A Faithful Tithe Payer - the Beginning

Here is part two of the autobiography of Charles Cash Rampton, Jr.  The last paragraph of this part documents the beginning of his life as a full tithe payer.  It was not an easy choice for him, as you will read.  But, he made the right decision and the "Windows of Heaven" continue to bless him to this very day.  Go thou and do likewise.

 I will include a few more pictures at the end.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A True Story

There were a lot of children around our neighborhood to play with.  Also there

were a lot of neat places to play in.  One was the gully in back of our house and

another was a gully northeast of our house.  We liked to play in the second one and walked by it each day going to and from school.  Years later the Bonneville Stake Center was built in this gully.  A small stream ran in the bottom of it most of the year. One spring the culvert under 15th East got plugged and the water backed up in the gully and formed a large lake.  This may not seem very exciting now but back then to a grade-schooler, it was very exciting.

This second gully seemed to have more mystery than the one in our backyard.

We made underground hideaways in our gully by digging trenches and covering

them with wood from nearby building projects and putting the dirt back over the

top to hide them.  The longer the entrance tunnel, the better the underground hut

was.  The second gully was farther away from home and had lots of scrub oak

groves to use as hiding places.  The neighbors near the gully had the city build

two walkways on each side of the gully for easy access.

I can remember one experience that happened when I was about 10 years old.

There were two brothers who had a 22 rifle.  We wanted to shoot it.  Because it

made a loud sound when it was fired, we decided if we shot it in the garage no one would notice.  So we went into their garage and shut the doors.  The garage was next to an alley that ran parallel to Hubbard Avenue.  We obtained 22 short

caliber bullets and commenced shooting in the garage.  We were having a good

time and became bored with shooting in the garage.  We left and went to the

gully with more mystery and began to shoot again not wondering where the

bullets for going.  This caught the neighbors' attention and soon we could see the

police coming on the newly made pathways.  I ran one-way and my friends ran

on the other side.  I got to my bike ahead of my friends and the police.  I went

home and felt safe.  About 30 minutes later, a knock came at the door. It was the

police.  He wanted to know if I was there.  He talked with Dad for a few minutes

and explained what he was there for. He told Dad he wanted to take me to jail.

Dad talked to him and convinced him not to take me.  He told Dad he caught the

other boys and was taking them to the police station.  They told him where I

lived.  He told Dad the dinning room of the neighbor who lived across the alley

from my friends was filled with bullet holes and he was very mad but he did not

know where they came from.  I knew where they came from.  The bullets were

going through the target, through the garage's wood siding, through doors of his dining room, and into his house.  When the people who lived near the gully called about the shooting, the police knew right where to look for the shooters.  The other boys spent the night at the police station.  Thank heavens that my dad was a pretty good talker and I got to stay home.

We had fun shooting, followed by the terror of running away from the police,

followed I by the relief of getting away and home, followed by the fear from the

knock on our door and followed by the comfort that came as a result of my dad's

efforts on my behalf.  From then on I thought more about my actions and what

effect they might have on others.  I am very thankful for a good dad, who would

and could fix my problems.

Mom and dad always had jobs for me to do around the house on 15th East.  I can remember raking the fall leaves into piles and putting them in the garbage or

raking them into the gutter area in front of our house.  When they were in big

piles it was fun to jump or fall into them.  On some fall Saturdays I could hear the

crowd noise from the University of Utah football stadium.  The announcers and crowd noise made me want to be there and see the game.  lf there was a

whole in the fence or an unguarded location we could get in for free and spend

our money on treats.  Mother would plant tulips early in the spring and we never

seemed to know if they were going to grow or be frozen by the snow. There was the gully at the back of our house and our property line went down the gully slope

quite a ways.  I never did no how far back our property line went. Our next door

neighbors, the McAllister's, had some animal cages at the very bottom of the gully as did our other neighbors.  It was always a problem to know how far back the yard had to be cleaned.  Mom always wanted me to do a little bit further down

the slope.  On the other side of the gully the slope was quite steep. We liked to

make "marble runs".  We would try to make a track which would zig and zag

down the slope with jumps, turns and tunnels.  We would put a marble at the top

and see if we could get it to go to the bottom and stay in the track.  Also in our

back yard was a spot of dirt we thought of us as a sandbox.  We would build

roads and tunnels to play with our toys.  It was near the back corner of the

garage and under an old apple tree.  The apples were always very tart to eat.

Near the rear corner of the house in the backyard was an old cherry tree.  It was

so large it overhung the house. We climbed that tree so much that the bark was

polished red by our touching it.  We had a hard time waiting for the cherries to

become ripe before we ate them.  They were the best cherries, even though they

were usually half ripe.  Also on the side of the backyard next to the Jorgensen's

were some very large lilac bushes. Most of the time they had a few blossoms.

But near Memorial Day, I can remember our parents picking them and taking

them to decorate our family graves.  All of this had to be cared for.

I can remember someone gave Janet and I a printing set.  This consisted of

some rubber stamps and an ink pad.  We set about to print a neighborhood

newspaper. For some reason this sticks in my mind as an important event.

The floor of our single story House was about three to four feet above the

exterior grade.  This allowed for large basement windows that could swing

horizontally to open and were easily climbed in and out of.  This made our

basement a light and airy place where we could hang our wet cloths in to dry on a winter day. Also in the basement was "fruit room", in which we stored the jams and jellies along with the peaches and pears mother had put up.  This was also of fun room to play in.  Also in the basement was a finished rumpus room which later became my bedroom.  I always thought it was a strange bedroom because no one ever made the bed.  On the floor in that room I had my Lionel and American Flyer trains set up.  I would cover the floor of the rumpus room/bedroom with their tracks.  I guess that's where I learned to love trains.

Summer Jobs

Shortly after mom and dad got divorced in 1941, I got my first job outside the

home.  I was about twelve years old and worked at the American Paper Company in Salt Lake City.  It was a company that was partly owned by my dad.  One of the big things I had to do was to get my Social Security number. I felt pretty important.  My main job was sweeping up the warehouse floor.  I sprinkled the compound on the floor and then swept it up again.  Later I got to do other things.  The thing I liked best to do was going on the delivery truck to all of our

customers.  One time when we were going south on State Street,  it was

raining quite hard and then all of a sudden it stopped. There was a line across the street, one side was wet the other was dry.  This impressed me very much. Later I got to fill some of the orders when I knew where all the stock was.  When it came time to get my first paycheck, I was going to spend it.  Mother said to me "Are you going to pay your tithing?"  Later Dad asked me what I was going to do with my money.  I told them I was going to pay my tithing.  This upset him very much. He said to me, "Why don't you save your money in the bank?"  He said the church didn't need my money especially when I was twelve years old.  He and mother had some heated words over the matter.  In the end it was left up to me. It was a big decision for me for two reasons.  I had to choose between Dad's advice and Mother's suggestion.  When I chose to pay my tithing, Dad was disappointed.  I did put some money in the bank but it didn't seem to make him feel any better.  But I know now that I made the right choice.  It took quite a while for Dad to get over that.  I have been a full tithe payer ever since.  It was one of those choices you only have to make once in your life.  It is good to start early in your life to make right choices.  I worked at the paper company until the summer of 1943.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next week will be the third and final part.  Check out these photos



Age 4 with sister Janet





Age 12 with sister Janet  (pretty classy dresser)

  

Age 13 with sister Janet and Grammie (Wilda Cash Rampton)





Age 16 (in center) on first date with Grandma (Lois Fae Linnebach) - what kind of car is that?



How Old Do You Have to be to Write Your Autobiography?

Interesting question......how old do you have to be to write your autobiography?  One person said they were too young and didn't have enough experiences to make it interesting.  Another person said that now that  he was old enough he was going to get started.  He died the next day.  The right answer...........you're never to young to start:  but there's one thing to remember, your autobiography should be a lifelong endeavor.  You may rewrite it dozens of time as your perspective matures.  But you need to write it so you won't forget.  

 You may not know this, but I wrote one when I was a student at BYU. It needs to be updated. 

About ten years ago, Grandpa (Charles Cash Rampton, Jr.) decided to write his Life History.  That was when he was still able to sit down at his computer and type.  And what he typed was remarkable.  Below is the first third.  Next week and the week after, I will add the rest with some comments and photos.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Life History of Charles Cash Rampton Jr.

l, Charles Cash Rampton Jr. was born on June 14th 1929 at Salt Lake City, Salt

Lake County, Utah.

I was born in the Holy Cross Hospital (l think).  I was the first born of two children

to my parents.  My sister Janet Claire was born two years later on June 2nd 1931

in the same hospital.

I have been told that I was any colicky baby and quite a pest to my parents, who

were awakened often by my cries.

They lived in the Elaine Apartments near downtown Salt Lake City.  Sometime

before my fifth birthday they moved to a residence at 938 South15th East, which

was in the Yale Ward of the Bonneville Stake.  We lived there until about March

of 1948.

I was named after my father Charles Cash Rampton.  He was born in Bountiful,

Davis County, Utah on December 24th 1901.  My mother was Blanche Ruby

Worthen.  They were married in the Salt Lake Temple on June 23rd 1926. My

grandfather was Charles Hyrum Rampton and his second wife was Wilda

Cash, my grandmother.  We called her "Grammie" They were married January  31,1894 in the Salt Lake Temple.

My father worked for the Walker Bank & Trust Company all his professional life.  Some of the bank officers and my Uncle Charles R. Mabey, a former governor of the State Of Utah, helped dad purchase a home on 15th East.  These were very difficult financial times I was told.  Without help we couldn't have obtained the home.

When I was two years old, a baby sister was born in the family.  I was very

indignant over this because she stole the spotlight from me, but as she got older

the interests of my parents were turned to both of us and so it has been since.

A short time after we moved into our home, I bumped into a very large vase that

stood on a low table and it broke.  Everyone was very angry with me and I got my

first spanking that I can remember.  Everyone felt bad including me.

Soon after we moved in, dad purchased a very large radio that sat on the floor with four legs; one with tubes in it.  Dad had to change the tubes often.  It was hard to know which one was bad.  I used to like to lie in front of the radio and play with the knobs and my toys. There were a lot of wonderful radio programs in the thirties and forties. I used to like Jack Armstrong, the all-American boy. You

used your imagination and you felt you were right in the middle of the story.

Our home had two bedrooms, Janet and I shared one bedroom for many years,

one bathroom, a large kitchen, a dining room with a swinging door, and a nice

living room with a fake fireplace. The living room had two large windows to look

out of on cold winter days while waiting for Dad to come home.  We also had a

full basement with a furnace room; washroom in which we hung cloths to dry on

cold winter days; a finished rumpus room, which I used as a bedroom in later

years; and a food storage room where we kept the bottled fruit and preserves

that mom put up.

Next to the furnace room was a coal storage room or bin to keep coal in for the

winter.  About twice a year a big coal truck would back into the driveway and

dump a load of coal in our bin. We felt secure when the coal room was full.  The

coal had to be shoveled into the furnace by hand and the clinkers and ashes removed from the fire box by hand each day.  Later we got a machine to feed the furnace automatically but still the clinkers had to be taken out each day by hand.

It was a wonderful home filled with happiness and a gully behind it to play in.

I first went to the Uintah School when I was five years old (September 1934).  It

was about nine blocks from my home.  My first day as school was a very hectic

one. I really wanted to go to school but I was rather timid.  When I arrived at

Uintah School, I didn't know what it was going to be like.  By the time the first day

was over, I decided it was fun.  My teacher's name was lone Naigel. We got to

take naps on the floor on our own rugs and drink chocolate milk, orange drink, or some other good treats.  Our teacher would pull down the window blinds so the room would be dim for us to take our nap.  That was a good start!

Most of the usual childhood diseases came and went during my grade school

days which accounts for so many days of school absences.  Mom and Dad both

worked much of the time so we had some very nice babysitters.  (Grandpa never added their names and does not remember them anymore.  He does remember that some of them were good singers.)  Probably my most serious affliction was when I fell from a second story of a new home being built across the street and broke my arm.  My father kept

telling me that it wasn't broken and not to cry.  It pained me all night so we called

the doctor the next day and had it set. My cast was made from layers of plaster

of paris and cloth.  Since my break was near my left elbow, the cast went from

my wrist to just above my elbow and formed an L shape, so I could not bend my

elbow. After about six weeks, they sawed the cast from off my arm but I could not

bend my elbow.  So I had to practice lifting a heavy iron to straighten my elbow.

It took a long time before I could get it to extend all the way.  That was the hardest part of experience.

We loved to play in the new houses while they were being framed. The lumber

had lots of loose knots. We loved to knock the knots out of the lumber.  It was great fun. The contractors did not like us to do this so we had to be very careful not to be noticed when we played there.  One time when the contractor came unexpectedly in the evening, we had to hide in the tall weeds.  He walked right over us not noticing us in the weeds.  It was a pretty scary time but it was just across the street from our home so we did not have far to go for help.

I have summarized my elementary school history on the following three pages.

Probably the most significant thing that happened in elementary school was

being held back in the second grade.

We had some good neighbors.  On the south were the Jorgensens and on the

north were the McAllisters.  I played often with Bell Marie McAllister and was in

their home a lot.  We liked to play hide- and- seek in the darkened hall way. One

of their sons was killed in World War Two. The Jorgensenes were not LDS and

seemed strange to me. They had no children my age. There were many good

neighbors across the street on Hubbard Ave.  It was on Hubbard Ave where I fell and broke my front tooth off on the curb. Also as I was coming home another day, a bolt of lighting struck a tree I was under and split the truck almost in two.

Someone had to drill a hole through the trunk and put a big bolt to keep the tree

together. That bolt remained in the tree as long I can remember.

A Fun Game with Dad and His Feet (A true Story)

Dad had a large armchair with a matching footstool to put his feet on.  It was

located in the archway between the living room and the dining room.  He liked to

sit it in this chair and have his feet rubbed.  To get us to rub his feet, he played a

game with us.  He told us there was a "spot" on his foot and if we could catch this

spot he would give us some money.  He always left his sox on so we could not

see the spot.  Of course it took quite a while to catch the spot.  It wasn't until later

years we discovered that the spot was imaginary.  Dad just wanted his feet

rubbed.  It was a fine game.  During the game we often came very close to

catching the spot which was very exciting.  The spot moved very fast over his

feet.  It was a loving time, which always ended with success when we touched

the spot and got the money.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 2 will be next week.  Below are some early photos of Grandpa.



This is the earliest known photo of Charles Cash Rampton, Jr. taken in 1929.  He is being held by his grandmother, Wilda Cash Rampton, who he called "Grammie."  I believe that is his mother, Blanch Ruby Worthen (Grandma Blanche) looking on.



Age 2 taken in 1931

 

Age 3 taken in 1932