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Zorro, was not his real name his real name. His name was Harry, but many people in our little town called him Zorro. He was born on March 16, 1917 in a little town in North Dakota called Golva. It is a small town close to Montana’s eastern side. He was born on a farm and was the oldest son of Syble and Henry. He grew up very fast as a farmer’s son and because Henry was seriously injured in an automobile accident and had lost a lung, he had to do many of the jobs normally done by the father in the family. The family was not rich, but did the best they could. He had not had very much formal education, which hampered him all of his life. He was not a stupid man at all, even with the lack of schooling, but because he did not graduate from High School, his employment opportunities were limited.

I guess his last day of school kind of tells a story of the kind of character he was. He was not at all mean, but he could get into a lot of trouble if he wanted. Harry was always full of fun and would rather do other things then go to school. On this last day of school for him, he was skipping a class as usual in the 8^th grade. He was in the hall of the old school house and decided to climb up on a beam that went across the hall. He was up there when he found a coat hanger. Not really thinking he re-bent the hanger into a hook and decided that it may be fun to catch someone coming down the hall with the hanger that he had fashioned into a hook. Much to his delight he saw his teacher coming down the hall. She wore her hair in a bun on the back of her head. As she passed he reached down and hooked her in the hair. She hollered and he laughed. She could not get loose. The more she tried the more Harry pulled. Shortly several students gathered around and started to laugh as well. Finally after much pleading Harry let her go. They both went directly to the principles office where Harry was expelled from school. He had intended to reapply for school next year, but hard times were to come to the family and he never went back.

He went to work for another rancher in Montana as a cowboy riding the range. He always loved to ride and was real good at it. He had competed at many rodeos as a bronco and bull rider. Now he was getting paid to do the things he liked. He rode fences, and herded cattle. He lived on the range with other cowboys and just like in the movies got to carry a gun and go into town on the weekends sometimes. He sent most of the money he made back home to his mom to help out with the farm.  

The money he made as a cowboy was not enough so he looked at other things he could do to make more money. The depression was in full swing and there were public construction jobs available for able-bodied men. He was not exactly a full-grown man, but he had to work like one.   He worked on bridges, roads and dams. He did not mind working high in the air and this made him in demand as a construction worker on dams. His lack of fear of in high places would serve him well in later life. The pay was better and it helped to get the farm back on its feet. There were many farmers abandoning their farms and moving away to the West. Harry was going to do all he could to keep the farm. While working in construction, he would come home and plow and plant.  

Harry stayed in the Dakotas and worked in the Civilian Conservation Core or CCC, as it was known. He was sent to an area near Huron South Dakota to work as the camp cook. While he was there working he went into town to have a little relaxation and go to a dance. There were regular band concerts every Friday night. The kids in the Huron area would go to these band concerts to listen and dance. One of the girls in the area was Nancy Martus. She and her boyfriend who was in the CCC were regulars at the concerts. On one occasion, Nancy had asked her boyfriend to bring a friend with him to the concert for her girl friend. Nancy’s boyfriend brought his friend Harry with him the next Friday. Nancy took one look at him and decided that she would rather be with Harry then her boyfriend and they started a relationship that would last for many years to come. Nancy’s boyfriend had to go back to college and when he did Harry made regular calls on Nancy at her home.  

Nancy moved out to Oregon to be with her dad one summer. Harry and her corresponded via letters during this time. Nancy went to work at the Oregon fair and was working at a booth when she looked up and there standing looking at her was Harry. He had came out to the West Coast with his father and family after the farm had finally failed. Harry had put in a last ditch crop of asparagus and watched the hail take it away. That was the last straw for the farm and Harry’s father Henry made the decision to move West to Puyallup where other members of his family were reporting that life was much better.  Harry had come to Salem with his dad to see Nancy. After many visits between the two they got married in Vancouver Washington in October.

They lived for a short time in Portland and then relocated to Puyallup. Harry did odd jobs and then worked in the shipyards during World War II.  There he learned metalworking and welding. After the war, he took a course in sheet metal fabrication and went to work in that field for many years. He also made neon signs and worked at most of the big sign companies in the area. He also worked in heavy construction and helped build many of the bigger buildings in the Puget Sound including the Space Needle and the SeaFirst building.  

Now to why he was called Zorro. Harry was a real good-looking man. He had coal black hair and dark eyes. He had a square jaw and a nice smile. Most everyone thought he looked enough like a movie star of the time, that he should go to Hollywood and try to be a double for him. Years latter a TV series would come on the air by the name of Zorro and because he looked a lot like the character, in the series, friends started to call him by Zoro. He never seemed to mind. Most of my friend always called him that and I think he took it as a complement, which it was intended to be.  

He had played a little minor league baseball as a kid. The team doctor discovered an enlarged heart. This stopped a possible career as a pitcher. He was our little league coach and was so good to help us boys learn the concepts of baseball. We started out very young as the worst team in the league, but by the time we finished in American Legion baseball we were the champions.  He showed caring and understanding with us kids but at the same time he could get mad and take a wrench to someone like he did to a friend of his for overcharging his father in a car repair deal. He drank too much for his own good, but mostly only on weekends and around holidays, which did not set well with Nancy. He would just drink two beers on Saturday and make his family famous potato soup. Of course the two beers where quart size bottles. He could say with honesty thought that he did only have a couple beers.  

He had a real sense of right and wrong. He liked to stand up for the little guy. He worked in his union and did so many things to help people. I tell the story of the daffodil parade to illustrate this feeling of right and wrong. The Puyallup valley was famous for growing some of the most beautiful daffodils and tulips in the world. Every year they would have a parade through the streets of Tacoma, Puyallup and end up in Sumner. One year he was watching the parade on a Saturday, after his two beers. A few young men had apparently had a few beers as well and were watching the parade. Harry noticed that a little girl was trying to watch the parade and the young men, who turned out to be solders from Fort Lewis, kept getting in her way. Harry at first asked the young men to kindly make room for the little girl and they did, but quickly went back to blocking her view. After repeated requests by Harry he finally exploded and started to punch the soldiers around. They fought back but he was getting the best of them. Soon the police came and he and the young men were taken to jail. Nancy had to bail him out. No charges were filed over the fight. At other times he would get in fights with men over such things as his perception that they were miss treating their wives or one time as I saw, he beat a man for stepping on his mothers yard when he had told him not to. Yet he could be caring and kind to others. He always took care of his family and never disrespected Nancy or his kids. He was well thought of by his friends and knew he would defend them to the end. He had high values and expected everyone to be honest and work hard. He never let his boys just set around. He expected them to work as hard as he did. His boys worked all summer every summer picking berries or working in the fields to earn money for their school cloths. When there was nothing else to do he made sure the boys mowed the lawn, the grandparents lawns, and if they got it done to soon, he would encourage them to mow lawns of other people in the neighborhood. He was a real good encourager if you know what I mean.  

He taught his boys the value of hard work. He taught them to be honest and moral. He taught them to stand up for the little guy and take responsibility for their actions. He taught them courage and not to back down when things got hard. He most of all taught them that his family expected them to act responsible and fairly with others. He worked hard and would not take it easy when he could; he tried to work as hard as younger men and never just skipped or goofed off a day when he could have. He went to work when he did not feel well and never complained. He did not want the younger guys to see Zorro anything but the super man he was thought to be.  

One day in the spring of 1969 he was feeling poorly and after much pleading by Nancy, he relented and went to the hospital. It was found that he was having a heart attack. He was in the hospital for 10 days or so. These were the days before ICU and the great technology we have today. He was scheduled to be sent home in a day or so, but on a Saturday May 24, 1969 as he was watching a baseball game on TV he suffered another attack and died there in the hospital. Zorro was gone but not forgotten. I had gone to the hospital the night before and given him a shave. I am so thankful that for some reason I was inspired to do that. I had the opportunity to tell my father that night that I loved him and was proud to be his son. We were not a son and dad who said that a lot even though I knew he loved me and he knew I loved him. We just never said it. I did put my arms around him that night and tell him one time that I did love him and he told me the same. I will always be thankful for that moment. I will never forget Zorro and how he taught me to be a man. I hope all the people who follow in our family know who he was and what he expects of us as his children and never let him down  

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