Hour" pool hall. He also played poker with a group of prominent citizens. The poker games rotated among the players' houses. It was very exciting when it came to our small house - the game seemed to fill the living room. The smoke and drinking and swearing kept us happily awake until the wee hours. The last few months that we lived at Clark Street I had a bed out in an enclosed back porch with the washing equipment (which was not powered). I had an incontinence problem that embarrassed and plagued me into my teens. I think that I was moved to the porch due to the stench of my bedding. The earliest nickname that I can remember was "Wimpy", I think that that was after the William's dog. There was a Wimpy's hamburger place in town, but I don't know who gave the name to me or why. One of the kids that I ran around with was John (Buzzy) Ullom who lived possibly a mile from my house. John was in my class and ran with an older boy named Jack Sargent. We played war a lot and dug trenches in a vacant lot near John's house. We made slingshots (Rubber Band types) using "Y" shaped limbs and old inner tubes. We made a huge sling shot that would heave a fist sized rock maybe 50 feet. We became "Sargent's Army" and were challenged to fights by other small gangs. We threw rocks and shot rocks with the sling shots, but always almost out of range. No one dared get close. I don't remember anyone getting hurt, but we were trying our best. We moved to North Las Vegas in 1943. Looey Ball loaned Dad the money to buy a nice two-bedroom house at 1856 Stanford Street in North Las Vegas, Nevada. To the best of my memory, the 3 children shared one bedroom for at least a year or two. I remember a year that Dad got the idea to take his pocket change each evening and put it in a huge jar that was to be our Christmas fund. It was an exciting family event each day for Dad to get home and to see how much went into the jar. I only remember doing it one year. It was so much fun; I wonder why we never did it again? Aunt Elinor had remarried Rulon Beatty who had a small construction company (he was a carpenter). Rulon was born as Rulon Batty but changed his name. The rest of his family (some were in the neighborhood) stayed with Batty. Aunt Elinor and Uncle Rulon with my cousins, Jeanine and Jeanette, lived a block north of us on Stanford Street. Aunt Jean, her first husband and two young children lived a block south of us on Stanford. I am not aware if Dad's poker game ever came out to North Las Vegas place but Pinochle games were regular among family members. The whole family would go down the street to the Beatty's for cards at least weekly. Everybody played cards from the youngest to the oldest. I think that I developed my instincts for card games at the Beatty house. After moving to North Las Vegas, Lois and I continued to attend 5th Street Grammar School, as there was no other school for us. Deanna went to other schools as they were built nearer to where we lived. Dad would take Lois and I to the Creamery with him and we would walk the 3-4 blocks to school from there and return to the creamery after school. The one thing that I remember about the creamery was the smell of Ammonia (used as a refrigerant) as we walked through it. We were able to purchase dairy products at the creamery retail store at an employee discount. I recall that ice cream cones were a nickel and malts were 15 cents. The clerks loved to make things to order for us. My favorite was a chocolate malt made with chocolate ice cream and half & half instead of milk. I must have had thousands of those. | |
| 1943- 1945 | Some time in the 1943-1945 period, Mom took we three kids on a trip up to Provo, Utah to visit relatives. After we had been gone a week or so, Dad drove north to come and get us. He never made it. On an icy stretch just south of Cedar City, his car skidded off the road and he was seriously injured. He had a deep gash in his head and a concussion. I don't remember how we got home or how long Dad was laid up. It must have been hard on Mom, but I have no memory of it. Dad never took us anywhere and if he had actually gotten to Provo to pick us up, it would have been the longest distance we had ridden with him to that time. Not that he didn't drive - he was responsible for cold milk and frozen ice cream in a wide area around Las Vegas. He drove to Nipton, CA; Baker, CA; Death Valley Junction; Baker, NV; Tonopah, NV; Minersville, UT that I know of to install or repair their refrigeration equipment. He was on the road a lot in a pickup (1942 Plymouth during the war) provided by the company. Whenever we would ask him to take us to Lake Mead, Valley of Fire, Mount Charleston, etc., he would say, "I never lost anything there", and that would be the end of it. Mom's brother, Uncle Art Gardner, had married a local girl, Mary Williams, about the same time that Dad and Mom got married. Mary was a fidgety dumpy woman who would barely get sat down when visiting when she would say, "Art, we had better be going". Uncle Art was always a lot of fun to have around and treated us well - a very nice guy. Art was known as a "Banty Rooster"; he was short and wiry, hard as nails. He did a lot of horseback riding and worked some Rodeos. Uncle Art was the runt of his family and had asthma his entire life. In fact, he moved to Las Vegas because of the asthma on a Doctor's advice. Art always had his "asthma medicine" with him (a pint of Walkers Deluxe whisky). Art may have driven us to Provo on the aforementioned trip. I do remember trips with he and Aunt Mary, Mom and my sisters all crammed into a two-door sedan that Art owned for years. Mary would be in the back seat so she wouldn't have to watch Art nipping steadily at his "medicine". Mary would keep up a constant stream of "suggestions" - "Now Art, slow down"; "Art, keep your eyes on the road", "Art, watch out!", etc. Art would take another nip and keep the same speed. I'll never be sure whether the asthma or Aunt Mary determined the rate of depletion of his whisky bottle. Aunt Mary never drank, but, ironically, it was she that eventually died of cirrhosis of the liver! | |
| World War II | The war had no great effect on my life. Dad had the crippled arm, so the Army didn't want him. Uncle Mike and another of Dad's brothers, Pete, were in the army in the pacific. We didn't meet Uncle Pete prior to the war, but were well aware that we had two uncles fighting in the war. Harold Stoke's map of the pacific and tracking the war because of his brother being out there gave the war some early meaning to me. I was just over 8 years old when Pearl Harbor was bombed. I don't remember the event, but I know that all the adults around me were profoundly affected. We did have rationing, but it had little effect on our family because butter, eggs, milk, cottage cheese and ice cream were all products handled by the creamery so we were never short to my knowledge. I remember the introduction of Oleomargarine - it was a pure white block that came with a packet of yellow dye. One squished the dye into the white margarine until it was fairly yellow. There were always chunks of white left so your bread came out two-toned. No one that we knew was killed in the war. In 1945 after the atomic bombings of Japan, Mom bought a 78rpm record of a sickening song, "Atomic Power" (picture a country-western male drawling out the words, "Aaaatomic poooweeer", repeatedly). We had no direct fears of the war, but about the end of the war there were very serious Polio (virus poliomyelitis) epidemics that hit the country and Las Vegas. |
A Paralyzing Fear: The Story of Polio in America
End of Part I