Oral History Program Ron Bangerter Interviewed by Michael Ballif 26 April 2017 Oral History Program Weber State University Stewart Library Ogden, Utah Ron Bangerter Interviewed by Michael Ballif 26 April 2017 Copyright © 2018 by Weber State University, Stewart Library iii Mission Statement The Oral History Program of the Stewart Library was created to preserve the institutional history of Weber State University and the Davis, Ogden and Weber County communities. By conducting carefully researched, recorded, and transcribed interviews, the Oral History Program creates archival oral histories intended for the widest possible use. Interviews are conducted with the goal of eliciting from each participant a full and accurate account of events. The interviews are transcribed, edited for accuracy and clarity, and reviewed by the interviewees (as available), who are encouraged to augment or correct their spoken words. The reviewed and corrected transcripts are indexed, printed, and bound with photographs and illustrative materials as available. The working files, original recording, and archival copies are housed in the University Archives. Project Description The World War II "All Out for Uncle Sam" oral history project contains interviews from veterans of the war, wives of soldiers, as well as individuals who were present during the war years. The interviews became the compelling background stories for the "All Out for Uncle Sam" exhibit. The project received funding from Utah Division of State History, Utah Humanities Council and Weber County RAMP. ____________________________________ Oral history is a method of collecting historical information through recorded interviews between a narrator with firsthand knowledge of historically significant events and a well-informed interviewer, with the goal of preserving substantive additions to the historical record. Because it is primary material, oral history is not intended to present the final, verified, or complete narrative of events. It is a spoken account. It reflects personal opinion offered by the interviewee in response to questioning, and as such it is partisan, deeply involved, and irreplaceable. ____________________________________ Rights Management This work is the property of the Weber State University, Stewart Library Oral History Program. It may be used freely by individuals for research, teaching and personal use as long as this statement of availability is included in the text. It is recommended that this oral history be cited as follows: Bangerter, Ron, an oral history by Michael Ballif, 26 April 2017, WSU Stewart Library Oral History Program, University Archives, Stewart Library, Weber State University, Ogden, UT. Omar Bangerter (Ron Bangerter’s brother) circa 1940s Omar Bangerter During WWII circa 1940s Telegram Announcing Junior’s Death 14 March 1945 Ron Bangerter 26 April 2017 1 Abstract: This is an oral history interview with Ron Bangerter, conducted on April 26, 2017, in his home in Bountiful, Utah, by Michael Ballif. Ron discusses his life and his memories involving World War II. Lorrie Rands, the video technician, and Carol Bangerter, Ron’s wife, are also present during this interview. MB: It is April 26, 2017. We are in the home of Ron Bangerter and his wife Carol in Bountiful, Utah. I’m Michael Ballif. Lorrie Rands is with me on the camera. We’re here for the World War II and Northern Utah history project for Weber State University. We generally just like to thank you for letting us be in your home and agreeing to speak with us today. It means a lot for us to have this opportunity. We’d like to start off this interview with when and where were you born? RB: I was born in the St. Mark's Hospital in Salt Lake City, Utah. LR: St. Marks, where was it originally? RB: It was on Beck Street, right across from the Wasatch Hot Spring. MB: What day was that on? RB: February 13, 1929. LR: Did you grow up in Salt Lake? RB: No. I grew up here in Bountiful. My whole life is from this place. My first home was on Tenth North and between Second West and Fifth West, right on the south side of the street. We had a hundred fifty cattle there. That’s where we milked them until the East Wind blew down the barn. Then we moved from there down to Doctor String’s home in west Bountiful. It’s the third house up from 800 west. Then I built our home 60 years ago in 1957 at 705 north 800 west, originally 2 called Onion Street. We built this home and have been here ever since. It’s really been in Bountiful and West Bountiful that I’ve lived all my life. MB: How long did you live in that first house at Tenth North between Second and Fifth West? RB: The best I can remember, I rode my tricycle down Fifth West. So I would guess I was about five years old, four or five. That would be 1934. LR: Did you grow up on a farm? RB: Yes. LR: That was the one with the cattle, right? RB: Yes. To make a long story short, we bought out the Wadenburg herd from Salt Lake City and he had bangs in his cattle. Then it got to our cattle. So we lost all our cattle and we went out of business. LR: What are bangs? RB: Bangs is a disease that some cattle get. It took the lives of our whole herd. They were dying about six and seven every day. LR: How did your family survive that? RB: Well, it was tough. 1948 to 1950, I went on a mission. I told Dad I shouldn’t be going. He was still paying the Green Bell off when I got back. He said he wouldn’t take out bankruptcy. I was about thirteen years old and I worked up at the Navy Supply Depot. I only worked there a little while because you were supposed to be, I think it was something like sixteen and I was younger. I was hired on just as a laborer. Then Lucky, the boss, came by one day and saw me digging and getting the porch ready. We built a theatre and steam line. He said, “Come over 3 here, Ron.” I went over and he said, “How old are you?” I thought I’m going to be in a lot of trouble because if they find out how old I am they’ll probably fire me. Dad was working as a carpenter for $1.25 an hour. I told him, “Well, I’m soon to be sixteen.” He said that I was lying. He said, “You’re not sixteen anymore. You just turned seventeen and I want you to come to work with me as an apprentice carpenter.” That’s where I started out being a carpenter. I learned a lot there. I helped him build a theatre up in the mountains. I remember it was all I could do to lift the wood. It wasn’t trusses or anything. I was walking down eight foot and about forty foot up. I became a carpenter there. LR: When you were at the Naval Supply Depot, what did you do? RB: They’d say, “Grade this piece of land here.” Then the carpenters came in and built this porch. I was a laborer, just anything they wanted. They’d pull a lot of tricks on me. They’d say, “Would you go over and pick up a board stretcher?” There wasn’t a board stretcher or a sky hook. They had a lot of fun with those two on me. They’d say “The carpenters had the board stretcher last,” and then they’d send me somewhere else. All day long I’d go around and they’d pull tricks on me, between a sky hook and a board stretcher. MB: What were your parent’s names? RB: Omer Bangerter and Lydia Youngberg. He had a twin brother, Homer. MB: Were they just farmers for the most part then? RB: Yes. Dad was, like I said before, in cattle. Uncle Homer was in vegetables, like watermelon. He grew everything. He trucked them up into Idaho. LR: How many siblings did you have growing up? 4 RB: My older brother and my younger brother. LR: So there were three of you? RB: Yes. Later on, my Aunt Jen got a divorce and their daughter Beverly, who was four years old, said she wanted to come live with Uncle Omer, my dad. So she did. When she was twenty-one years old she got sealed into our family. CB: They eventually adopted her because she lived with them for a number of years. MB: What was it like growing up in Bountiful during that time period? RB: In Bountiful we had a very small little home. Dad was running cows and when I was eight to twelve I was milking anywhere from ten to sixteen cows by hand. Then the DeLaval Milker was invented. We would set it up between two cows and we’d put it on them. Right along the Bamberger tracks, that’s where we milked all our cows. We used the raw milk because the barn had to be so clean and washed out for raw milk. We had silos there and everything. LR: Where did you go to school? RB: We started out at Stoker School. It was kindergarten. Then we moved down here to West Bountiful, so it was the West Bountiful School. LR: And your junior high? RB: South Davis Junior High. LR: Then you went to Davis High School? RB: Yes. I rode the Bamberger but there was trouble on the Bamberger all the time. They’d build fires and everything and I didn’t get home in time to start milking the cows. When my brother went off to war, he gave me his car, a twenty-nine Model A. When I was growing up, we couldn’t afford anything and there was just an old 5 horse about ready to die. I finally got me a real nice horse and trained it. I could do anything or more than Roy Rogers and Gene Autry. Anything I saw them doing I would do - jumping off the house on the horses. I took my girlfriend and rode up and picked her up on the horse and went over to the Bountiful Theatre which was right across from Fisher’s there in Bountiful. When I whistled once, the horse would jump over the gate and come out and I’d saddle it up. I whistled twice when I was through. I would sometimes wait and go clear to my bedroom upstairs and then I’d whistle twice and the horse would jump into the corral. That’s how well trained he was. I was doing everything with him. He was my life. I caught him wild up on the Stoddard’s farm. This horse got in there and it was a pretty horse. I said, “Lou, is that your horse?” He said, “No. I’d like to get rid of the damn thing.” I said, “Well I’ll catch it for you and I’ll take it home with me.” So I did. That horse would let me do anything in the world. My younger brother DelRoy, he tried once. I said, “You’ll be sorry. That horse will not let you ride it.” He got on it, and guess what the horse did? He didn’t buck or anything. He went over and got right along the fence and rubbed his leg right along the barbed wire fence. Just cut it all up. Now, I’ll tell you this story and this is a true story. I don’t know why, but the horse talked to me one day. He said, “I’d like to see your bedroom.” I said, “OK. I’ll take you up to my bedroom.” Dad went to Salt Lake, so I went over and I locked the outside door that goes upstairs. We had one inside and outside so you could take furniture up. So, I got my horse and started leading it up the stairway. He went up all the outside steps real well and got his front feet up on the top floor. Underneath the stairway was a clothes closet. All at 6 once I heard a crash. The step broke and he fell right down into this clothes closet with all their clothes and everything. I just talked to him. He stayed pretty gentle. I went and got some wood and logs or boxes. I’d go into Dad’s closet and put one box a foot high and put the horse’s foot on it and it’d raise him up. I’d put another box until I got him up high. I had a real deal, but he worked real good. I got the horse out, cleaned it up as good as I could. Dad came home and I didn’t say much. I said, “I gotta go out and get some wood cut.” So I went out and started cutting wood. He said, “What happened to the clothes closet? It’s all busted down.” I said, “Well Dad, the horse wanted to see my room and I didn’t know what else to do but show it to him.” Dad looked at me and put his hand on my shoulder and he said, “Let’s not do that anymore, OK?” That horse, I let him stand out in front of the barn until the next morning at five o’clock when I got up. As soon as I got up, I looked out and he was there. So I whistled and he jumped over and went in the house. He would do anything I asked him to do, very smart horse. LR: How long did you have that horse? RB: I left on my mission and after he’d torn my brother’s leg up so bad, Dad didn’t want to keep the horse there anymore. So they took him up to Uncle Homer’s in Oregon. He stayed up there with him. I think it was about a month before I was coming home when Dad thought he’d go up and get the horse and bring it so it’d be here when I got home. He went up to get him and the horse walked up on the trailer and it was kind of hard getting into the trailer. Then, I don’t know because I 7 wasn’t there, but to make a long story short, the horse backed out and laid down and died. Aunt Venna said, “He only died of one thing, a broken heart.” CB: He had lots of horses. That was his favorite. MB: What do you remember about Pearl Harbor day? RB: I was in Bountiful Junior High, then it was called South Davis Jr. High. I can tell you the room I was sitting in and everything. LR: So you didn’t hear it on the radio? It was the next day? RB: We didn’t have much of a radio. LR: So you heard about it the next day. RB: At school in the first class, Mrs. Hughes, who was our history teacher - and one of the sweetest ladies I knew - she just sat down and had a long talk with us and explained it all to us. As I remember, I couldn’t comprehend that people wanted to kill one another and stuff. It was just war. I didn’t know what war was and all through that deal where they started locking the Japanese up. I didn’t think much about it I guess. We just kept going, milking cows and everything. I have pictures of me with my stocking cap on milking cows. Junior and I used to like to take them up because we’d go up Tenth North to the pastures. Junior and I had lots of fun. We didn’t care about the cars, but we loved the big trucks. So he’d say, “Ron, run up and I’ll hold the cows and won’t let them go until you see a truck coming. When a truck is coming, holler at me or wave at me and I’ll herd the cows in front of the truck.” We got a kick out of that. Junior and I were very reckless. LR: Junior, is that your older brother? 8 RB: That’s my older brother, Omer Junior. LR: Was Junior drafted? RB: Junior was drafted. LR: Do you remember when he was drafted? CB: He got married very young and then he was drafted. They were like seventeen when they got married. RB: What a blessing that was. Dad was really against it because he was so young, but he understood he wouldn’t have had his twin boys if he hadn’t. He only saw them when they were three days old. Junior and Opal met because her sister was renting an apartment upstairs. I’ll bet he didn’t see her over two or three times, but they were having so much fun and were sweethearts. They went to Wyoming and got married. They were married at 17, became parents at 18 and he was killed and Opal was a widow at 19. LR: Do you remember what branch of the service he was in? RB: Signal Corps. LR: Right. And where was he stationed? RB: Dutch Guinea. MB: How did you feel when he was drafted? RB: I was so proud of him. He looked so good. Mother wouldn’t go down to the Union Pacific Station to see him off. I remember that day real well. She wouldn’t go down. I couldn’t figure it out. I was so proud of him because he had a nice hat and coat and looked real sharp. When it was all over, Dad broke down and bawled all the way home. I said, “What’s the matter, Dad?” He said, “Son you 9 don’t understand.” I didn’t, because I’d have gone with him. I thought it was great to be able to serve your country. He got on the train and we came home. Dad knew his chances of returning home were not good. I went out and went up in the tree house, I think Dad and Mom went in the bedroom. I’m sure they had a tough time. LR: You said that your brother was able to see his sons at least once. RB: That’s right. LR: So did he come back? RB: He was in basic training in Camp Kohler, California. They allowed his wife to come down and stay with him. Junior got to come home from Camp Kohler before he went overseas. He only had three days, and the twins were born. That was a lucky deal. He was here when they were born. They were only two or three days old and Bishop Telford came down and they blessed the babies right there in our home and gave them names. Then went overseas and everything was going good and working well. Right at the end he was sent to the front about a dozen times, maybe even more. He was sleeping in wet trenches. They were making fast movement so he got called. He never did get any sleep. They called him, the last call, and said, “You’ve got to go back to the front.” He said, “I just can’t. I’m a sleep walker.” He hadn’t had any rest for days and not much food because of the trenches, but they were pushing hard. The commander in charge said, “I’ll give you somebody to drive you up.” The kid that was driving, went to pass some trucks, ten wheelers. One was coming back and one was going up and they wanted to pass one. He was almost there and it ran into him. He was 10 asleep. He came forward and hit on his temple and it killed him instantly. One of the commanding officers conducted a funeral over there. I remember when they brought the telegram telling us he had been killed. I was on my way to the bus stop. I knew what it was so I ran because I did not want to hear the news. But dad came and brought me back. Then after the war they said, “Would you like to have your son’s body brought home?” They brought it home and he’s buried up here in the beautiful city cemetery, which was a real blessing. LR: Do you remember what year they repatriated him? RB: It was five or six years after. They brought hundreds of bodies out of that one particular area, and we were lucky enough to be one of them. We were so happy to have him come home. He stayed in our home for about three days. LR: The ending of the war was kind of bitter sweet for you guys. RB: The war was over practically. Within weeks after he got killed it was all over. Everybody was tooting their horns and going down Main Street in Salt Lake. I remember Charlie Bennett and I had an old car. We went into Salt Lake. We were driving up Main Street, Main or State, and these guys that were drinking and really celebrating, came over and grabbed the car to try to tip it over. They tipped over several of them. It was bitter sweet. I was headed off to school when I saw the guy bringing the telegram pull up in front of us. I knew what it was and I didn’t want to hear it. I ran as hard as I could. It was about a mile. They came back up and got me and brought me back down. Then they told us the whole story. Wars are not good. If we can’t talk it out, we ought to go live somewhere else. I guess there are no answers to that. 11 MB: What was your experience with the rationing? Did that affect you at all? RB: Everything was rationed. Gasoline was rationed. We got some five gallon stamps and for my Model A I got three gallon stamps. I’d get so many gallons each month. I burned mine out in a hurry. I remember that. Chewing gum, you couldn’t buy chewing gum. Couldn’t buy silk stockings. If you did, you paid a price. Cigarettes went way high. Sugar was rationed. You had to turn your old toothpaste tube back when you got the other one. LR: Were clothes rationed? Were you able to go out and buy new shoes or new clothes? RB: We didn’t have hardly any clothes anyway. We wore overalls. We were poor during the depression. It wasn’t bad. I don’t want you to think that was bad. People got together and they loved one another. When we had lots of milk we would trade. We were in between the D and R.G. track and the Union Pacific track and we’d see a lot of tramps. They would come by and Dad never ever turned them away without giving them something like an ear of corn or whatever we had. We had nothing but we had everything because everybody was sharing. CB: Everybody was poor so you didn’t need to feel bad because you were poor. Everyone was in the same situation. LR: When did you go on your mission? RB: 1948-1950. MB: Where did you go? RB: Canada. Montreal. It was called the Canadian mission. MB: Did you speak French? 12 RB: Very little. I didn’t learn it, but I knew a few words. LR: After you came back from your mission, did you get right into carpentry? RB: I think I did something that nobody else has done, kind of like the horse deal. My wife came out to Canada and we got married. I was released at ten o’clock am and we married that afternoon two o’clock. When I came home, I went to work for the dairy in bountiful, for my Uncle Bangerter. I’d get up at midnight and go deliver milk. Then I’d get done with that and do another job. I finally became the manager after Uncle Gene sold his Dairy. He sold it to Western General Dairy. I became branch manager here in Bountiful. Then I started having lots of kids. We ended up with twelve – eight boys, four girls. I quit that because I wasn’t going to get rich in the dairy. I started doing my carpenter work and building homes, and I’ve done that ever since. I built anything, everything but a temple. I was cleared to build a Mormon temple, but I couldn’t get bonded. MB: Did you two go to the same school? CB: Ron’s twelve years older than me, so I’m not the first wife. No, she died and left six little kids. Then I married him and we had six more. MB: When did you two meet? CB: We always knew each other. We’re both from West Bountiful RB: I knew her from way back. CB: I’m the one that used to pray for him, when his wife died, that he’d find somebody that would marry him and raise his kids. You’ve got to be careful what you pray for. 13 RB: My wife died very suddenly. She was just as healthy as we all are. I went up to work at the dairy, and got a call from my younger daughter. She said, “Momma wants you to come home in a hurry.” I came home and she was lying on the floor. She had an embolism lodged on her brain. I took her to the hospital and they said she’d live forever. Her health was good, her heart was good. Everything was good. Before I left the hospital that night, she’d passed away. Carol was very young when I knew her. It probably would never have dawned on me to marry her. I was in the bishopric and she was the Junior Sunday coordinator teacher and one of the bishopric always went upstairs to Junior Sunday School. I was going to take her water skiing. At the end of the meeting, I turned and said, “Carol, come down. I need to talk to you. I won’t be able to go skiing on the fourth of July because I’m taking my children camping.” I promised to take them up on top of Farmington Canyon. But we ended up going water skiing and camping on the 4th of July. That was the beginning of our courtship. RB: We’ve had a wonderful fifty some odd years already. All the children are very good to us. We have fifty-four grandchildren and about close to seventy great-grandchildren and one great-great-grandchild. MB: We’d like to ask you one final question that we ask everyone just to bring this all together. How do you feel that your experience during World War II has changed or affected your life? RB: World War II has changed my whole life. Some’s been for the good and some’s been worse than hell. It’s part of life. When you get adding it all up, it turned out OK because we wouldn’t have our freedom and what we have got, but oh does it 14 cost. There was a price. Even in the shoes we’re in right now, if we can just get the North Korea problem worked out and not another bloody war, another hell, another changing your complete life, a different direction you’ll be walking, different jobs you’ll have. I would never have because Junior and I, we had our whole lifeline. We were so close. We worked so much, just like when you get married and you got a mate, once she passes away it’s still tough. You have to grow up and be a man, I guess. We all have trials, and they’re a different style and different kinds and different colors. Overall the Lord’s at the helm and the day will come that everything will be fine because He’s taken care of it. If that’s part of our growing up, I accept it, but it’s not the right thing in my mind or the best thing. I can’t tell you it’s honey and cream. It’s hard to believe we have so much now and had so little so little time ago. MB: Thank you so much for letting us be in your home. RB: You betcha. Thanks for coming.