I love hearing stories about Grandpa Esker. (There are a LOT of them; I will add more as I find them). I wish I had written down the stories I heard him tell as I was growing up. When I was in the 4th grade my family lived in Grandpa Jim's home while they were on their mission to Fiji. I was over "helping" Grandpa Esker as much as I could. I've thought in looking back that I wasn't much of a help, probably, but he never made me feel like I was "underfoot"? I always felt like I was the most important person in the world to him when I was there. I lived in Esker/Amy's house with my three daughters (Sarah, Wendy and Rebecca) from 2000-2005 and every year people who had passed through St. David years before and had met him would stop to see if Esker was still around. He had a way of making everyone feel that they were important.
Random memories about Grandpa Esker shared on Facebook: (from Uncle Carter, one of Jim and Gwen's sons):
I have to agree with Andy that Grandpa Esker much more pleasant to work with and Dad! We built concrete ditches, added onto the barn (with Young and Robby’s help), built a chicken coop, and many other projects together. I would sometimes drag my feet when I was supposed to help him. Mother would say, “You don’t know how much longer he will be around. You need to get out there and help him.” Grandpa had a heart attack in his early 70’s; thus this comment from Mother.
Grandpa was really good at figuring out how to fix things. He figured out how to make creative locks for gates. One of his locks was simply placing a link in the chain onto a bolt. He helped me build a swing in our tiny Tucson backyard for the kids when I was married. It consisted of two vertical pipes cemented into the ground, attached by a pipe at the top that the two swing chains hung from. Being mechanically-challenged, I never would have figured it out myself.
He and Grandma would have the Mayberry cousins over for Sunday lunch a couple of times. One time after lunch, Grandpa took us to the area by the barn and showed us a couple of games he used to play as a boy. They had some broomsticks that they would use to push a washer around on the ground into a hole in the ground that was guarded by the opposing team – like hockey. Another game involved getting a pocketknife to stick in the ground from different starting points: starting from the knee, the hip, the elbow, etc. You would get points depending on the level of difficulty.
He told us about he and his brothers catching a rattlesnake that was so big it took three of them to carry it home. I don’t remember how old he was. His parents’ response? “We got a whupping for it!”
I also remember being enthralled that he knew an African-American woman who had personally met Abraham Lincoln. I don’t remember the context, though.
When I was about 10 and Wendy about 12, we had a Holstein milk cow that was pretty ornery. One time, we had her in the milking shed and one of us locked her head in the stanchion. I don’t know what got her going, but she suddenly started kicking and jumping with her backend in the shed. We didn’t know what to do. Grandpa was working in his field nearby. He came and got her to settle down so we could milk her -- trembling the whole time.
Grandpa and I hunted deer together when I was 12 on Wild Horse Mountain. He didn’t like horses (“I always get hurt when I’m around them!”), so we were on foot. At around 10 am, we were side-by-side when I saw him suddenly crouch down and then I saw the deer that he saw just ahead. He shot a buck and paralyzed his back legs. I thought I was shooting at a buck, too (more later). He told me to shoot the buck in the head, which I did. We saw some javelina up the hill from us. He told me to see if I could hit one -- and I did. We set out rifles down to gut the buck. We forgot where we left them, and, as we looked for them, we found a trail of blood that wasn’t where the buck had been. We followed the trail and found a dead doe with a shot through its mid-section. Grandpa initially took the blame himself: “The bullet must have ricocheted off a rock and hit her, etc.” He finally got me to confess that I had shot it. On one hand, he was complimentary on my shooting (I had killed 3 animals with 5 shots). On the other hand, I had shot a doe. I felt awful! Then he told me I needed to tell my dad. That sent terror through my heart. I’m sure he told Dad himself, but, about a week later, he asked me if I had told Dad. I said I hadn’t. He told me again what I needed to do and gave me some encouraging words on being honest. I told Dad shortly after that and was pleasantly surprised at how well he took it -- no doubt because Grandpa had paved the way!
Memories of Andy Mayberry (Jim and Gwen's youngest son) shared about Esker on Facebook: When I was a little kid I would often go over "help" Grandpa after school. At the time I felt like I was helping, but in retrospect I realize that I probably wasn't helping that much. As I got older (and as Grandpa Esker got older), I was a little bit more help, I think. As he got older, he became quite weak and had trouble lifting anything over about 20 pounds and had trouble turning a wrench if it offered any resistance. So he would have me do all of the "heavy" work. We were quite the team. He was the brains and I was the brawn.
During the months of the year when school was (and when I was not involved in a sport) I would often go over to Grandpa Esker's house and help him with his different projects. It was an interesting experience working with him. Working with Dad was always a high stress frenzy. Grandpa was more methodical. He would take the time to think things through and do it right the first time. Grandpa made working truly enjoyable.
Incidentally, I always just called him "Grandpa." He was the only grandpa who I ever really knew. All of my great grandparents were dead by the time I came along and Grandpa Young lived far away and we really didn't have much contact with him. I think I only met Grandpa Young once or twice in my life. We called Grandmother's husband "Grandpop."
It wasn't until the Richeys moved to Saint David and their kids became old enough to participate in meaningful conversations that we started to use the terms "Grandpa Esker," "Grandpa Jim," Grandma Gwen," and "Grandma Amy" to distinguish their Mayberry grandparents.
As I worked with Grandpa, he would tell me stories. I'm realizing that it has been around 30 years since I heard a lot of these stories, and as I try to remember the details, I admit that there may be some errors. I may be mixing different details from different stories. I cannot guarantee the complete accuracy of these stories but these are my memories. I should have written them down a long time ago, but better late than never.
As all of these memories start flooding back, it makes me want to write more down. I may post more as they come.
When Grandpa was a kid, he and his brothers would catch rabbits. I think they would either bring the dead rabbits home to eat or sell them to other people.
This is an aside: At one point they had greyhound dogs that would help them to catch the rabbits. He said that the greyhounds were not always successful. The rabbits were much quicker and though the greyhounds were faster, the rabbits would often change direction at the last second and the greyhound would run past them. The dog would circle around and the chase was on again. The dogs would get tired out quickly and wouldn't be able to run very fast. After several minutes of the chase, the rabbit and the dog would be so tired and running so slowly that Grandpa and his brothers could run up and catch the rabbit. One time he and his brothers tried to catch a rabbit before it was completely tired out so it was still able to out run them. They were all so tired: rabbit, dogs, and boys, that they were "running" around the field no faster than a walk. The dogs and boys gave up and the rabbit slowly ran away while the boys and dogs had to just stop and rest.
He said that for some reason, rabbits would prefer to run in the ruts of a road and dogs were unable to. He said that the dogs had to run on the grass and that running on the small rocks that were in the ruts in the road hurt their feet. This made it harder for the dogs to catch the rabbits.
He said they'd carry a length of barbed wire with them that was kind of twisted into a corkscrew shape. If the rabbit ran down a hole, they would put the wire down the hole and twist it. The barbs would get tangled up in the rabbit's fur and then they could pull it out.
One time on one of their hunting trips, they chased a squirrel down a hole. Grandpa was right behind the squirrel when it went down the hole, so he figured he could reach down there and grab the squirrel by the tail before it got very far. He caught the squirrel by the tail and it turned around and bit him on the finger. He said it's teeth went right through the flesh of the side of his finger tip right at the edge of the fingernail. He could see that the squirrel's top and bottom teeth had gone clear through and the squirrel was grinding it's teeth side to side.
He thought quickly and put the squirrel's head in his mouth and bit the squirrel's head in half from the back of it's jaw to it's eye. He was then able to remove the squirrel's partial head from his finger.
ESKER FARREL MAYBERRY
Esker was born a twin in Temple, Texas October 25, 1901. The twin brother died shortly after birth. Esker was child #8 of 12. Esker’s family nickname was Beck. Esker’s father, Carter Andrew Barnett Mayberry, was a share crop farmer and took good care of his horses and mules and farming equipment. He insisted on using leather tugs rather than chains because he didn’t want the chains rubbing against his mule’s legs. One season he moved to Joplin, Arkansas to farm, but didn’t stay because he said there were too many rocks in Arkansas which were a stress on the mule’s shoulders. Esker followed his father’s example in taking care of his belongings.
The family left Joplin in a covered wagon and traveled west. The family made several moves in Texas, always moving further west. The last place for Esker to farm was in Ralls, Texas, east of Lubbock. Here the owner of the land offered to sell to Carter, but Carter said ‘No.’ He didn’t want to get tied down. He wanted to be able to move on. The first year the landlord’s share was more than what he had offered to sell the land for. Some of the land the Mayberrys had a chance to buy has gas and oil wells on it today.
On Esker’s 21st birthday, October 25, 1922, he and his brother Curtis left Texas and headed for California to make their fortune. They arrived in Bisbee November 1, 1922 out of money and their Model T needing tires. Esker and Curt applied for work at the mines along with a 100 other men. Esker said he told them they needed work and would make good hands. When asked if they’d had any experience in mining. Esker confessed they’d never seen a mine. He was told they were only hiring miners and muckers. He asked if his brother could get a job as well and he was asked if Curt was a miner. Esker misinterpreted the question to mean ‘minor’ and said, “My brother is a minor. He’s not 21 yet.” He was laughed at, but they were both hired and went to work the next day. They slept on the ground for two nights and then asked a boarding house for credit until pay day. They liked the work and established a friendship with one of the bosses (Farrell Nelson). Farrell invited the boys home and the Texans met Farrell’s wife’s younger sister, Amy Busby, who was working in people’s homes earning a dollar a day. Both boys thought she was cute and wanted to date her. The story goes that Amy initially took a liking to Curt. The boys only had one good suit of clothing between them, so the first one up in the morning was the one that got to wear them. Apparently the brothers resembled each other quite closely and it was difficult to tell them apart, but Amy finally figured out that Esker was the more valiant of the two.
Esker worked hard and made good money mining for the next 4 ½ years, but he could see the dangers and health problems of miners and decided he wanted to be a barber. He was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on 7 November 1925 and was married and sealed to Amy Busby on 4 February 1926 and in October they were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple. They then traveled to Los Angeles where Esker attended barber school. In April 1927 he purchased a barber shop in Tombstone Canyon of Bisbee and barbered there until January of 1966. Esker and Amy lived in a home above the shop and their three sons were born there.
In 1930 Esker and Amy purchased 10 acres of land in St. David from Amy’s father, A.J. Busby where Esker had several firsts in St. David. He was a pioneer and wanted to make things better. He had the first irrigation well in St. David which he dug with a post hole auger and cased with hot water heaters welded together. It was 50 feet deep. He planted the first pecan trees in St. David. Everyone told him they wouldn’t grow there, but he decided to try and was very successful. He had the first cement ditches in St. David which were poured by hand on Mondays, (his day off from barbering).
Esker and Amy maintained two households, living in Bisbee Tuesday through Saturday and in St. David on Sundays and Mondays. Their three boys attended their early years of school in Bisbee, but all graduated from St. David High School.
Esker loved to hunt and fish. He was known as a good shot. When he pulled the trigger, he had game. He also enjoyed collecting minerals. He specialized in crystals and over the years in Bisbee developed a beautiful collection – as good or better than seen in many museums. He never met a stranger and said he never had any enemies. He was a friend to everyone, black or white, young or old, rich or poor, educated or not. He was known to pray for a blessing on his enemies, if he had any. He would always give compliments and make one feel glad to be in his presence.
He never turned a client away because they couldn’t pay for a haircut. Some were unable to pay for years during the Great Depression and World War II, but they always paid him – often in trade. He acquired many of his choice minerals in this manner. Sugar was a rationed commodity during this time and some paid in sugar. Grandma Amy had to register the sugar at the bank - something that she found very embarrassing as she was quite self conscious and felt this drew attention. During the depression years he worked from 7 am to 9 pm 5 or 6 days a week standing on his feet barbering and was paid 25 cents a haircut and made two $50 payments every month to pay for their home in Tombstone Canyon in Bisbee as well as their property in St. David. He understood and lived the concept of ‘sweat equity.’ He seldom threw anything away in case he might be able to use it somewhere else in a slightly different manner. Many have benefited from ‘shopping’ his junk pile.
He cut hair for as many as five generations in one family; his youngest customer was three weeks old and slept through it. When shaves at the barber shop were popular, Esker gave a free shave to anyone he nicked with the razor and in all the years he only gave away less than 10 shaves.
Esker enjoyed travel. When he retired and sold his mineral collection he purchased a truck and camper and drove to Alaska, a frontier he’d always wanted to explore. After traveling and exploring the places he’d desired, he and Amy settled down on the farm in St. David. Esker always kept busy puttering on something. He could fix just about anything.
He had some endearing sayings and advice:
This here here or that there there . . . yonder.
The way to get ahead in life is to do without the things you’ve got to have.
If someone has to come to my house to sell me something – I don’t need it.
Once a man, twice a child.
I am the smartest person around, because I’m dumb and I know it.
If a job was particularly tough he’d say, “We’ll show this thing whose butt’s the blackest.”
When one great grandson became interested in girls, he warned, “Watch out for those women; they’ll lie to you, lay on you, and take all your money.”
If you left the light on in a room he’d say, “You’re burning up my profits.”
To get Grandma’s goat, he’d say, “Yes, Mother.”
After visiting him, he’d say, “Take your time a-going, but hurry back.” Or “Come back.”
He had a hard time remembering names, but didn’t forget the person, and he was famous for giving nicknames – Bill, George, Pete, High Pockets, Blondie, Curly, Sally, etc.
In his last year he was disabled due to frailty and weakness and some senility and confined to bed. This was a miserable state for Esker. He learned to appreciate Amy and praised her for her goodness to him.
He passed away August 6, 1996 and is buried in St. David.
Other stories:
Grandpa Esker valued work and had a terrific work ethic. He was a man of his word. If he told you he would do something - consider it done.
Once when applying for a job with the oil rigs in Texas - The story goes that a large group of men were standing around at the employment office hoping to get hired. Esker picked up a shovel and started digging in a trench while the other guys stood around. He was hired on the spot.
Another story is told while working in the mine – Esker’s brother Ollie came and wanted a job – the mines needed an important job done – one that had some danger – Esker was approached and offered the job and was told that he could have anyone in the mine to assist him. He said he’d like his brother Ollie – the bosses registered surprise since Ollie wasn’t an experienced miner and the job entailed some danger – Esker replied he realized that, but he trusted his brother to be a good worker and he wanted to do the job with him.
I have to agree with Andy that Grandpa Esker much more pleasant to work with and Dad! We built concrete ditches, added onto the barn (with Young and Robby’s help), built a chicken coop, and many other projects together. I would sometimes drag my feet when I was supposed to help him. Mother would say, “You don’t know how much longer he will be around. You need to get out there and help him.” Grandpa had a heart attack in his early 70’s; thus this comment from Mother.
Grandpa was really good at figuring out how to fix things. He figured out how to make creative locks for gates. One of his locks was simply placing a link in the chain onto a bolt. He helped me build a swing in our tiny Tucson backyard for the kids when I was married. It consisted of two vertical pipes cemented into the ground, attached by a pipe at the top that the two swing chains hung from. Being mechanically-challenged, I never would have figured it out myself.
He and Grandma would have the Mayberry cousins over for Sunday lunch a couple of times. One time after lunch, Grandpa took us to the area by the barn and showed us a couple of games he used to play as a boy. They had some broomsticks that they would use to push a washer around on the ground into a hole in the ground that was guarded by the opposing team – like hockey. Another game involved getting a pocketknife to stick in the ground from different starting points: starting from the knee, the hip, the elbow, etc. You would get points depending on the level of difficulty.
He told us about he and his brothers catching a rattlesnake that was so big it took three of them to carry it home. I don’t remember how old he was. His parents’ response? “We got a whupping for it!”
I also remember being enthralled that he knew an African-American woman who had personally met Abraham Lincoln. I don’t remember the context, though.
When I was about 10 and Wendy about 12, we had a Holstein milk cow that was pretty ornery. One time, we had her in the milking shed and one of us locked her head in the stanchion. I don’t know what got her going, but she suddenly started kicking and jumping with her backend in the shed. We didn’t know what to do. Grandpa was working in his field nearby. He came and got her to settle down so we could milk her -- trembling the whole time.
Grandpa and I hunted deer together when I was 12 on Wild Horse Mountain. He didn’t like horses (“I always get hurt when I’m around them!”), so we were on foot. At around 10 am, we were side-by-side when I saw him suddenly crouch down and then I saw the deer that he saw just ahead. He shot a buck and paralyzed his back legs. I thought I was shooting at a buck, too (more later). He told me to shoot the buck in the head, which I did. We saw some javelina up the hill from us. He told me to see if I could hit one -- and I did. We set out rifles down to gut the buck. We forgot where we left them, and, as we looked for them, we found a trail of blood that wasn’t where the buck had been. We followed the trail and found a dead doe with a shot through its mid-section. Grandpa initially took the blame himself: “The bullet must have ricocheted off a rock and hit her, etc.” He finally got me to confess that I had shot it. On one hand, he was complimentary on my shooting (I had killed 3 animals with 5 shots). On the other hand, I had shot a doe. I felt awful! Then he told me I needed to tell my dad. That sent terror through my heart. I’m sure he told Dad himself, but, about a week later, he asked me if I had told Dad. I said I hadn’t. He told me again what I needed to do and gave me some encouraging words on being honest. I told Dad shortly after that and was pleasantly surprised at how well he took it -- no doubt because Grandpa had paved the way!
Memories of Andy Mayberry (Jim and Gwen's youngest son) shared about Esker on Facebook: When I was a little kid I would often go over "help" Grandpa after school. At the time I felt like I was helping, but in retrospect I realize that I probably wasn't helping that much. As I got older (and as Grandpa Esker got older), I was a little bit more help, I think. As he got older, he became quite weak and had trouble lifting anything over about 20 pounds and had trouble turning a wrench if it offered any resistance. So he would have me do all of the "heavy" work. We were quite the team. He was the brains and I was the brawn.
During the months of the year when school was (and when I was not involved in a sport) I would often go over to Grandpa Esker's house and help him with his different projects. It was an interesting experience working with him. Working with Dad was always a high stress frenzy. Grandpa was more methodical. He would take the time to think things through and do it right the first time. Grandpa made working truly enjoyable.
Incidentally, I always just called him "Grandpa." He was the only grandpa who I ever really knew. All of my great grandparents were dead by the time I came along and Grandpa Young lived far away and we really didn't have much contact with him. I think I only met Grandpa Young once or twice in my life. We called Grandmother's husband "Grandpop."
It wasn't until the Richeys moved to Saint David and their kids became old enough to participate in meaningful conversations that we started to use the terms "Grandpa Esker," "Grandpa Jim," Grandma Gwen," and "Grandma Amy" to distinguish their Mayberry grandparents.
As I worked with Grandpa, he would tell me stories. I'm realizing that it has been around 30 years since I heard a lot of these stories, and as I try to remember the details, I admit that there may be some errors. I may be mixing different details from different stories. I cannot guarantee the complete accuracy of these stories but these are my memories. I should have written them down a long time ago, but better late than never.
As all of these memories start flooding back, it makes me want to write more down. I may post more as they come.
When Grandpa was a kid, he and his brothers would catch rabbits. I think they would either bring the dead rabbits home to eat or sell them to other people.
This is an aside: At one point they had greyhound dogs that would help them to catch the rabbits. He said that the greyhounds were not always successful. The rabbits were much quicker and though the greyhounds were faster, the rabbits would often change direction at the last second and the greyhound would run past them. The dog would circle around and the chase was on again. The dogs would get tired out quickly and wouldn't be able to run very fast. After several minutes of the chase, the rabbit and the dog would be so tired and running so slowly that Grandpa and his brothers could run up and catch the rabbit. One time he and his brothers tried to catch a rabbit before it was completely tired out so it was still able to out run them. They were all so tired: rabbit, dogs, and boys, that they were "running" around the field no faster than a walk. The dogs and boys gave up and the rabbit slowly ran away while the boys and dogs had to just stop and rest.
He said that for some reason, rabbits would prefer to run in the ruts of a road and dogs were unable to. He said that the dogs had to run on the grass and that running on the small rocks that were in the ruts in the road hurt their feet. This made it harder for the dogs to catch the rabbits.
He said they'd carry a length of barbed wire with them that was kind of twisted into a corkscrew shape. If the rabbit ran down a hole, they would put the wire down the hole and twist it. The barbs would get tangled up in the rabbit's fur and then they could pull it out.
One time on one of their hunting trips, they chased a squirrel down a hole. Grandpa was right behind the squirrel when it went down the hole, so he figured he could reach down there and grab the squirrel by the tail before it got very far. He caught the squirrel by the tail and it turned around and bit him on the finger. He said it's teeth went right through the flesh of the side of his finger tip right at the edge of the fingernail. He could see that the squirrel's top and bottom teeth had gone clear through and the squirrel was grinding it's teeth side to side.
He thought quickly and put the squirrel's head in his mouth and bit the squirrel's head in half from the back of it's jaw to it's eye. He was then able to remove the squirrel's partial head from his finger.
ESKER FARREL MAYBERRY
Esker was born a twin in Temple, Texas October 25, 1901. The twin brother died shortly after birth. Esker was child #8 of 12. Esker’s family nickname was Beck. Esker’s father, Carter Andrew Barnett Mayberry, was a share crop farmer and took good care of his horses and mules and farming equipment. He insisted on using leather tugs rather than chains because he didn’t want the chains rubbing against his mule’s legs. One season he moved to Joplin, Arkansas to farm, but didn’t stay because he said there were too many rocks in Arkansas which were a stress on the mule’s shoulders. Esker followed his father’s example in taking care of his belongings.
The family left Joplin in a covered wagon and traveled west. The family made several moves in Texas, always moving further west. The last place for Esker to farm was in Ralls, Texas, east of Lubbock. Here the owner of the land offered to sell to Carter, but Carter said ‘No.’ He didn’t want to get tied down. He wanted to be able to move on. The first year the landlord’s share was more than what he had offered to sell the land for. Some of the land the Mayberrys had a chance to buy has gas and oil wells on it today.
On Esker’s 21st birthday, October 25, 1922, he and his brother Curtis left Texas and headed for California to make their fortune. They arrived in Bisbee November 1, 1922 out of money and their Model T needing tires. Esker and Curt applied for work at the mines along with a 100 other men. Esker said he told them they needed work and would make good hands. When asked if they’d had any experience in mining. Esker confessed they’d never seen a mine. He was told they were only hiring miners and muckers. He asked if his brother could get a job as well and he was asked if Curt was a miner. Esker misinterpreted the question to mean ‘minor’ and said, “My brother is a minor. He’s not 21 yet.” He was laughed at, but they were both hired and went to work the next day. They slept on the ground for two nights and then asked a boarding house for credit until pay day. They liked the work and established a friendship with one of the bosses (Farrell Nelson). Farrell invited the boys home and the Texans met Farrell’s wife’s younger sister, Amy Busby, who was working in people’s homes earning a dollar a day. Both boys thought she was cute and wanted to date her. The story goes that Amy initially took a liking to Curt. The boys only had one good suit of clothing between them, so the first one up in the morning was the one that got to wear them. Apparently the brothers resembled each other quite closely and it was difficult to tell them apart, but Amy finally figured out that Esker was the more valiant of the two.
Esker worked hard and made good money mining for the next 4 ½ years, but he could see the dangers and health problems of miners and decided he wanted to be a barber. He was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on 7 November 1925 and was married and sealed to Amy Busby on 4 February 1926 and in October they were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple. They then traveled to Los Angeles where Esker attended barber school. In April 1927 he purchased a barber shop in Tombstone Canyon of Bisbee and barbered there until January of 1966. Esker and Amy lived in a home above the shop and their three sons were born there.
In 1930 Esker and Amy purchased 10 acres of land in St. David from Amy’s father, A.J. Busby where Esker had several firsts in St. David. He was a pioneer and wanted to make things better. He had the first irrigation well in St. David which he dug with a post hole auger and cased with hot water heaters welded together. It was 50 feet deep. He planted the first pecan trees in St. David. Everyone told him they wouldn’t grow there, but he decided to try and was very successful. He had the first cement ditches in St. David which were poured by hand on Mondays, (his day off from barbering).
Esker and Amy maintained two households, living in Bisbee Tuesday through Saturday and in St. David on Sundays and Mondays. Their three boys attended their early years of school in Bisbee, but all graduated from St. David High School.
Esker loved to hunt and fish. He was known as a good shot. When he pulled the trigger, he had game. He also enjoyed collecting minerals. He specialized in crystals and over the years in Bisbee developed a beautiful collection – as good or better than seen in many museums. He never met a stranger and said he never had any enemies. He was a friend to everyone, black or white, young or old, rich or poor, educated or not. He was known to pray for a blessing on his enemies, if he had any. He would always give compliments and make one feel glad to be in his presence.
He never turned a client away because they couldn’t pay for a haircut. Some were unable to pay for years during the Great Depression and World War II, but they always paid him – often in trade. He acquired many of his choice minerals in this manner. Sugar was a rationed commodity during this time and some paid in sugar. Grandma Amy had to register the sugar at the bank - something that she found very embarrassing as she was quite self conscious and felt this drew attention. During the depression years he worked from 7 am to 9 pm 5 or 6 days a week standing on his feet barbering and was paid 25 cents a haircut and made two $50 payments every month to pay for their home in Tombstone Canyon in Bisbee as well as their property in St. David. He understood and lived the concept of ‘sweat equity.’ He seldom threw anything away in case he might be able to use it somewhere else in a slightly different manner. Many have benefited from ‘shopping’ his junk pile.
He cut hair for as many as five generations in one family; his youngest customer was three weeks old and slept through it. When shaves at the barber shop were popular, Esker gave a free shave to anyone he nicked with the razor and in all the years he only gave away less than 10 shaves.
Esker enjoyed travel. When he retired and sold his mineral collection he purchased a truck and camper and drove to Alaska, a frontier he’d always wanted to explore. After traveling and exploring the places he’d desired, he and Amy settled down on the farm in St. David. Esker always kept busy puttering on something. He could fix just about anything.
He had some endearing sayings and advice:
This here here or that there there . . . yonder.
The way to get ahead in life is to do without the things you’ve got to have.
If someone has to come to my house to sell me something – I don’t need it.
Once a man, twice a child.
I am the smartest person around, because I’m dumb and I know it.
If a job was particularly tough he’d say, “We’ll show this thing whose butt’s the blackest.”
When one great grandson became interested in girls, he warned, “Watch out for those women; they’ll lie to you, lay on you, and take all your money.”
If you left the light on in a room he’d say, “You’re burning up my profits.”
To get Grandma’s goat, he’d say, “Yes, Mother.”
After visiting him, he’d say, “Take your time a-going, but hurry back.” Or “Come back.”
He had a hard time remembering names, but didn’t forget the person, and he was famous for giving nicknames – Bill, George, Pete, High Pockets, Blondie, Curly, Sally, etc.
In his last year he was disabled due to frailty and weakness and some senility and confined to bed. This was a miserable state for Esker. He learned to appreciate Amy and praised her for her goodness to him.
He passed away August 6, 1996 and is buried in St. David.
Other stories:
Grandpa Esker valued work and had a terrific work ethic. He was a man of his word. If he told you he would do something - consider it done.
Once when applying for a job with the oil rigs in Texas - The story goes that a large group of men were standing around at the employment office hoping to get hired. Esker picked up a shovel and started digging in a trench while the other guys stood around. He was hired on the spot.
Another story is told while working in the mine – Esker’s brother Ollie came and wanted a job – the mines needed an important job done – one that had some danger – Esker was approached and offered the job and was told that he could have anyone in the mine to assist him. He said he’d like his brother Ollie – the bosses registered surprise since Ollie wasn’t an experienced miner and the job entailed some danger – Esker replied he realized that, but he trusted his brother to be a good worker and he wanted to do the job with him.
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