Leroy Patch
The following is as told to me by Allerton Patch: My father was Leroy Vernon Patch, better known to his friends as the ‘Colonel’. His story is not only the longest but by far one of the most interesting, because I knew him so well. Through all of my growing up years, I was closest to him and when he was near death, I took care of him to the last. He wasn’t home much throughout his active years, but we always kept in touch and whenever he did get home, he found time to confide in me, such things as I do believe he never told another soul, not even my mother. The Colonel was born Oct 14, 1876, in Mt Pleasant, Iowa, the son of Joseph T Patch, a lawyer and Mary Edna Vernon. Her only claim to fame rests upon the fact that she was an artist of considerable talent. One of her canvases hangs in my living room, today. It had taken First Prize at the Omaha World’s Fair. She died quite young and my father, in later years was informed, it was his fault, because of the terrible stressful condition that existed between son and father. The situation was so detrimental that at 13, Leroy escaped the confines of his home by running away and that truly broke his mother’s heart. She succumbed in 1896 and is remembered as being a fine lady of good breeding, but a grandmother I never had the pleasure of knowing. The only thing I know about Grandfather Patch was that he specialized in settling Civil War pension cases between veterans and the government He had attended the University of Michigan Law School, was very strait-laced and puritanical. The law was the law and no man was above it, not even his son. He had named the boy after Leroy Vernon, his brother-in-law, and my dad inherited the genes of the out-spoken. It was not difficult to understand why he revolted under the constant pressure of the mixture of absolute law and the hellfire and damnation that coursed through his veins, for his uncles were all preachers. When he decided home was the last place he wanted to be, he headed for Memphis, Tennessee, where a uncle lived. So certain the grass was greener in other pastures, he started out alone. Now this uncle was also a preacher, and when he saw Leroy coming down the road, he knew right then he had to save this wayward lad. A farmer friend required another strong back that couldn’t tell time. Those cows needed milking, morning and night and only the sun rising and setting told them when. Leroy was anxious to eat three square a day, so he welcomed the work, at first. It paid $8.00 a month and grub, with a bunk bed equipped with a straw mattress but no sheets, thrown in. Two years went by and the boy felt he had proved his worth so with the courage of a 15 year old, he politely asked for a raise to $10.00. The farmer exploded, “Why lad, I can get all the colored help I want for less than $8.00. You be satisfied with what you are getting or get out”. Leroy didn’t need a second invitation. He took the farmer’s advice and joined the crew on the Memphis belle steamboat, which made round trips up and back on the Mississippi River. His job involved cleaning the decks, cabins, delivering messages, hauling ropes, being bossed around by a half dozen different musclemen who couldn’t care less about a young man’s feelings. A little of that was enough, so he moved on to Nebraska. There he became a jack of all trades, delivering newspapers, anything that would furnish a bit of eating money and flophouse bed rent. Something nagged at him to get busy with his life and quit wasting time but he just couldn’t figure where to go next. One day when hunger got the best of him and disgust overwhelmed him, he found a job in a department store as a clerk. He discovered, quite accidentally, that Leroy was related to the Vernon family of ministers, whom he also knew. It didn’t take long to set the young man straight, “Now son, if you will attend school again and go on to the ministry, I’ll pay all of your expenses”. That sounded like a good proposition so it was agreed. Leroy put his nose to the grindstone and in a few years, he found himself in a seminary in Lincoln. Somehow, after ten months of that he knew religion wasn’t for him; but he did decide he would like to attend the University of Nebraska and Major in Horticulture. It was while he was at that institution of higher learning that he teamed up with two other young men, who were also on a preaching crusade. Going from town to town, they erected their tent in a field and put on their Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes. One boy gave the sermons, the second took up the collections and Leroy was in charge of the singing. That was fun for awhile, but not very lucrative so when the novelty wore off, so did their enthusiasm. Then they tried something different and got into the moving picture projector business. They had heard if they could get one of those new-fangled machines, they could show films in near by towns and make a fortune. They acquired a projector with a piece of film, which showed actual footage of Civil War prisoners before a firing squad. When it didn’t break down, the audience could view a man fall dead before their eyes. The projector had wheels and reels in the form of a ‘W’ with each span about four feet long and it had to be cranked entirely by hand. In 1945, my father gave it to laborer who was moving us from one house to another and years later we found out that it was sold to an interested party from Hollywood, California, who came to Idaho for no other reason but to buy it. He paid $300 to the owner and it was sent to Washington, DC, where it is now in the Smithsonian Institute. I still have one lens for it in my possession. But to get back to my father’s story. The last two years of Leroy’s academic life, that was 1897 and 1898, was spent playing for the University of Nebraska Cornhusker football team. He completed four years of schooling in three and two years of that was under the tutelage of 2nd Lt. John J Pershing, who later became General of the Armies. In fact, a controversy embroiled in the US Congress about four decades later, to make Pershing the only Six Star General ever recognized as such, but the dissenters won out. He had to settle for Five Stars. The Omaha’s Worlds’ Fair was in full swing and Leroy wishing to see the painting his mother had entered and won recognition for, attended and in the process of viewing the exhibits, he happened upon a display of apples, that had also won First Prize. The tag stated, “This fine fruit was grown in Payette, Idaho”. It was indeed such a tantalizing display he never forgot those apples – for they were to play a very important role in his future. He was still at the University when he got word his mother was dying. He had been in touch by mail with her, off and on, from the day he left home but he had not seen her. When he received the news of her terminal illness he went immediately to her bedside. She was lingering in a hospital, all alone with no one to comfort her. When he entered the room, she knew she could leave peacefully – the lamb was back in the fold. Her prodigal son had returned. After her death, he went back to school and upon graduation became a teacher and later Superintendent of Schools in Kearney. His salary jumped from $40 to $75 per month and that was good money in 1899. It was at this juncture in his life that he joined the Nebraska National Guard and little did he realize he was destined to become a career military man. It was here that he crossed paths with Ernestine Tabor. She was a New York socialite and he couldn’t afford to buy her shoe laces. She spent more money on one dress than he made all year but there was one thing he had more than most and that was pride. He was beginning to realize for the first time in his life that he had a destiny to fulfill and Ernestine was to play a major part in that course of events. They married in Kearney in 1900 and her parents were very certain this was the biggest mistake of her life. Ernestine had always gotten what she wanted and this tall handsome man was no exception. Ernest Tabor felt he had to help this poor son-in-law, so he offered to set him up in the cattle business in New Mexico or Texas. Cattle was all Ernest knew but Leroy was still thinking of those apples from the Payette Valley of Idaho. Leroy, being a smooth talker and before his father-in-law was aware, had convinced him that Idaho was the best place in the world for his daughter. After all, she was expecting their first child and should live in fresh air and peaceful surroundings. When Leroy put it that way, Ernest hastily agreed. It took eighteen months to make the move but Leroy visited Payette first to look over the terrain. He purchased 40 acres, cleared the land of sagebrush and planted his first fruit trees. Then he returned to Kearney for his wife. The population of Payette was about 1500 souls, all hard working, determined pioneers whose whole lives were geared to making the land produce food for man and beast. For the first two years, Leroy grew watermelons and cantaloupes while the trees grew larger and larger. In the meantime, he became manager of the Telephone Company and in 1903, four men joined with him to start a new venture. “Why not build a cannery for all the fruit and vegetables that are daily becoming more prevalent?” With that, Peter Pence, a rancher was appointed President, Bill Coughanoor, (Knothole Billy), a real estate investor, Vice President, AB Moss was named Director and Leroy was Secretary and Manager. The gears were in motion to erect it near the railroad depot and everything proceeded like clockwork. Leroy became very active, in promotion of real estate, fruit farming, irrigation projects and gas drilling. Not content with those alone, he became a member of the Tenth Idaho Legislature. Almost single-handedly, he promoted and constructed two of Idaho’s irrigation canals, the Patch Cooperative Canal in Owyhee County, which was 14 miles long and for the first time in history, water was channeled to areas never touched before by water, except for an occasional rainfall; and the Payette Heights Irrigation Company. Both are still in existence and farmers in those districts have much to thank my father for. He began acquiring commercial buildings downtown, in the city, in 1903, and built the last one in 1950, for a total of twelve. In 1905, he organized the Payette Valley Rex Spray Company, which was very successful until the 1940’s. That company manufactured a lime and Sulphur spray used on fruit trees, almost the first of its kind, in the days when trees had little or no protection from insects. In 1914, LV decided to go into real estate in a big way and purchased 1,000 acres in Fruitland, Idaho. Being a promoting artist of the first order, sales offices were established in Des Moines, Iowa, and Omaha, Nebraska. The land was cleared and planted in fruit trees and offered to any city folks who wished to own their own orchards in 10, 20 or 40 acre parcels. For two years the venture paid off and again LV knew how to make a dollar. He never was one to let grass grow under his feet, therefore, he invested in flour mills and at one time was Director of the Payette First National Bank, which later became known as the First Security Bank. That in itself was interesting for early in 1929, rumors were circulating that the bank was in trouble and LV, being a shrewd businessman, divested himself of all his stock turning it over to the shareholders. The bank did fail but was reorganized and flourished under its new name. In the meantime, LV’s military career was progressing. When he had left Nebraska, in 1901, his rank in the National Guard was 1st Lieutenant and by 1909, he became Idaho’s first Brigadier General, in that organization. His whole life was gaining momentum. By this period, he had four sons, Vernon, Ernest, Oliver and myself, and he was businessman to be reckoned with. The politicians in Boise, took notice of him and followed his career carefully. In 1912, he was offered the Adjutant General’s post; by Governor John M Haynes, which he accepted. When the Idaho National Guard was called into action on the Mexican Border Dispute with Pancho Villa, General Patch wanted action. He had organized and activated Company I, and had been the Captain of it and then was instrumental in doing the same with the 2nd Infantry Regiment and these were the fellows designated to go. As Adjutant General, my father couldn’t accompany them, therefore, he resigned his post, took a demotion to Captain and he was off to the war. When he returned from the skirmishes, he brought many gifts among which were two Mexican burros for his sons. One problem occurred that he had not anticipated however and that was, “How would the burros fare on their first train ride?”. Well, one didn’t make it, so the remaining one, was a present to all of us. Father kept the animal well hidden, until Christmas morning. When the family awakened, we found the little critter standing under our massive tree in the living room. Not being used to our cold Idaho winters, the donkey had to be sheltered in our basement, until the spring thaw arrived. It lived almost two years and one day, it just died, we never did find out why. Content to be home for only a short while, LV felt the urge to become involved in other projects. This time, he applied for the rank of Lt. Colonel, in the Regular Army. Required was an examination, in spite of all his previous experience, and he was commanded to go to Fort Sill, Oklahoma, for training as an artillery officer. By this time the Big War was in progress and American lads were being shipped daily to the battlefields of France, like so much chattel. Officers had a bit more leniency in privileges and LV was anxious to see more of the world. His next step was to be the Continent and before he left, he wanted to be certain his favorite steed would accompany him. He was a good judge of horse flesh and in the interim between wars, he had acquired a purebred black stallion from a rancher. That horse stood 17 hands high and his spirited nature was a perfect match for my father. Neither could be forced to acquiesce without protest. LV wanted that animal to be shipped to France and all arrangements were made. Being assured it would be waiting for him upon his arrival, the ship left port, with his blessings. Needless to say, he never saw the horse again. No amount of investigation revealed its whereabouts, and I never did find out if he was reimbursed for its loss. Then other toys took its place. When the Colonel reached Paris, he was placed in command of the American Base Headquarters, which was in Blois, and was assigned to Napoleon Bonaparte’s office. After the war, father used to brag to us boys how he placed his feet on the very desk the ‘Little General’ used to map strategy in the Franco Prussian War. All was not work in Blois, as a retired millionaire from the United Stated befriended the Colonel and his mansion became a hang out for some of the higher ranking officers. Showgirls from Paris revues were brought in regularly and fun was had by all. It was a very exclusive residence that offered seven different wine varieties at each place setting when dinner was served. Naturally the owner of the chateau received all the rationed meat, sugar, butter, and silk stockings he desired. All black market items and this went on for about six months. Heaven for both sides in a war torn world. One afternoon, a dispatch ordered the Colonel to Bordeaux to take command of the 146th Field Artillery Regiment. That was the end of the parties. It was time to get down to the seriousness of the situation. While in the State, the Colonel had been trained to fire 3 inch American and 75 millimeter French guns; however, now he was in the big leagues. His new assignment placed him in charge of 155 millimeter projectiles that had a range of 15 miles or more. He had no training in those bruisers and no time to learn. “Move out” was the order and 25 of the mortars went with him. The 333rd French Regiment joined his American troops and to make matters worse, his French was very poor. Only one solution was available, a French Lieutenant by the name of Jacques Rueff was ordered to accompany the Colonel everywhere he went, to act as an interpreter. It was during the heat of battle that a US Congressman, attempting to make a name for himself, visited the battlefront. He was Addison T Smith from Idaho, and he wished to see Colonel Patch so he could report back to his constituents how everything was progressing at the front. He and several other dignitaries obtained a jeep and were traveling down a dirt road dodging gun fire when they came upon a sign ‘CP Patch’. The Congressman told the chauffeur to drive on because he was looking for LV not CP. He never found the Colonel, naturally because CP stood for Command Post which apparently never entered the politician’s mind. It was a good thing he wasn’t looking for Smith or Jones, or he’d be there yet. It was about this time, Governor DW Davis of Idaho sent the Colonel a telegram appointing him, Public Utilities Commissioner. That must have gladdened the Colonel’s heart, just knowing he might be expected at the next meeting, in Boise, to determine if a horse and carriage had the right of way over a Model T. The battle became more intense and the casualties mounted, but the Colonel shouldn’t worry about anything. If he survived, a job would be waiting for him. If he didn’t, he was well thought of anyway. It was Lt Jacques Rueff, who was responsible for the collection which later, became our military museum. My father, being an American was not allowed to remove for any purpose, an artifact or souvenir, however Rueff, being French, had no such restriction. Thus, piece by piece came into our possession – a German dress helmet, one day; the next, a saber; the following, a dismantled machine gun. As time went by, the memorabilia accumulated, even to the bones from Catherine de Medici’s castle in Italy. When the Colonel visited that country, he was told that the old girl hated had many enemies and for those who crossed her, she had a special surprise. Out of the goodness of her heart, she would invite them to view the city from a turret and once there, a trapdoor was released under them and a fall straight down, upon jagged rocks, was their fate. It was from this cavity, that Rueff confiscated a few human bones for souvenir. Artifacts from the ruins of Pompeii and torture implements that encircled necks and waists of prisoners added to the array. (See the Allerton Patch story) On the brighter side, I always chuckle when I read the letter sent to my father as Commanding Officer of the District from Emilie Tritsch, on March 30, 1918. Lt Rueff translated it as follows: “Colonel - I am the owner of a tolerance house – House of Prostitution – at No 18 Degres St, Nicholas. Since the arrival of the American soldiers, my house has been reserved for these troops. Recently and without cause, my house has been forcibly closed to Americans. Accordingly I went to see the Mayor of Blois as well as the Commissioner of Police and the Captain in charge of Public Health who promised me they would send you this letter so that my house might be opened again. I must also add that I shall have a policeman who will keep civilians away. Having always obeyed the orders issued by the Military Police, I hope you will receive my request favorably. Hoping for an early and favorable reply, I am Respectfully /s/ Emilie Tritsch". The Colonel’s answer to the Madame Tritsch was as follows: April 2, 1918 – From: Commanding Officer – Commander of District – Services of Supply
Strange world this, when permission of this nature is requested as simply as asking for a dog license. While the Colonel was in France, the French government bestowed upon him one of its highest honors, the Croix de Guerre. That particular medal is one for gallantry in action and the Colonel proved over and over again, that he was indeed a brave and courageous soldier, tried and true. Just before his return to the States, he had attended the formation of the American Legion in Paris – being the only soldier from Idaho represented. He was one of its founders and the very next year, he was present at the first Convention of that organization held in Minneapolis. There were 10,000 delegates and he was the unanimous choice for the Chairmanship of the Military Affairs Committee. Shortly, before the war terminated, he had received a cablegram from his attorney, RE Haynes, in Idaho. It read, “Before you come home you better protect yourself because all your partners in Payette Valley Land & Orchard Tract Co have declared bankruptcy. All creditors will be after you". A constant flow of problems and decisions to make. This particular one bothered the Colonel more than most. He was not aware of the circumstances or how to prevent confiscation of his total worth, until Haynes came up with the perfect solution. The Payette Heights Investment Company was formed and all of LV’s assets were transferred over to it. When the Colonel stepped off the train at the Payette Station, his creditors were waiting as Haynes had predicted but the only thing he owned was the uniform on his back. This was not to thwart his responsibility but only to give him time to face the condition with a clear mind. He assessed the entire situation and decided after a great deal of thought, the only honorable way to handle it, was to face it head on. He called each and every creditor and put a proposition to them. His four partners had left them holding the back and if they would divide the debt into five segments – he would gladly pay his share which amounted to a fifth of the total amount due. Otherwise, they would receive nothing; with all agreeing, the Colonel paid each is amount due and from then on his credit was unimpeachable. Even though it cost him $20,000 it was the wisest course to follow. Governor DW Davis bestowed the position of Adjutant General on him for the second time, and it was while he was acting thus, that a leave of absence was necessary to restore the Idaho Canning Company to solvency, which he did. The Colonel received honors from as far away as Albuquerque, New Mexico, when he was notified that a thoroughfare was named the General Patch Street, after him. In that same year, he ran for US Senate with Harry Morrison of Morrison Knudsen, Leo Falk, a businessman, Oscar Worthwine, an attorney, Fritz Hummel, an architect, along with the Hawley brothers, Ed and Jess, in his corner. His opponent was Frank Gooding. Now LV had a secretary, who was a cousin of his and a very brilliant lady. Gooding felt her service would be of greater benefit to him, so he hired her away from my father. One hitch prevailed, however, Frank wasn’t aware, she was one of our relatives. She kept our side posted on Gooding’s activities and intentions all the while. Bannock County was pledged to Gooding on the first ballot but was free to switch to the Colonel on the second, which they promised to do. For some reason, known to only a very few, at the last moment they cast their votes again for Gooding. When the Colonel realized what was happening, he threw his support behind Frank because he really had no choice, and so he lost the Senate race by two and a half votes. That same year, the Colonel gave a speech that stunned many unthinking people. After all, he was actually a General and had been a military man most of his adult life and had been called upon to give many speeches in the past, but this one in particular was a masterpiece. The war was over and the soldiers were now civilians, home and back at work. The Sunday Capital News of Boise dated January 4, 1920, printed the speech verbatim, and I share most of it with the readers, if they but keep in mind that, my father was pro-National Guard although he had served as a General in the Regular Army, also. “…the enlisted personnel of the National Guard is made up of men of high standard of education, and whose experience in the civil life is a great asset to them in the Army. This is especially true of western troops, who by virtue of their environment and geographical location indulge largely in hunting and camping in the mountains. When the Idaho contingent reported for duty on the Mexican Border in the late European campaign, practically every man already knew how to saddle a horse, put a pack on a horse, and how to ride him. They knew how to care for and shoot a gun accurately, how to care for themselves, under the trying conditions, that many of them were later subjected to. And in the ranks among the enlisted men could be found many who were qualified to take command of the organization in the event of the death or elimination of the officers of the command". He went on, “I dare say that the expense of maintaining a national army and training men to be drafted each year would cost peace loving America, $1,500,000 (note that was in 1920) per year and will make us a military nation, the spirit and principle of which we have been fighting for the past two years to eradicate in foreign powers…..A large standing army is uneconomical and un-American. There is no argument in favor of such an enormous regular army – and above all, it is an insult to the citizens of volunteer soldiers who stood the brunt of the late war and who always have and always will, make up the army for America, in time of war. When did America ever have such a nucleus for an efficient army as she has today, with 4,000,000 trained men just released from the service and some of these men now living in every hamlet in the United States? The people not only of America but of all the allied countries believe that the late war was fought for the suppression of militarism. The proof of this, is that in a treaty of peace, the German Army was limited to a force of 200,000 volunteers. It seems to be acknowledged that however, necessary in the past, conscription may have been in Europe, the maintenance of large standing armies tended to provoke war.” Military personnel were aghast, politicians were worried and the general population wondered. Most realized his words were truly spoken. Another in a long series of ancestors who tread, where few had courage to follow. One year later, he became the first citizen from Idaho, to become a Brigadier General in the Regular Army. His Commission was signed by President Warren Harding. No such appointment had ever been made, in any adjacent State to Idaho, until that time. His nomination for that rank was made by the Secretary of War on November 11, 1921 and confirmed two weeks later, by the US Senate. There were only two commissions for the Brigadier General offered from the whole nation. The other gentleman was Dr. Charles Mayo, Medical Corps, and he was best known for being affiliated with his brother, in the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. For years thereafter, the ‘Colonel’ remained his title despite the ‘General’ promotion. Everyone who knew him or of him, including his sons, always referred to him as the Colonel. His military life quieted down after that, but his private life accelerated. His sons were in school and his home life became more settled. For 15 years he was the undisputed and honored Grand Marshall of the Payette Apple Blossom Parade held every Spring. Riding the finest horses money could buy, all were fine steeds in the army tradition. Stallions trained to carry their master into battle. We, boys, could tell when it was parade time for our job included chasing down whatever horse, the Colonel was to ride that day. I’ll never forget those spirited animals and how they showed us youngsters who was boss. Father could handle them but we were always exhausted after the chase in the pasture. I can still remember hearing my father laughing at our clumsy antics. Parties were more prevalent in the big house on the hill during the peace time years. We had open house once a year, and everyone in town was invited. Those were hilarious times, jolly good times with much indulgence in all kinds of beverages. I recall one particular party, because one of the guests over indulged and looking around for a place to lose his cookies he threw up his false teeth into the latrine and spent the rest of the night trying to find them. Another guest staggered out for a walk, fell down in some weeds in a field and wasn’t missed for almost two days. But the band played on – card games flourished continuously and everybody danced and danced and ate and slept. Some of the businesses didn’t open the following day; maybe, the owners were sick or tired, because of the noise. About this time the Colonel donated the Doughboy statue to the City and it can still be seen at the end of Main Street. In 1936, pressure from around the State urged him to run for Governor. The men from Boise and Payette insisted, so the Colonel consented to run for the Office. He confided in me several times that he absolutely did not want to be Governor and I saw him with wrinkled brow frowning and wondering, how he could bow out gracefully without making too many enemies. During the campaign I drove him around the loop as we call it – north on Highway 95 to McCall; and down Highway 55 to Boise, placing placards with his picture on it every few miles along the road. It was during these rides, he told me he wished he could get out of the race. I can almost pick the say, he figured out, how to get the job done. My father, as I have said before was a shrewd and calculating man. His thoughts active hand always alert. In the middle of the campaign, a man from Lewiston contacted him and asked for his endorsement of a very controversial plan, sponsored by the Townsend Club. The plan consisted of a proposal to give every man, woman and child $100, and he promised my father 25,000 votes if he would come out for it. The Colonel wasn’t in favor of the plan but in his mind this seemed to be his escape. So without consulting any of his supporters for an opinion, he made a public announcement that he favored the idea and when the Idaho Statesman broke the news, the biggest exodus of backers took place almost immediately. A formal notice at the Boise Hotel was given to LV that big money was being pulled from his campaign and of course, Barzilla W Clark, won the Governorship. He decided at this moment in his life he needed a rest and another hideaway to have peace and quiet where he could play pinochle with his favored friends. He hired one of them to design a cabin for him in Old Meadows, Idaho, providing he could put the finishing touches on the drawing. Here again, a genius at work doing something he knew nothing about. The cabin turned out beautifully with all the comforts of home except one very serious mistake. The bathroom although apart of the house could only be entered by going outdoors. Someone forgot to put a door to the bathroom form the inside. My father was almost six feet tall, weighed 190 pounds and until the early 1940’s, was in excellent physical condition. Little by little his age seemed to catch up with him. He began to map out how things should be settled in his life, and I somehow was given the impression he favored me. My brothers had married and left the home fires and were all about their own lives. As time went on, the Colonel leaned more and more heavily upon my judgement and opinion, confiding many intimate thoughts with me. Several times he made mention that his intentions were to leave the Payette Lake cabin and vast amounts of his local acreage directly to me rather than to the Trust but I refused to accept it because in my heart I knew it belonged to all four brothers, equally. In his fading years, he would sit for hours telling me about his war years and how he would have changed this or that if he had to live it over again. His mind was sharp but his tongue became sharper. The stories began to be repeated more frequently, “Did I tell you about the time President Harry Truman gave me a medal for the work I did as Chairman of the Selective Service Commission?”, “Do you remember the trouble we had when we were drilling for oil and gas in the Payette hills? Remember that gas gusher that came in and we could see ourselves as multimillionaires but it fizzled out. And the day Senator Herman Welker made the statement that Bing Crosby, his longtime friend and associate, and Phil Harris, had no money invested in my oil drilling. I never said they did. That information was planted by my competitor so folks would want to invest in his well drilling operation. The Idaho Statesman had to clear that mess up. And do you recall our old friend Major General Elmer Lynn, who married Dortha Farson? She was a graduate of PHS. He had been in law practice in our city and later entered a military career and became Commander of the 4th Air Force in World War II. He had charge of the entire Pacific Coast from Mexico to Alaska and the Hawaiian Islands. Good chap, he was and too bad he was forced to bail out over the Aleutian Island chain. It seems he landed in the Bering Sea, and almost froze to death. Never did get over that dip in the ocean, it bothered him as long as he lived.” Another time he reminded me that in 1928, he presented the Deed of the Memorial Gymnasium to Governor HC Baldridge at a special ceremony and the Governor in turn handed it to the President of the University of Idaho. Father was one of four men who were given the task to raise the money to construct the building and they were so successful, that the whole structure was built and paid for with no debt to the school. I’ve looked through the Colonel’s papers and clippings many, many times and always found one I missed previously, like the one printed in the reunion of the 146th Infantry: “…WWI Veterans at Nampa, Idaho Fete”. The picnic was sponsored by the Idaho Dept. of Veterans of WWI. It was the largest gathering of veterans ever held in Idaho although weather conditions kept the attendance down to 800. Brigadier General LV Patch attended and provided the high light of the reunion. General Patch was given a tremendous standing ovation and was greeted by Salvation Army lassies, Red Cross nurses and buddies who served under him on the Mexican Border and in France". I think one of the incidents that tickled the Colonel the most was when my pony nearly killed the bulldog. The local paper carried the story and folks chuckled to see the Colonel in actual combat with the two animals. The clipping described the encounter so well, I’ll just pass on what it had to say: EQUINE AND CANINE FIGHT – A frightful combat between a Shetland pony and a 90 pound bulldog took place in the barnyard of General Patch in which the pony completely worsted his opponent and would have killed the dog had the fight not been stopped. General Patch received a fine bulldog some time ago and had chained him in a box stall in the stable. The pony was loose in the yard and started to enter that stall, and the dog regarded him as an intruder. He made a savage lunge at him, breaking a heavy two inch collar that was around his neck. The pony whirled and kicked at the dog who grabbed him by the tail but was kicked loose in another instant. Running at the pony’s head and making a jump for his throat he caught him under the lower jaw and hung on for dear life. The pony then pressed the dog down to the floor of the stable and secured a hold on the dog’s nose with is teeth. There they hung for ten minutes until the pony struck the dog with his front feet and broke his hold. Using his front feet he pinned the dog to the floor again and it looked like he would literally eat him up. Three men tried to separate the animals but it was a very dangerous undertaking in the box stall. They finally drove them out of the stable and the dog drew away as if he had had enough of the combat. He was smeared with blood from head to foot from the terrific punishment he had received but with that indomitable grit and perseverance for which the bulldog is noted he suddenly turned poiu rewqtre in our basement all crated; if and made for the pony who with distended nostrils snorted defiance and met him halfway in the renewal of the fight. The pony with lightening like rapidity would strike at the dog with his front feet and whirl and kick him as the dog maneuvered for a chance at his throat. They fought in this manner, all the way from the barnyard, to the corner of the Jacobson Park, the men unable to get them without great danger of being kicked by the pony in his rapid whirls from front to rear as he delivered his strokes and kicks upon the dog. General Patch was on his way home when he met the animals near the park. He succeeded in getting hold of the dog during a lull in the engagement and with the assistance of the others, who were witnessing the fight, stopped the combat. The dog was almost exhausted and suffering terribly from the punishment he received. The doughty little equine was as defiant as ever and would have killed the dog if the fight had gone onto the finish. Save for a severe bite on the tail and a slight wound under the chin he was not injured. The dog will be laid up sometime, until nature can make repairs. The pony is a spirited little animal and is handled by the children. No one had any idea that there was so much ginger and combativeness in his make up. It will be interesting to note what his demeanor will be should he get near another dog.” Father lived among his memories, some with sadness others with merriment.” (For the death of General LV Patch, see the Allerton Patch story). |
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