As noted above, their first residence in Los Angeles was a small apartment on Portland Street, near the current main campus of the University of Southern California. As far as I can reconstruct from photos and documents, they must have lived there for about three years, until the latter half of 1932. Because, after my birth on 1 April 1932, in Salt Lake City, Utah 45, Dad blessed me in the nearby West Adams Ward Chapel, on 5 June 1932. 46
Our family threesome then evidently moved to larger quarters on Gramercy Place, in Gardena. I have vague recollections of this home:
At Gramercy Place, I had a mongrel dog, part chow, named Rags. He apparently bothered the neighbors so much that he eventually had to be taken elsewhere. Rags and I were bosom buddies, however. One day, I came in insisting that Mom wash out both the dog's and my mouth with soap. When she asked why, my comment was, ‘Rags bit me, so I bit him back!’ I have vague memories of two other events occurring in the Southern California area about this time. One event was an earthquake which occurred while I was asleep upstairs at the Gramercy Place home. I can remember awakening with the bouncing of the bed, and wondering what was happening. The other experience was seeing the usually very dry Los Angeles River swollen and overflowing its concrete encased banks during a flood. Upon its angry, surging currents were pieces of furniture, houses, trees and other flotsam, as I watched in company with Mom and Dad from the safety of a bridge. Having now been trained as an urologist, I was interested to learn from Mom that I had a somewhat difficult time toilet training. Mom recalls that I insisted in leaving my calling cards at favorite places behind the couch and other choice spots. I was finally housebroken, however, and have not left my calling cards around indiscriminately since.
Thus, it would appear that Mom had her hands full raising me as a young child. Moreover, relative to her other involvement at the time, I am aware that the home was always open to friends and relatives, as well. Dad’s sister, Lucile, his brother, Luther, and Mom’s brother, Jack, each boarded with them for a time while furthering their education or seeking to get established in the dynamic and exciting Southern California environment. So, she was certainly kept busy with domestic duties. To be sure, Mom and Dad were more than generous with their time and means.
Additionally, along with close relatives who eventually came to permanently reside in the area, the names of a host of their Southern California friends, near forgotten, also come to mind. And, as Dad and Mom were always outgoing and friendly in their demeanor, these people must have been closely linked to them. I have dim memories of various visits and outings with many of them during these early years: Jack and Josephine Howells, Sheldon and Mary Christenson, Luther and Velda Christenson, Romney and Melba Stewart, George and Irene Stewart, Herschel and Gwen Lund, Merlin and Edna Sant, Wally and Nora Reed, George and Florence Schiess, Rue and Bernice Tyler, Saunders, Sassenes, plus not infrequent visitors from Utah—their parents, siblings, nieces, and cousins—all anxious to experience the wonders of the new, much heralded, sun-drenched, Southern California-Shangri-La.
Indeed, during these early years now under consideration, as well as later, there are fuzzy memories of trips to the beach, to the mountains, to the desert (to see the cacti and wildflowers in bloom), Tijuana, Catalina Island, plus picnics in the parks (Griffith and Elysian) with Dad’s company. Evidently, Dad also participated in the Park View Ward Bishopric, sometime between 1932 and 1934, while living in Gardena. 47 I also faintly recall that our house was robbed one evening while we were away on a visit.
After living in Gardena for about two years, and with a shortage of experienced Church leaders in Southern California, Dad was called to be Bishop of the Santa Monica Ward, in the Hollywood Stake. He was set apart on 28 October 1934, one of the youngest bishops in the Church at the time 48, and received his Bishop’s Certificate, #2387, one month later. 49 As they had been attending another ward previous to this calling and scarcely knew anyone in Santa Monica, the new assignment occasioned some real adjustments—including moving to a new residence, in order to be closer to his flock.
Accordingly, most likely only a short time following being set apart in this new, demanding Church calling, they moved to another residence, at 1647 Carmelina Avenue, in West Los Angeles. (Interestingly, this is near the current UCLA Medical Center and Wadsworth VAH Medical Center, where I undertook my surgical/urological training some thirty years later.) We know about this location, because this is the address listed on Drew’s birth certificate (Andrew Howells Christenson), born 6 April 1936, at the Santa Monica Hospital. 50
As to Mom’s exact activities during this period, we have no record. Certainly, two, active, young sons plus a home to run would have kept her busy enough. However, it is well known by members of the Church that the role of a busy bishop’s wife is very demanding, as well. But, besides all of that, in a letter of recommendation for Dad, from his employer, H. P. Dwyer, President of the Century Metalcraft Corporation, dated 6 October 1942, we learn more facts concerning this particular period in their lives:
…. In the spring of 1936, he was promoted to District Manager in charge of the Branch Office located in Long Beach, California. This position carried the duties of hiring, training and inspiring personnel, along with managerial and administrative work. In July of 1939, he was placed in charge of the Los Angeles Branch Office which operated personnel of approximately one hundred men. This company regarded the Los Angeles Branch Offices as one of its most efficiently operated Districts…. 51
Consequently, in the spring of 1936, besides the other enumerated responsibilities, her duties as the wife of a busy business executive—requiring entertaining, and tight scheduling, etc.—would without doubt have consumed further energy and time. Nonetheless, as Dad’s committed helpmeet, she quietly pursued her supportive, behind the scenes role with loyalty and love, and the family moved forward.
Our next residence was on Redondo Avenue, in Long Beach. We probably moved there during the latter part of 1936. This is based on a set of photos taken at the Redondo Avenue property, which show Drew at about age one year, evidently just learning how to walk.
Thus, with the above statement that in the spring of 1936, he was promoted to District Manager in charge of the Branch Office located in Long Beach, California, it seems reasonable to assume that Dad served as Bishop of the Santa Monica Ward for about eighteen months (from October 1934 to perhaps April 1936) before the move.
Some personal remembrances of our Long Beach interlude are, as follows:
Later on, we moved to Long Beach where I started kindergarten. What a thrill it was to make things with a hammer and saw, play father in the playhouse, and slide down the fire pole. About this time, I received two well remembered lessons in honesty. In browsing through a five and ten cent store after school one day with my friend, I saw a small toy airplane which struck my fancy. Not having the money to pay for it, but not wanting to part with it, I put it in my pocket and left the store. Mom saw me playing with it at home, and asked where I had gotten it. Having reluctantly told her, she marched me back to the store, where much to my embarrassment I told the clerk what I had done and returned the toy. The other experience took place while we lived on Redondo [Avenue] in Long Beach. I had apparently gone to the house in back of us to ask if a friend could play. The front door of this home had glass windows. When I could get no one to respond to my doorbell ringing, I began to knock on the glass door, finally breaking one of the glass window panes. This frightened me and I ran home, thinking perhaps that no one would know who had broken the window. Upon arriving home, Dad saw the drawn expression on my face and asked what the matter was. I told him I needed him to accompany me back to face what I presumed to be the furious occupants of the back house. He said, ’No, this is your doing. You'll have to go yourself and tell the people what you have done.’ And so it was with dragging backside that I returned to face the music. It was a valuable lesson. I have fleeting recollections of other experiences. Our family went to the beach often. One day, as I was playing in the surf in a loose fitting bathing suit on the crowded beach, a large wave knocked me over and washed away my suit. After I had recovered, I came running up to Mom on the beach. Her surprised comment was, ‘Bart, where's your modesty?’ My tear-choked, frustrated, but innocent reply was, ‘The wave washed it away!’ Later on, during beach excursions early in the morning, Drew and I would ride out in the ocean beyond the breakers securely holding on around Dad's neck. It was an early lesson in faith, I suppose, since neither of us knew how to swim at the time. Dad assured us that everything would be alright, stating, ‘All you have to do is hold on tightly!’ At any rate, we thoroughly enjoyed the experience. One day shortly before Christmas time, I was playing in Mom's bedroom while she was fixing her hair. I accidentally dropped my ball under the bed, and before she could stop me had reached underneath to retrieve it. In addition to my ball, I found an unwrapped, brand new, red toy car. I'm sure that it was red. I naturally assumed that it was for me for Christmas, but wondered why Santa Claus had put it under Mom's bed before Christmas. The next day, I snuck another look under the bed, and the red car was gone. I was heart broken. My faith in Santa Claus was restored on Christmas Day, however, when Santa left a toy car–blue not red! Either the red one had been for some other little boy, as I thought that Christmas Day; or someone exchanged cars at the store, as I concluded many Christmases later. At about this same time, too, around age seven, I got my pant leg cuff caught in a picket fence which I had climbed in order to fetch my football on the other side. In jumping down, I lost my balance and fell onto my right forearm, fracturing it in two places. I remember the doctor yanking and tugging to get the bones back in place. Also, having my tonsils out, I remember the feeling of losing consciousness under the ether mask and bright lights of surgery. Awakening was tolerable, however, as the doctor had ordered that I might eat all of the ice cream that I wanted. 52
Interestingly, as I was writing this portion of the history, an unexpected DVD arrived from my cousin William H. Nelson, of San Mateo California, a film abridgement of his father’s 16 mm movies showing a Howells family reunion in Salt Lake City, Utah, during the summer of 1937. Along with Grandpa and Grandma Howells and all of Mom’s siblings, their partners, and their families, Mom, Drew, and I were also present. 53 In fact, as her youngest brother, Dan, and his bride, Quata Lindsey, were married 22 June 1937, in Salt Lake City, this family gathering might well have been convened to celebrate that special event.
Evidently, Mom had traveled alone with the two of us to the reunion—perhaps our first trip to Utah—since Dad is not pictured in the movie. Accordingly, one could surmise that he had remained in California to attend to the business and Church responsibilities mentioned previously. Nonetheless, as the youngest daughter in her family, with three older and two younger siblings, I suspect that this get-together was quite important to Mom. I can imagine that having been away from them in California for five years, she now desired to show what had been happening, as it were.
In the movie the three of us are all fashionably attired and looking our best. Along with the other women, Mom apparently has on a new flowered dress and a new hairdo. Drew, age one, the youngest child in the pictures, has curly locks, is cute and cuddly and appears to be the darling of the teenage girl cousins. I am sporting a new “white sidewalls” haircut and am decked out in white short-pants and shirt, with brown and white saddle shoes—a little “dude” from California, to be sure!
Other memories of Long Beach come to mind, as well. Mom was anxious that we stay as healthy as possible, physically, mentally and spiritually, and tried to instill good habits. Thus, I recall that after-school snacks, rather than candy and cookies, usually consisted of raw carrots, quartered lettuce heads, and raisins. (It sounds like healthy rabbit provender, now, but I came to quite enjoy the fare!) In an attempt to develop good eating habits and healthy bodies, she also taught us to eat everything on our dinner plates (Think of the poor starving children in Europe, she would say) plus how to carefully brush our teeth twice a day—to the tunes of Primary songs, such as Little Brother Vegetable and the Tooth Bug Song. As this was before the days of daily vitamins, I also remember regular spoonfuls of castor oil and cod-liver oil. Moreover, she saw to it that we got plenty of outdoor activity. Indeed, she was most diligent in pursuing all the recommended preventive-health measures for her children.
As a former school teacher, she recognized the value of early reading and phonetics, too. Therefore, as a novice scholar at the time (Drew was still a toddler), I remember her reading to us regularly, establishing a home library, frequently taking me to the public library, and stressing the value of phonetics in reading, writing and spelling. When asked how to spell a word, she always said, Sound it out. I am thankful for her energetic insistence and concern.
And as to spiritual growth and exposure, I recall her always encouraging us to be active participants in Primary and Junior Sunday School classes at Church. We learned the songs, read the scriptures, and memorized little talks and verses which were assigned periodically at various meetings. There was never any question about our attendance or involvement. Gratefully, that was what was expected, and that was what we did. Moreover, she taught us to honor our leaders, to love the scriptures, to pay our tithing, to strive for clean language and thoughts, and to serve willingly. To be sure, she was a loving, conscientious wife and mother.
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