“On Sunday morning, December 7, 1941, a friend of mine, Wilbur Thorpe, came over to see me and told me that the Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbor. We sat in his Plymouth coupe and listened to the radio and barely recognized the effect this would have on all our lives over the next four years—and even for life.”
OUR PATERNAL GRANDFATHER, ELIAS REES (for whom I am named) was born February 22, 1871, in Merthyr Tydfil, Gelligan County of Glamorgan, Wales, United Kingdom. He immigrated to the United States with his parents, Enoch and Ann Rees, and his siblings, when he was nine.
On March 24, 1897, Elias married Minnie Prothero (whose parents, William and Elizabeth Prothero, were also born in Wales). They were married in Plymouth, Pennsylvania, but soon left the anthracite coalmines to move to the Southwest to work in the copper, gold, and silver mines. Their first-born son, Gilbert Enoch Rees, was born on February 17, 1901, in Hedges, California. (This was a mining camp and no longer exists.)
Our maternal grandfather, Marion Holly, was born July 15, 1868, in Bradford County, Pennsylvania, to Silas and Harriett Holly. Marion married Julia Williams in the late 1890s. Their second child was Hazel Marion Holly, who was born March 5, 1903, in Fulton, Missouri.
Gilbert Rees and Hazel Holly were married January 1, 1923, in Phoenix, Arizona. Gilbert was an automobile mechanic and later an automotive machinist. Before he married he built and raced racecars. After a near-fatal accident he gave up racing, but kept on building racecars. Later, he rebuilt Offenhauser engines, and one year he had five “Offies” racing at Indianapolis (in race cars).
Dad was an avid fisherman and hunter. He was an accomplished do-it-yourselfer who could do almost anything but who knew when to call in the expert. I have many fond memories (and a very deep appreciation for the training and example) of helping him with cement work, carpentry, plumbing, electrical, fencing, welding, metalwork, roofing, etc. and of course auto mechanics.
During World War II after I went into the Army and Gil was already in the Navy, Mom and Dad moved to the San Fernando Valley in California. They both worked for Sturdivant Auto Parts and Machine Shop. Mom was a bookkeeper and Dad was shop foreman.
In 1947 Mom and Dad moved back to Prescott and he started his own business, Rees Motor Rebuild. I spent the summer of 1947 helping him get the garage and equipment set up. He had equipment to bore cylinders, grind valves, do in-car crank shaft grinding, make bearings, plus lathe, welding, etc. He did this until he semi-retired at 65.
Gilbert Enoch Rees, Jr. was born July 24, 1924, at the Mercy Hospital in Prescott, Yavapai County, Arizona. Besides being named for his father, the Enoch was our great-grandfather’s name.
I was born Holly Elias Rees, January 21, 1926, at the same place. My given name is my mother’s maiden name, and my middle name is my grandfather’s name.
If Gil and I were Japanese we would be known as “Nisei,” or second-generation native born, whose grandparents were foreign-born immigrants.
When we were quite young, they called Gil “Sonny Rees” since he was a junior. My mom would get us together to teach us what to say and do if we got lost, etc. She would say to Gil, “What is your name, little boy?” and he would answer “Nunny Wees.” She then asked me my name and I would answer, “Nunny’s widow brudder.”
Our surname, Rees, is very common in Wales, but most people want to add an “e” and spell it Reese. My Uncle Dave got so tired of telling people, he just added an “e” himself, which was a major irritation for his mother, my grandmother.
My personal burden was being stuck with a female first name. Mom had a male first cousin, Holly Darling Betts (who always went by H. D.) and she insisted that it was both a male and female name. H. D. was the only other male I have ever known and/or heard of with the name Holly. I have run into a few, but they are usually nicknames for Hollister, Holloway or something else. I always was told that I was going to be Holly Rees whether I was a girl or a boy.
My first major test was when I graduated from high school and most of the major girls’ colleges (Smith, Wellesley, Vassar, etc.) contacted me to attend. “A Boy Named Sue” was something I could relate to. Probably half or more of the mail I have received in my lifetime is addressed as Miss, Mrs. or Ms.
One time I had a date with a girl named Johnnie. We were in a restaurant and introductions were being made, and we were introduced as Holly and Johnnie. The guy turned to me and said, “Nice meeting you, Johnny” and I had to say, “No, no, I’m Holly—she’s Johnnie.”
In the Army we had countless roll calls in which the sergeant would call out last name and you would yell out your first name and middle initial in response, i.e., “Rees”—“Holly E,” which was always embarrassing.
The Social Security Administration usually paired us up in hotels when we went to meetings to save money and to have us get better acquainted. I can remember a number of times that I had reservations to share a room with a female SSA employee and how the hotel would scramble to get things changed. It was also frustrating to get mail addressed to Miss, Mrs., Ms. when the writer should have known I was a male.
After Betty and I married, we also had an interesting routine in our home. Most phone calls were for me so I tried to answer the phone. The caller, with the name Holly Rees, assumed a female. So, when I would answer, they’d ask to speak to Mrs. Rees. I’d call for Betty and say: “It’s for you.” Then she’d get on the phone and find out they wanted me and say, “No, it’s for you.”
Besides having a feminine first name, my initials are H.E.R. which doesn’t do anything to make the situation any more masculine. When I was in college I bought a box (3) of Pima cotton white dress shirts with French cuffs. The store embroidered my initials on the left cuff. Some of my friends would look on the right cuff to see if it said “his”!
A distant cousin on my mother’s side was former Arizona Governor George W. P. Hunt. At one time (and as far as I know still stands) he held the U.S. record for the most terms as a governor (seven). He was governor when Arizona became a state in 1912 and for six consecutive terms. Later he was U.S. ambassador to Siam in the late 20s-early 30s and still later served a seventh term as governor. I have a blue sapphire ring that he sent my Grandmother Holly from Siam, also, a Christmas card from 1914 and several postcards he sent her.
Both Gil and I had a fairly normal and uneventful elementary school experience. One we shared was when the entire school system met at the high school to welcome native son Fiorela La Guardia on a visit (long-time mayor of New York City for whom La Guardia Terminal is named). Another time I tried out for and was selected for a child role in the high school annual Christmas play. Miss Lillian Savage, the high school speech and drama teacher, to help alleviate stage fright, told us to imagine we were sitting on a fence in front of a cabbage patch, and that the audience was made up of cabbage heads. Many times since then I have recalled this suggestion and noticed the similarity.
After I finished the first grade I was sick and stayed out of school for a year and had treatment and recuperation and resumed second grade the next year. I did well and later the question came up about skipping a year and catching up with the class I had started with. The teacher recommended against it, and I never did.
I always had a love of reading, and would ride my bike to the public library and bring home books to read. In junior high school I was picked to be the editor of the Freshman Page of the Badger called the “Underpup.”
During our high school years we always had, or had access to, a workshop and tools, and so we did well in shop classes. At home we had tinker toys, erector sets, chemistry sets, World Book Encyclopedia and many other books. We also had scooters and bicycles and loved to hike and explore the outdoors. We usually had a pet dog to love and care for. We also had chores to do.
Since I was sickly and smaller, Gil usually got the chore to rake, mow, weed, etc. outdoors. His solution was to break (accidentally) the handle. Dad would replace the handle with a bigger, heavier one, sometimes even metal pipe. So, when I started the outdoor chores the rake, hoe and shovel were sturdy and heavy and not easily broken.
Gil was mean to me and seemed to go out of his way to pick on me and make my life miserable. Two examples come to mind. One was when he burned me on the arm with a cigarette. Another was when I made a celestial telescope. I bought a kit with the lenses and made the tube from the center of a roll of newsprint (cardboard). Gil took the garden hose and filled up the telescope with water, which of course ruined it. I used to dream of the day when I grew up and I would beat the living tar out of him. When he left for the Navy I was 16 and just finished my sophomore year in high school and wasn’t near that point yet. By the time I finished “Killer Kollege” (Infantry Basic Training), I outweighed him and (I think) could have done the job. However, we both had mellowed, and I no longer had the desire for revenge.
Gil was plenty smart, but lazy and unmotivated, especially in school. He often just barely squeaked by, and one year our parents promised him a new bicycle if he passed (which he did). I was always on the Honor Roll with good grades and thought that I should have been rewarded, too.
I can’t remember my mother ever laying a hand (or belt) on Gil or me. Rather she would tell us “wait ‘til your Dad gets home,” and the belt would come then. Usually the infraction was our fighting, and we often got over it and were playing peacefully by the time the belt was applied. Also the house rule was we both were presumed involved and guilty and both got the belt. It took having children of my own to convince me that this wasn’t a bad policy, though I still think the delayed punishment wasn’t good.
Even growing up in the depression, we always had a roof over our heads, adequate clothing, never missed a meal, etc. Extra money was tight. After I became a Boy Scout, I wanted a sheath knife, and saved my money and finally bought one. One day Gil got a hold of it and was throwing it at the coal shed and ended up breaking the tip off. I thought (think) that justice demanded Gil buy me a new knife, but Dad ground it and reshaped it for me. I still have that knife today.
When I reached high school as a sophomore, Gil was a senior and had already had a lot of the teachers that I would have. One, “Pop” McNary, taught plane geometry, and the first grade he gave me was a “C.” I went to see him and told him he knew Gil but not me, and that I was going to ace the course, which I did.
I can’t remember Gil going to a dance or having a date or showing any interest in the girls until after he went into the Navy. He did have guy friends that he enjoyed bumming around with. During high school he slept in a “storeroom” building out behind the house. I had the back bedroom. He would go out with the guys and they would bring him home and wait in the alley. He would come into the house, turn on the lights, slam the doors, flush the toilet at least once and then go out to his room. He would then hook the screen door from the inside, roll up pillows to look like he was in bed and then go out a window and rejoin his friends for the night’s fun. He often came in late, but always before the family got up in the morning. Later, when I wanted to stay out late Mom would always chide me that Gil always came home and went to bed by 10:00 to 10:30. I’m not sure she ever believed me when I told her what he had done.
Some of Gil’s friends were interested in radio, and that became his passion. Where he had been indifferent to studying, he suddenly got into radio. He studied, passed all the tests and paperwork and became a “ham radio operator.” He fixed up his room as his station for the transmitter and built a large tower between his bedroom and mine as his antennae. He stayed home more then and often was on the radio late at night when reception was better. This was probably the best thing that ever happened to him, and he went on to graduate from high school and used this skill in the Navy. His amateur radio license was dated 08/30/41 and his station call number was W6UKB.
On Sunday morning, December 7, 1941, a friend of mine, Wilbur Thorpe, came over to see me and told me that the Japs had attacked Pearl Harbor. We sat in his Plymouth coupe and listened to the radio and barely recognized the effect this would have on all our lives over the next four years—and even for life.
Gil went into the Navy after graduation, and we gradually began to see the war on the home front. There was a Negro Military Police camp at the county fairgrounds. Air Corps personnel from the valley would come up to the mountains. More and more of the guys would enlist, get drafted or get into defense work. We collected newspaper, aluminum, iron, tires and tubes and lived with rationing of food, gasoline, tires, etc.
I registered for the draft by my 18th birthday on January 21, 1944. Since I was already in my last semester of high school, I applied for a student deferment to finish high school and graduate. I will pick back up on this theme later in the chapter on my military service.
Unlike Gil, I loved to read and excelled in school, both studies and other activities, except sports. I was very near-sighted and wore glasses, and that didn’t fit the sports scene. I pursued a college prep program in high school so I was prepared for any contingency.
I took Latin for two years, and have always been glad that I did, although I have often wished I knew Spanish, too. Plane geometry and chemistry took care of my math and science requirements. Although I took English every year, I think I learned more English in Latin class. History and civics, typing and bookkeeping were just routine.
Speech class was always a pleasure and also led to participation in debate and oratorical contests and major parts in plays in both junior and senior years. Journalism was also a special interest and I was the editor of the Badger, business manager of the Hassagamper and had membership in Quill and Scroll. I took and endured P.E., and one time coach “Ham” Pratt told me to get my grade from the Journalism teacher since I spent more time excused for a story than I did in P.E. I think he was partially serious.
I was the president of the Senior Class, which among other things called for me to lead the Grand March at the Junior-Senior Prom and the Processional and Recessional at both baccalaureate and graduation exercises.
At graduation I was dating one of the two pianists and so I marched in with one, and they switched, and I marched out with the other.
I was a member of the National Honor Society, and the “15” club (nine seniors and six juniors), both as a junior and as a senior. In 1943 I was named the Boys Merit Cup (aka outstanding boy) winner as a junior and again in 1944 as a senior. In Prescott High School history I am the only person to do so as a junior and as a two-time recipient.
At graduation I was named the male winner of the Danforth Award for Citizenship and Character. Best of all, I graduated as valedictorian of my class. We started high school with about 120 people, but some dropped out and went into the service, and we ended up with 89. Two of the perks that went with the honor were (1) a year’s subscription from Readers Digest. I got one copy before I went into the Army and never saw another. The other perk (2) was a four-year scholarship at the University of Arizona. The problem was it had to be started in 1944, and since I was almost certainly going to be in the service by then, the scholarship was given to a girl farther down the pecking order.
Both Gil and I were in the Boy Scouts (in different troops), and I feel that our training and experiences (such as camping) were of great value to us in the Army and Navy.
For instance, one year at camp I won the marksmanship award (with 22 caliber rifle) and later ended up in infantry training and as a rifleman in infantry combat.
I started collecting coins in July 1935 when I was 9 years old and have been an avid numismatist for 81 years.
Gil was nominally interested in stamp collecting for a while, with the encouragement of our uncle, Silas Holly, who was an avid philatelist. This was never a real commitment and declined even more when he got involved in radio.
I did some yard work at home, especially after Gil went into the Navy, and occasionally some around the neighborhood. I was never too interested in this, nor had much time either.
My first real job was in the office of the Prescott Courier. I worked after school for a couple of hours in the early evening, selling newspapers over the counter, replenishing the supply for carriers and independent sellers, answering the phone for complaints about non-receipt and going to the archives to retrieve back copies. We kept a lot for 30 days and a smaller amount for a year. The editorial and office staff usually left shortly after I arrived, but the pressman, linotype operators, etc. were still working.
The Courier had a contract with and printed the Arizona Highway Magazine during this time. I met, and knew, Raymond Carlson, the editor of the Arizona Highway Magazine. This work at the newspaper started in junior high and extended into my high school years.
When I was a sophomore, I wanted to have a gold railroad watch (to tell time and probably show off). Obviously I didn’t have the necessary money, so when I selected a Waltham 23 jewel beauty, I bought it on layaway. After paying half or more, the jeweler offered for me to take the watch and keep making weekly payments. I declined and waited until I had paid in full and it was mine to take possession. I was one proud dude when I sported the watch at school.
The summer of 1943 I worked at a Union Oil Station on the square in downtown Prescott owned by Dan Hankins. I pumped gas, did oil changes, fixed flats, made deliveries and was a general flunky. This was during rationing so we had that to deal with.
The summer of 1944, after graduating from high school, I got a job driving a dump truck for the Arizona Highway Department. I expected to be drafted any day but ended up working June, July and August. We did seal coats, patching, pick ups and a variety of jobs over the Prescott District that covered about a 50-mile radius.
Since most of the able-bodied men were in the service, we “boys” were asked to “volunteer” to serve in the Ground Observation Corps (to look for and report enemy aircraft—which I never saw over Arizona). In the same way we worked with Forest Fire Fighter (FFF) with the U.S. Forest Service.
When Gil got his social security card, he was working for the “BB Co.” (Bashford-Burmister). This was a grocery store (where he worked) and a furniture and general merchandise store. This is the only job of his that I recall.
During WWII most civilian manufacturing and production was curtailed to utilize the facilities for war material. This was especially true for cars and trucks but also appliances, clothing, shoes, sports items, etc.
Many consumer items, besides being in short supply, were rationed. The federal government set up local ration boards where you went to apply for ration books of ration stamps.
Gasoline and petroleum products, as well as tires and tubes, were rationed on a needs basis—society needs, not personal. Many food items were also rationed, such as sugar, meat, butter, flour, etc. I remember margarine coming in a #1 plastic pouch. It was white and seemed like Crisco. There was a little capsule of coloring that you broke and kneaded the pouch until the color was mixed in and it looked like butter.
There were numerous collection drives for cardboard, newspapers, aluminum, iron, rubber and fat. These could be recycled and help meet the need for these materials.
I remember my dad added a second gas tank to our 1935 Studebaker sedan. This enabled us to increase the range of travel and adapt to the gasoline rationing.
Fighting the summer forest fires in the Prescott National Forest, we had some very interesting and hairy experiences with a number of large, medium and small fires.
Church was not a part of my life at that time—something I will address later.
I got interested in the girls and started dating in my junior year. We had learned to dance in gym class in junior high, but it took awhile for the interest to develop.