by Walter Thomas (Tom) Scates

Featured photo is Tom, Erskine Sr. & Tim in 1953

The first words in the title to this story is an oxymoron, because we never took vacations. Well, almost never. I can recall two trips that for those of us living at home then seemed like a vacation. One was when my Aunt Merle got married, August 1952, and the other was in 1957 when our dad agreed to be the missionary speaker at a camp and hold evangelistic services in Saskatchewan, Canada. 

1952: This memory is about our trip to Bakersfield, California for my Aunt Merle’s wedding. Aunt Merle was an “old maid schoolteacher” in Bakersfield, California. She met Arthur Cassidy, an engineer, at choir practice at the Episcopal Church they attended. So, at the age of 47 Merle was engaged to marry Arthur (as I recall, he was older and a widower). We were invited to the wedding, to be held August 23, 1952. At that time, my dad owned a Morris Minor car (a compact English-made car, made from 1948 to 1972), top speed 60 mph (I’m sure Dad drove at top speed too), and it was a four-seat car. In the front were two small captain’s chairs, and in the back was a bench seat intended for two people. Making the trip were my mom and dad, Aunt Irma, Harry, Tim, and me. Therefore, there were three large adults, a teenager, and two in elementary school riding in that very small car. Six people in a car designed to carry four. In addition, you might ask, where did we put the luggage (I think all the boot (trunk) held was a spare tire)? My dad built a wooden platform extending behind the car to hold the luggage. Our trip from Grand Junction went through Ignacio, Colorado, where we picked up Aunt Irma. Prior to that point, with Mom and Dad in front, and we three boys in the back, the seating wasn’t too bad. However, adding Aunt Irma created a space issue. But Dad and Mom were prepared. Between the two captain’s chairs was an emergency brake. Out came a pillow to be placed on the emergency brake handle. Tim and I took turns on that pillow, riding the handle, which became very uncomfortable after a while.

Although we were going to Aunt Merle’s wedding, we did see some sights both going and returning. Except for a trip to Oklahoma when Dad took us to a church convention, and we saw our grandmother Grace Stephens, this was the first trip outside of Western Colorado for Tim and me (and maybe for Harry). On this trip to California, we went to the Grand Canyon and Hoover Dam. We stopped at both and were impressed by both the natural beauty and the man-made structures. We did spend one night in a motel (unusual, and maybe first-time experience for us boys). I remember it as a very rustic place, and I am sure it was cheap. As I recall, we arrived in Bakersfield two days before the wedding (on Thursday, August 21, 1952). Aunt Merle had a small house and an apartment house next door. We stayed in one of the vacant apartments. 

Friday morning, August 22^nd, Dad made an appointment at a downtown garage to service the Morris Minor. Dad and Harry went downtown, mid-day, and Tim and I were left to our own devices. Aunt Merle (who was busy preparing for the wedding) let us spin records on her vinyl record player. One of her 45’s was a record that Arthur had given her titled, “Too old to cut the mustard.” Tim and I thought it had catchy lyrics; the chorus was: “Too old, too old, he’s too old to cut the mustard anymore; he’s getting too old, he’s done got too old; he’s too old to cut the mustard anymore.” This was “their song.” Tim and I had just taken the needle off the record, and placed it back on the needle rest, when the floor of the house started to shake. We had no idea what was happening, and the house began to shake more and more. So, we ran out the front door and threw ourselves down on the front lawn (of course the wrong thing to do during an earthquake). Later we learned we had experienced a 5.8 magnitude (on the Richter scale) earthquake that hit the center of Bakersfield at 3:42 p.m. This was an aftershock to a larger earthquake (7.3 magnitude) that hit Kern County on July 21, 1952, centered in Tehachapi, 40 miles SW from Bakersfield (this earthquake was the largest in the conterminous United States since the San Francisco shock of 1906 (that quake was 7.8 magnitude). Meanwhile, Dad and Harry were in the center of Bakersfield at the garage. The Morris Minor was up on a rack getting a lube and oil change. As they experienced the ground shaking and saw the lift that the car was on waving back and forth, they noticed that the mechanics had disappeared. Not knowing better, they stood there nervously watching to see if the car would fall off the lift. The car didn’t, and soon the mechanics reappeared, surprised that my dad and Harry hadn’t gone to a place of safety. We all soon got a quick course on where to go in the event of an earthquake.

Later, Tim and I went to the small corner grocery store near Aunt Merle’s house and looked with amazement at the floor filled with most of the things from the shelves (jars were broken and cans bent).

The wedding, scheduled for the next day, Saturday, August 23^rd, could not be held in their Episcopal Church. The church had suffered structural damage and was deemed unsafe. So, the wedding was held in a nearby park. It was a beautiful day, and a beautiful wedding.

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As dad recounted in his December 1952 Christmas letter, while in California, we visited Marion Seick, Mrs. Jim Arnold and son, Mrs. Sara Williams and Evelyn and Alan Templeton (I believe Evelyn was a former secretary for dad). Highlights that I recall were swimming in the Pacific Ocean (near Santa Cruz, with the Templeton’s who lived in Watsonville), having a picnic in the Redwoods, seeing the sights in San Francisco, and watching TV for the first time. I think it was in Oakland (I’m not sure who we were visiting there) where I saw my first small black and white television set. We sat in front of it that evening and watched our first television show. I don’t recall much of the return trip home, but I’m sure we drove straight back from Sacramento for the start of school and college classes.