Thill Family Recollections

By Irene Thill

LEONA DELAY THILL

Personal Recollections by Irene Thill

Leona DeLay Thill, lovingly called “Loney”, was the first Thills I met. I was teaching school in American Falls, Idaho. I lived in an apartment complex with roommate, Ann Stewart. Both of us were from Ashton, Idaho. Ann wasn’t used to menial labor, so I took out the garbage, among other things. Doing this was my downfall. I met Loney at the dumpster and it became a regular ritual for the two of us to chat a bit at the end of each day. – this was in September 1945.

Loney had come from Montana to keep house for her dear son, Vic, who was recently divorced and alone in the world. She told me’ was a young businessman, who operated a truck stop and sold used cars on the side. It was her opinion that we “might be suited”. I think she really wanted to go home and was seeking a substitute caretaker for her son.

The apartment building consisted of one long hall on the second floor with apartments on each side. Each one had a string of rooms, kitchen, living room, bedrooms, bath, then reverse for the next one. My apartment and the Thill’s had a common wall between the bathrooms. Evidently Loney was playing Cupid in earnest. Getting ready for work one morning, I opened my medicine closet, and this very male voice started singing, very off-key, “School days, school days, dear old golden rule days”. This went on for several mornings until I finally yelled,” Hey Mister! Come to my class room and I’ll teach you to carry a tune!”

He yelled back,”I’ll bet you could teach me more than that!”’ Cheeky thing, wasn’t he?

The moral of this story is, Loney got to go home. Vic and I met, became an item, and got married three months later. I tell you those Thills are fast workers and have a fatal charm to break the barriers of the toughest resistance. I was twenty-six years old and never married.

Loney was always anxious for her sons to get married and start producing grandchildren for her. She was a fiercely protective mother and felt the same way toward her grand kids. Her daughters-in-law were simply necessary partners in the production of her lineage. She was a devoted and a true champion of her blood line. She could and, often did, manipulate any outsider who crossed her reasoning, including in-laws.

She was very good at making logical-sounding excuses for any child or grandchild she had. She never admitted one had a fault and none were ever the cause of their own problems.

Loney was one independent lady. She uncomplainingly raised her seven children single-handedly. She provided a home for them whenever they called, no matter where they were, regardless of age. She loved unconditionally. This term is often used insincerely, but Loney truly loved with no conditions attached. To her, each child was perfect and a special gift to humankind. I cannot fault her attitude and have only praise for her devotion.

Loney had a great sense of humor and often laughed at herself. She had very dark hair and once when the “in-thing” for women was to dye a white streak just off the face somewhere, she didn’t have money to have hers done in a salon. She got creative and dyed herself a streak with white shoe polish. She just chuckled and said, “Women will do anything to be in style.” Another time we were all visiting and she made bread. It went into the oven late in the evening. She turned it down low and we a;; started to play cards. The next morning she said she found her bread very well-cooked, indeed. She exclaimed, “Guess what I just did? I invented ready-made toast!” Then she laughed until her fat little belly shook.

There will never be another Loney. The mold was broken. I suspect she creates a stir in Heaven now and then and cheers everyone up.

ADOLPH CARL THILL

My contact with Adolph Thill was brief and limited to a few visits. These first few lines are actually here say gleaned from his son, Victor, who was my husband. I know Adolph was still in Montana in 1931 because that was the year Vic was kicked in the head by a horse, and Adolph carried him from the field to the Doctor in Glasgow. So sometime after that “the Old Man” or more often “the old son-of-a-bitch” left his wife and five sons. He returned to his home state of New York and evidently worked in some capacity in the shipping industry on the Great Lakes, mainly Lake Erie near Buffalo.

Vic often talked about how mean Adolph was and that he and his older brother, Rex, were instrumental in running him off at gun point.

Adolph was Catholic, so divorce was out of the question for him. Vic’s mother, Loney, never sought one either for some strange reason. Maybe Adolph refused to give her one. He generously sent her ten dollars every month for child support. Times do change, don’t they? She and the boys supplied the rest for a decent survival.

Somehow, they all did survive and pretty well, too. One son was an engineer and one a brakeman on the Great Northern Railroad. Two sons became pharmacists, and one was the best long-line truck driver in the United States of America.

Sometime in 1951-52 the couple reconciled and Adolph came west again. (I never learned why he came west the first time}. The two lived in Pocatello, Idaho for a period of time, then moved to Modesto, California where the youngest son, Don, lived. Except for five sons, the marriage never produced much for the family. It appears to me they never were greatly compatible. After all those previous years, they succumbed to the inevitable and got a divorce. Grounds – physical cruelty. Loney clained he beat her up with a flashlight and broke her false teeth.

Adolph bought a small acreage outside of Modesto. It contained a large garden space and had nut and fruit trees that produced well.

He lived there for a time with Don, but in 1974 he was living alone when he died. There was some hint of a religious cult, who had him cremated and strewn without notice to the family. They were also heirs to his property.

I recall seeing him at least three times; one in Pocatello where I first met him in 1952. Another time Vic and I with Leona and Steve, visited him on the Modesto farm. He proudly showed us his beautifully tended garden and trees. He was an expert grafter and had one nut tree with four different kinds growing on it. He was very crippled and had placed tall stakes with leather straps placed-at intervals up to their tops. He used the straps to lower or raise his poor old body at the end or beginning of the rows so he could cultivate the plants.[1]

Vic just shook his head and muttered, “Tough old bastard.”

He fed us a good lunch with homemade bread and fresh strawberry jam. We ate off the kitchen counter with his pet cat sleeping on one end.

The third time I saw him, we were living in Moab, Utah. He came with one of his grandsons, Virgil Thill, to visit for a few days.[2]

I remember how tenderly Virg helped him put on his sox and tied his shoes. I saw his gnarled old hand reach out gently to pat Virg’s head.

I liked the old man and remember him as garrulous, knowledgeable

NOTE: The maple sugar candy also came at Christmas each year.

IRENE AND THE THILLS

My introduction to the Thills was volatile, to say the least. After Loney’s nice chats at the garbage pails and Vic’s enthusiastic rendition of School Days, I was hardly prepared for the very physical people this family turned out to be.

Vic and I had been dating for a few weeks and everything was candlelight, roses and charm. One weekend I invited him to go home and meet my family. Vic was an extremely hard worker and was all business when he worked so I didn’t know that days off meant a few drinks of booze and a whole lot of whoop-tee-do activity.

We got ready to leave American Falls for Ashton and Vic grabbed my suitcase. We headed to the stairs. At the top he sat down on my case and rode it all the way down, spurring that bronc all the way to the bottom. That case is still in existence and still bears the scars. He slapped his leg, laughed, and said not to worry. He would buy me a dozen new ones.

We had a beautiful wedding and a lovely honeymoon. When spring came and school was out, we went to meet his folks in Montana. We went to Loney’s first and everything was fine. Youngest brother Don, lived with her and she sent him to Rex’s house to tell them we were coming over.

His wife, Marian, and their boys came to meet us and we entered a closed porch off the back door. The kids bounced inside and Marian led our way in. As soon as I stepped inside the door, Ka-powie ,Ka-powie Ka-powie! Three bullets plowed into the floor right beside my feet. It’s a good thing I have a good bladder for I almost wet my pants.

Vic and Rex beat each other on the backs until they almost collapsed, Marian and Loney scolded them for being naughty boys. The target did not feel so benign, and I never trusted Rex Thill from that day forth.

Don was just a kid in high school and had no time for high-jinks with old people. Brother, Jim, and wife Louise, had a house that soon filled up with Thills, uncles, aunts, and cousins. Everyone stuffed themselves with the best food in the world. They all talked at once and recalled old times and bed was just a memory you dreamed about.

Sister, Belle, husband Merrill, and three children lived in Malta, Montana at that time and they welcomed us with open arms. This family was more sophisticated. I felt somewhat inadequate and feared I didn’t measure up to their high standards. Belle was a bank receptionist and Merrill worked for the Bureau of Reclamation. Later, when they moved to Fort Peck we spent several vacations with them and I became more relaxed.

Vic’s oldest brother De, wife Chubby and only child, Billy, lived in Butte. These two people were cowboys to the bone and Billy wore a black hat, boots, spurs, and chaps. He was only four years old.

Chubby was getting breakfast one morning and Billy got real impatient.He demanded his egg and hotcake right now.

Chubby asked,” Billy, what do you say?”

The little imp shouted,”Hurry up!”

All of the Thills were hard drinkers and avid cussers. De and Chub took us to a saloon on the main drag of Butte. We were sitting on stools at the bar. Chub was slugging Butte style boiler-makers, De had a beer and Vic and I were drinking bourbon and branch.

Pretty soon De reached over and grabbed the inside of my thigh. He squeezed hard and said with the utmost sincerity, “God Damn, but I like you. Old Vic got one helluva woman this time.” I was just learning to be Thill tough, so I turned my head as the tears ran down my cheeks. Actually De would have been devastated had he known how badly he hurt me.

Want to know what a boiler maker is? It’s a shot of whisky chased by a beer. Butte style is a small glass of beer. The shot glass full of whiskey is lowered into the glass of beer and then you chug the whole thing down.

The last of the immediate family, Bob, was in the Navy serving in WW II. While Vic and I were still living in American Falls, Bob came home on leave and spent part of it with us. He was a happy-go-lucky guy and we had a good time with him. One evening we were having a few drinks at home while Vic and Bob reminisced. Bob tipped over an ash tray He calmly lifted up the edge of the Carpet and brushed the ashes under. He cocked his sassy eyes at me and grinned.

“Hell, Irene,” he said, “ashes will keep the moths away.”

Let me explain those sassy eyes of Bob’s. Every Thill ever known, even those with diluted blood, has a set. Those eyes are a large, wide open, slightly almond shaped and a deep rich brown. not muddy, but a clear sparkling flirty kind of brown. It is a family trait to drop the head a wee bit, cock it to one side and peer knowingly out of the corners of those eyes. This thoroughly disconcerts a person. Vic loved to play on words. I accused him of using his eyes as weapons to throw another person off balance. He laughed and said, “Yeah, I just like to see people get flusterated.”

There were many contacts with this closely-knit family; many hours of fun, contentment and sorrow. Don, Bob, De, Rex, and nephews Billy, Johnny, Tommy, niece, Mary, and her Mother, Louise all stayed with us for varying periods of time at various times throughout our relation-ship. Johnny, Billy, and Rex even worked in the movies being filmed in the Moab area. Johnny worked in “The Comancheros’’ with John Wayne and Billy worked in “Cheyenne Autumn:’ Rex was a horse trainer.

Billy came home from the set one day and told me, “I got killed off at the water hole today, so let me sleep in, in the morning.”

Sadly, from the old school, only Bob, Don, their wives, and are living today. Heaven has to be a much livelier place with all those Montana Thills in residence. Rex is shooting holes in the clouds. Vic is jitter-bugging with the prettiest angels. Louise is in the kitchen preparing nectar and ambrosia for the Winged Angel Club and Jim is playing gracious host and waiter. Belle is St. Peter’s receptionist and Merrill is preparing lightning bolts. De is ghost-riding the herd and Chubby is making hotcakes for the Cherubim. Marian is overlooking the whole bunch and keeping everyone sane with her calm expertise.

Overseeing the entire clan, is Loney beaming happily and proud enough to eclipse the sun. Adolph is tending God’s garden and grafting red-cheeked apples onto the Tree of Life.

Interactions with the Thill Family

by Irene Thill

The first major interaction with a Thill, after Loney and Vic, came barely a month after Vic and I were married in December. Loney called Vic and said she was having trouble controlling Don. Would we take him and help him finish High School? Without hesitation Vic said, ” Sure, Ma, send the little bastard down here to me. I’ll straighten up his ass.”

So began the first test of motherly supervision on my part. He presented no problems for us and I felt sorry for the kid. He not only suffered home-sickness but he had to put up with kissy-faced newly-weds to boot. Matters were not any better when all he got to eat for breakfast was cold cereal. Dinner was usually a burnt roast and tears of frustration on my part. At the end of the summer he went home and entered junior college at Dillon, Montana.

Ironically, about twenty five years later, History repeated itself. Don was living in California and was having problems with his own teen-aged son, Tommy. We were running a Phillips 66 Truck Stop in southeastern Utah. Don called and said, “I never thought I would be in this position, but will you take Tom and teach him some sense?”

“Sure'” answered Vic, “Send the little bastard out here. I’ll straighten him up.”

Don sent Tom to us and hopefully we were instrumental in helping him to become the fine young man he is today. About all Tom knew how to do when he got here was to play golf and eat. When he left, he knew how the dirt under his fingernails got there. He was slimmer and handsomer and had learned how to get along with the public. I suspect he had also learned a few tricks from his smarty-pants cousin, Steve. I know he could tear up the countryside on a dirt bike.

After Don transferred from college in Dillon, he came to us in Pocatello, Idaho, and enrolled in the Eastern Idaho College of Pharmacy.

Vic was driving truck for Garrett freight Lines and was able to get Don a job on the freight docks loading and unloading trucks. He went to school by day and worked swing at his job. He worked his little hind-end off.

It didn’t help matters that his hormones took over and he got married midway through. He made it though, and sweated his way to graduation. This all culminated in a successful career, ownership of his own drug store and now a leisurely retirement in Patterson, California.

After brother, Bob, was discharged from the Navy, he also came to us in Pocatello and we did the same for him as for Don. Bob was married when he came and fathered two daughters before he, too, graduated Pharmacy School. He also worked the swing shift on Garret’s freight docks. The all-work and no-play lifestyle was too much for Bob’s wife, Doris. One evening after Bob had gone to work, she, with daughter, Randy, caught the 11:00 P.M. train for Montana. She left a few weeks old baby, Connie, sleeping peacefully in her crib and a note explaining her actions. When Bob came home at midnight he found both and I can only imagine the devastation he must have felt.

One of the saddest days of my life began the next morning, early AM. Vic was on a trip and I was getting ready for work teaching school, when the knock on my door came. There stood Bob with a bassinette full of diapers and baby clothes under one arm and Baby Connie under the other.

He explained what had happened and with deep hurt in his now not so sassy eyes asked, “What am I going to do, Irene?” All I could think of at the moment waS an immediate solution. I called the school and asked for a substitute for the next few days  due to a family emergency .Vic came home from his trip and the three of us put our heads together Loney was consulted and with her love and unselfishness she would come to Pocatello and make a home for Bob and Connie.  However, it would take several weeks for her to get her affairs in order so she could leave her home in Montana. I called my sister in St. Anthony, Idaho and she and her  husband, Bill, would make a home for the baby until Loney came.

They fell so in love with little Connie that when their own daughter was born, she was named after Connie.

We interacted with Bob more than any other sibling. There were constant phone calls and visitations. Bob and Doris divorced[3] and when he asked Jan to be his wife, they came to us in Moab, Utah. We arranged for them to be married in the Lutheran Church. Between them, they already had six marriages. When we came out of the courthouse with the license Bob slapped his leg, snapped his fingers, and shouted, “Seven come eleven!”

A short time later, Bob was in a terrible car accident in Colorado, where he and Jan were living. Vic went immediately to help and when Bob left the hospital, Vic moved them to LaSal, Utah where we operated a Truck stop. Bob’s health and vision gradually improved as he helped in the station and Jan worked in the cafe. When he was fully recovered they moved to Casa Grande, Arizona where Bob returned to his profession.

Sadly his marriage to Jan ended when she died of leukemia. She is buried in Casa Grande and once again Vic was there to help Bob through a bad time.

Bob continued in the Drug store business in Arizona where he met and married Vera. Today, they are retired and living in Holbrook.

The first time De Stockton came to visit us was about five years after we moved to Moab. Vic and I had been away for a few days and when we drove into our yard after dark the lights in our house were on. The big window in the living room revealed a man sitting comfortably in Vic’s recliner reading the newspaper. Vic stared at the man for a few seconds and yelled,

“Jesus Christ, it’s old De.”

Sure enough, that’s who it was. He had identified himself to the neighbors and they helped him break in by removing a back window screen. He made himself at home and was acquainted with half the town by the time we got home. When he left, his son, Billy, came and stayed for time. He worked breaking horses for Redd Ranches, a huge family consortium, with holdings in four states.

De fell on hard times, divorced Chubby and lost his job as Montana State Stock Inspector. He was drinking heavily and wound up back at our place in Moab. Vic handled him with a great deal of sensitivity and understanding. After all, old De had helped raise him and he owed the man.

Vic had to haul a special load of hot uranium ore to Bartlesville, Oklahoma and made De promise he would not get drunk while he was gone. Well, De was drunk the whole time Vic was gone, five long days of drunk. He lost all control; peed the bed; threw up on the carpet; urinated against any wall he could prop himself up against. I worked, and was tired from the responsibility. The children were alarmed at Uncle De’s behavior. He staggered in one evening, so drunk he was incoherent. Steve was playing with his erector set on the living room floor. De stumbled and fell into the pieces, scaring Steve to death. He scooted out of the way and worried all night that Uncle De would die.

I handled all of this, not happily, but with consideration, for I truly loved the De that was, not the De that is.  However, I snapped the time he yelled at me to bring him a goddam cup of coffee and make it snappy- As drunk as Vic got himself, he never acted as De was doing, so the next day when he got home, I went all hysterical. I demanded that he get De a room and take care of him there. Instead, he called Bob in Colorado and he said he would take De in for a while if Vic could bring him over. When Vic got there , of course, there was a typical Thill reunion. They all got drunk together. On Vic’s return home he had one of his alcoholic seizures, totaled his jeep, and almost died. | That was the last time Vic ever saw De and he mourned the loss until the day he died. I, too, have suffered shame for my poor handling of a bad situation. I will feel badly forever that I came between them.

I know no one else in the family believed De did the things I accused him of doing because it was so out of character. But he did do them.

The one Thill that lived with us longest and gave us a lot of happy memories, was Johnny, brother Rex’s oldest son. I knew Rex and Johnny never got along too well, but I never knew what finally caused the rift between that caused Johnny to leave Montana.[4] There was a phone call and one day soon after he appeared on our doorstep and said he needed a place to stay. He became a permanent boarder for a few years. He worked as a jug hustler for an oil exploration company. He used to strip to the waist on hot days and rub his torso with motor oil. He baked to a beautiful blackish-brown. With that skin color, his black hair and the Thill eyes, the movies scouts recruited him. In one movie he was an Indian, a Comanchero, and a cowboy. He was the lead rider in any battle charge.[5]

Leona and Steve adored him and he became the big brother any kid longs for.

Rex’s youngest son, Larry, became a regular weekend guest at the Truck Stop in Utah, when he worked in olorado. Both areas were in the Four Corners. He would come roaring in on his motorcycle and brighten up the weekend for everyone. He pitched in and helped where he could see a need.

He came in very shaken up one time, but laughing at himself, too. There was a full moon, the road snaked through a deep canyon lined on either side by tall rock cliffs. He saw and heard an alien form following him. No matter how fast he went, it hung right on his tail. He was really scared until he figured out the form was only his shadow reflecting off cliff faces enhanced by the bright moon, and the motor echoed back in the stillness.[6]

Larry was not much of a drinker, but one time he got drunk on Vic’s Cowboy Lemonade. That was a concoction of vodka, orange and grapefruit juices and salt. I’ve never seen a greener sicker fella in all my days. He survived, however, and we correspond a few times a year.

In the late 1980’s, I went to live with my son, Steve, and his family in Tucson, Arizona. Rex’s second son, Virgil, was staying there and I fell hopelessly in love with this sweet, gentle nephew of whom I had here-to-for only known slightly. Every evening, Steve’s little girls challenged “Uncle Virg” to a wrestling match. He would get down on the floor and play with those children by the hour.

Virg was a victim of the Thill curse, alcohol, and I have heard he was a real hellraiser in his youth, but I never saw him exhibit any behavior that wasn’t courteous and respectful. Even when he and Steve had a tiff and Virg moved out, it didn’t last long. They forgave each other and are good friends today. Virg had a brief marriage but no birth children, He is now sober and a true champion of the surviving Thills. He still lives in Arizona but I never hear from him anymore.

Even Rex took a turn as our guest in our home. He began drinking out of control and lost his job as an engineer on the Great Northern Railroad. He went through an alcohol treatment program, but once back home around old haunts and friends the temptations to return to his addiction were too great. Once again Vic was the stalwart foundation upon whom so many had depended and we took in Rex for several months. He came to the truck stop in Utah and worked in the station.  

He also worked in the movies as a rider and as a horse trainer. Marian came for a while and seeing her again made him homesick so after her stay ended, he went back to Montana with her.

Rex died when one of his beloved horses reared, fell and broke a leg and burst an artery at Christmas time in 1972. He is buried in Havre, Montana and several years later his beloved Marian joined him there.

Last but not least, brother Jim’s daughter married a young man who became obsessive compulsive and was treated for this condition at the University of Utah Hospital Psychiatric Unit in Salt Lake City. We lived close to that area and Mary and her Mother, Louise, took turns staying during his rather lengthy treatment. One time when they were both gone, I took over the daily duties. I took him out for a ride and he wanted to see downtown Salt Lake City. One of the places we toured was the Salt Palace Convention Center and Arena. The place was empty. We went the front door and came to the back exit. It was locked and it was a long way back to the front. I innocently said, “That makes me so mad I could scream.”

That was the wrong to say and Tab jumped on it. “Scream, Irene,”  he demanded.

“I was only kidding, Tab.”

“Scream,” he said.

So, I gave a little squeak, and he yelled, “Scream louder!”

Before the incident was over screaming at the top of my lungs and he kept me at it for what seemed like hours. Finally I was able to coax him out and I got him back to the hospital as fast as I could and behind locked doors again. No more Miss good guy Irene!

The final chapter was closed when Vic became ill with terminal cancer. Jim and Louise paid us back a hundredfold and much more. They put their own lives on hold and came to us in Magna, Utah. When Vic learned there was no hope of survival, he insisted on coming home to die. We had two doctors on beeper call and home hospice nursing care. Our daughter, Leona, is an LPN and she came every day to give medicines and bathe him but nothing was as good as the comforting presence of Jim and Louise Thill. For two months they took care of us, taking charge of home duties and soothing our fears. Jim was with Vic when he died March 1,1982 at 4:00 in the morning. They saw us through the funeral arrangements and burial. When I finally broke down, Louise kept everyone away from me to have my private moments.

All the people we had helped, rallied around us when the chips were down and we needed them. They came with love and gifts to soothe our sorrow. How does one say thanks for that kind of unselfish devotion?

There is no way, so I’m grateful that we gave of ourselves and resources and opened our home to them in their time of need.

There are many more memories I could write about this wonderful and funny and shocking family. One such incident occurred when the Espeseth family (Vic’s niece, Carole) visited us in Moab, Utah. We took them to Dead Horse Point high above the Colorado River. John looked down and across 200 miles of plateau and exclaimed.”Yeesus Christ, you haf to see it to befeef it!”

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[1] Adolph drove an early 50’s Hudson when Larry visited him in the mid-Sixties. He had removed the back seat so he could haul manure and other garden supplies in it. Later, he had a stroke and could no longer turn his head to see traffic on Highway 101. The story goes, he would pull up to the intersection of the busy 4-lane road, get out, look both ways, get back in and proceed across.

[2] Virgil brought Adolph home with him when he got out of the Marine Corps in 1963. Virg and Mike, who spent time around Adolph, held him in high regard.

[3] Bob and Doris patched things up, raised Randy and Connie, the split up again.

[4] This was about 1960, after Johnny got out of the Navy. He hitch-hiked to Utah in the dead of winter.

[5] The 1961 Movie, “The Comacheros” with John Wayne.

[6] Larry wrote a poem, “The Comet and the UFO” about this incident.

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