Dwight A. Thomason

(As told by Dwight A. Thomason)

Born September 13, 1922 in Denver, Colorado in a two story building on W. 33rd Ave. west of Clay St.; which I learned was used for TB patients as Denver was regarded as a haven for TB patients due to the dry climate.

As near as I can recall, what was told to me, was that we lived in a row house on Irving St. between Moncrief Place and 32nd Ave., then to Osceola St. north of 33rd (hazy on this), then to Stuart St. located South of W. 35th Ave. on the east side of the Street.

Before, I forget, my fathers’ name was Dwight A. Thomason which made me a junior. (I never liked my middle name so have chosen to leave it out). He was a sheep farmer in Wisconsin and served in the 32nd Infantry Division from Wisconsin in WWI. He served in the front lines and trenches and was subsequently gassed. He was sick every winter and died December 11, 1931. My mother was unable to prove that it was from the gassing---as he like most soldiers said, that he was in good health when he was discharged. Consequently my mother received only a small portion of “Unmarried Widows” pension of $30.00 per month. In order to keep us going after my fathers’ death in 1931, she worked on the WPA—school lunch program which barely kept our heads above water. I worked in Woodbury Public Library for a very small wage during the summer and in my time off played tennis at the nearby Highland Park, close to Clay.

My school years included: Edison Elementary School on 35th & Perry, then to Lake Jr. High in 19th & Lowell. I graduated from North High School in June of 1940 in a class of 628 (?). I was in the middle 300……..I think.

After high school, I worked at Bradford Robinson Printing Company on Stout Street, which was across from the Main Post Office. I started by riding my bike delivering proofs to various customers in the downtown area. After awhile, I was promoted to a job in the shipping depot. Then to the print shop as an apprentice melting lead for the linotype machine. This got pretty old-----fast. I left and went over to Neusteters Department Store on 16th St. in the shipping room at Christmastime, but it was not very exciting or good pay. Left there and went to Merchants Biscuit Company on 9th & Larimer, later to become Bowman Biscuit, then Keeblers (now known at time of this writing). I was able to eat as many goodies as I wanted. I walked to work from 31st & Hooker down Speer to Zuni and across the railroad tracks at 5:30 a.m. ---a little scary when going over the couplers of a supposedly stopped train. My hours were 6:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. which I thought was great. (I don’t remember the salary, but with each successive move I received a raise in pay).

After being there for a few months, I had an opportunity to work at the Remington Arms Plant (now the Denver Federal Center). There were 3 work shifts: 8 a.m.-4 p.m., 4 p.m.-midnight, Midnight-8 a.m... We would change every week, skipping a shift each time; in other words 8 a.m.-4 p.m., then Midnight-8 a.m., etc. I was hired as an inspector kind of ‘running herd’ on a bunch of females who were inspecting bullets & shells for defects. One of my jobs was to keep some of them awake since their job was boring and monotonous. The pay was good and the hours were OK. After the 4 p.m.-Midnight shift some of us piled in one of the guys cars and went out for a steak dinner; when the restaurant knew we were coming they would stay open. After about a year I was drafted into the Army—November 1942. I requested a postponement due to the fact that I was sole support for my mother. The postponement was granted until sometime in 1943 at which time I was advised that if I was drafted after one year service at a defense plant and would go right in to service without taking the 1-2 week leave they gave out, I would get a month’s pay as a bonus. I took it and after a month in the service, sure enough I received a check for a month’s pay from Remington Arms, it was $800.00. Compared to my $50.00/month in the Army, that wasn’t bad.

I took basic training at Ft. Warren, Wyoming and when I finished I was shipped by myself to New Orleans, Louisiana by train. Arrived there at midnight and an MP picked me up and drove me around the camp looking for my outfit---finally found it. But was told that they were getting ready to go overseas soon (the first I knew of that), but I stayed there several weeks in August-September---had to take all of our required forced marches at night along the levee since the daytime high temperatures and humidity and mosquitoes………..lovely country. Saw New Orleans a couple of nights, but all the lights were dimmed for fear of U boats in the Caribbean.

I went overseas in September 1943 with the 37th Replacement Battalion on the Queen Mary in a 1st class cabin with about 7-8 other GI’s. One night in the cabin and next night on deck---lots of fun. Forgot to mention that the CO of the 37th was ambitious, as all colonels were and he volunteered our services in checking the passenger list (on the Queen Mary) which we did in a small interior room with no portholes and if you don’t think that you can get seasick under those conditions---try it some time?! We landed in Greenosk Scotland where we sat for several days---couldn’t dock---shipment was too big. For days, we were shuttled to the dock and listened to the bagpipes welcoming us night and day. Then by train to Birmingham England and then by truck to Litchfield to an old English camp called Whittington Barracks. After a few months, then I was transferred to the 341st Quartermaster Field Depot Company in Ramsey (near South Hampton). I stayed with them until the end.

Rights after the Battle of the Bulge was contained, we went over to LeHavre France, then to Leige Belgium, to Nancy Alsace Lorraine then to Mannheim Germany. I was eventually promoted to T5, Staff Sgt. where the war ended in the ETO (European Theatre of Operations). We were all destined to go to the Pacific to help those GI’s (Philippines). We were also destined for Marseille on the Mediterranean then through the Suez Canal, etc.; but in the meantime we were set up in tents near Rhosimus (sp?) France and the CO broke down and said he would have the troop trucks take half to Paris one day and the other half the next day—how lucky can you get. We suggested having the CO (Major Dasteel) examined as normally he was a real “AH”.

Paris was great. I went down several times, then we were blessed again. The war in the Pacific ended and we were sent back to Mannheim. Eventually when I was eligible for discharge, I chose to get my discharge in Germany and sign up for a civil service back in the same place I was in as a GI. As a civilian, I was placed in charge of a large class 2 & 4 depot (clothes and citations) with German prisoners doing the work and Polish guards—which turned out to be a real circus. I had my own jeep and lived in a large house nearby---in my own apartment. Ate with the GI’s most of whom were new and although I signed up for a year, I had the options to leave after six months, which I did. The pay was good, but I was getting homesick.

I went home on a victory ship which was made in mass production and certainly no Queen Mary. I had to go upon the bridge and let the wind hit me in the face which helped with seasickness. After 6-7 days we landed in Brooklyn Naval Yard and several of us took two cabs (one for us and one for our gear) to 42nd & Broadway in the middle of Times Square where we stayed for several nights. Eventually, I couldn’t stand the noise for 25 hours a day---but still had a ball.

I would have bought a used jeep in Germany for $3-400.00 as they wanted to take them to the US---I didn’t do it as I would have to drive it home from NYC to Denver. So I took a bus which stopped in every village en route. I went to Dubuque, Iowa to see my Aunt Julia and family—very wealthy. They treated me like a king---maid service and all. Julia took me around Dubuque and introduced me to everyone especially the Catholic Priest (she was not Catholic, but Dubuque is a very Catholic town). After that visit, I came home—still on a bus.

Came home in May and just lay around and got to feeling bad. The doctor said “get a job” which I did at Davis Bros. Wholesale Drug & Liquors (15th & Wynkoop). After awhile, I went across the street to Weicker Transfer & Storage as an assistant to the warehouse foreman and a raise in pay. After awhile, I started dating a very nice young lady who worked in the office. One thing led to another and we were married in 1947. She eventually left Weickers and went to Gallagher Tux Company—billing at night where she met a man she liked better than me, who was also married with a family. One thing led to another and she asked for a divorce. We did have a son. Her new husband had been studying to be a lawyer and was transferred to Baltimore. She asked if they could adopt him---at first I said no, then eventually said yes. As it later turned out, his birthday was the exact same day only 8 years earlier than my son, Douglas Alan.

Then I did the next best thing I had ever done in my life---I had the chance to go to work for the Western Weighing & Inspection Bureau and also joined the Timberline Club (exclusive to tall people including height requirements for joining) where I met Phyllis Peasley who turned my mixed up life around. We were married in the First United Methodist Church, in Loveland, Colorado on October 17, 1953. We had a great life together and like all marriages, we had our ups and downs, of course though the greatest “up” was the birth of our two children---Paula Ann and Douglas Alan.

There also comes the school activities for both children, Cub Scouts and Mile Hi Band for Doug, 4-H for Paula that kept us busy throughout the years. We would always try and take at least one family vacation per year and that was most always done by driving. Each family member would have specific tasks to do in either with the preparation or packing for the trips. Coast-to-coast and border-to-border leaving out a few states in-between we logged a lot of miles over the years.

One of my greatest joys was to attend activities where my children were involved. Watching your son measuring 7’ on the basketball court or playing racquetball brought a thrill that cannot be described.

There are some duties/experiences as a Father that cannot be planned ahead of time, but just experienced along the way. That is---walking your only daughter down the aisle as she marries the love of her life, standing in as best man for my son-Doug’s wedding, and watch as my children become parents of their own.

Grandchildren of which I have three—Scott Matthew Hancock (1982), Brady Phyllis Thomason (2004), and Daniel Aaron Thomason (2007) make me feel blessed that the continuation of events that I got to witness with my own children are seen in different eyes.

Following Phyllis’ death on December 7, 1989, I was extremely lonely. I did some traveling to visit old friends and then various relatives (by marriage) throughout Iowa and South Dakota. I went out with different lady friends from the Timberline Club and then found love again for the third time in my life. I married Shirley Kesler Nemeth on August 31, 1991 and lived for a short time in her home in Fort Wayne, Indiana before selling that house and moving back to Denver, Colorado. We pooled our resources from the sale of our previously owned homes and moved to The Village on West Yale Avenue. She later died from complications of a broken bone and Alzheimer’s Disease on September 16, 2009.

Living through the depression as a child taught me the valuable lessons of “keeping everything; you never know when you might need it!” Well to this day I still practice that useful (?) lesson. I worry about who will have to clean out the place once I’m gone, but hope they treasure the memories created by saving all that stuff.

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

This story has come to an end nearly 91 years from the day it started, but not without a lot of memories to be cherished. He traveled near and abroad and created friendships with people he would probably never see again, but the experiences were priceless. Until his dementia became progressively worse and the revocation of driving privileges, this story may have continued further.

Dwight is survived by daughter Paula (Max) Hancock, son Douglas (Cari) Thomason, grandchildren Scott Hancock, Brady Phyllis Thomason and Daniel Aaron Thomason. His wife Phyllis Peasley Thomason preceded him in death as well as wife Shirley Thomason. Visitation will be from 5-7pm on Thursday, August 29th with services at 12:00pm on Friday, August 30th, both at Olinger Crown Hill Mortuary and Cemetery. Following the services, Dwight will be laid to rest next to his wife Phyllis where he will be honored as a veteran.