My Fun Loving Father

Driving to a photo shoot in Bellevue yesterday, I was musing about my dad, Webster Warren Bateman. Father's Day is around the corner and I'd just heard an announcer on the radio telling a funny story about his dad and asking listeners to retell their stories.

My dad was born May 28, 1911 in Marshall, Minnesota, the oldest male of six children. He had an older sister, a younger sister, and two younger brothers. He was a wild and crazy guy. In his teens, he’d left home with a brother to work in the circus traveling from town to town, hoisting tents, and doing whatever menial labor was available. I remember him telling me how he learned to hate hominy grits, since this was about all they had to eat. During the shows, dad performed as the back end of a giraffe while brother, Ray, served as the head. They may have changed positions from time to time since my dad liked being in charge. Boy, did he!

Even when I became an adult with children of my own, my dad was never bashful about making sure I knew how to do something his way. I laugh about it now, but while mom and dad were visiting me in Puyallup, I remember how frustrated I got when he instructed me from the passenger seat of my car, how to back down my own driveway!

Most of dad's career was spent either in heavy construction or trucking, although during World War II, he operated cranes and other equipment at the Kaiser Shipyards in Portland, Oregon. He was color blind and not eligible for the draft. He and his brother-in-law, George Tabor, were also the first to take semi-trailers from Montana to Alaska on the Alcan Highway (a gravel and dirt road at the time) hauling bombs for the government ("Uncle Sam").

Dad was a man who loved his family and having fun. He would dance a jig at parties, sing and make people laugh. He was known to tip a few and in later years, even more, but I prefer to remember him as the fun loving story teller (Jim Hill's bull was a favorite) and jokester.

For ten years from the late 70's, mom and dad lived in Benton City, located in south-central Washington. Out of 40 applicants, dad had been hired as the superintendent for Benton County's roads. Evidently, one of the other applicants who worked for the county, was upset he hadn't gotten the job instead, so he kept an eye on dad to see if he could undermine him.

Mom and dad had a dog named Blondie. She was a Cocker Spaniel with long golden hair and ears that draped gracefully to her shoulders, particularly when she was sitting. Dad knew he was being watched and followed, so one day he deliberately took Blondie with him in his truck, while inspecting the county roads. He also made sure Blondie was sitting very close to him in the front seat. (Bench seats allowed that kind of thing in the 70's).

Sure enough, my dad was reported for driving around the county with a woman in the truck! But dad, with good humor and a twinkle in his eye, demonstrated the mistaken identity of his "woman" to the county officials. That put an end to the disgruntled employee's spying attempts.

Dad passed away in November, 1997 at the age of 86. He was a fun and funny man, who for all his faults and foibles, will forever be dancing a jig in my heart.
www.BonnieKingPhotography.com