Richard attended Elementary at the West Elementary. Jr. High at Woodward and High School and Dixie College at the Dixie College/Rec center building on Main and 100 South
Richards parents
Guy and Althea Hafen at time of marriage
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| Richard's Family Home |
Richard was the baby of the family of 9 kids.
Elaine born 17 Nov 1918 died 18 Oct 2008, Earle Guy born 8 Jul 1920 died 2 Mar 1983, Reginald Gregerson born 29 Aug 1923 died 6 Dec 1926, Ralph James born 16 Feb 1925, Norman Eric born 3 Jul 1926 died 2 Jul 2001, Valrea Althea Hafen born 21 Jan 1929 died 8 Apr 2012, Gregerson Herbert born
1 May 1930, Gloria Maria born9 May 1932, Richard Burke 3 Oct 1934
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| Where Richard went to Elementary School at West Elementary |
Richard with favorite Dog
Richard's first job was a paper boy he had 90 papers
Where Richard went to Jr. High at the Woodward
Richard on football team
Some of Richards friends.
Jay Ence top left.
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| Richard went to College and High School here |
Richard pumping gas at Bryce and Grand Canyon
Richard was Biology teacher and drove a cattle, owned and managed the Jolly King Restaurant, Washington County Brand Inspector
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| The Jolly King Restuarant |
first row: Elaine, Erle, Ralph, Norman, Guy, Valeria, Greg, Gloria, Richard
This is not a good picture but Richard served active duty for 6 months
These paintings were painted my Richard's mother Althea
Richard Burke Hafen was born
Oct 4th 1934 in the McGregor Clinic building on 2nd East
50 s. At the time of his birth the
family lived in the Hafen home on 100 East 200 North. Grandpa Guy Hafen had built the home in the
1920’s. The foundation was made from the lava rocks on the black hill.
Guy Hafen had Ivins property
but Grandma Althea wanted to live in town. While Grandma Guy was in the army,
Althea bought the St. George property.
Guy Hafen also bought a lot
by the college. He sold that lot to a
Bundy man. One day Mr. Bundy came to pay
on the lot and he was all beat up. He had
gotten the money to pay for the lot from fighting in the “Peach Day” fights.
Althea recognized it was hard
to make money in the cattle business at their level of cattle raising so Althea
encouraged her children to go to college.
One of Althea’s greatest treasures was the picture of her children in
their cap and gowns. All of Althea’s living children received a college degree.
Life in St. George in the
early days was hard. It was hard to just get the taxes paid. There was never
any eating out, vacations, etc.
Richard walked to school
every day and said Hello to everyone he met. The all said hello back, he knew
everyone. There were no strangers.
There were 9 children in the
Guy and Althea Hafen home, 3 girls and 6 boys.
Elaine was born 17 Nov 1918
and died 18 Oct 2008. She was almost
90. Earle Guy was born 8 July 1920. Earle was a V.E.T. and a bombardier in the
war. He flew 25 successful missions. He has a journal of his adventures in the
war. Earle died of cancer on March 2nd
1983. Reginald Gregerson Hafen was born Aug 29th 1923 and died 6 Dec
1926. Ralph James was born 16 Feb 1925.
He is a lawyer in Salt Lake. Norman Eric was born Jul 3rd 1926 and
died July 2nd 2001. He was a
Veterinarian. Valrea Althea Jan 21st 1929. Gregerson Herbert was
born May 1 1930. Gloria Marie was born May 9th 1932 and Richard
Burke Oct 4th 1934. That is 9
children in 16years.
Richard says we worked hard
but we still had fun. Summers were hot but we had a good time in Cox pond. We
just skinny dipped there were no girls around.
Richard’s favorite color is
blue. Richard got his nickname of “Blue
Duck” from his brother Ralph. Ralph had
a biology teacher that taught Ralph much about the southwest birds. Ralph took Richard to the river to show
Richard the “Blue duck”
Richard really liked the blue
duck so he always commented on it. Hey Ralph, look at that Blue Duck etc. So
Richard got nick named “blue duck”.
Richard was never able to shake the nickname. Many people do not even know Richard’s real
name. The nick name “Blue Duck” has
followed Richard through life. When
Craig Hammer (son-in-law) built his subdivision he named a street “Blue Duck
Lane”
Richard’s favorite food is “a
nice fish dinner”. He loves crab legs. He likes to take the heart out of the
big knuckles.
Richard’s favorite activities
are the deer hunt, fishing and now traveling, picture taking and computers.
Richard takes a computer and Photoshop class.
Richard has a big cruise
planned to Panama on April 15th 2011. He has looked forward and
planned for this trip for one year. It has all the whistles and bells.
Some good ol stories written by Elaine
Summer Days
by Elaine Hafen Briggs
November 21, 2004
I recall the summer days in St. George during the 1920s and 1930s. In those days after school got over in the spring there was no summer school so we looked forward to a long summer vacation. But Mother was adamantly opposed to idleness in all its forms. So she had our summer days minutely planned with chores we were to do around the house. There were ordinary chores such as baking bread, cleaning, washing cloths, hanging them up to dry on the line, ironing and a dozen other things. Besides these routine chores there were the big summer projects. These revolved around canning the fruits and vegetables from the orchard and the garden. These canning projects came along in successive waves through the summer and fall as the crops ripened. So at different times during the summer and fall we canned peaches, apricots, pears, applesauce, tomatoes, beans, carrots and corn.
On those hot days I longed to be anywhere else besides canning or doing chores so I looked for any opportunity to escape the drudgery. One of our escapes was to steal away to the “Temple bumps.” We would ride down the hill on bicycles. We didn’t have bikes in our family so we had to rely on Rudger MacArthur or one of the other neighbor boy. Usually I rode with one of my brothers or with a neighbor. There were usually two to a bike. There was the driver on the seat who pedaled and steered. I was always the rider, sitting side-saddle on the tube between the handle bars and seat and gripping the handlebars to hold myself on. Sometimes I rode with my brother Earl but I preferred not to. Earl liked to jump the curbs and ditch banks. I always worried about falling into the water that coursed down the ditch.
South of the temple toward the Virgin River was an open expanse of fields. From my earliest memory the townspeople rode their cars or bicycles through a portion of those fields creating tracks, paths and roadways. The fun was to ride over these bumpy tracks just for the thrill of it. This was the site of the Temple bumps. It was a thrill to ride over them on bikes. But not as fun as tackling them in a car.
Mother had heard us talk excitedly about the Temple bumps. One day Mother announced that she would like go over the Temple bumps. If the kids thought it was such fun, why then she’d like to enjoy it too. One of the neighbor boys was Grant Brooks whose father was the sheriff in town. That meant the Brooks family got a new car every year, quite unlike the rest of us who only got one every six to ten years. As Grant was about my same age it meant that I had to put up with him and his antics every year in school, in the neighborhood and in church. Grant would have been about 14 or 15, but it was common for young boys to drive at an early age. So Mother piled into a car full of kids and Grant drove us down the hill through town and to the Temple south of town where homes gave way to fields. We couldn’t pass up such a golden opportunity so Grant drove off the roadway and into the field. He announced that we were going to take the Temple bumps in stride. So he proceeded. We zoomed down the hill and then went bump-bump-bump over the bumps. On one occasion we hit the bumps so hard that we banged our heads, Mother’s included, on the roof of the car. Mother didn’t want to continue but we did: “Let’s do it again!” Later, recalling Grant and his driving, Mother declared, “Oh, that crazy lout!”
But those summer days were so hot that we longed for shade and cool water. The ditch banks served as irrigation for the garden plots and landscaping in town. Occasionally they were brimming with water. On hot summer afternoons this were especially inviting. During the summer we usually dressed in a light shirt, pants cut off at the knees and Keds tennis shoes. We would kick off our shoes and socks and wade in barefooted. Daddy didn’t see anything wrong with it as he thought it was good sport for us. This was very perplexing to Mother who could think of any number of objections. Actually, she didn’t mind if the boys engaged in it. But with me it was different. Mother didn’t want me making a “display” for the neighbors. Still the sun was blistering and I continued doing it.
But the best place to really have fun was at Dodge’s Pond. Dodge’s Pond was located several miles up Diagonal Street. Usually we had to walk and it was a long, hot, dusty walk. Occasionally we would stop along the way at one of the homes of Mother’s friends and plead for a glass of water. They always obliged us. Then on we trudged up Diagonal to the point of the mountain. That’s where Dodge’s Pond was.
It was a small pond surrounded by willows and a few cottonwood trees that provided precious shade. We were in the water as fast as we could kick off our shoes and socks. Then began the jumping, splashing and dunking, especially if there were older boys around. No one really knew how to swim but that didn’t matter at all. We splashed so much we thought we were swimming.
Meanwhile at home, Mother stewed. She always tried to discourage me from this sort of unsupervised activity. She had an active imagination and could always imagine the worst. It was okay for the boys but for Mother the world ceased to spin if I ever announced my intention to slink off to the pond. So usually I said nothing and simply slipped out the back door and along the side of the house and made my way to the street.
But the accidents at Dodge’s Pond were relatively few. They were usually cut feet, stubbed toes or cracked noggens. It wasn’t uncommon for some of the boys to pass part of those summers with a large lump on their forehead.
So the best way we passed those hot afternoons was in the cool water of Dodge’s Pond where we whiled away the time and our skin baked to a golden brown. Today so much sun is considered unhealthy. But back then a golden brown tan was the envy of all.
“‘Wastey’ Beacham”
by Elaine H. Briggs
“‘Wastey’ Beacham”
In other communities across the country, I imagine that children were admonished to “Waste not, want not.” But as children growing up in the small southern Utah town of St. George, we were always admonished not to be a “wasty Beacham.” St. George had begun as a small Mormon community which had never known real prosperity. Thus, frugality was not merely a virtue, it was a necessity. This frugality was bred into all of us. It was part of all of our lives. It was the norm for the whole community. So one of the stories that we were frequently told was about one of the “wasty” Beachams. Why he was so “wasty” that he would threw away the flies that dropped into the sorghum without licking off their legs! We were admonished never to be “a ‘wasty’ Beacham”!
Uncle Orval, the New Car and the Jury of Twelve Dutchmen
As a young man, my Uncle Orval had gone away to school, gotten his bachelor’s degree and later his law degree. He had come home to St. George to start a new law practice. (He was living at our home and told us that he’d had his name put on his office door. We children decided to go and inspect it. Standing before the office door, I could read that it said “Attorney at Law.” But my younger brother Ralph, just learning to read, read it as, “Another Outlaw.”)
Uncle Orval’s new practice was prospering and the time came for him to purchase a car. The tradition in the family was always to pay cash and, when it came to cars, everyone always bought used rather than new. But Uncle Orval had his eye on a bright shiny new model. He had the money in savings, he knew he could afford it, yet he paused. He thought about his Swiss relatives, the Santa Clara “Dutchmen” and what they would think. He knew he’d face severe cross-examination from his Dutchmen relatives. So as he considered the appropriateness of his purchase, his lawyer’s mind prepared his justification. For as he said, “I knew I would have to convince a jury of twelve Dutchmen”
Grandpa Johnny and the New Suit
Another family story is about Grandpa Johnny purchasing a new three-piece suit. Since he probably only had three new suits in his lifetime, this was a rare expenditure. I think it was Uncle Orval who purchased it for him. On the Sunday after the purchase, he came out dressed for church in the new coat and trousers, but without the vest. I’m sure it was because he didn’t want to be too flashy or else his frugal neighbors would think he was putting on airs. But when someone inquired why he wasn’t wearing the full suit, he retorted, “Well, I don’t want to wear them all out at the same time!”
Fruit from Grandpa Johnny’s Orchard
Grandpa Johnny had an orchard in the Santa Clara fields. At different times of the year he had peaches, apricots, pears and a few cherries. He was generous in making gifts of fruit to his children’s families. I remember that he would pick the fruit and bring it over and present it as a gift to my mother. But Mother wanted to be more “selective.” She’d say that she liked the fruit picked first thing in the morning. She liked the fresh fruit picked in the cool of the morning, before the hot sun had worked its way into the bruises. She’d even be happy to come pick it herself. The reason was that Grandpa Johnny would pick everything, from the tree and the ground. Thus, his gift of fruit would contain a considerable amount of dropped, bruised and bird-picked fruit. Mother, however, wanted to be more selective and thus volunteered to pick her own.
Home-made Clothing
Mother was a beautiful seamstress and Uncle Ras, who ran “Snow’s Furniture,” would give his old, worn suits to Mother. The knees and seat of the pants were usually threadbare. But from the knee’s down the material was like new. So she would take these pieces and make clothes for the boys. The other parts she cut into blocks and made into quilts. On cold nights we slept under these quilts. For us girls she would buy new material. Or if Aunt Rose had a dress that wouldn’t sell in “Snow’s Dress Shop,” she would give it to Mother who would take it apart and make a new dresses for me or one of the other girls.
But this frugality had its limits with Mother. On more than one occasion she expressed that she would be glad when she could afford to buy new blankets for our beds. As I heard her say once about the quilt she and Daddy slept under, “I’m so tired of sleeping under Uncle Ras’ old britches!”