My Grandfather (we never called him Grandpa, it was always Grandfather) was extremely proud of his names: Rampton from his father, Charles Hyrum Rampton, and Cash from his mother, Wilda Cash. He was born in Bountiful, Utah in1901 but lived all his adult life in Salt Lake City. And that is where my earliest recollections of him begin. My family lived there until I was five years old when we moved to Southern California. I have vivid memories of Sunday dinners at his house on Virginia Ave. There was a big dining room with a long table which I could not reach if I sat on a chair. But, a large unabridged dictionary placed on the seat of the chair boosted me high enough so I could access the plate.
After we moved to California we would come back to Salt Lake City every year for vacation; and I do mean every year from when I was five until I went on my mission to Japan. One of the things I looked forward to the most was visiting him at his office at Walker Bank where he was a vice-president. He always had great bank souvenirs that he would give us each time we visited. I still have one of them today, a small bank in the shape of a book. There is something inside, but I have no idea where the key is today.
I always thought is was great that he worked in a bank and had the name, Cash. That is the name he went by his adult life. He began working for Walker Bank in his early twenties and retired as Senior Vice-president after 41 years of service.
Grandfather, and my step-grandmother, Virginia loved to travel, many times going on world cruises that departed from the Port of Los Angeles. Our family would always go visit them on the ship before they departed. For some reason, my younger brother, Richard, and I always had to dress up in Sunday clothes for the visits. In my pre-teen and teen years I collected stamps and always enjoyed the ones they sent me back from their many destinations.
In 1970 I entered Brigham Young University in Provo. Once a month he would drive down from Salt Lake City and take me to dinner. The first time was at the restaurant of a local hotel not to far off of campus. I don't know the reason why, but at the end of dinner he left a larger than usual tip for the waitress which she did not forget. Sometime later, I took a date there and was given the royal treatment by the same waitress, free dessert. That was a big deal for a college freshman, trying to impress his date.
One Sunday he stopped in on campus at the house of the President of the University, Ernest Wilkinson and introduced him to me. They had been friends for many years.
Grandfather Cash (that's what we called him) was never very active in the church, especially after he and my Grandma Blanch divorced when my Dad was in his early teens. But he was still supportive of me going on a mission. I enjoyed the few letters he sent me in Japan. They were always encouraging. So it was with some interest that just a few years ago I found the letters he sent my Dad on his mission in Canada. The content is precious. He never handwrote the letters, rather he would dictate them to his secretary. She would type them on Walk Bank stationary; he would sign them; enclose the monthly check and put them in the mail. It was in these letters that I learned that he did not approve of my mother-to-be, Lois Fae Linnebach. He felt my Dad should finish his education before getting married. (My Mom, apparently, had their wedding all planned out before my Dad finished his two years in Eastern Canada. They were married two months after he got home.)
When I returned to BYU after my mission he would frequently invite me to lunch at the Alta Club in Salt Lake City, of which he was a member. I always wondered why all the women went in a different door than the men; but apparently that was the custom. The women congregated in one part of the club and the men in the other. This is where I had my first "Shirley Temple." Later we all met in the dining room. It was a great lunch. At the end Virginia got up to go to the ladies room and Grandfather went to speak to Senator Jake Garn. While I was sitting at the table by myself, the waiter brought a small silver goblet filled with water to each seat. I had no idea what I was suppose to do with it, so I drank it. Grandfather saw me do it and started to laugh. He later told me that was a fingerbowl in which I was suppose to rinse my hands off. I was indeed embarrassed.
In the early 1970's Grandfather moved from his house on Virginia Ave to a fancy apartment/condominium building on North Temple in Salt Lake City. My Dad loves to tell the story of how he and Grandfather were riding in the elevator down to the parking area when President Ezra Taft Benson got on with them. Per my Dad, President Benson said, "Cash, you could have been a great mission president."
But instead, Grandfather Cash chose to devote much of his time to public service. His list of public positions included President of the Salt Lake Chapter of the American Institute of Banking, Chairman of the Salt Lake County American Red Cross, President of the Salt Lake Chamber of Commerce, Chairman of the Utah Commission for the Hoover Report, Member of the Board of Trustees to Administer the Utah Public Employees Retirement System, Chairman of the Civil Service Commission, Member of the Salt Lake City Planning and Zoning Commission, Member of the City Board of Adjustments, Member of the Federal Jury Commission (appointed by Judge Willis Ritter),and Co-Chairman of the Citizens Advisory Commission on Airport Improvements at Salt Lake City International Airport. My Dad would always tell us that the expansion of Salt Lake International Airport to its current status was in part due to Grandfather's vision of the future. We always considered him the second most famous Rampton politician in the family, behind Governor Calvin Rampton. That is before we learned that the husband of his half-sister, Amanda, was Charles Rendell Mabey, also a governor of the State of Utah. So maybe he moved down the list one notch.
In 1952 he was a candidate for the United States Senate seat from Utah. That was the same year that as President of the Salt Lake City Chamber of Commerce he spoke at the Golden Jubilee dinner at the Hotel Utah along with President David O. McKay and Irving S. Olds, Chairman of the Board of United States Steel Corporation. When my Dad graduated from the University of Utah in 1957 with a Masters Degree in Civil Engineering, his first job was with United States Steel. I wonder if Grandfathers connections had anything to do with it?
After retirement, Grandfather and Virginia would spend many of their winters here in Southern California, either in Palm Springs or San Diego. I always questioned the safety of two seventy year olds making the 700 mile drive from Utah to California in their Chevrolet Caprice Classic (which my Dad inherited, was stolen after several years and used in several bank robberies before being recovered.) It was always fun to go visit them in their resort-like surroundings. By this time Grandfather's opinion of my Mother had changed 180 degrees. He would always tell her that my Dad could not have done any better than her for a wife. But she still was always a little intimidated by him.
In December of 1991 I was saddened to learn that Grandfather had passed away, just before his 90th birthday. I was honored to be asked by my Dad and Aunt Janet to deliver the eulogy at his funeral. Governor Calvin Rampton was the other speaker. He was later buried at Mt. Olivet Cemetery in a family plot he had purchased years earlier. Today, my baby sister and mother are buried there along with Virginia and my Uncle Judd. The two remaining plots are for my Dad and Aunt Janet. It was important to Grandfather for the family to be close in life and death.
Grandfather especially loved my oldest son David, born in 1983, probably because David's middle name is Cash. When David was an infant Grandfather would send him letters and David would reply (via his mother.) In one of the letters Grandfather included this poem that way very dear to him:
YOUR NAME
You got it from your father
It was all he had to give.
So it’s yours to use and cherish
For as long as you may live.
If you lose the watch he gave you
It can always be replaced.
But a black mark on your name,
Son can never be erased.
It was clean the day you took it
And a worthy name to bear.
When he got it from his father
There was no dishonor there.
So make sure you guard it wisely
After all is said and done.
You’ll be glad the name is spotless
When you give it to your son.
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