Model 8 F-Class

Pages of my Life

Family History

Dad was born in Pineville, Kentucky in 1916 in a rough and dirty coal mining town. His dad, my granddad, was George Robert Franklin and his mother, Sarah Jane Knuckles, was my Grandma. Dad was given the name John Paul Franklin. When Sarah was naming Dad, she said, “this boy is going to be a preacher one day…….so I‘m going to name him ‘John Paul‘………after two of the most important men in the Bible. He had one brother that was two and a half years older. His name was Robert Edward Franklin. Robert was Granddad’s middle name and ‘Edward” was from his Great Grandfather, Edward Dearing.

My Granddad, George R Franklin Grandma Sarah

In 1914 my Granddad George could not find work locally here in the Roanoke Valley so he and his brother, Archibald, my great uncle went out to Kentucky in search of work. They were carpenters and they built several warehouses and did misc. Carpentry work. Arch did not like being away from home so he soon returned to Bedford County. Granddad George remained in Pineville and found a job as a teamster driving freight wagons for a fellow by the name of Robert Sanders. This Sanders owned a freighting and horse rental outfit in Pineville and freighted for the coal mines. He was an evil man and was a heavy drinker. He was mean as hell and had shot several men in his lifetime. Robert Sanders was married to a beautiful black haired gal of mostly Indian descent who was about 20 years younger than he was.

Granddad George worked as a teamster for Robert Sanders and the old man kept him busy on the road freighting stuff all over the place, but right off Granddad took a liking to this black haired beauty that old man Sanders abused about every chance he got. Wasn’t much Granddad could do about the situation as Miss Sarah was another mans wife. But this was about to change soon.

One day a couple of fellows came into the office of Mr. Sanders and wanted to rent a horse for dredging some sand out of the river. Mr. Sanders told them he only had one horse available at the time and that it was a mare in foul. He explained to them that under no circumstances was the mare to be put in the cold water as she might lose the foal she was carrying. The two men agreed to this and promised Mr. Sanders that the mare need not be in the water.

Robert Sanders, Grandma Sarah's first husband

Robert Sanders watch he carried the day he was shot

They took the mare and worked her a couple of days and then brought her back. A couple of days later the mare sure enough did lose the foal. Of course Mr. Sanders blamed it on the men that used her for the dredging of the sand from the river. That Saturday, Mr. Sanders, being a drinking man started in earnest to get drunk. By Sunday morning, being sufficiently fortified with corn whisky, told Sarah he was going up to see “those hoodlums” and settle up the score for causing the mare to drop the foal. Mr. Sanders always packed a long barreled Colt .45 revolver every day of his life. He made sure all six chambers had a round in it and walked the mile to the house where the two men was boarding. When he arrived there the fellows were sitting on the front porch smoking. Mr. Sanders walked through the gate and called out to them that he was there to ‘settle up’ and to send them both to hell for what they had done. Before he could get the Colt into action both men jumped up with rifles in their hands and promptly sent Mr. Sanders straight to hell. He never fired one shot. Instead of settling the score, he now lay dead in the dirt. These two men were never tried for the killing as it was considered self defense. Besides that, the general feelings about town was that the right man had been shot that Sunday morning.

Now that the picture had changed with the evil old man Sanders being removed from it, Granddad saw his chance and started courting Miss Sarah. In a few months they were married and set up housekeeping there in Pineville. Dad’s brother Robert was the first born and two and a half years later in 1916 Dad was born. Life was darn tough there in Pineville and about nine months later Grandma Sarah came down with pneumonia and never recovered. She passed away when Dad was nine months old. Dad and Uncle Robert never knew their Mother at all.

My Grandfather on Dads side, George R. Franklin while working for Mr. Sanders in Kentucky about 1909

That same year Granddad George moved back to his father John’s farm in Goodview, Virginia with Dad and Uncle Robert. He soon found a job with the Norfolk & Western Railway company in Roanoke. Granddad George then moved into a boarding house in Roanoke and left Robert and Dad with his Father John and his mom Pocahontas. My Great Grandma Poca, as she was called was a daughter of Edward Dearing. Before Granddad Robert and Uncle Arch went to Kentucky, Granddad had been courting Pauline Burkholder of Roanoke. He picked up this romance where it had been left a few year before and they were soon married. Dad and Robert would spend the summers together at Granddad John’s farm in Goodview. When Robert reached school age George would bring Robert back to live in Vinton so Robert could attend school there as George and Pauline thought the Vinton schools were better than the country schools in Bedford county where the little burg of Goodview was located. When George would come to get Robert to take him back to Vinton, Dad and Robert would run off into the woods and hide because they wanted to stay together on the farm. This happened several years in a row, sometimes George would have to return a week later to get Robert because the boys couldn’t be found and they wouldn’t come when they were called. Dad never liked Pauline and did not like living in town. When Dad became of school age, George would take him to Vinton as well as Robert, but each time Their Granddad John would drive the ten miles to Vinton, Dad would hide in the wagon and go home with his Granddad John to the farm. After this happened a few times, George finally gave in and let Dad live with his Granddad John and go to school in Goodview. So Dad grew up on the farm and went to school nearby and Uncle Robert lived in Vinton and attended the Vinton schools. Uncle Robert was like a second Father to me and my sisters and brother. He served time in the Army during the war but never saw combat. He married May Lily McLean from North Carolina, who became a schoolteacher and the boss around their house. Aunt May never had any kids nor did she want any. Her career was the most important thing in her life and took precedence over Uncle Robert’s work and everything else. Uncle Robert was a great woodworker and had a nice little shop behind his house where he spent many hours after retiring from his job at American Bridgeworks in Roanoke. Aunt May had four nieces and nephews on her side the same as Uncle Robert had me, brother Johnny and Betty and Sarah as nieces and nephews. Uncle Robert had a small farm where he raised a few head of cows but his biggest thing was the collecting of antiques. Uncle Robert an Aunt May drove to British Columbia in 1975 to visit my family and I. They were there about a week and we greatly enjoyed their visit with us. I gathered up a lot of Deer Antlers and assorted Bearskins and Coyote hides and gave them to Uncle Robert as he liked this kind of stuff. One day before they left Uncle Robert took me aside and said to me. “Richard, you know those old clocks I have in my basement…….they are all yours, I won’t be alive this time next year and I want you to have them. I have made a will, in which you and your brother and sisters will each receive one-eighth of all my property”. I was astounded by this statement as Uncle Robert was only 63 years old at the time. I said to him “ Heck, Uncle Robert, you will live a long time, there ain’t nothing wrong with you that I can see”. He told me that upon his death to come get those clocks, as they would be mine and that ended the conversation.

The next year, 1976, Uncle Robert took his old single shot shotgun that I had refinished for him many years before, and went out and sat on the porch of the old slave cabin that he had torn down, hauled home and rebuilt in his back yard and blew his brains out. This was a direct result of living his life with a woman he loved and who treated him as a piece of crap all his life. Her career was the most important thing in her life. She never bore any kids which Uncle Robert wanted badly. Some say she did get pregnant but aborted the pregnancy’s so it would not interrupt her life. Uncle Robert had wanted her to retire for several years so they could do things together and go places together. I guess Uncle Robert was tired of messing with her and shot himself on the very same day she did retire. I guess he thought this was his way of getting even with a bitch that he loved but had caused him much misery all his life. Aunt May lived on for several years, finally passing away at about 80 years of life. The property her and Uncle Robert owned was worth about five hundred thousand dollars. The will left by Uncle Robert never surfaced. Aunt May gave my brother, two sisters and I, four thousand dollars each and left everything else to her four nieces and nephews. Uncle Roberts death was very hard on my Dad, as they had always been very close. Dad , over the years had helped Uncle Robert build up his farm, helping with all the Barns and house. Uncle Robert always worked in town so Dad put up all of Uncle Roberts hay and looked after his livestock for many years.

Guess I sorta got side tracked there a bit……I’ll get back to the story now.

Granddad George had a sister whom was always called ‘Aunt Bessie’. She never married until late in life and always lived at home with Granddad John. Dad learned how to farm at an early age and was plowing fields and planting with a team of horses at the age of twelve. Grand dad John passed away when Dad was in his early teens, and left the farm to Aunt Bessie.

When Dad was 17 he joined the Army and was stationed in Hawaii at Schofield Barracks when his dad George was killed in a railroad accident. Dad was not notified of the death until three months later and did not have the opportunity to attend his Dads funeral. Dad spent four years in the Army and when he returned to the states he married my mother, Ruby Moles, in 1940. When they first married they lived at Granddad John’s farm but soon Dad purchased a hundred acre farm nearby which was called the ‘old Feather place’.

My Dad John Paul Franklin in 1944, age 28

Right after Dad and Mom moved into the old log house at their new farm, Aunt Bessie, at the age of about 40 married a drunk by the name of John Cowhig, who was about fifteen years younger than Bessie. They lived together a couple of years until Aunt Bessie died and then John sold the old home place and drank up the proceeds. My Mom says that John Cowhig didn’t know how to do anything and what he did know he was too lazy to do. Uncle Arch, Granddad’s brother once said of John Cowhig, “the extent of John Cowhig’s efforts one summer was he built three rabbit traps and fell in the creek twice”. That is how the place got out of our family and all this goings on was hard on my Dad. His Granddad John had always wanted Dad to have the farm but that was not to be.

My granddad George had an older brother named Archibald Franklin. I grew up thinking Uncle Arch was my granddad as he was always around the farm helping my dad with the building of barns, outbuildings, a dairy barn and eventually they tore down the old log house and Dad and Uncle Arch built a new cinderblock house. I and my older sister Sarah were born in the old log house but we grew up in the new one that Dad and Uncle Arch built. My younger brother Johnny and sister Betty were born in the hospital in Roanoke.

Uncle Arch was a real jokester and was always teasing us kids. He had a small farm nearby and raised Burly Tobacco. He made his own homespun twists which he added a lot of licorice to. This made the chewing tobacco smell good enough to eat, which I did try to do later on and was made deathly sick from swallowing it. This gave Uncle Arch a good laugh. Uncle Arch always carried in his pockets a big red handkerchief, a folding carpenters rule, his plug of homespun chewing tobacco, a pack of Chesterfield cigarettes, a whetstone and a good Boker Tree Brand pocket knife. I can remember seeing him many times sitting in our backyard chewing tobacco and whetting the pocket knife. Once in a while he would spit out the chew and light up one of them Chesterfields. I never remember a time the knife would not be sharp enough to shave with. Uncle Arch took great pride in having a sharp knife. He taught me how to sharpen a knife and I have always remembered to this day. Arch was a good carpenter and built many of the old one room school houses around the county. Uncle Arch bought one car in his life, A Model T Ford. He never did get the hang of driving it and tore down several fences and gates, so he sold it. Dad did learn to drive the Model T and drove Arch’s son Harry and himself around in it some before Arch sold it. Uncle Arch would carry his toolbox on his shoulder and walk many miles to build things for people. He had a team of razorback mules that I would ride to and from the fields at times an I remember it was very hard on the crotch riding these mules. Dad had a team of good horses and they possessed nice round backs that a marble could be rolled down their backbone and was easy on your butt.

Uncle Arch had two sons, Harry and Berkley. Harry was an alcoholic all his life and died the death of an alcoholic early. Berkley, whom everyone called ‘Mutt’ was into booze most of his life but became a confirmed alcoholic in his later years and died from alcohol abuse. I liked Mutt pretty good. He was a good woodworker and made many things in his little shop. He also became a Librarian and held this job for a long time. He was a collector of books and had many thousands of books. He bought a railroad caboose and made it into a place to keep books. Mutts big hang-up in life was his wife Betsy, who pulled up stakes and left him to his own devices. Mutt told me she even took the light bulbs when she left. Mutt was a second cousin on my Dads side and Betsy was a first cousin on my Moms side. Mutt never got over Betsy leaving him as he loved her always, even though he could not get his life in order so that she would live with him. He died a sad an lonely death without her. Whenever I would come in from out West to visit in Virginia I would try to always go visit with Mutt for I always thought a great deal of him.

My Mother was born Ruby James Moles. Her Dad was George Wilson Moles and her mother was Lillian Elizabeth Motley. Granddad Moles married Grandma when she was 16 years old. On the way home from the wedding Granddad stopped the buggy and took out a pint of Whisky. He broke the bottle on the wagon wheel and told Grandma that that would be the end of drinking in his life, and it was. Granddad Moles was a very religious man and lived a good life. He was an outstanding individual in the community and was thought well of by everyone all his life. Mom had five brothers and five sisters. They were Bernard, Aubrey, Edward the wild one, Alvin and George Walker, the youngest son. The girls were Princess Aurelia, Dorothy, Ruby, my Mom, Mary, my favorite Aunt whom I love as my Mother, Ellery and Rachel, the youngest girl who is only a couple of years older than I am.

Granddad & Grandma Moles, Married in 1914

Moms Dad, George W. Moles, 1912, cutting timber

George W. Moles sawmill, 1920

Grand daddy Moles Farm, 1990

All of these Aunts and Uncles have lived a good life and a Christian life which is a direct reflection on the parents that Granddaddy and Grandma Moles was to them.

Mom was the third oldest of the eleven kids. She helped to raise all the younger ones till she and Dad married in 1940. Mom is 90 now and I go see her every day. Each time she will sit and give me a history lesson of things that happened long ago. Her mind is like a book, never forgetting even the smallest detail.

Mom and Dad attended the same grade school in a little one room school house. Mom and her sisters walked the mile and a half each day to and from school, thru rain, snow sleet and the mud. Dad had it a bit easier as he lived about a half mile from the school and did not have so far to walk. During those years around 1926 there were no gravel or paved roads. Every road was just a dirt road and in rainstorms and in wintertime they became a quagmire of mud. Here in this part of Virginia the soil is a dark red and made a very dirty sticky mud that showed up everywhere and was hard to clean off your shoes and boots.

Here at grade school in 1926, Mom met my Dad. She fell in love with him then, at about the age of seven or eight. She thought Dad was the most handsome boy she had ever saw, with his coal black hair and handsome good looks. She felt that Dad never ever noticed her, as he was older and they never hardly talked. Mom and Dad attended this school to about the eighth grade. They then went to the High School at Stewartsville. Moms older sisters, Aurelia and Dorothy walked about three miles to this school each day but the year Mom started there Granddad Moles purchased a School bus, which was one of the first in the county. So Mom got to ride the school bus until she Graduated from High School. She also got to ride the School bus to town, to Church and every where Granddad took them as it was their first motor vehicle and it became a family car as well. Granddad bought the Ford truck chassis and drove it into North Carolina and had the bus body hand built onto the Ford chassis. Nobody made School buses at that time. Mom learned to drive on this school bus and could drive it as well as anyone.

Dad left School and joined the Army when he was about 17 which would have been around 1935. He spent four years in the Army as there was not much work to be had in civilian life and especially around Chamblissburg, Virginia. In 1939 he came home and soon started dating Mom. Things got serious and so one day they were driving down the road from Vinton to Chamblissburg in Dads Ford Coupe, Dad pulled off the road to a side road. He had with him pictures of all his old girlfriends. He tore all these up and threw them away. He told Mom they was gone forever and asked her to marry him. Of course Mom was very happy to accept his offer and they were married in Beaverdam Church in 1940. For their honeymoon they drove the one hundred miles to Wytheville, Virginia and spent a night in the Hotel there.

Man………I’m glad my Mom married my Dad………..

My parents, John Paul & Ruby James Franklin, about 1944

Mom and Dad lived for a while at my Great Granddaddy Johns farm ( which is just about a half mile down the hollow from where I am now sitting writing about it). They soon purchased a one hundred acre farm which was all growed up in timber and brush, with big red gullies all over it. Uncle Arch told Dad, “Paul, you will never make a living on that place…..its just all rocks and gullies”. Dad set to work sawing timber with a crosscut saw and clearing the land by hand. Uncle Arch helped him build a barn and later on, a new house. The house that was on the place was an old log home built before the Civil war and the wind just kind of “blew through the house” as Mom put it. Sarah, my older sister was born here in 1941 and I came along in 1943. It was a very cold day in May that I came into the world. Dad had to go to Uncle Arch’s house and borrow a tin heater to get some heat into the room. Dr. Potter Richards was the Doc that bought me into the world. He told Mom, “Ruby, this is about the most healthiest boy I ever saw”. Of course he did not mention to Mom that he had to take away the pistol I had in my hand when I came out of the womb……………hehe. My brother Johnny and sister Betty were later on born at the hospital in Roanoke.

Right after I was born, the war in Europe was heating up and they was all getting ready for D-day. They were calling for volunteers and as Dad had fours years experience in the Army, he felt it was his duty to go. Dad was soon shipped overseas where he went across the Normandy beach two months after D-day. He fought across France and into Germany where he somehow manage to survive the Battle of the Hurtgen Forest. He said that on two occasions they were down to only a handful of men before new recruits came in. He was badly wounded here and that was the end of the war for him. He spent four months in the hospital in England and another eight months in Belgium guarding German POWs before coming back to the farm in Bedford County. He was awarded the Bronze and Silver stars as well as two Purple Hearts. Dad was a changed man after the war. He no longer enjoyed hunting and did not enjoys guns as he did before the war. Dad hardly ever talked about his experiences in the war, and when he did he would get tears in his eyes and have to stop.

Dad went back to work trying to make a go of it on the Farm. He cleared most of the land and eventually built a Dairy Barn and some Silos. He transformed the pile of rocks and red gullies into one of the best looking Dairy Farms in Bedford County. He attended night classes on Dairy and farming in general. He eventually attended a Veterinarian school in Ohio and became his own veterinarian and a Vet. for all the neighbors cows.

Dads farm where I grew up. Picture taken about 1990, 32 years after Dad sold it and bought a larger farm nearby

In 1957 Dad decided he had outgrown the hundred acre farm and sold it and bought a much larger farm down the road about 30 miles. It was mostly cleared but had no barns or fences. Johnnie and I was big enough at this time to help with the work. We built a milking parlor and a huge Hay barn with a tramp shed under the hayloft. We built a grainery and other outbuildings and many miles of new barbwire fencing. Dad transformed this farm into a model farm. All us kids grew up here and left here to go out into the world on our own.

Dad had always felt a need to become a preacher and so in 1966 after all us kids were on our own he and Mom sold the farm and went to Fruitland Bible College in North Carolina. Mom attended every class that Dad did and both graduated with Associates degrees. I remember that Dad sold all the dairy cows, equipment, machinery and land for a total of fifty five thousand dollars. After paying off his debt, he had about twelve thousand left. That’s TWELVE THOUSAND DOLLARS for 26 years of hard labor. That figures out to be EIGHTY-THREE DOLLARS A MONTH.

Dad took a Baptist Church at Rustburg, Va. And never looked back after this. He kept on furthering his education until he obtained a Doctorate degree in Theology. He held pastor ship at eight Baptist Churches over the years and in many different parts of Virginia and Maryland.

Dad, coming home from church, 1995

Johnnie also eventually went to Bible college and became a Baptist preacher. He preached for several years and held several pastor ships until his wife Brenda decided her career was more important than Johnnie’s preaching. She had worked her way up in the lab at Lynchburg General Hospital and was, she thought, making more money than Johnnie ever would preaching. So Johnnie succumbed to Brenda’s will, letting her rule the roost. He eventually took a job at Liberty University in Lynchburg on Jerry Falwells campus police force, where he still works today. He fast became good friends with Jerry and Macel and took over the guarding of Jerry’s home in Lynchburg. Jerry passed away a year or so ago but Macel does not want Johnnie to leave. He has mentioned he would like to get another Church and go back to preaching, but I believe he would have to get a divorce before this could happen.

Johnnie and Brenda had two girls, Rachel and Elizabeth. He and Brenda sent both girls to the best college’s available. Today in 2009 Rachel is married and Elizabeth is furthering her education. Brenda is head cheese in the Lab at the hospital.

Johnnie is the only person in this world who ever succeeded in giving me a “bloody nose” at about the age of 15. Johnnie was always quick-tempered and would fight at the drop of a hat. I usually took a little more prodding before I got mad.

Sarah married her high school Sweetheart Garry Patsel. They had two sweet girls, Angelia and Julie. Garry was a woman chaser and the marriage only lasted about three years. Sarah then married a devil in disguise and has been in misery since. She has two daughters, Rebecca and Felicia and a son, David, by this man, Paul Hair. Today Sarah is separated from Paul and lives in her own home near Baltimore, Maryland. Felicia is a drug addict, about 30 years old and David, who is about 25, has mental deficiencies and is addicted to a hardcore computer game he has been playing since about the age of 14. Both addicts still live and mooch off their dear and good Mother, and she, out of the tender heart she has, refuses to kick them out into the world. Both children are Demon-ridden and are slowly killing their mother, who is my sister.

And then there is Betty, my youngest sister. Betty was the only one of us four kids to attend College. She graduated and became a School teacher. Betty married a classmate she met at college, Dwight Edmonds. Her and Dwight had one son, Jeremy. Betty soon divorced Dwight about 1980 or so. She has lived the rest of her life alone. She obtained custody of Jeremy and raised him to be a fine outstanding young man. When Jeremy became eighteen he got a good job and saved five hundred dollars and bought his first car. He had not had it long when he was killed in an accident with it in 1992. His death nearly destroyed Betty. She has struggled many years with it. Today I believe she has come a long way. She lives with Mom and looks after her, devoting her whole life to her Mother as she did to our Dad when he was alive, these last ten years. Betty has spent many a long night at the Hospitals sitting with both Mom and or Dad when no one else could or would do it, I live nearby and Betty does many things for me as well. I am a bachelor and everyone knows bachelors have a hard time looking after themselves.

Dad preached nearly every Sunday and eventually began a successful correspondent Christian School. He had many graduates all over the world and did this in his spare time for many years. Finally at age 80 he stopped preaching regularly. He sat around for a month or two and did not like that. He then went back to School and earned a license to sell Real Estate. He always kept up with farming and livestock and decided he wanted to sell a few farms. After getting his license he went into Town one day to talk to a Real Estate Agent about getting his own office and selling Farms. The Real Estate agent told Dad that he would have to work for several years under another Real Estate office before he could begin his own. When he got back home, Mom asked him how it went. Dad told her what the agent had told him, finally saying, “Heck, Ruby, I have never worked for another man and I’m darn sure I am not going to start now” So that was the end of selling real Estate for Dad.

In 1963 I married my High School Sweetheart. Her name was Loretta Faye Clark. She was a five foot 100 pound red-haired beauty and the love of my life. She was a very cheerful outgoing gal that made friends easily. She had two brothers, Cedric Odell Jr. who we all called ‘Junior” and a younger brother David. She had an older sister whose name was Shirley.

Richard, 20 & and Loretta, 18, 1963,

We were married in Loretta’s parents home in 1963, She was 18 and I was 20. Kids, we were for sure. I gave the preacher ten bucks for marrying us. I had no car then so borrowed Dads car to drive home to a rented house from the wedding. David, being a smart ass, had let the air out of the tires. I wanted to tromp him right then and there but the families would not let me. We never had a Honeymoon and went to work the following day. Curtis, our oldest son was born that November. He was a happy go-lucky kid from that first day. That was the November that John Kennedy was shot. Even today when I think of one, I think of the other.

Christopher, Loretta & Curtis, 1973

I worked then in a textile mill in Bedford called the woolen mill. I had been there for a couple of months when one night on the graveyard shift I went out on the fire escape for a smoke like we always did. The Boss came out after me and told me the rules had been changed and there was to be no more smoking. I said to him, “ well, boss, I reckon you can go fill out my time. I’m just gonna go on down this fire escape and get my car and go home, I ain’t never liked it none here anyway”. And so I did.

My next job was in another textile mill in the little town of Altavista, Virginia. I worked here for about a year until the grass turned green in the spring and the weather got warm again. Driving home one day, I figured I would like to go fishing the next day. So I went fishing and never went back to that job either.

My family raised holy crap about me quitting , said a man had to work to support his family. Well, I knowed a man had to work, but I also knowed I was not about to spend my life in a darn ole textile mill, heck I wanted to be outside, like on the farm where you could cut a good one and the wind would carry the smell away from you, not linger around like it did inside of a textile plant where there was no wind. I went fishing for a week or two that spring and then found a job as a carpenters helper in Roanoke with a nice fellow by the name of Onnie Williamson, who lived up the road a few miles from my Dads farm. I went to work for Onnie and that was the beginning of my life’s work. It was outside and I was learning how to do something good, to make things with my hands, which I always enjoyed.

While growing up my folks never had much money and could not afford to buy toys and unnecessary things for us kids, so I learned to make about everything I played with. I made ice skates from the runners of an old sleigh-riding sled that worked great. I made snow skis from rough oak 1 X 4s. I went many a mile on them. I built a Canoe once from popular poles and covered it with burlap. I coated it all with a five gallon pail of tar my Dad gave me. When it was done Dad hauled it over to our fish pond on a trailer behind the tractor. We put it in the water and it immediately sank to the bottom. I think I worked on that thing all winter. I was maybe twelve at the time. Another time I built a nice Bow and a set of arrows. I made the Bow from a piece of Hickory, which was tough as steel, carving it with Dads drawknife and my pocket knife. I wrapped leather around the handle for the grip. It was a nice shaped bow with flat limbs. It was so strong that the only thing that would take the pull was to use a piece of the electric fence wire that was to found on any farm. I made the arrows from the straight shoots that grew in the hedge by our yard. They was tough and straight. I feathered them with feathers from Moms chickens and put twenty penny nails on the fronts for points. I wrapped the arrow and nails with fine stout fishing string and then soaked the string with glue. These things shot wonderfully straight and far, far away. Maybe three hundred yards. I remember one day Betty was sitting in the backyard on a blanket. I was shooting at a target on the house about 30 feet away. She was kinda in the line of fire and I eventually stuck an arrow in her shoulder, the nail being buried right up to the wood. I seen this was bad and not wanting anyone to see the arrow sticking in her, I ran over and jerked it out. Blood was flowing freely from the wound but soon there would be tears flowing freely from my eyes as my Dad lost no time in tuning me up a bit.

It must have been the following Christmas that one of my buddies, Eugene Blount, who lived about a half-mile up the road came down on Christmas morning to show me the factory fiberglass bow and arrows that his parents had given him for Christmas. Eugene’s family was better off than mine was and bought him a lot of good things for Christmas. We went out into the Alfalfa field and Eugene would shoot his arrows, bragging on how far they would go. He would not let me lay a finger on the bow so I went to the house and got my home made bow and arrows. I knew it would out distance Eugene’s bow easily, and proceeded to shoot about twice as far as Eugene could. He didn’t think this was fair play and took his factory bow and arrows and went home.

Well, anyway, I went on an growed up and got married. Our second son, Christopher was born on August 16^th 1966. I was at the little dirt go-cart race track about a mile from home when I was called that Loretta had to go to the hospital to have Chris. I rushed home and got her into the car and to the Hospital we went. She got all fixed up there with a room and since she wasn’t ready to have Chris yet, I went back home. About sundown I got on the Yamaha Bike I had and went in to see her. Chris was born and looked like any other baby. All wrinkled and red. I stayed awhile and finally left for home on the bike. It was a bit cold after sundown on the bike and I stopped at the edge of town and put on my jacket. I took off in a roar down the road and into a left hand curve. I had forgotten to put the kickstand up and it hit the pavement and nearly upset me. I had to go in a straight line, all the while trying to get the kickstand to fold up out of the way. I ran out of road before I could get this done and shot out over a high bank into a cornfield. The corn was nearly grown and it broke my fall some. I lay there for a while trying to get my wits back, feeling to see how many bones I had broken. Finally deciding I was still in one piece I pushed the bike back up onto the road. The starting pedal was broken and the headlight shone straight up. The front fender rubbed the tire and the gearshift lever was also broke off. I put the thing in second gear with my hand and pushed it and darn if it didn’t start, I was running along beside it so I just jumped on and drove the 10 miles home in the second gear. I found I did not like motorcycles, as they would hurt you in an instant and I didn’t like being hurt unnecessarily, so I traded the bike for a pool table. I figured the pool table was more safer if I didn’t abuse it. I did almost get hurt one time messing with the pool table. Douglas Howell, a friend since High School came over one Saturday night. He had cashed his paycheck, so we played for money well into the night. I won all his paycheck and he got real upset and wanted it back. I figured I had won it fair and square so I refused to give it back to him. He started pushing me around and saying bad things so I just gave him a shot in the nose. He just laid down for a few minutes and when he got his wits about him, he called up the stairs to his wife Carol, who was up there playing cards with Loretta. “Carol…….get your butt down here…..we’re going home. We never was much friends after that and many years later he came to see me and I ran him off and told him not to come back. I did not like the lifestyle he was leading.

The Smith Mountain Power Dam had just been built in 1963 and the first marina was under construction near Moneta. As I liked the water and boats I went over there and got a job on the building of the Marina. After the construction work was all done, the owner hired me as a mechanic and a boat refinisher. I worked there about two years, eventually becoming shop foreman and learning to completely refinish all the woodwork and to re-paint the 40 to 50 foot cabin cruisers. I bought a mobile home and parked it there at the end of the shop and Loretta, Curtis, Chris and I lived there. Eventually they hired a Northern Yankee to come be boss of the Marina. I did not see eye to eye with him so I quit. I moved the Mobile home down near Lynchburg, Virginia where Dad had his first church. One of his Church members was a contractor and my brother Johnnie and I went to work in Lynchburg for Gene Vaughan as Carpenters. Gene was about the best carpenter I ever ran into and he taught me a lot of the tricks of the trade. One time I came in from British Columbia and brought a Elk head I had mounted. I was going to sell it but as I could not get a decent offer I took it down to Gene’s and gave it to him with the understanding that if I ever wanted it back that he would return it. It was a nice Royal 6-point Elk. I don’t remember what it scored but I do remember that all four brow tines was each about 20” long. Many years later after I returned to Virginia to live I went to see Gene. He was now an old man and his memory was getting bad as I was soon to see. We were sitting in his living room and the Elk head was still there on the wall. I was going to ask Gene if I could have it back but as we were sitting there talking Gene started telling me about the nice Elk he had went to Colorado years before and shot. He motioned to the head on the wall. I allowed as to the fact it was a nice Elk. I did not have the heart to tell him that it was the one I had given to him about 23 years ago. A year or two later Gene passed away and I guess his wife either gave the head away or it is still hanging there on the wall.

I was working for Gene in 1968 when I got the idea to move to BC to live. The story of that move is written elsewhere in this book and I will not repeat it here now. I, my wife, Loretta and Curtis and Chris moved to British Columbia, Canada in 1969. We had to immigrate in order to be legal residents there. Soon after arriving there I went in with three other fellows and purchased about a hundred acres of land near Galloway, BC. Their names were Doug Prutton, Paul Toma and Brian Ironmonger who I have written about here somewhere. Doug crossed over the Great Divide back in the 90s sometime. I don’t know what ever became of Paul Toma. His wife Melanie and Loretta was good friends during those years. Brian and I have remained great friends over the years and still keep in touch today, 2009.

We subdivided the place into four parcels, each ending up with about 20 acres each. Loretta and I built a home here and lived there about eight years, finally selling it in 1978. If my memory is right we got about $55,000.00 for it. We then moved to Maryland for a year to be near my parents. After the year was up we could no longer stand living in the populated Eastern part of the country so we moved to Kalispell, Montana. I was content to stay on in Kalispell and work there but Loretta would not have any part of it, she wanted to return to Cranbrook, BC where her friends were. We rented a house in Kalispell and the kids went to School there one winter. The next Spring we moved back to Cranbrook, BC. I belonged to the Untied Brotherhood of Carpenters and Joiners and there was lots of Union work at the time. I was working on the construction of the Greenhill’s Coal mine near Elkford BC in 1981. There I was involved in an accident and had my left foot and ankle busted up pretty bad. I was hauled in the back of a pickup to the little town of Elkford where there was a medical clinic. Here they gave me Morphine and I had to wait for an ambulance to arrive from Sparwood, the next town down the road. While waiting I called Loretta and asked her to meet me at the Hospital in Cranbrook in about three hours. She asked me what was wrong and I told her I had smashed my big toe, that all was fine otherwise. Finally the ambulance came from Sparwood and hauled me there where I had to await another Ambulance from Cranbrook to pick me up and take me on into Cranbrook. I believe it was about four hours later that I finally arrived at the Hospital in Cranbrook. Loretta and the boys was there waiting for me. When she saw my leg and foot she nearly fainted. I was laid up in the Hospital for about a week or so, then I was allowed to go home. In about 4 months the Company I was working for, NCI of Minnesota who was doing the slip forming on the coal silos asked me to come back to work and do takeoffs from the blueprints in the office for them. I returned to work and after a month or so I could get round on a cane so they made me a foreman out on the jobsite. I stayed on this job until it was wrapped up and then went down into the Dakota country in the US and helped build more silos there on a coal seam where they was building a new Thermal plant. When This job was finished I returned to Cranbrook.

Loretta and I rented a house in Marysville, a little town North of Cranbrook for one year. I then made a deal with a fellow to buy five acres of land from him down on the bottomland of the St. Mary’s river near Wycliffe which was between Marysville and Cranbrook. I sold the Ford Van that we bought new in 1979 and used $5000.00 of the proceeds to make a down payment on the five acres. There was enough left to buy Loretta an old beater of a car so she could get to work each day in Cranbrook. Well, she did not agree with what I had done and absolutely hated the old yellow Buick I had bought for her. It was a good running car but was ugly as sin. I continued to work Union jobs and saved money to build a house. I started the house but soon would run out of money. Every time I got a paycheck I would buy a little lumber out of it and build some more. Eventually the house was in good enough shape that we could live in the basement that winter. Right after buying the land I went into the bush where I knew there was an old forestry cabin that was in pretty good shape. The boys and I took it apart and floated the logs across a Beaver pond to the truck and hauled them home and I rebuilt the cabin there. I rebuilt it with a Gambrel roof like a barn so we could have a loft or bedroom upstairs. I had a wall tent which was about a 12 X 14 which I put up for the boys to stay in. I laid a floor of ¾” plywood and built plywood walls about two feet high and then set up the wall tent on this. It made plenty of room and was even enough room to store a few things. Curtis and Chris put up an American flag on the top and said we were American pioneers. And I guess we were.

Our home at Wycliffe, BC, 1992

We eventually completed the house, even building on a big woodworking shop on one end. I built a lot of furniture and kitchen cabinets here over the years. Loretta was working at a Safeway grocery store in Cranbrook. She went to work there in 1980 after moving up from Kalispell, Montana. In 1986 She decided she wanted to “go find herself” and rented an apartment in Cranbrook and moved out. I told her I would not help her move but that she could take anything she wanted, that she could use the pickup if she could get one of the boys to drive it for her. I remember it was about 2 feet of snow on the ground and cold as blue blazes that day. I stood in the shop and watched as Loretta and her best friend Carol loaded the truck. Although my memory of that sad day is cloudy I believe that Curtis came and helped and drove the truck for her. That was the worst day of my life up to that time. I never ever had any doubts that I would not always be happily married to her.

There was not any construction work around Cranbrook in those years. A lot of Carpenters was going out East to Toronto, Ontario where there was a housing boom going on. I decided to go myself as I needed to work. I rented the house out and Curtis went with me an two other carpenters to Toronto. We found work the first day we got there framing houses. We lived that summer in Indian Line Campground but when the weather got cold in the fall I rented a house and all the boys paid me rent to live there. We worked every day during the winter framing houses. We all bought cork boots so we could walk the walls and roof with all the ice on them. We had to go buy a new step ladder every week as the cork boots really ate them up quick.

Chris was still in High School when we had left for Toronto so he went into Cranbrook and spent the winter with Loretta in her apartment. In June when he graduated I sent him a plane ticket and he came to Toronto to work for me. We split the crew up with Tony Lund and Howie McLarnum going on their own and Chris, Curtis and I going on our own. Chris and Curtis learned a lot about carpentry during that time. I have to say it was a learning curve for me as well. There was lots of trying times teaching the boys to be good carpenters and I was living all the time with my own personal hell inside of me. I believe that in the two years that I framed houses in Toronto that I made 14 trips back to BC to see Loretta. Each time it was a wasted trip and I would go back to Toronto with a busted heart.

Finally I decided to move on back to BC where the Union work had picked up a bit. I moved the renters out of the house and moved back in. About this time Loretta figured that she had “found herself” and wanted to live with me again. So she came back home after about a two year absence. I wanted it to work for us and tried hard. Loretta thought she could have me and keep doing the things she had done when living by herself. Things got to a point where neither of us was happy. I finally told her that I loved her but could not live with her unless she changed some. She decided to move back into town. The only place available was that same crummy apartment she had the first time she moved out. but she moved back into it. We agreed to sell the place at Wycliffe which we did. We got about $95,000.00 for it in 1990. After paying off what we owed on it we each ended up with about $37,000.00. I remember the day we went to get the checks at the lawyers office. Loretta was bawling her eyes out. It was a tough day for both of us as we knew right there that it was about over for us. I bought another piece of land at Wycliffe and built a little apartment to live in and framed up a house with a woodworking shop in half of the building.

That winter Chris and I was working a Union job at the Pulp Mill near Skookumchuck. One day the RCMP came to the jobsite and want to see me and Chris. I knew what they had to say before they opened their mouths. Loretta had passed away two days before, there in the apartment in Cranbrook on March 24^th, 1992. I was in no shape to drive so Chris drove me home. It was a very hard time on the boys and I. My Dad, Mom and betty flew up from Virginia and Dad preached Loretta’s funeral. How many parents would have done that. I thank them from the bottom of my heart for what they did for us at the time of Loretta’s death.

I buried Loretta in the little graveyard near Fort Steele British Columbia in 1992, in the morning shadow of Fisher Peak

Her Picture is in the copper frame I made for her. On the lid are these words

In loving Memory

Loretta Faye Clark Franklin

Born in Virginia, January 24th, 1945

A true Southern Belle

Wife, Mother & a friend so dear

You went home to Heaven

March, 24, 1992

We love you, we miss you

You will always be in our hearts

Happy trails to you, til we meet again

I was off work for about 10 days and the job called and said if I wanted a job I better come back. I went and worked there until spring, at which time I took my retirement from the Carpenters Union. I went to the bank and borrowed enough money to make the house I had framed up into a nice home. I worked on it until about fall of that year, completing it and then sold the place to a former RCMP cop for about $187,000.00. After paying the bank off I had about $145,000.00 left. There was a housing boom on in the area at the time and I thought I could make a big bunch of money by building a $300.000.00 house in Cranbrook. I had to borrow $100.000.00 from the Bank to get the house there finished. By the time I finished the house, the boom had left and I was left holding the house and a hundred thousand dollar mortgage on it. I lived in the house for awhile. I finally took a new lower cost house in on trade for the big house and eventually sold that one. After all was said and done I had about $25,000.00 in my jeans. I then bought a small lot in Marysville and I built a small house there and lived it until it sold. I then bought another empty lot further down the street and built the green house, as I called it. I continued to build houses for other people till 1999. I never made much money at it but it kept the wolf away from the door. I built an apartment on the back of the green house which helped pay the mortgage. Which was, I think about $700.00 a month.

In the spring of 1999 my Mother phoned me and said Dad had a stroke and was in the hospital in Fredericksburg where they were living at the time. Dad was just 82 years old. They thought that Dad would not last very long. I got on a plane in Spokane and was back East in about three days. Dad was in extensive care in the Fredericksburg hospital and it did not appear that he would last the week. I stayed there with Mom for a few weeks. We never ever left Dad alone without one of us being at his side 24 hours a day. When I left to go back to BC it looked as if there was some hope for Dad. He was still in a coma but was responding to the Doctors efforts. At least that’s what they told me. I went back to BC and finished up a house I was working on. A month later Dad had come out of the coma and the family decided they wanted to move Dad back to Bedford County and put him in the VA hospital in Roanoke. I flew back to Virginia and went to Bedford County and searched for a house for Mom. I finally found something suitable near Vinton. It was close to Moms home place and also close to the first farm Dad and mom had bought in 1940 in Chamblissburg. Using the money Dad had saved over the years, we bought the house and Dad was moved to the VA in Roanoke. Johnnie and I put up for sale the house in Fredericksburg and moved all of their belongings to the new house in Vinton, Virginia. After getting Mom settled in the new house I returned to BC. I was not there long before Dad was allowed to go home. He was completely paralyzed on the left side and could not talk much. He had lost a lot of memory and could not form a sentence any more. Mom did not care about this, she was only too glad he was alive and she could have him for a while longer.

Dad & Mom, 2005, after the stroke

Sometime that spring a piece of property came up for sale just across the highway from Dads old farm. It was seven acres with a modest brick house on it. Mom bought it as soon as she saw it. It was not enough room to keep Dad there so I made up my mind to go back to Vitginia for awhile and add enough room on the house so we could keep Dad there. So I bought a newer pickup and loaded all my carpenters tools into it along with my best friend Louie, my dog and headed South for Virginia, not knowing what the future would hold for me.

I started work on the old brick house and began to add on about another 1200 square feet. My back played out that winter and I was in bad shape. I had an operation in 1990 and had some disc removed and now I was back to square one. I ended up in the emergency room in Roanoke Memorial Hospital and they thinking I was a Canadian, threw me out and charged me a thousand bucks for my short half-hour stay. Sister Betty was with me that night and she was LIVID to say the least. She went up one side of them people and down the other side. If she had been a man, she would have decked them all. I eventually had to have my brother Johnnie fly with me back to BC to push me thru the Airports in a wheelchair. I was in bad shape and was taking a lot of pain killers. I don’t remember much of this trip. My good friend Roy Petterpiece met us at the airport in Spokane, Washington and drove us across the Canadian border to Cranbrook. I went the next day to see my Doctor there in Cranbrook. He was a little bitty fellow but was quite wise in the way of Doctors. He told me that I had arthritis in my back and that if I would take the medicine he prescribed that I would eventually get back to normal. Johnnie was taken by Roy down to Sandpoint, Idaho where he got on an Eastbound train back to Virginia. He later told me that it was the worst trip of his life. He had to sleep in a chair as he could not afford a sleeper. It was about five days before he finally arrived back in Lynchburg, Virginia.

I stayed on in the house at Marysville for another three weeks or so. I could feel myself getting better an I thought I could make the trip by air back to Virginia by myself. The house there was not even half way completed. I got a ticket and Roy hauled me back to Spokane and put me on a plane to Virginia. I was suffering, but I had my mind made up that this was what I was going to do. Good ole Roy, he was like a son to me in a lot of ways and I thank him from the bottom of my heart for all the help he has given in many ways.

I finished the big addition on the house and completely remodeled the old part of it. Mostly from a wheelchair. I had a couple of fellows working and Johnnie was there about all the time. When the walls was raised no body could cut the rafters, so I managed to climb up onto the old roof and had them bring me the 2 X 6s and hold them for me and I cut every one. Someone had to put the skill saw in my hand for each cut. I don’t know how I did it but we got it all done. Every day my back got better even though I was abusing it. I did all the trim work and built all new kitchen cabinets for Mom. When it was finished we moved Mom and Dad into it. I bunked in the basement. Betty had a room upstairs.

My sister Sarah came down from Maryland during this time and helped with Dad. She bought a mobile home and set it up in the back yard and so was nearby for the first two years. She finally decide to go back home to Maryland and we rented her mobile home out. My back was pretty well healed by this time and I designed and built a big house for my cousin, Danny Moles. After this was done I built another house for another fellow and did a few additions for other people. Chris flew back here that year and helped me finish a couple of jobs before returning to BC. I am so glad he came and worked that summer. It was an inspiration to him to move his family to Virginia later. During this time I put my house in BC up for sale and sold it. After I sold the house and apartment I sort of figured I was in Virginia to stay.

I was tired of building houses and construction work. I was now 56 years old and it was about time I done something I had wanted to for a long time. I bought a metal lathe and a milling machine and taught myself how to build rifles. I never looked back from the beginning of this. I worked many long and hard hours. I had a website built and this made my business. I worked at this for two years and was starting to make some money at it. I loved building rifles but the old heartstrings was still pulling at me. I missed British Columbia. My two sons was there with all my Grandkids. I finally decided to sell everything I owned and return to BC for good. Johnnie made that road trip back to BC with me. He had never seen any part of the West, so we took the long way around by Arizona and then up the Salt Lake Valley to Missoula, Montana, where we turned North up route 95 to Cranbrook BC. I rented a mobile home in Canal Flats BC where Curtis lived and Chris was nearby at Windermere. Johnnie was taken down to Spokane and put on a plane for Virginia. He might have stayed there about 10 days with me.

I went to the Union Hall and signed up again and they put my name back on the hiring board. In a couple of weeks they called and told me I had been dispatched to a carpenter job at one of the Coal Mines in the Elk Valley. I got to thinking that I just did not want to do any more of that work any more. I decided I wanted to be a Rifle smith. And to be a Rifle smith I could not do it in Canada, I would only have a chance of success in a free country where about everyone owned guns and cherished them. I did not have to think long on this. I called the Union Hall the next day and told them I would not be taking that job and that they might as well remove me from the hiring board. They complained a bit and I told them to do whatever……that I no longer cared what they did…..now ….or ever.

Over the next couple of days I set my affairs straight and loaded up and headed out for Virginia……one last time. It was a hard choice as I would be leaving the boys and the grandkids behind. I Knew also that Mom and Dad needed me there to help them. It was a winter drive, that last trip, and a tough one but I made it in due time and as soon as I arrived in Virginia I set about enlarging the shop I had built there and bought more machinery for the making of rifles. I designed and built a stock duplicator from scratch and also a gluing press which enabled me to make laminated stocks. I just kept on getting on and soon I was making a little money. I worked hard for a couple of years and was finally for the first time I my life was able to actually save a bit of money.

On January 22, 2006, Dad condition worsened and he passed away at home about 5:00 in the morning. Johnnie, Betty and Mom was with him. They called me, and I went over to the big house. It was sad, but we all knew that we lost Dad the day he had the stroke and we all had said our goodbyes. The funeral was at Beaverdam Church in the old part where Dad and Mom had stood 66 years before and was married. Jerry Falwell was supposed to preach the funeral but had other responsibilities that day so Johnnie preached the funeral and I am so glad he did. I have never heard a funeral preached so well. Johnnie did a magnificent job of it and we were all pleased.

I do not know how Mom held up so long caring for Dad. It was a tremendous job, She had to change his diapers several times a day and make sure he was fed and comfortable. I thought that She would die first and I believe she would have if Dad had not gone when he did. Mom showed us all what real love is. I never knew that someone could love their spouse as she love my Dad. She had cared for him for seven long years, being there every minute of that time for him. Mom is an Angel to say the least. I am so glad that I came home and was here for the last years of Dads life and here to help Mom through the hard times. I had been living out west for thirty years and had done nothing for them but visit occasionally. When Dad had the stroke I had nothing in BC to hold me and I figured I owed them so I decided right there to devote my life and time to them as long as they needed me.

That spring of 2007 I started building a new house on the four acres I had bought off Moms place. I hired some of the work done but did most of it myself. Finally I had it complete and moved into it in October of 2007.

In January of 2008 I took the whole month and completed the new rifle shop which was in the West end of the house. I moved all the equipment and machinery in from the old shop and set it up, finally getting into production about the first of February. And I can say that it was a beautiful shop and work space. I merely had to walk from the living room through the office to be in the shop. The temperature was always warm and it was bright and sunny there. I have now worked at building rifles for nine years.

New shop, 2008

When I built the house I super insulated it and with all the windows on the south side it was heated to a large extent with passive solar with the sun coming in through all the windows. I built about 33 rifles here from January through December, 2008.

Curtis and Chris have both grown up and now have families of their own. Both are fine young men and both are good carpenters and make their living building with their hands. Curtis still lives in British Columbia. He and his wife, Heike, have been separated for some years now. They gave me two grand kids, both girls. They are Olivia and Sierra. Olivia graduated from High School last year and is now on her own. Sierra has a couple of more years before she graduates. Both are fine pretty girls and take a lot after their happy-go-lucky Dad.

Chris moved his family to Virginia several years ago and now lives about fifteen minutes drive from me. Chris met and married a very nice, smart and pretty girl that he met after coming back to Virginia. Audrey has done something for Chris no other person could do, she removed the chip from his shoulder that he had for such a long time. They have bought a nice home in Moneta and both are hard workers. Chris works for a contractor and is building houses for him. Audrey just completed her education last year and is now teaching school. Chris had two children with his first wife, Tammy. Rebecca is the oldest and she will graduate from High School this spring in Calgary, Alberta where she lives with her mother. Mike, my only grandson lives with Chris and has two more years at Staunton River High School before he graduates. Mike is planning to go in the Marines upon graduation. Mike is a fine young fellow, he steers away from most trouble that teenage boys can find themselves in if they ain’t careful. He spends a lot of time with me and hunts with me about every chance he gets. He has become a good shot with rifle and shotgun and can shoot as well or better than his Grandpa. Mike knows he has a load on his shoulders as he is the only grandson and has to carry on the family name. I was always taught that a man carries only one thing to his grave and that is his name. A man always wants to do whatever is required to ensure that when he is planted into the earth that people will always remember him as a fair, good and decent man that looked after his family and treated all his friends and neighbors square.

February 12/09 Richard Franklin