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Monthly Archives: September 2023

Sgt. Art Youman’s Nose

25 Monday Sep 2023

Posted by ag1970 in Arroyo Grande, Uncategorized, World War II

≈ 3 Comments

I was thinking about one of my heroes from Arroyo Grande’s past, Staff Sgt. Art Youman, a member of the 101st Airborne’s Easy Company in World War II. This closeup of Youman, taken in training in South Carolina, shows what just might be a boxer’s nose. That’s Jerry Quarry (his little brother Mike, a light heavyweight, lived in San Luis Obispo County for a time) in the right-hand photo, having his nose adjusted by Muhammad Ali. Quarry, always a contender but never a champion in the heavyweight division, was a man of enormous courage. Youman shared that quality.

Well, my hunch was right. This item from a fall 1940 San Luis Obispo Telegram-Tribune, when boxing was big in Pismo Beach:

You wince at the “slugging Negro” reference—in a similar fashion, Filipino fighters were identified by their homeland—but “Kentucky Youman” won his bout via a TKO (Technical Knockout.) Why was an Arroyo Grande fighter named “Kentucky?” Ancestry.com provided the explanation from Youman’s August 1942 enlistment record.


My grandfather was a Kentuckian, too. Youman’s his draft card yielded a little more information:





I knew that Youman was a firefighter in San Luis Obispo, but I didn’t know it was for the Camp San Luis Obispo fire department (absorbed after the war by what is today CAL FIRE). I’d assumed that he worked for the City of San Luis Obispo. This new information was even better, because, thanks to my two military history experts and friends, Erik Brun and Dan Sebby, I found this photo yesterday that they’d posted late last year:


The California National Guard acquired this 1942 Seagrave fire engine in 2022 and the Guard’s history division hopes to restore it. It was, in fact, assigned to Camp San Luis Obispo in 1942, and since Art Youman didn’t enlist until August, there’s a chance that he rode on or even drove this engine. So this is, in a way, Easy Company’s fire engine, too.

Youman’s life accelerated quickly the next two years, with the tough training that shaped paratroopers and with combat.

He parachuted into Normandy on D-Day.


Later, in the fall during Operation Market Garden, Youman had led a small patrol to this Dutch crossroads when he and his men encountered a German patrol. A flurry of hand grenades came down on the paratroopers, which they returned—one of Youman’s men threw his entire consignment of six grenades. They returned to Easy Company mostly intact except for the shrapnel splinters. October 8 marks the 79th anniversary of that encounter.

Source: “Dalton,” Flickr.

It was in Holland where the Arroyo Grande fighter with the boxer’s nose was promoted to staff sergeant by Capt. Dick Winters, portrayed by British actor Damien Lewis (at left; Winters at right) in HBO’s Band of Brothers, based on the Stephen Ambrose book.

Eight weeks later, on either his 23rd or 24th birthday—the records differ—Art Youman marched into Bastogne with the 101st Airborne, a Belgian town my students and I visited in 2010. Their resistance there, during the coldest winter in Europe in thirty years, did much to foil the great German counteroffensive in the Battle of the Bulge. Art Youman’s combat career lasted about six and a half harrowing months, interrupted only briefly by a furlough in England. That career ended in the Battle of the Bulge and his hospital record is a testament to both the power of German artillery and the punishment of that winter’s cold.


Youman was only 54 when he died, but he has family still in San Luis Obispo County, in Paso and in Nipomo. I’ve met a few of them, and they are warm people, nice people, proud of Art. They have every right to be.

Toy Tiger

21 Thursday Sep 2023

Posted by ag1970 in Arroyo Grande, Film and Popular Culture, Personal memoirs, Uncategorized

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In 1956, Mom took me to the Fair Oaks Theater—just a short walk from where me and my family live today—to see a romantic comedy, Toy Tiger, starring Jeff Chandler.

Chandler was not your romantic comedy kind of guy. Usually he was a Marine officer leading his rifle platoon onto a Central Pacific beach, or a lawman protecting a frontier town from evil gunslingers or an Apache chieftain. He was an awesome Apache chieftain.

Jeff Chandler, Basil Somebodyorother and James Stewart in Broken Arrow (1950).

But the Toy Tiger in the film was an early experiment in Hollywood merchandising. I don’t think the Scarlett O’Hara whalebone corsets went over so well. I fell for this one. Hard. I think he came into my life at Christmas.

That’s the original Toy Tiger in the film still above and this is mine, sixty-seven years later. He’s blind and faded and some of his stuffing is starting to come out, but he’s always within reach, just above my computer. I needed him when I was four.

Walter fills a similar need today. Sometimes in the middle of the night I will feel a very cold Basset Hound nose pressing into the nape of my neck. It’s Walter sniffing to make sure I’m still there. I’ll turn over and gather him next to me and then we go back to sleep.

Walter doesn’t know this—-wait, maybe he does—but he makes me feel just as safe at seventy-one as Toy Tiger did when I was four. 

You can’t ask for better friends than these.

Teaching Theory #1: Your classroom can NEVER have too many signs. Or stuffed animals. Or visitors.

18 Monday Sep 2023

Posted by ag1970 in Arroyo Grande, Uncategorized

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1956. 1063 Sunset Drive, Arroyo Grande.

17 Sunday Sep 2023

Posted by ag1970 in Arroyo Grande, Personal memoirs, Uncategorized

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This was taken in 1956, when the as-yet-incomplete Gregory family (Sally would debut later, when we lived on Huasna Road) lived at 1063 Sunset Drive.

In the first photo in the gallery below, it appears that I have just been informed that the Soviets have the hydrogen bomb.

Either that or Bishop Fulton J. Sheen was on TV. He appeared fully vested and berobed, complete with skullcap. I think I confused him with Count Dracula.

I didn’t realize for years that Sheen was a kindly man whose spiritual bent tended toward the optimistic.

Or it might’ve been another favorite show of theirs, Liberace. He scared me, too.

Here’s a slide show that helps to demonstrate why.

https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1XDY-VfUjGbOK39YqqDP15JV7u-AQxIAQ/edit?usp=sharing&ouid=113498512731063171773&rtpof=true&sd=true

Note Mom’s Singer showing machine, behind me at left.

She also had a loom. Since the Industrial Revolution began in textiles, that made teaching that topic so easy for me fifty years later. I could explain power looms and flying shuttles and spinning jennies. The loom was a Christmas gift, seen in the photo above.

And Mom was kind of an artist: knitting, sewing, weaving, crocheting, a little needlepoint here and there.

That is a washing machine we are watching in the photo at the top of the blog enrtry. We were simple folk. Just kidding. Sgt Preston of the Yukon must be on. With his dog, King.

That’s me, Roberta as a hobo and Bruce as a pirate at Halloween. Roberta’s wearing Dad’s beautiful felt hat, which were just out fashion. That makes me sad. Men’s hats are one reason I love old movies so much. The other clown, holding my hand, was all grown-up. At least twelve. She was very kind to me.

Once Mom and Dad went out on a date and dropped me off at another very kind person’s house, an older lady (meaning ten-fifteen years younger than I am now.) She made me hamburger. She put a tomato slice in it. I shrugged and took a bite. When my parents came back to pick me up a couple of hours later, I was still raving about how good tomatoes on hamburgers were. Elizabeth pointed out that it probably was a home-grown tomato, because they taste so much better than the store-bought once, and I bet she’s right.

Once it snowed. Once I ran out the front door and realized I hadn’t put on my pants yet. That was embarrassing.

Once Mom dressed us all up, including the Cocker spaniel, as desert Bedouins. She used eyeliner, I think, to give Bruce and me curly mustachioes. Both Roberta and the Cocker, a little girl, had gauzy headdresses and the boys wore burnooses made out of dishtowels. We all wore our bathrobes. Yup. Mom was pretty cool.

And the Fair Oaks was pretty close. That’s where we saw Lady and the Tramp (the Cocker’s name was Lady, of course.) and also The Ten Commandments (hated it when Pharaoh’s horsies drownded in the Red Sea) and The Searchers (the Comanche attack scene, where you don’t see the Comanches, scared the hell out of me.)

We also saw a movie with Jeff Chandler, The Toy Tiger, and I still have mine, eyeless but more or less intact. We were gullible, what with Cocker spaniels and stuffed animals. I think I also watched a couple of Tammy movies with my big sister, and Darby O’Gill and the Little People. Scared the hell out of me.

Toy Tiger (1956). Mine looks (looked) just like this one. The stripes have faded some. Mine, too.

Note Dad’s love of large turkeys. Shipped overseas (Grandma Kelly STILL said “Clean your plate. Children in Europe are starving!”), one of ‘em would need its own container ship. That’s what nearly twenty years of Great Depression and wartime rationing did to Dad. We always ate well.

Speaking of food, I was a ham even then.

Sgt. Preston and his dog King. When he announced “King, this case is closed,” it was time for bed.

What makes me happy? A tentative list.

07 Thursday Sep 2023

Posted by ag1970 in Personal memoirs, Uncategorized

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I was headed yesterday for the basement of the French Hospital Medical Plaza (with a name like that, they should have a Vegas floor show) and was waiting for the elevator doors to open. When they did, there was a young woman about twenty-five and about four months pregnant. I didn’t expect to see that. I could feel the smile start to spread across my face because she was so beautiful. Our eyes met and she smiled back. I was there for a cardiac test, and I could feel my heart, feel that little flush of pleasure that flooded it, that moment we all feel when we are happy. I was still smiling at the receptionist’s window.

I was thinking about Siena, a former student of whom I am very fond, who is just now expecting her second child (the first is a beautiful little blond girl). Siena reminds me of a quote from a Steinbeck short story: “God, a kid of hers is going to have fun!”

Part of recovery from alcoholism, I’ve discovered, involves re-wiring your brain, which, in most cases, including mine, has inside of it a voice with a megaphone that tells you insistently that you are a bad human being. I got one wire rewired yesterday at the elevator doors. We need to learn, as the old song goes, to accentuate the positive and part of that involves periodically stopping for a moment for recognizing–and articulating– those things that make us happy.

So here are some of mine, in no particular order and several hundred more should be on the list, but I had to limit myself. You don’t need a War and Peace blog entry.

1. Seeing a young mom-to-be when the elevator doors open.

We were asked today in group to name something that made us happy. I said


2. Seeing babies in the grocery store.

Here are some more, and I didn’t say this was going to be profound:

3. Dogs, of course. And puppies, especially these breeds, Basset Hounds, West Highland White Terriers, Irish Setters, and all of the Pound Puppies we’ve adopted. All of them have been important to my life. Seventy-one years of unconditional love.


4. Learning about my ancestors:


5. Friends.


6. Family. My boys and of course Elizabeth. Here we are in the 2022 Arroyo Grande Christmas Parade.


7. Food. Three favorites. I forgot butternut squash ravioli. Mmmm, hash browns.


8. Fields of sunflowers in Tuscany or Umbria, with a medieval town atop a hill every ten miles or so.


9. Baseball. These are the 1934 St. Louis Cardinals, the “Gashouse Gang.“


10. My nieces.


11. Writing.



12. World War II airplanes.

13. Cats.

14. Branch Street.

15. Music. This one, by Florence and the Machine, is five years old but I just discovered it, and a good thing, too. It’s about addiction.

… At seventeen, I started to starve myself
I thought that love was a kind of emptiness
And at least I understood then, the hunger I felt
And I didn’t have to call it loneliness

… We all have a hunger
We all have a hunger
We all have a hunger
We all have a hunger

… Tell me what you need, oh, you look so free
The way you use your body, baby, come on and work it for me
Don’t let it get you down, you’re the best thing I’ve seen
We never found the answer but we knew one thing

… We all have a hunger (we all have a hunger)
We all have a hunger (we all have a hunger)
We all have a hunger (we all have a hunger)
We all have a hunger (we all have a hunger)

… And it’s Friday night and it’s kicking in
In that pink dress, they’re gonna crucify me
Oh, and you in all your vibrant youth
How could anything bad ever happen to you?
You make a fool of death with your beauty, and for a moment

… I thought that love was in the drugs
But the more I took, the more it took away
And I could never get enough
I thought that love was on the stage
You give yourself to strangers
You don’t have to be afraid
Then it tries to find a home with people, or when I’m alone
Picking it apart and staring at your phone

… We all have a hunger
We all have a hunger
We all have a hunger
We all have a hunger

… Tell me what you need, oh, you look so free
The way you use your body, baby, come on and work it for me
Don’t let ’em get you down, you’re the best thing I’ve seen
We never found the answer but we knew one thing

… We all have a hunger (we all have a hunger)
We all have a hunger (we all have a hunger)
We all have a hunger (we all have a hunger)
We all have a hunger (we all have a hunger)

… And it’s Friday night and it’s kicking in
In that pink dress, they’re gonna crucify me
Oh, and you in all your vibrant youth
How could anything bad ever happen to you?
You make a fool of death with your beauty, and for a moment
I forget to worry

Not a bad list to start with, I think.

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