A Testimony from the Past

A TESTIMONY FROM THE PAST

Saturday morning, the 16th of February 1991, I was in theDallasTemple serving on my last assignment as a temple ordinanceworker. I was the second follower on the ten o'clock session.

While I was sitting at the back of the room listening to the endowment ceremony, the still small voice whispered within me. You are to write about your father-in-Laws drowning and I was to write it immediately. The voice sounded very urgent, that it must ‘bedone now, this very instant. This thought kept coming back into mymind. A testimony from the past! A testimony from the past was needed now, to be written now, this very day.

In the evening, when Walter came home from work, I told him of my experience in the temple. We decided, we would write ourthoughts down and prayerfully recall our painful experiences ofthat fateful summer of 1949.

Florence S. Ewell

I Remember, by Walter Dee Ewell

In my growing up years, I remember Dad, (William Lamar Ewell)saying many times, "When I die, I want to either be drowned in the ocean or burned up in a fire." His reasoning was that my mother (Delone Leavitt Ewell) would not have the expense of a funeral or the expense of burying him. Maybe my sisters and brothers have a different point of view of this, but this is what I remember. I also remember talking to Mother about it, both before and after Dad's death.

In the winter of 1947-1948, I was out of work unable to findwork in Salt Lake City. I accepted a job on a farm in Providence,Utah. My wife, our daughter Colleen, and my self, moved from Sandy, Utah,to Providence. My job entailed feeding and milking cows. We stayed there six weeks. We soon decided that financially, the job would not work out for us. The farmer gave us a day off and wedrove to Oakley, Idaho, to visit my parents. Dad and I had a long talk about my problems. That evening we returned to Providence. Two days later, dad drove down from Idaho in a truck. We packed up our household belongings and moved to Idaho to live with my parents until I could find a better job.

My parents, at that time, were running a ranch up in the mountains from Oakley, at a place called Goose Creek. It didn't take me long to find out that there was no work to be found in that part of Idaho.

Leaving my wife and daughter with my parents, dad drove me to Burley, Idaho, where he purchased me a bus ticket to Tacoma,Washington, thinking I might find work there.

A relative, (cousin) Ruth Powell Brackenberry, and her husband Bruce, lived there. They let me stay at their house while I looked for work. Also my younger brother, (Norman Grant Ewell) who was inthe Air Force at the time, was stationed at the Air Force base in Tacoma.

My brother Norman and I were close. He was my best friend. I love him a great deal and I was hoping I could find work there, to be near him. I thought of him coming overto my houseonweekends and spending time together, but that was not to happen. I could not find work there either.

The Ewells are a very loving close-knit family always willingto help each other out in times of need. I had heard that my Aunt Verona Ewell and Uncle Ern Babcock, their son Max E. Babcock and family had moved to Klamath, California. Uncle Ern and Max were working at a saw mill there.Knowing this I decided to go to California. Penniless, my brother Norman gave me all the money he had, which was enough money to buy me a bus ticket to Crescent City, California.

I remember what a beautiful sight the ocean was - a sight to behold. It was morning, when I got off the bus in CrescentCity.The sun was warm and it was so beautiful. I started down the road to “thumb” the last twenty five miles to Klamath. I hadn't had anything to eat since I left Tacoma. In my pocket there was noteven a dime.

I was lucky. I got a ride real soon. When I arrived in Klamath, I went to the post office/store and asked where the Babcocks lived. They told me how to get to the saw mill, where they worked and lived.

Aunt Verona and Uncle Ern were glad to see me. Aunt Verona fixed me a good breakfast, and they said I could stay with them until I was able to secure a company cabin for me and my family.

After about six weeks, I was able to send enough money to my wife to buy a bus ticket to come to Klamath. At this time, Florence was visiting with her parents in Spanish Fork, Utah. It was a happy reunion when we were together again as a family.

Before my wife and daughter, Colleen, came to Klamath I went for a drive with Aunt Verona and Uncle Ern down to Arcata, California. They had bought a piece of property on Fickle Hill.

It was at this time, I made arrangements to buy five acres of ground, from the same people Aunt and Uncle had bought from. The five acres was right across the road from my Aunt and Uncle's property.

The drive up Fickle Hill is steep. When you get part way up the hill, it starts to flatten out somewhat. This is where theEwell's and Babcock's property was. Later this place on the hill was nick-named Mormon Mesa, by the Ewells, Babcocks, Sweaneys, Wings, and all other relatives that happened to live there at one time or another.

My cousin, Max E. Babcock, was a great fisherman. He loved to go fishing on the ocean or hunt abalone. When we moved to NorthernCalifornia in 1948, Max and I became great fishing buddies. We went fishing together along the Pacific Ocean as often as we could go. Our second Bible was a small tide book, which both of us would carry in our front shirt pocket at all times. We referred to the book daily.When we saw each other at work or just visiting during the evening, our tide books would come out of our pockets, to seewhen the high, low or minus tides would be. This would determinewhere we would go fishing on our next fishing trip,whether itwould be standing on a sandy beach, or in a boat or hunting for abalone among the rocks.

What Max and I enjoyed most about ocean fishing was, you never knew until you pulled in your line what your catch would be, rather it would be a rock cod, a sea trout, an octopus, or a variety of fish which we didn't know the names of or if they were even good to eat.

We loved our fishing trips. We had very enjoyable times. We would become very excited when we talked about them. Of all the fishingtrips Max and I went together on, abalone hunting was the most dangerous because along the coast line in Northern California, thewater hits huge rock mountains with not many sandy beaches. We would check our tides books for a minus tide. This was the time to go hunt abalone. The abalone lived on the rocks deep in the ocean. They had very good suction cups which made it very difficult to remove them from their place on the rock. Max and I would use a tire iron to pry them off the rocks and put them into a bucket.

This method had its complications.When the water receded, wewould have only a few seconds to scramble down the rocks or cliffs to try and pry the abalone off, which were still below the water level. We would watch to see when the next wave was coming in. When itwas just about to us, we would scramble back up the rocks. In this area, the Pacific Ocean was quite deep. Usually the waves were high. There were no objects to break up the waves until they hitthe rocks or cliffs. If we were caught down below on the rocks when the waves came in, we could have been killed. There were times when we wouldn't quite make it far enough up. Max and I would hold on to the rocks as we were slammed against the rocks by the water.

I have been fortunate in my life to escape danger and have notbeen hurt seriously. My wife tells me that I work my guardian angel over time.

Of all the fishing tripsMax and I went together on, abalone hunting was the most dangerous, because of the rocky terrain and the high waves that would come in and hit the rocks. I knew if my wife knew or had seen where we went, she would have tried to stop us. I was young and I was quite fearless, living dangerous and having a lot of fun.

After school was out in Idaho, Dad, Mother, my sisters Patricia Patty), Kay, Harriet and my brother, David moved to Klamath. My sister Barbara was married and living in Provo, Utah. My brother Norman was still in the military.

Dad went to work immediately at the saw mill. They lived with us until one of the saw mill cabins became vacant, which they moved into. In the late summer of 1948, there was a great migration as the Ewells and the Babcocks moved from Klamath to Arcata. Aunt Verona, Uncle Ern, Max, June and family built their homes on one side of the street. Dad started to build his house on one end of the property that I had purchased of the five acres. We chose to live in the forest part. We were right across from the Babcocks. We lived in a tent with a wooden floor until I could finish enough of our house to move into. I had a good job at theHumbolt Plywood Mill. Dad got a job at a barrel factory. Wehelped each other in starting construction of our homes. Dadwanted his home built in the clearing full of grass. I wanted mine

by the biggest redwood tree in the forest on the property. We made our choices and went to work. Water was our major problem. Dad had to dig a well. I had a spring in back of our house which we used until we got the house built and fixed the spring so we could pipe the water into the house.

Thinking back, I have many memorable memories of going fishing with dad along the streams in the mountains in Utah. Our fishing trips were the highlight of our summer vacation time. We loved to go to the canyons with our family and relatives.

After Dad moved to California, he was included in Max's and my fishing plans and trips except when we went Abalone hunting. He didn't care to go with us. He would always decline when we would ask him.

In July of 1949, we started to plan a big fishing trip. We planned this time to go fish at TrinidadBay. We needed a boat and talked about who we might borrow one from. Max thought he could get a boat. I don't remember who from. I guess it really doesn't matter, probably from one of his friends. Mother, was managing a cafe in a tavern in Essex, a little town on the road to BlueLake. Dorcey, the owner of the café, volunteered to let us use his out board motor. We were all set to go...We now had a boat and a motor.

The salmon were running and we heard the fishing was great. Everyone was getting some big salmon. We decided to go on Sunday, the 7th of August, 1949. The boat and motor were secured from friends. There were good reports of the salmon running and we were all excited about going. We all loved to fish.

On Saturday, August 6th, the plywood company where I worked had scheduled me to work the next day. I was so disappointed.When I came home from work I went right over to tell Dad and Max.Living close, we could get together and talk it over. Max and Dad decided to go ahead with the plans that had been made.

We had a young family, two little girls. Diane had been born in March of that year. I felt that I should go to work and not take the day off because we needed the money.

I came home that fateful Sunday from work around three 0'clock. Florence had dinner ready and we had just sat down to eat. It was a beautiful, warm and sunny. We had our kitchen door opened. As we sat there at the table eating, my happy world changed.

My Aunt Thelma Lavina Wing (my mother's sister) came running up our driveway yelling, half crying, "Walter!, Walter!, your Dad!, your Dad!" I jumped up and ran toward her, "Lamar has drowned in the ocean!” She was very hysterical as she told us that Max was in the hospital, unconscious, that Uncle Ern, Aunt Verona and June were at the hospital with him and that no sign of your Dad had been found,so they assumed that he had drown. Aunt Thelma said that someonefrom the coast Guard had just called her and asked if she would come and tell us. We didn't have a telephone at that time.

I cannot describe the feelings I had at this time, but some of my thoughts were: “No it's not true, we will find him. He will be okay. If only I had been there with him. I can drive down to the ocean and save him if I hurry.” These were my feelings of grief, being in a state of shock. There are other thoughts that still bring tears to my eyes when I think of them. I was twenty-two years old,at the time.

FlorenceRemembers

I stood there quietly listening to what Aunt Thelma was saying, but, within me, my soul was listening to someone else, who was trying to converse with me through the veil. I felt the presence of my father- in-law, he was trying to communicate with us, asking, pleading for me,for us to take care of his wife whom he loved dearly and had left behind. The whisperings said, "Watch over her, care for her while I am gone, until that time when I come for her." Asthe years have past, I have felt deeply in my heart that Dad Ewell came at that time to impress upon his son (Walter) to take care of his mother. Dad Ewell knew what a struggle she would have financially, and also being left alone to rear a large family.

Walterwas in such a state of shock that he couldn't hear or feel the presences of his Dad there. The reason I feel this way is becauseWalter has always had a close relationship with his dad. Even over the years, Walter would say how much he loved his dad, and would often say, “I wish I could tell Dad about this experience. I would like to show Dad this. I know he would be proud of me doing this, or I'd just like to talk to Dad. I am so proud of my Dad.”

I Remember by Walter

I can't even remember how my wife and little girls got into the car and we were driving down Fickle Hill. Mother, as I had mentioned, was running a cafe and she was at work. I remember wanting so desperately to rush to the ocean, to the area where they said the accident had happened near Little River. I just knew when I got there, it would be a mistake and by now they would have found him, well and alive or I could swim out in the ocean and save him.

Instead I drove to Mother's cafe to tell her. Oh - what a hard task I had to do. I remember when I walked in the door of the cafe. I could not say a word. All I could do was cry. I finally was able to blurt out, "Mother, Dad has drowned in the ocean!"

In my mind, I still don't remember leaving the cafe. It was like we were all in a daze.As I drove to the mouth of Little River, the drive to the ocean was a night mare. The area where we had to park, there was about three hundred yards of sand dunes. When we got to the waters edge, it never helped at all.When I looked out over the water, all I could think of is that he isn't there. I just know he is all right.

Uncle Ted and Aunt Thelma were there waiting for us with their love and encouragement. As we were standing there, a man from the Coast Guard came and talked to us. He said they were patrolling the beach and the area around. They would continue to search and would inform us if he was found. Westayed on the beach for a long time. There just was no place for us to go.

The person from the coast Guard came back to talk to us, andto inform us that nothing had been found. He said they would search for the body for nine days. In that length of time if he was not found, they would stop the search. He felt that if hisbody didn’t come up in nine days that he probably would never be found. There were several reasons. One was, the Japanese Undertow is along that part of the California coast.For this reason there was no swimming in the ocean along that beach. Another reason, the water moved up and down the coast very rapidly, so you never knew in which direction to look. Also, if a body stayed under the water for a long time, the crabs and other under water creatures wouldeat all the flesh off the body in just a matter of days. Maybe a bone or two would be found.

He informed us that a man was looking out of his window from his home on the cliff. He witnessed the accident. He was the one who called the coast Guard for help. Max was the only one who was rescued. The other person never came up.