John F. "Jack" Walz

John "Jack" Francis Walz, born in 1916, a native of Hartington, Neb., and adopted son of California, passed from this life Friday, Oct. 18, 2013, at a generous age of 97 years. Cherished by those who had the opportunity to come in contact with his wit and wisdom, Mr. Walz, as he was affectionately referred to, was a self-made man brimming with ideas and information he liked to share. One final compelling task Mr. Walz assigned for himself was as author of his life "story" from his perspective as a survivor of the Great Depression. This is the "story" of Mr. Walz as he wrote it: I was born during the early depression years and was the subject of a kidnapping in Chicago, where I had spent the last two years out of trouble. Our cleaning lady wrapped me in some blankets and took me to her place in a car to the east side of Lake Michigan. It was not a pleasure trip during the great kidnapping, but it was, coming back in the police car. Some nice people had called the police to tell them about the abduction and I was back home with my kindergarten pals on the third day. My father, a Pharmacist, in a Chicago hospital at the time, was happy with my return, but celebrations were short because of Mother's illness with the flu and being in labor with a new daughter (Mary) soon changed everything. Mother died from exhaustion according to the doctor who worked with her. After much searching, we were in great need and help, so Dad called his parents in Nebraska and they took our two older brothers, leaving Mary and me with other relatives. When the time was right, we made all of our moves as quickly as we could and then settled down with school in mind. Our high school and church were catholic and tough for me to start, but I received help as needed. When I got caught up with locals, I found myself thinking about college and my future. Time passed quickly and it was during this time the family moved back together. Then, Father married a local lady and we all moved into our own home. It was nice, but a lot of work. A large garden, an even larger yard, but it was closer to town. We must have been living right because the owner of the drugstore offered it to Dad at very good terms, which he accepted, but it was more work for me. Now I started work in the morning, then to school, then to the store and at the end of the day worked around the house and yard. I was kept very busy, but I still liked to work with the school nuns. They asked me to read from Catholic Scriptures to a combined 10-11-12th grade class each school day after noon recess, which I did for one and a half years. Great for grade passing, but I graduated with out any plans for future education. The store was a lot of work. The old fixtures had to be brought up to date. Nighttime business was very slow and even though the depression and dust bowl were still with us, someone had talked my Dad into buying a big popcorn machine for set up in the store entrance for me to operate and take care of. NO TIME TO TALK ABOUT MY EDUCATION. Things were pretty quiet in our town for the last couple months until Dad started talking about a new Studebaker car. Store sales were increasing and we needed to get out in the country more, to visit with our farmer friends, so after about a month of family taxi service, the Studebaker was loaded with supplies and pointed east. With Dad at the helm, we took off for the World's Fair in Chicago, which was in 1933. We stopped to visit old friends in Iowa and Illinois. Upon return home and bragging about the fair with friends of the family and school chums, I was overheard by one of the Nuns who wanted to know some details of the trip so, I wrote a report for my last class, which was the 12th grade. It earned me a big closing credit on my last report card. It was springtime and a cousin and a friend were both with me at our local library when the friend told us about a trip he would like to make to California. He had a lot of expectations, little money, no baggage, and no tickets. The conditions in California sounded pretty good to us, so we voted to go with him depending on parents' approval. We then had to examine some of the R.R. cars to know what we're facing during the trip. We decided what cars to shoot for. Then the freight lines signals and other details and gave it a go, via the Dakotas, Montana, Idaho, and Washington, Oregon, California. It took about 10 days. No problems, just good times. I stayed with a friend of my father's, Frank Fleming, in Los Angeles and the other two continued on home after a short visit with friends. I got a job with a painting contractor and then Thrifty Drugs in L.A., but had to leave in 6 weeks because of Dad's illness. Mother pleaded with me on the phone to come home. After a few days back home, Dad recovered. Dad and I finally had conversations about what I wanted to do. I wanted to prepare for a job in construction. We decided to go back to Chicago, join my brothers, get a job and go to school to find out what I really want to do. Dad paid into the funds needed to make the move to Chicago. The space was available at the apartment so there was nothing to keep me from job hunting, which I did until I landed with Albert Pick Company Inc. as a draftsman. Job-hunting was over. One day, one of the executives in country sales came to see me about our military status. As it turned out, we were both members of National Guard, and about to be inducted. We were, a month later, shipped to Ft. Bliss, Texas, from Chicago as part of the 202 CA, AA. There were many months of training for the men with the guns to develop accuracy with high altitude and fast moving targets such as planes and helicopters. After many months of duty in the Ft. Bliss, El Paso area, I was directed by the Army (1st Sgt.) to move troops and guns by train to the Bremerton Navy yard in Bremerton, WA via R.R. track. Had to secure all dangerous crossings en route. We arrived in good shape. I met lots of good Navy people and especially those who were improving things. One of those guys was called "Coulter," or Fred (Curly) Dixon Coulter, whose daughter, Nancy Dixon Coulter, I married. We had plenty of time to talk. John (Jack) Francis Walz is survived by his three children; John Dixon, Stephanie, and Maria, their respective spouses; and five grandchildren. Mr. Walz embodied everlasting courage and gracious humility, the qualities of a true gentleman, and to us, his children; he was a great man who will remain in our hearts forever.