Reference: Personal story written by William Raymond L'Hommedieu (1912 - 1979) with introduction by his sister, Lucie. Original in possession of niece, Sara Leslie Griffith. (Pictures of cars/motorcycle are for example only.)

4 April 1997 - Some notes by Lucie L'Hommedieu Griffith:

After Bill was diagnosed with cancer, and a short time to live, it was suggested that he might want to write something about his life, and these seven pages are the result. He pounded them out, as he says, "by macheen by me own finger" on an old manual typewriter, single-spaced, and not easy to read. I have taken the liberty to copy them.

Bill probably didn't even know this -- that he was "individual" from birth, not only because he was a Leap Year Day baby, but he was born with a caul (part of the amnion that, rarely, covers the head of a child at birth). This used to be considered fortuitous, a very good sign. Billy was also an unusual toddler, he never said words until he was almost two and a half years old. Then, there was a need, and he came out with a whole sentence, "Mama, Lucie's running away down street."

In this "history," some desolate years are reflected, after the tragic deaths in his family. But also reflected are the courage and principles and zest for life, the enjoyment of loyal friendships, and the urge to succeed at what he did, that made him into such an admirable man. This is a colorful and often very funny narrative.

With love, little brother,

Lucie

MY HISTORY
 by William Raymond L'Hommedieu

The earliest thing I can recall is when we lived at 5510 Taft Ave. This had to be prior to 1917, because I know we lived on Lawton Ave. in 1917, when the serious "flu" epidemic occurred.

I remember I had an electric toy, probably a train. The transformer is what I recall clearly. My bedroom, upstairs, front, had a wall receptacle I used, and I left the transformer plugged in. There must have been a "short," because the tar melted and leaked out of the case. It soaked into the rug and could not be removed. The guilt of this was with me for a long time.

I remember 1917 and the "flu," mainly the intense concern on Mama's part when Dad was sick. I don't remember whether this was before or after we went East. I recall quite a bit about the trip. Mama, Lucie, Al, and I went by train, the Overland Limited. I recall the inside of the Pullman car, and the berth. I think I had an upper. I vividly recall the view forward on a mountain curve, when I could see the engine, with the rods cranking away.

We stayed with Grandma [Young], whose cookies I well remember. I also recall an outside entry to the basement, which I was sort of afraid to use, but wanted to, but the door was on a slant and heavy, at least for me. Best of all was the close-by Wilkinsburg R.R. station, where I went almost every day. The locals stopped and I could watch the steam shoot out the sides, listen to the feed pumps, and smell the coal and oil, and then watch as the locos would spin their wheels, ease off, get a new grip, and chug off. I remember the locos so that I can definitely now state that they were "Atlantics," at least most of them.

We shortly moved back to Taft Ave. to 5522. We lived there when I started school. My first six years of school were at Claremont. The only thing I recall clearly is learning to play marbles, "for keeps," This I liked because I had a real knack for the game. I saw that the marbles rolled erratically, but would go accurately through the air, so I developed the technique of shooting them "on the fly," and was a consistent winner. I also got real good with tops. These were to be my only successes for a long time.

Grandpa [Delos Gager L'Hommedieu], Dad's father, came to visit. He had been a ship carpenter and could do really good work. He closed in our back porch, which was quite spacious, making it into a good bedroom for Al and me. He also put floor in our attic and partial walls. He made a stairway to the attic, with a pole, steep, but ok, for himself, so he could have a room. It later became my room for many years. He carved for me a tie-rack, which I really liked, with the motto on it reading "tie me right and I will be the right tie.
"

Al [younger brother Alfred] and I had a big dog named Bob. He was mostly Newfoundland and a very formidable dog fighter. He was gentle otherwise, but he solidly believed no other dog had any right to live. He frequently got us in trouble. I was enamored with a neighbor girl name Josephine, who got a poodle, which Bob disposed of the first time it was out -- Josephine forgave me when we were in high school.

All and I had a friend named Leonard at 5506 Taft Ave., who had a much older brother named Bob. they had a barn big enough to have a boxing ring. Of all the kids, Al and I were the closest matched and the least likely to get mad at each other, so we were everybody's favorite fighters. Lenny had some guinea pigs. One day I accidentally kicked one on the nose, very lightly. It squealed and in a minute or so it was dead. I was really shook up. This and the time the poodle was killed were my first experiences with death. We never let our dog kill again, though he had more dog fights. I recall pulling him out of a fight with a big bulldog and other onlookers were shocked that I did so because they thought I would be bitten.

Al and I were always together. For two vacations Dad took us to Big Basin in early June and we stayed there all summer. (see pciture with story on Lucie's page) Dad came there on weekends. One year it was raining when we got there and didn't quit for many days. Mama coped with the situation very well, but Lucie caused a problem by rubbing the inside of the tent, making it leak like a sieve. She was dispatched elsewhere to sleep, I think to the Lodge. Mama kept a fire going with soup and stew and other good stuff. Al and I didn't mind getting wet and had a great time. There were several WWI soldiers camped next to us. Two of them had wooden legs. The first we knew of this was the morning after they arrived and Mama was up early. She looked toward their camp and saw two legs standing against a tree. It shook her up a bit. Mama like them because they really appreciated her coffee and they like to sing when she would play the camp piano. She played it a lot, almost every night for campfire, as well as a lot during the day.

We had our first car the first year at Big Basin. It was a 1914 Overland . It was big, but not too powerful, any steep hill required turning around and going up backwards. Dad explained to me that this was because the gas was gravity-feed, which I understood.

At campfire one night they had a film about cars. The man who introduced it started by introducing a very famous man - Henry Ford - after some delay, with nobody coming to the platform, he said, "I guess I was mistaken, I thought he was here - I saw his car outside." The film fascinated me. It explained, with diagrams, the reason for the differential and clearly showed how it functioned.

Al and I love the nice trails with their dense cover of redwood duff. Walking and running these trails was great fun. We liked to explore the groups of big redwoods, some hollowed out by fires, so you could look up through them and see sky. We made friends with a boy named Ted. He was Al's age, and I was a little jealous, so I like to tease him and Al went along with me. I would tell him all sorts of silly things and Al would not concurrence, so we kept him confused a lot. There were other kids who tried to give us a bad time occasionally, but we were a match for any of them when we were together. We could stand back to back and take any of them on. Either of us was vulnerable alone. After he died, there just wasn't any fight left in me.

Two things I recall well are that Mama used to read or tell us Bible stories before bedtime. I don't recall her ever getting past the Old Testament, but she surely taught a total reverence for God. The other thing I remember is regularly going to sleep to her piano music, which was really superb. Mama was president of Rockridge Women's Club. She and Dad were in the Eastern Star. One of these groups once gave a Minstrel Show; to me this was fascinating and I still recall part of a tune from it.

I remember Christmas times. The fireplace, apple cider, nuts and fruitcake, and electric trains dominate the memories. One Christmas I wanted only an air rifle. We were opening gifts and I had my eye glued to a long package, wide at one end. Finally it came to me. It was a golf club and with great difficult I said I like it. The last package was for me too, kind of heavy. It was a box and inside were all the parts of the exact rifle I had dreamed about. Al and I took lots of hikes to "Cactus Rock," carrying the rifle, once in a while shooting at a bird, none of which we ever hit. We could hit tin cans fairly well.

We made another trip, to Yosemite, with our 1916 Dodge. We went by the Big Oak Flat road. It was a tough climb for the car because we were well loaded; we had a big box on the back and luggage racks on the sides. There was a long delay at the control station. We camped there but I don't remember anything about the camp. I do recall the overnight hike we made to Little Yosemite. The switchback trail was pretty tough on me and I left our fishing gear at a rest stop. The whole idea of the hike was to go where fishing was good, so I spoiled the trip and my name was mud.

At home Al and I made Coasters with a box up front, a front to rear board and a pair of skate wheels up front and rear, a tin can with a candle made a headlight. We also made cars with wheels gotten I don't where. A broomstick made a steering column, with a rope wound around several turns, and tied to each end of the axles. We rode some steep hills and somehow managed to avoid cars.

One day I lost control and skidded around causing Al to fall off. He bumped his head. He complained of dizziness, so I pulled him home. Mama put him to bed and when he didn't seem okay soon, she called the doctor. In five days he died. This ended the fun part of life. My memories are blank from then until Mama died a couple of years later. I remember lonely home, housekeepers that I couldn't like, school days that were not happy and afternoons that were very empty. [Note: Alfred did not die from this fall & injury, he died of meningitis. How very sad that Uncle Bill thought otherwise for so long.]

I joined the Boy Scouts and did well with the tests, but was not able to make first class because I couldn't swim. I got sent to Scout camp for most of the summer, but couldn't learn swimming, so I made no progress for two years. I got to hate Scout camp, which got worse because I was small and was bullied a lot. I no doubt brought it on myself, due to my dislike of camp. Finally, one big kid became my only friend and he got a counselor to let him take me in the pool alone. In one afternoon he got my confidence and taught me well enough to pass the test for first class. There were only a coupe more days of camp left, but I came home with a couple of merit badges. At home I kept up with Scouting through Life Scouts and got way more merit badges than needed, but was frustrated because I couldn't get Swimming or Lifesaving. So, I never was able to get the so earnestly wanted Eagle Scout award.

During this period I was in Junior High and the first years of High School. I was the littlest kid in the school and being an unhappy kid, I wasn't at all popular, so I was literally pushed around a lot. I was only a fair student, good only in math and science, mostly because I didn't try (in math, it didn't matter since it came very easily).

When I was twelve, I got my first driver's license. Dad had a big old Studebaker "big six," in which he taught me to drive. His teaching system was flawless. he didn't tell me one wrong thing. We were going somewhere one day and he said, "you drive." So I did. Backing down the steep drive, I panicked and couldn't find the brake. We ended up across the street on the people's lawn. He said nothing, so I put her in gear and drove off. The only lessons I remember are the ones I gave to others. Dad let me use the car regularly, only requiring that I meet his train each evening.

Things changed for me a bit the last year of high school. For one thing, I grew enough so I wasn't the littlest kid in school and I also got my first car, a model-T Ford. It was a real piece of junk, but I could make it go and not many high school kids had cars. I only recall one other guy with one. His was a good one, but still only a model-T One time I badly needed an oil change and had no money. I was scouring the garage for any old oil that might have been drained from Dad's car and found a gallon jug full and it looked real clear. I though it was new oil and had a guilty feeling, but I figured Dad had probably forgotten it so I poured it in the engine. When I started the engine, I thought I smelled something unusual and so did my Dad. It turned out that this was the pure maple syrup some friend had sent him from Vermont. Dad was not happy about me that day.

I made a few friends and started to make use of my Dad's membership at the Orinda Country Club. He had joined this club before Mama died and planned to build a home on a lot that he bought there. He never got much use of it except to take customers there for golf. he took me sometimes and I learned to play a fair game.

Again I should go back to just after Al died, Grandma [Young] sent Annalene [half-sister raised by Grandma Young] out to give Mama a moral boost. I had no prior knowledge of her. I liked her very much. In about a year she got married to Ed Harper and Grandma came out for her wedding. Shortly before the wedding, we made a trip to Southern California at Christmas holiday time and stayed with the McBeths and Geibels. I was taken to the Rose Bowl game. I recall a lot about that game. Stanford lost to Notre Dame, though Stanford really outplayed them. Four turnovers coast Stanford 28 points (against 12). I remember Mr. Mac's Willys Knight, the first "closed" car I ever rode in. I sure hated to see Grandma go home. Ed and Annalene had a model T Ford touring car and Ed had a set of drums and they made a trip to Wilkinsburg, drums and all.

I graduated from High School, but due to some stupid stunt I never got my diploma. I stayed out of school for a year and worked at the Westinghouse plant in Emmeryville. I found out how tough it could be to make a living with no further education. It actually wasn't a bad year for me though, because I made a good friend (Francis Crofut), and we did a lot of fun things, including my getting my first Super X motorcycle. At the end of that year, I took the Westinghouse examination for a scholarship, available to employees, and won it. Lucie was then at U.C. Berkeley and I decided I also wanted to go there. One friend I met at school asked me to come to his home for a weekend to study with him. I agreed and he told me to meet a train and his sister would be on it and I'd go with her to the house. I had a clothing description. He forgot to tell me that she was the knockout of all time; I surely fell for her. I never did get a date with her though, and finally learned that her folks wouldn't let her date a non-Catholic.

I made friends with Don Day and Bob Tuck as well as with several other friends of theirs. Don and I decided to stay in a boarding house the next year, which was great. We had marvelous times, got along fine with our school work and became lifetime friends.

I wanted most of all to win a Cal. Sports letter and as a freshman I looked at all the sports to see if there was any I could do./ I thought of Weight Basketball, but when I saw how good the guys were, I dropped that. So I looked at golf. I soon learned it would require about 75 scores; my 95s would have no chance. I had no liking for boxing, but I decided to give it a try and found I had some chance.

The boxing coach was a good guy and took a liking to me and gave me some help. he let me enter several matches pre-season and I did pretty well. I soon was his #1 bantamweight. Making the team and winning a letter did much for my confidence and enjoyment of college. I also gained a good group of friends from the team. I really liked the trips we made to matches with Stanford, Washington, Nevada, etc.

Once as a freshman, I had a very dubious distinction. I went to a football game wearing no freshman cap, which was a pretty risky thing to do, but I also wore sophomore jeans. I figured to get away with it, but some sophomore who knew me from High School spotted me. He got a group of six sophs and they took me out to the 50 years line and took off the jeans. There they left me and threw the jeans on the sidelines, where I had to go after them to put them back on. Fortunately, it wasn't a big game, so there were only about 25,000 people there.

I made a "motorbike" friend, Don Foote, with whom I had many good times. He was a very handsome guy, who would have been around 6'2" if he hadn't been hunchbacked. It didn't cramp his activities at all. We rode the hills together, which was great fun, especially when the grass was green. One day I followed Don down a steep hill, at the bottom of which he ran into a deep hole that was out of sight in the grass. The front fork spring cap broke off and the fork spring rod shot out like an arrow and pierced Don's cheek, clear in to above an eye tooth. It knocked him out as well as spilling him off the bike. I dropped my bike and in a while was able to bring him to and used my undershirt to stop the bleeding. He was able then to ride again, but wouldn't go home because his Mom would be too upset. I took him to my place and did a pretty good first aid job. He didn't go home until just a small Band-Aid would cover it.

I had a big Henderson motorcycle, which I didn't like much because it was too heavy for good hill riding. I had bought it because it was not old and it was sold cheap, due to its having been a police motor and not a popular model. One day a man with a pickup truck flagged me down on the street and said he wanted it. Would I trade it for a new Super X? The Super X was no longer in production, so how could he have one? He explained that he had been their dealer and had a big supply of parts and could assemble me and extra good one, with a lot of sport parts. I really liked the Super X and would prefer it over any other bike. I couldn't believe my ears when he said "even trade."

He gave me a card and told me to come over on Saturday morning. I could hardly sleep Thursday and Friday nights. I began to wonder if I had dreamed the whole thing up, but there was his card in my jacket pocket. I was on the way to his place a bit early Saturday morning. It was so early that I had to park in the cold for quite awhile before I saw anybody on the street. The place was just an ordinary house and I had misgivings. A small boy came out to pick up the newspaper. I called to him and asked if his Dad was up and did he have motorcycles. The kid said he did and that he was back in the shed working on one right then. He took me back and the man was near done with the "mostest" Super X I could imagine. We made our trade and I had the best bike around I never did ask why he wanted my Henderson so much. It was an out of production bike also and he may have had the foresight to figure he would keep it for a classic.

Don had a small sailboat that he had made; we sailed it on Lake Merritt several afternoons. It capsized easily and once I had a boot caught in it when we went over. I couldn't get it free and thought I was a goner. I finally unlaced the boot and got my foot out, just in time.

Don had a regular evening job in a Richfield station. I spent some evenings keeping him company, we talked about the World's Fair to be in Chicago and dreamed about going to it. He was in Chemical Engineering at school and we were then Juniors. One evening he said, "I've got it all figured out. I got all the data on furnace oil and it is cheap and it has a little more energy than gasoline. So I've done my part - you're the Mechanical Engineer, so you figure out how to run a car on it."

In due course I did work out a way, so we made the trip. Fran Crofut and another friend of mine, Don Anderson, joined us for a real adventurous summer saga. Every thing that could happen, did, sometimes in spades. We once fixed four tires at the same time. We had a broken crank shaft, we had three cylinders running as often as four. We ran out of oil (fuel) on the edge of Chicago, we were in rain a lot and were never dry between Chicago and Donner Summit. Were stuck in lots of mud and the car was full of it.

I learned about cooking rice; I took what seemed like a generous amount and started it to boil. In short order, I needed a bigger pot. Soon another and another and then more. We had no more so started to throw it away. We ate plenty and kept some for tomorrow, but with no refrigerator, when tomorrow came -- whew! We were east of Salt Lake City quite a way and camped one night under a gorgeous star-filled sky. I told the guys I'd fix a real good stew. We had lots of dried stuff, like barley and lentils, as well as some chili. Though we started the boiling process at about 4:00 p.m., by 9:00 the barley was like BB shot with sweaters on.

Once Don "found" a chicken. It was a big one. We made a big fire in a hole and Don packed the chicken in mud. We buried it in the coals and let it bake for about three hours. Boy, did we eat! Like Henry VIII, we tossed the bones over our shoulders. We crossed a bridge, I was driving, Don Anderson was asleep. The toll was 20 cents for a car, each passenger .05 cents. The collector said "how many of you are there?" Thinking that was a stupid question, I said "There's four, but we shouldn't have to pay for that one "cause he's dead." He said, okay, that'll be 35 cents."

We stopped in at one of those "reptile" places in the desert and hardly got inside when the "desert rat" that ran the place ran us out yelling "get out of here, you hairy apes." We must have looked pretty bad "cause he was no leading man. We looked in on a dance shindig in Medicine Bow, Wyo. Were just inside when some self-styled cops threw us out.

The old car just did make it home. We sold it to the junk yard for just what we had paid for it. I don't recall who suggested the name, but we called the old four cylinder Buick by the affectionate name of "Goona Goona."

During the next year, our last year at Cal, with fair help from me, Don built a unique sailboat. We reasoned that a centerboard would be most effective if it was vertical when the boat was heeled over. So we put in two, each at a 45 degree angle. I never got to try the thing out because I left for East Pittsburgh too soon. Don wrote me that it was a huge success. The next year he wrote that several boats showed up at the marina where he had sailed her and were similarly equipped.

This sums up what I call my growing up years. From this point on I was starting my adult life, my career if you please.

END -- Rit by masheen by me own finger ---------Bill