and the city of Cape Town with her suburbs” could be seen at one time, “the most beautifull [sic] sight I ever saw in my life.”3
James had never left Utah before, let alone America, and his time in South Africa not only broadened his horizons immeasurably but also taught him about life's brutal realities. James and another missionary, Elder Merrill, were sent to Port Elizabeth to tract, and the pair had to make the return journey of more than four hundred miles on bicycle. If they were lucky, they slept exhausted in barns after eating scraps, but often their requests for food and shelter met with aggressive responses from wary farmers, and they had to lie in fields and ditches, able only to dream about food.
Just before James left South Africa, the Spanish influenza pandemic reached Cape Town. Within days, huge swathes of the population were stricken, and in the poorest parts of the city the dead lay in the streets, piled up on wagons to be buried in mass graves. James was fortunate not to be infected, but he nursed many of the sick and saw his fellow missionary Victor Burlando, a Mormon baby, and many more around him die. Only on Armistice Day, a few weeks later, did anyone in Cape Town smile again.
James kept a diary during the course of his mission detailing his experiences. In his final entry—dated April 19, 1919, the day he returned home—he wrote that he met a friend at the station “who took me home in his car,” poignantly adding that he “spent the afternoon getting acquainted with my wife and children.”4
On his return, James bought out the business he had previously worked for, the Uintah Dairy Company, which had a bottling plant and a milk route. Over the next ten years, he turned it into a mini empire comprising five or six routes, a neighborhood grocery store, and a roadside lunch stand. The steely determination that had gotten him through his mission, along with his innate charm, made him a natural entrepreneur.
While his business flourished, things were more difficult at home. James had missed out on crucial years of his children's development and felt distanced from Eileen. Communication during their years apart had been almost impossible: there were no telephones, and letters were sent via China and tended to turn up in bundles of twos and threes or not at all. James felt bitter about what he had been through and turned away from the church, but Eileen (who had herself become disenchanted for the same reasons) still took the children to Sunday services. They spent little time together, as James threw himself into his work and then frustrated Eileen by spending his free time playing poker with friends.
Recognizing that their marriage was in trouble, they hoped having more children might bring them closer again. So in 1925 Jack Ashby came into the world, followed four years later by his baby brother: Hal.
William Hal Ashby had, in his own words, “an interesting childhood, as those things go.”5 Born at ten minutes past midnight on September 2, 1929, he apparently weighed an enormous fourteen pounds and already had curly blond hair. Baby Hal was delivered by Eileen's brother-in-law, Dr. Wiley Cragun, at the Ashbys' family home at 3531 Washington Boulevard and then moved to the maternity hospital on Twenty-first Street. It was love at first sight for Eileen, and from that moment onward he would always be her darling baby boy. In 1960, she wrote him a letter in anticipation of his birthday, in which her continuing devotion is touchingly apparent:
It will soon be 31 years since I first saw your dear little face. The cutest thing I ever saw. When you were 5 days old you just cried and cried day and night. I ask the nurse why you couldn't rest. She said you were colicy. But when she went out I got up and looked you over. Your poor behind was almost blistered. I changed you. Put on some old remedy I had there and informed the nurse…that I would change you from then on. You soon were sleeping and happy with the cutest fat hind end I ever saw.6
Hal and his hind end arrived the day before his father's forty-second birthday and just over two months before Eileen and James's twentieth wedding anniversary. More significantly, he was born eight weeks before the Wall Street crash that was to plunge America into the Great Depression.
Utah was one of the states worst hit by the Depression; however, the Ashbys were fortunate to escape the full impact of the crash. As Hal's father owned his own business, he was not among the many who lost their jobs, and because he owned both the Uintah Dairy Company and the grocery store, he was in a particularly strong position.
After Utah's liquor laws were relaxed in 1935, James expanded his empire by opening a drive-in beer parlor on Washington Boulevard called the Big Mug. People could drive up, drink beer for two or three hours, and then drive off again. If necessary, there were a few cots in the basement where patrons could sober up until they were fit to leave. It was a remarkably successful venture and compensated for any lean periods at the dairy or the store. At the end of the Depression, James's financial situation was comfortable enough for him and Hal to load up a wagon and take milk down to vagrants in the hobo camp on the outskirts of town.
But such father-son excursions were rare as James worked long hours at the store. Eileen, despite her devotion to little Hal, was also absent much of the time, so it was Ardith who took her younger brothers around town and to doctors' appointments and babysat whenever necessary. Because Hetz was eighteen and Ardith seventeen when Hal was born and both remained unmarried until they were in their thirties, they became like second parents to Hal and Jack. Ardith in particular did so much for them that Hal affectionately called her “Sis,” as if he almost had to remind himself that she wasn't his mother.
On the occasion of Hal's third birthday, Ardith wrote a piece on her baby brother that shows the great love she felt for him. More significantly, it reveals that aspects of his personality that he would display as a director—his charm, his temper, his intrepidity, his interest in technological gadgets, and, moreover, his ability to inspire great love and loyalty in others—were already very much at the fore:
Although Hal is now three years old I still call him my little angel from heaven. That is what he has always seemed to me. To me he is extra adorable, and of course, clever. For a child he has an extra pleasing personality. Not being backward and slightly forward he makes friends with most every one. He chatters and expresses himself so that you can't help but adore him. He has a way of flattering by telling you that you are pretty or your eyes are pretty. He is grateful for what you do for him. I love and worship him so much that I could rave on for ever, but—telling what I think of this darling little creature I forgot one or two things. First of all he has a temper. Nothing out of the ordinary, but he lets us know when he is angry or wants his way. Of course, this is natural. If he were perfect he wouldn't be such a darling.
During the first weeks and months of walking we were sure he would be a great electrician when he got older. He connected and disconnected every plug he could find and for weeks he played with an iron cord. This continued for several months, until he got so many shocks he left electric things alone.
He is still so young that it is hard to tell what he will be when he grows up. I have great hopes that he will be a good student, a leader, and have many friends.
I also wish for his advancement and that he will make something of Himself.
Love,
Hal's big sister, Ardith Ashby7
If Ardith was like a mother to Hal, then Hetz, in turn, was a father figure and a role model for Hal and Jack. He was a Scout leader, played the trumpet, and was a true gentleman, and accordingly Jack joined the Scouts, took up the trumpet, and grew up to be a gentleman like his brother. Hal, however, had a rebellious streak and as a boy lacked his brothers' discipline and commitment, though he would later have both in spades. He too took trumpet lessons and joined the Scouts but didn't last long with either.
Despite their differences, Jack and Hal were almost inseparable childhood companions. However, on one particular day around 1934, Jack was convinced
