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Clyde Everett Weeks (Sr) |
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My paternal Grandfather is Clyde Everett Weeks. He died of cancer in September 1979. We called him “Dad”, presumably because my parents did when we were young. He was a handsome man with pure white hair. He had an interesting life. I understand that his father was not particularly ambitious or much of a leader in his home and that my Grandfather left home in Lansing, Michigan when he was relatively young as he lied about his age of 16 in order to join the army. I believe that they let him in because he registered for the draft when he was only 16. He soon found himself in Vladivostok, Siberia, in Russia during World War I. His career in the army continued through World War II.
He was married in 1924 to Bertha Larsen. I never met her, but understand that she was a nurse. My Father has spoken fondly of her, but I really know little about her life, other than the fact that she was my Father’s Mother and that she also had two other children, Sharee and Michael.
This began a second life for my Grandfather. He became assistant manager of the Singer Sewing Machine center in Provo on Center street, where he worked for several years. He soon met Emily Gatiker at the Singer Sewing Center. He repaired her sewing machine. Emily was a lovely woman, who had suffered through a stressful divorce from her first husband, a Mr. Stoddard. Emily came to be known at Aunt Emily. We would often go to visit “Dad & Emily” on Sunday afternoons, during my youth. Emily brought with her four children from her previous marriage. Their names are Myrna, Martin, Karen, and Glen. They also had one daughter, whom they named Jerri Susan. She was a year younger, than I. They lived on about 420 East 200 North in Provo.
Emily worked at BYU in the Alumni Department. One day, she heard that there was an opening in the new BYU Development Fund Department at BYU. My Grandfather applied for the job and got became BYU’s Assistant Development Director. He ultimately ended up working there until his retirement. His responsibilities included negotiating with people and arranging for bequeathments and donations to the university. I remember going to his office in the administration building at the university, when I was a young man, to visit him. It seemed like a very nice place to work.
He seemed to be very highly respected and enjoyed his work. He had beautiful handwriting. I remember, that every birthday, I would receive a special birthday card from him with a crisp $1 dollar bill. I always looked forward to this kind thought.
My Father’s Father grew up in Lansing, Michigan. The Weeks family originated in England. Originally, I understand that the name was Wicks. It is supposed to have changed after these people migrated to America. Perhaps it changed even before this. I guess I can check this out in my genealogy, which I will include at the end of this history.
My Father’s Mother, Bertha Larsen grew up in Canada. Her family was from Denmark. She had two brothers named Grant and Wilford. There may have been other brothers but I don’t remember any sisters. I know little about her other than that she was a nurse and that she died of cancer when my Father was 16 years old.
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First Interview of Clyde Everett Weeks, Sr.
Second Interview of Clyde Everett Weeks, Sr.
Third Interview of Clyde Everett Weeks, Sr.
Fourth Interview of Clyde Everett Weeks, Sr.
Fifth Interview of Clyde Everett Weeks, Sr.
His Life Story
My Birth & Early Life
On September 3, 1902, a baby boy was born to George
Clarence Weeks and Sarah Maude Jenkins at La Crosse, La Porte, Indiana.
Two other children preceded him in this family, namely Owen Royal Weeks,
Born November 25, 1897 and Pearl Emily Weeks, born October 4, 1900. This baby boy was me. I was told that father worked
on the railroad in La Crosse. When I was two the family moved to 6th
Street in Ashland, Ohio where father worked for the Myers Pump Company
which manufactured water pumps. Sixth Street ran into Orange and when I
was old enough, I went to grammar school in the Orange Street School. I
remember my third and fourth grade teachers who were twins. I thought
them very beautiful. They were always nice to me and I imagined I was in
love with them. About this time we moved to Lansing, Michigan. On
arriving there we moved in with Uncle Willie (Wilbur) and Aunt Sarah
Weeks until we could find a home to rent. Dad began working for the Reo
Motor Car Company in the machine shop. Uncle Willie worked as an
automobile painter for this same company. We were soon able to rent a
house on Hillsdale Street, near the corner or River Street. While living
here my younger brother, Frederick Hall Weeks, was born on September 12,
1913. He was named after Fred Houghton whose wife was Nellie Hall.
Nellie was mother's cousin. They lived in Ohio. Second cousin, Fred, was
only about 15 years older than I. We had a burn out in the home on Hillsdale Street
and moved into the house next door which faced River Street. While
living in this house, the river burst its banks and flooded our basement
and about a foot into the main floor. These two disasters were very hard
on my parents. When I was about in the 6th grade, Grandfather
Weeks died and left dad $800 which was used for a down payment on a
house on Monroe Street, not far from Uncle Willie's home. This was the
last home I lived in with my family. I really never had much childhood and virtually no
adolescence. Thus I never learned to swim or play ball or do any of the
things boys usually do during their "growing up" years. Even while in
Ohio I delivered washing and ironing in my little wagon which my mother
did for other people. Almost every day I had to go along the railroad
track to look for lumps of coal which had fallen from the overly loaded
coal cars so that we would have fuel for cooking and heating our house.
In Lansing I delivered newspapers for the Lansing State Journal in the evening after
school and in the morning before school I worked in a nearby milk
bottling plant. All of my earnings had to be given to my mother;
however, I would often manage to get a few extra papers to sell on the
street. This money I kept and would occasionally afford a
treat. My favorites were those chocolate-coated cookies with
marshmallows on top. My mother was a harsh disciplinarian. During my
early years she often beat me with a switch which she made me get for
her. I was required to go to my room to wait for her to come to whip me.
I never fought back but learned to notch the switch so that it would
break easily. I can't remember my parents ever giving me one cent but if
I was caught withholding any money I had earned, a beating resulted.
Father never whipped me; a cuff to the side of the head was all I ever
got from him. Much against my will, my parents took me out of
school before I finished the 7th grade because they needed the income I
could make in order to support the family. I was always tall for my age
and could pass for quite a bit older than my years. My first full time
job was as messenger at the Reo Motor Car Company where I ran errands
delivering messages between the various departments of the plant. I
bought my lunch at the plant while working there and these were the best
meals I had ever eaten. It was while working here that I was befriended
by John Leonard who was a year or two older than I. He was not the best
influence on me because it was then that I began smoking without my
parents knowing it. I was just trying to be manly like the rest of the
fellows. Dad was still working in the Reo machine shop when
I found a better paying job with an auto parts company that made motor
blocks for cars. I operated a drill press which bored numerous holes in
the block at one time. My main problem was that I couldn't get the hang
of sharpening the drills properly. I tried so hard but they burned
rather than drilled so I didn't last long there. My brother, Owen, was a motorman for the streetcar
company and he got me on as a conductor. The motorman sometimes let me
operate the streetcar and on one occasion while the motorman was at the
rear of the streetcar I rammed right into the back of the car ahead of
me. I was frightened and knew that I was finished with that job, so in
the morning I went to the office and turned in my badge--I quit before I
was fired. World War I was on and I wanted to get into the
action. My parents would not give their consent but I enlisted in the
Navy anyway and was sent to Chicago by them for induction and final
physical. Naturally, I had to fib about my age. I felt real smug about
getting past this hurdle but when I had my physical the doctor decided I
didn't have enough pubic hair (I was only 15) and sent me back home to
grow up.
After this experience I enrolled in a telephone
installation course with the Western Electric Company. They sent me to
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania where I spent the winter in school and learned
the inner workings of the telephone exchange. This was a rather tender
age to be alone and so far from home. After graduating from this, I
returned to Lansing but had a disagreement with my parents when they
tried to restrict my comings and goings and probably my smoking too
which I now did openly. I rented a room about two blocks from home and
never lived at home with my parents again. Mother and Dad were having
marital problems and one day Dad brought his suitcase and moved in with
me for a while. I was working for the Bell Telephone System at this
time, but not long afterward the telephone workmen went on strike so I
was again out of work. I was never without work for long. Next I began
working for the Fisher Autobody Company. They had a contract with the
government making oak wheels for cannons. I would putty all the holes
and cracks on the wooden spokes and sand them to get them ready for
dipping into the paint. These were for the war effort.
June 6, 1919 Early Military Career The 18 to 45-Year-old men had to sign up for the
draft as World War I was still on and men were desperately needed. At
various places in town women would be set up to register men for this
purpose, so I marched in and registered using May 12, 1900, as my birth
date. They gave me my coveted draft card without requiring a proof of
birth. With the draft card in hand I went to the Army Recruiting station
and was accepted as an enlistee and sworn in on the spot. In the early summer of 1919 (I was not yet 17 years
old) I was sent to Columbus, Ohio to boot camp. Little is known by the general public of the story
of America’s Adventure in Siberia 1918-1920. There were no radio and
television and the press gave only meager publicity to the American
Expedition in Siberia. Only a few troops were involved so it was not
generally known that the United States participated in this action. War
did not cease in this area with the signing of the Armistice in 1918.
World War I did not finally terminate until peace was signed in 1921.
All participants in the American Expedition in Siberia are recognized
veterans of World War I and were awarded the Victory Medal with the
Siberian Clasp. I was awarded this medal.
Major General William S. Graves, U.S. Army,
commanded the expedition. This was a combined allied military campaign
to North Russia and Siberia and the troops in Siberia consisted of
contingents of English, Japanese, Chinese, French, Czech and American
units. Major General Graves wrote a book covering this unusual campaign
titled
America's
Siberian Adventure (BYU Library 940.43.G 78). To set the
stage for a recital of my little part as one of the troops who spent a
winter in this cold, uninviting land, I quote a few excerpts from his
book. "Siberia was inhabited in part by semi-civilized
natives and in part by political exiles and there were now added great
bodies of liberated prisoners of war I seemed to be the only military
representative who was aware that we had a war of our own in Russia and
that our war was independent and separate from the war in France. The
Armistice had absolutely no effect in Siberia. "The principle of non-interference in Russian
affairs limited the activities of the American Forces in Siberia to
guarding supplies and keeping lines of communication open… People in the
United States can have no conception of the conditions in Eastern
Siberia where there is no law except the law of the jungle which the
Japanese and Kolchak supporters were using and the Americans could not
use. "Admiral Kolchak, who represented the Czarist
regime, and who the United States supported with arms and ammunition and
clothing, was defeated by the Bolsheviks. He was tried by the Bolshevik
military court and was shot February 7, 1920." General Graves in his summation said 'I was in
command of the United States troops sent to Siberia and I must admit, I
do not know 'what the United States "was trying to accomplish by
military intervention....The Siberian expedition has been a great
fiasco, for which the allied nations must be blamed. It was a great
mistake to send any expedition at all. American intervention in Siberia was a fruitless,
dismal tragedy, comedy. Secretary of War Newton D. Baker said, "I cannot
close this foreword without expressing the gratitude of our common
country to those soldiers who uncomplainingly and bravely bore in that
remote and mystifying place, their part of their country's burden. Those
who took part in it can have the satisfaction of knowing that the
American force in Siberia bore itself humanely and bravely under the
orders of a commander who lived up to the high purpose which led their
country to establish a stabilizing and helpful influence in remote
wastes inhabited by confused and pitiful people. They too, 'I think,
have the reassurance that if there was a defect of affirmative
achievement, history will find benefits from the negative results of
American participation in Siberia; things that might have happened, had
there been no American soldiers in the Allied force, but which did not
happen because they were there, which would have complicated the whole
Russian problem and affected seriously the future peace of the world.
MY LITTLE
STORY During World War I I was caught up in the
excitement of the war and I developed a desire to enlist in the service
and get into the action. I was too young to enlist even though I tried.
One day, when I was about 15 years of age in 1917, I presented myself to
the Naval Recruiting Officer and applied for enlistment. I
fibbed about my age and they didn't require any proof of age so I was
accepted for service in the Navy. I guess they were pretty hard pressed
for men. I was issued a transportation request and some money for food
and lodging and was put on a train for Chicago. I arrived in Chicago
real pleased with myself for my deception and thought I was on my way to
the Navy. The very next day I was sent to a Doctor for a final physical
examination. He looked me over and told me that I was a bit immature for
a lad of l8 and said that I had better return home and wait until I was
old enough to enlist, whereupon I was issued a train ticket and sent
back to Lansing a very disappointed young man. Failing to get into the service, I decided to
enroll for a course in telephony with the Western Electric Company. They
sent me to Pittsburg, Pennsylvania where I attended a six months course
and learned the art of terminals in a telephone office as well as
installation of telephones in homes, so the winter of 1918 was spent in
Pittsburg. Upon the conclusion of the course I returned to Lansing,
Michigan and went to work for the Bell Telephone Company, where I worked
for a few months when the workers went out on strike and I was without a
job or source of income. I still had a yen for getting into the service
and asked my parents consent which required them to sign a waiver job or
source of income. I still had a yen for getting into the service and
asked my parents consent which required them to sign a waiver on my age. They, of course, refused. The War was going strong
in Europe and men were needed. The government issued orders that all
males between the ages of 18 and 45 were required to register for the
draft. I had watched the ladies who were registering men for the draft
and it looked like a very easy procedure so decided to go in to the
registration station and tell them that I was 18. I chose a birthday,
May 2, 1900, which would make me old enough. I went in and registered
with no questions asked. I now had a draft card. Later on I decided to
try to enlist in the Army and went to a recruiting station and applied
for enlistment. I again fibbed about my age, using the new birth date
that I had used. The officials asked me for my proof of age and I handed
them my draft card which they accepted as proof of age without question
and I was sworn in as a Private U.S. Army. The draft card did the trick.
At that time I was 16, going on 17. I chose the U .S. Cavalry for service on the
Mexican border and was sent to Columbus, Ohio for boot camp training. I
went through some body building and rigorous training for a short time
and was preparing for small arms and field training and indoctrination.
One morning when our group was in the large recreation hall engaging in
calisthenics, a Major came in and called us all to attention and made
the announcement that there was urgent need for a number of men to be
sent to a theater of operations in Siberia and asked if there were any
men in the group who would be willing to transfer to the Infantry and go
to Siberia. I had little idea where Siberia was but I knew it was a long
ways away and that there was still someplace where fighting was going
on. With little thought of the ultimate consequences, I stepped forward
and volunteered. I wanted to get where the action was. A few other
fellows, perhaps 20, joined the group. We were processed for departure and in a couple of
days were put on a train enroute to San Francisco. Upon arriving there
we were put aboard a ferry boat, the General McDowell (see pictures),
and were taken to Fort McDowell on Angel Island in San Francisco Bay. We
remained there for a short time and then boarded the U.S. Army Transport
THOMAS (see picture) for the journey to Siberia, I have no record of the
exact date of departure. We stopped in the Hawaiian Islands to replenish
the ship's fuel which took two or three days. A lovely lady, Mrs. Oggs,
came down to the ship and got permission from the commanding officer to
invite a few fellows to be her guests at her lovely home on Mt.
Tantaless. Out of all the troops there she picked only four of us and I
was one of the lucky ones. She took us to her home and served us a
lovely dinner after which she took us on a tour of the area in her Model
T Ford. (See pictures). From there we took the Northern Circle route to
Vladivostok, Siberia. This was a lot of excitement for a kid my age and
I enjoyed it all.
I was assigned to Headquarters Company, 3lst U.S.
Infantry, the main body of which was stationed just outside the city. We
were marched from the ship to an old stone barracks (See picture) a few
miles from town. The building had no water or sewage facilities. All
water had to be hauled in, in small tank carts pulled by mules. (See
pictures) The building was cold and damp. The only heat came from a few
fire places built into the walls of the building. They did not heat it
but they did provide a place for us to huddle around and get a little
relief from the cold. The Army somehow provided us with some coal,
probably robbed from one of the ships. There were some old iron frames in the building
which we converted into bunks. I remember that when I arrived tired and
pooped at the end of a long journey, I was handed a pair of pliers and a
mattress cover and was told to go outside and get some wire off some
bales of straw and to fashion me a bed by stretching the wires across
the iron frames to form a support for my mattress, which consisted of
the mattress cover filled with straw. There were no latrines in the
barracks so we dug open air ones outside. They sure were some fancy
tenholers; enclosed around the sides with canvas strips, "but without
roofs. It was quite an experience to use them in frigid and inclement
weather. Some Chinese coolies came around once a week and collected the
accumulation and trotted away with it in cans attached to the ends of a
pole which they carried over their shoulder. They undoubtedly were using
it for fertilizer. We, of course, had no way of bathing in the
barracks, so about every week or ten days we were marched down to an
area where makeshift showers were operated. Upon arrival at the showers
we were obliged to strip down and turn our clothing over to the German
prisoner attendants who put them through a hot steam delousing machine.
When the clothing was returned to us, it was, of course, shrunken and
terribly wrinkled. On entering the makeshift shower the German prisoners
operating them smeared our bodies with a slimy, yellow soap mixed with
kerosene which was supposed to control lice. The showers consisted of
barrels with an opening in the bottom. The prisoners poured tepid water
into the barrels and let it drizzle down over us. Water was very scarce,
so we usually emerged pretty slimy and sticky. Most of us soon arranged
to get a bath elsewhere, usually some generous Peruski ladies with whom
we made friends. We also learned to hide a good uniform under our
bed sacks and prevent them going through the delouser. We wanted to look
sharp when we went to town. I had no training in the use of weapons
before arrival in Siberia, nonetheless I was issued a 30.06 Springfield
rifle completely covered with cosmolene and a bayonet, one belt of
ammunition plus two extra bandoleers of ammunition and four hand
grenades. I was placed on the guard roster and assigned to guard duty
before I had fired my weapon or tossed a grenade. I felt a little
overwhelmed by all of this, however, I did have an opportunity to learn
my weapon, toss grenades and engage in bayonet practice between guard
assignments. I also learned how to march properly and stand tall. I
shall always be grateful to Corporal Joyner, our drill master, for
kicking me in the rump when I had a tendency to slump or bend my knees.
He really made me shape up. Not long after I arrived in Siberia I was assigned
to guard duty in the railroad yards of Vladivostok--and this incident
needs telling. I was assigned to a post along the railroad tracks
guarding a long warehouse where supplies were being brought in from the
ships. The railroad was right next to the shoreline of Golden Horn Bay,
the source of all of our supplies. (See picture) There was a trainload
of supplies on the track waiting to be unloaded. Due to the extreme
poverty of the civilian population they raided the supply trains
regularly and carried off anything that was loose. I was one of several
guards posted at intervals along the railroad, and at stated intervals
each one of us was required to call in, “All’s well on Post #3" and this
would be picked up and repeated up the chain to the Sergeant of the
Guard. I was farthest away from the Guard House and was instructed that
I was to let no one cross my post; that I was to halt them, first in
English, next in Russian and then in Japanese and notify the Sergeant of
the Guard. The night was cold and the moon was shining brightly and I
felt quite alone out there. I was just a kid and was unfamiliar with my
weapon and frankly, I felt very inadequate to my responsibilities. It
was about two o'clock in the morning and very quiet. Suddenly I heard
the sound of marching feet in the distance approaching me from beyond
the warehouse area. The marching became louder and louder and soon there
came into view a large body of troops, all marching toward me with
bayonets fixed to their rifles glinting in the moonlight. Here they came
marching relentlessly towards me and I was under orders to allow no one
to cross my post. I concluded that one little inexperienced guy like me
had no business tangling with these people. There were two battalions of
them, about 800 officers and men. I decided that prudence dictated that I not try to
halt them. I didn't want to be a dead hero so self preservation told me
to get out of sight. I spotted a large packing case stacked against the
warehouse and quickly got inside. I watched them march by; they were
Japanese troops, and as soon as they were gone I resumed walking my
post. I waited until reporting time and then called in, in a loud voice,
“All's well on Post #3 I”. I am not proud of my actions, but it seems in
retrospect that I used good judgment. No harm came of the incident and
no one ever questioned me about it. While in Siberia I had the opportunity to travel as
a Red Cross Guard from Vladivostok to Verkhneudinsk, near Lake Baikal
via the Trans-Siberian Railroad, about 1000 miles inland. Part of the
27th Infantry was stationed there. Another incident which affected my entire future
happened during the winter of 1919--1920. An arsenal containing arms and
ammunition was located a short distance from our barracks. The arsenal
was in a deep excavation surrounded by steep banks on all sides. It was
a vital installation. I was detailed on guard duty to patrol the
perimeter around the top of the depression containing the arsenal so
that as I patrolled the area I could observe all sides of the arsenal.
As I was walking my post I became aware of the fact that someone was
down in the area of the arsenal. I called out to them and demanded that
they come up. As a response, they began chucking rocks at me. I didn’t
know how many individuals were involved. I heard someone crawling up the
bank and I went to that point with my rifle at the ready. All at once a
head appeared above the bank and I feared that I was under attack. On
the spur of the moment I swung my rifle in the direction of the person
emerging. He was below me and fortunately my rifle connected with the
object; apparently I had hit him on the head. He gave a cry and rolled
down the bank. The blow with the rifle caused the rifle stock to break
in two. I called the Sergeant of the Guard and reported the problem. We
searched the area with flashlights and no trace of the person was found.
We decided that whoever it was had left the area. My rifle was replaced
and I continued my guard tour and was relieved at the proper time. The next morning after daylight the sentry then on
duty discovered the body of a Chinaman near the arsenal. He had either
died of his injuries or had frozen to death. A full investigation of the
affair was made. I was worried about the possible results when I was
being questioned. I thought, of course, that I was somehow in a great
deal of trouble because of the action I had taken. There were several
Russian officials from Vladivostok at the hearing. Instead of being
censured I was, to my surprise, commended for my action. I was rewarded
by a promotion from Private to Private lst Class and was given an
assignment to duty at Regimental Headquarters in the offices of Colonel
Fred w. Bugbee. This was really the beginning of my career in military
administration. Christmas in Siberia in 1919 was pretty much a
non-Christmas. Rations were scarce--it was bitter cold and we were a
long way from home. The YMCA distributed to each of us a can of
chocolates and we each received an orange. I just learned through
reading General Graves book that some lady in California kindly arranged
for a shipment of oranges so that each serviceman could have one for
Christmas. Bless her! The YMCA served us a Christmas breakfast of hot
cakes, a most unusual treat. Few goodies were available but occasionally
I was fortunate enough to get a detail as guard at Red Cross
Headquarters in Vladivostok where the nurses would come up with some
English marmalade and tea and toast. I surely relished it. (See
pictures) Some of the fellows would sometimes get into a happy mood from
bootleg vodka made from potato peelings. There was not a great deal of snow around
Vladivostok; however, it was terribly cold and windy. Often the
temperature was from 30 to 50 degrees below zero. There was much more snow further inland. We were
furnished huge sheepskin coats and beaver hats, gloves, knee length
German wool socks, light snow packs made of soft doeskin and worn over
the socks but inside the heavy shoes. Being young I managed pretty well
to keep reasonably comfortable. In the early spring of 1920 word came down to us
that we were withdrawing from Siberia and going back to the States. This
however, proved to be untrue. We boarded the US Army Transport Crook. Golden Horn
Bay was frozen over and we had to have an ice breaker clear a channel
ahead of us to get us out into the Pacific. Those in charge, of course,
knew our destination, but we, the troops, thought for sure that we were
enroute home. After we had gotten under way it was made known to us that
instead of going to the States we were going to the Philippine Islands
for station. We were a sad lot of fellows. Our ship took us to Ching Wan
Tao, China, a short way from Peking where we stopped a short time. It
was here I picked up the brass plate, bookends and God of Happiness
which I prize highly. We then went to Nagasaki, Japan and then on to
Manila. The weather got warmer and warmer and we were unprepared for the
abrupt change in climate. We had only wool clothing to wear enroute.
Finally we arrived in Manila, P. I. and were placed in a tent camp near
the harbor where we were kept in quarantine for about six weeks. Finally
we were transferred to the Cuartel de Espania in the walled city for
permanent station. I learned the world of military administration
rapidly. I studied diligently and was given opportunity to become
proficient in Army paperwork. I enjoyed what I was doing and was
promoted rapidly. I jumped the rank of Corporal and was promoted to
Sergeant and then to Staff Sergeant. At the end of my first three years
enlistment at the age of 19, I had become Battalion Sergeant Major of
the Third Battalion of the 31st Infantry. In those days that was an
accomplishment because promotion was very slow and I was very young. I
took a lot of time to practice improving my handwriting and I taught
myself how to type rather rapidly with the hunt and peck system. This
proved to be most helpful as I continued my military career.
31st Infantry in Manilla in March 1922
May 5, 1922 First Tour of Duty in the Philippine Islands
During my first tour of duty in the Philippine
Islands after leaving Siberia I had three close friends with whom I
clubbed around. We went to U.S.O. dances and were just good friends
running around exploring Manila and all of its environs. One of the
fellows was a very accomplished pianist so we often gathered at the USO.
He played the piano and we sang and danced. He had spent considerable
time in Hollywood before coming to the Philippines and was quite worldly
wise. We didn’t drink except for an occasional beer but on one
particular night he suggested that we visit Chinatown. While there he
entered one of the shops and bought a small matchbox. I had no knowledge
of the contents of this little box. He got us all together in an out of
the way place and suggested that we try a new experiment. He said that
he could transport us to a new “high”. He had a penpoint, the back of
which he used as a little scoop.
He led off by filling it with white powder
which he then snuffed up each nostril. He then enticed each one of
us to do the same and share the experience. I really didn’t know
what it was all about but was game to going along with the others.
We followed his example and “took a snort” of what must have been
cocaine. The effects were almost immediate. We decided
to do a lot of walking through the area and were really feeling
exhilarated. I am sure that we walked literally miles before the
effects of the drug wore off. It was such a false stimulation.
Finally we all returned to our barracks pretty much exhausted and
went to sleep. The next morning when I awakened I realized that I
had been tampering with drugs of some sort. I felt completely
drained of all energy and I became frightened over the possibility
that I might become addicted. I knew then that this buddy whom we
all admired so much for his talent was likely a dope addict. And I
made up my mind right then and there that I didn’t want to get
involved and resolved that never again would I fool around with or
be enticed by anybody that played around with drugs. I was doing
well in the Army and using dope was an offence for which anyone
could be dishonorably discharged from the service. I really was
shocked into a realization that I had risked my entire future in
this one instance. The four of us continued to club around
together but we were never again tempted. The man who tried to
introduce us to the habit was eventually dishonorably discharged
from the service and sent home. I am grateful for the lesson that this taught
me because later on I had many opportunities to council young people
in my church assignments and prevent them from making a similar
mistake or help them with a problem they had already acquired. The
lesson to be learned here is to never have a first experience.
THE
MASONIC ORDER IN MY LIFE During my boyhood my Uncle Ralph, my father's
brother, stood out as an example to me as an ideal man and one whom
I would like to emulate. He was a fine looking man physically; over six
feet tall and I thought him to be very handsome. He was a success in
business as a chiropractor and later was General Agent on the Pierre
Marquette Railroad System. He was always well dressed and I aspired
to become like him. Uncle Ralph (Aunt Angie's husband) was
affiliated with the Masonic Order and belonged to the Knight
Templars. When they had parades the Knight Templars were always
mounted on black horses with plumaged headgear. The Knights wore a
saber as part of their dress. I made up my mind when yet a kid that
when I grew old enough that I too would become a Mason. Upon arrival in Manila from Siberia I had
little to do to take up my spare time and learned that there was a
Masonic Lodge organized there. Upon making inquiries I was soon
invited to join Far East Lodge #10 of the Free and Accepted Masons.
I was actually not old enough, 21 was the age at which one could
become a Mason, but my military record had not yet been changed to
my real birth date, and it enough, 21 was the age at which one could
become a Mason, but my military record had not yet been changed to
my real birth date, and it indicated that I was. The opportunity of becoming a Mason thrilled me
and I devoted most of my spare time in learning the rituals and
procedures. I was soon appointed secretary of the Lodge and learned
all of the administrative work. I became really engrossed in lodge
work and set about memorizing all the secret rituals. Our lodge met
at least once a week and I was given many opportunities to assist in
putting on the work in all of the different positions. Most of the
lodges in Manila were Spanish speaking and they had difficulty in
putting rituals on in English; so several of us formed a degree team
which took us from lodge to lodge conferring degrees on new
initiates. Because of my quickness of mind and ability with the
ritual, I was very soon appointed junior and then senior deacon in
our lodge. Before returning to the States, I was elected Junior
Warden. After returning to the States in 1927 and again
being assigned to Fort Douglas, I affiliated again with the Masonic
Order in Salt Lake City and attended lodge regularly. I had however,
married a Mormon girl and had been attending Sunday School and
Sacrament Meeting with her. I’d been aware of the fact that in Utah
the Masonic Order would not permit active Mormons to belong to the
Masons. Some of my Masonic brethren learned that I had been
attending L.D.S. services and reported it to the local Masonic
authorities. Upon arriving at lodge one evening I was stopped from
entering and told that the Master of the lodge wanted to see me. He
took me into a room and inquired if I’d indeed been going to L.D.S.
services and I told him that I had, whereupon he told me that
because of this some of the brethren objected to my attending the
lodge any more. I have never returned to a Masonic Lodge again even
though I have held an honorary lifetime membership conferred upon me
by Minerva Lodge #41 in the Philippine Islands. I am grateful for the experience I had in the
Masonic Order because it kept me doing worthwhile things and in a
way, took the place of church activities for me. The lodge has high
moral requirements and I feel this experience prepared me in a large
degree for my later assignments in the Church. Much of the
administrative details were similar in the lodge and the church.
Military Orders
Masonic Lodge White Leather Apron From the Philippine Islands in 1922 |
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July 7, 1958
Clyde &
Emily in Miami

July 7, 1958

November 8, 1962


May 25, 1964







May 28, 1969

January 1, 1970

March 3, 1970

April 4, 1970

Clyde
Jr, Michael, Clyde Sr, Martin & Glen
April 4, 1970

May 5, 1970

June 19, 1970

October 15, 1971

October 27, 1971

March 3, 1972

November 20, 1972

June 8, 1973

June 5, 1975
Clyde E Weeks, Sr.

June 6, 1977

June 7, 1977

June 17, 1979

September 8, 1979

October 10, 2000



May 24, 2007

June 22, 2007


January 3, 2021

