Harold Arthur
McCracken
October 14, 1927 –
July 13, 2018
Life sketch delivered
at his funeral service, July 19, 2018, in the Sunnydell, Idaho, LDS Ward
Part 1 – by his
daughter, Marsha M. Burdick
Harold Arthur McCracken was born October 14, 1927, near
Tetonia, Idaho, in his grandparents’ home, which was located on the head of
Spring Creek, where, in my father’s words, “the water bubbles out of the ground
so cold you can’t hardly put your hand in it.” A midwife came to the home and
spread a quilt and some sheets on the kitchen table, and that was the maternity
ward. He was the firstborn of Lucille, who was just 16 years old, and Demar,
30.
Times were hard, and
they had very little, but Harold didn’t know that. His early days were very
happy living with Grandma and Grandpa Chase. One of his favorite memories was fishing
through the hole cut in the floor of the milk house which was built over that
ice-cold spring which was full of fish. He’d lay on the floor and poke a loop
of copper wire into the crystal-clear water and slip it around the gills of the
fish and pull them out. Even though he was only a toddler, he could catch a
bucket-full in no time.
Since Demar worked away from the home a great deal, Harold spent
most of his time with his grandpa. Grandpa Chase’s only son, Arthur, had passed
away as a toddler, and he adored little Harold Arthur, his namesake. They
worked in the fields together, cleaned the barn, and then used the cow manure
to chink between the log barn walls. He helped milk 15 or 16 cows, I’m not sure
how much help a 3-year-old would have been, and then they separated the cream
from the milk to make butter to sell.
He was his grandpa’s shadow, but the best part of each day was
when he heard his father’s buckboard wagon coming down the gravel road. He’d
run to meet his dad, who would boost him up, give him the reins and let him
drive the team through the gate, making him feel so important, so loved.
Those golden days came to an end when his Grandpa Chase lost
the farm during the bottom of the depression and the young family was forced to
find their first home of their own, which was in a grainery where they lived
for about a year. The grainery had a little stovepipe, and the immigrant farm
workers liked to shoot at that little stovepipe for target practice, and when
they hit their mark, and the stovepipe toppled, the house would fill up with
smoke. Dad said this happened often. It’s funny to me that smoke was their
concern, not bullets flying at their house.
The McCracken’s, or Mack’s, as they were known, moved many
times and again using dad’s words, “We lived in some of the darndest, little
ole places, folks you wouldn’t hardly believe.”
The shanty above Spring Creek did not have a well and it was
4-year-old Harold’s job to haul the heavy buckets of water up the hill from the
creek for washing, drinking, and household use. This was quite a strenuous
chore for a young boy.
On the same day that Lucille and Demar learned they were
expecting their second child, they also learned that Demar had cancer,
melanoma. Over the next several years, Harold traveled with his parents many
times to Salt Lake City on the train for his father’s radium treatments. They’d
stay for 3 or 4 weeks, and Harold remembered these trips as adventures. I think
this might have been when Dad developed the skill and habit of looking for the
good in a situation, seeing the bright side and counting his blessings,
something he stressed over and over again to his children.
When they could no longer afford medical treatment, and Demar’s
health wouldn’t allow him to work on a farm or with the horses anymore, the
family, which now included a sister, Mona, moved to Tetonia into a tiny
two-room apartment in the old lumberyard.
Many times, they had no food in the house at all, but an
angel was sent to help them. That angel’s name was Mrs. Hoopes. She owned the café
where Lucille worked. Even though she had cooked for years, somehow, when she
cooked for her family, she always made too much, and had just enough leftovers
to to feed the Mack family. Without her kind generosity, the family would have suffered
greatly.
This was a lonely time for Harold and his sister. Many
families feared his father’s unsightly cancer was contagious, so their children
were not allowed to play in the McCracken home. Harold didn’t know anything
about the church. His father was not a member, and his mother was not active,
but he fondly remembered attending Primary after school, where he could play
with the other children. He especially enjoyed singing time.
The depression was about over, but not in the McCracken
home. Harold got one new pair of Levi’s, a pair of shoes, and one shirt in the
fall, to last throughout the school year. When they were so dirty they could
stand by themselves, his mother would wash them while he was in bed, so they’d
be ready the next morning. He even recalled having to pay for his 25 cent
haircuts on the installment plan.
Although it was undoubtedly very difficult, this poverty
blessed Harold throughout his life, as he never developed a taste for material
possessions. He was satisfied with a simple life. This was another of his
priority teachings to his family.
On an early summer day when Harold was 10, he was swimming in
the gravel pit with friends, when a messenger came with the news that his
father had passed away. He ran all the way home, soaking wet, crying every step
of the way. He had no knowledge of the Plan of Salvation and thought he would
never see his dad again. He spent a great deal of time later in his life
teaching the Plan of Salvation to others, so they would not have to suffer as
he had.
A few months later, after a brief courtship, Lucille married
Elmer Beard on Christmas Eve. She told us she chose that day because her poor deprived
children had missed out on so much, and she didn’t want them to have to go
another year without Christmas.
The family moved to the canyon, where there was lots of
fish, lots of game, fun things to do, and a lot of work. Elmer was a model
step-father. He treated Harold like his own. They had a deep bond, Harold
called him Dad. Eventually Harold gained two stepbrothers, Aaron and Leon.
Harold attended school in Tetonia, and I recently reviewed
his report cards. All I’m going to say about that is that he had a good
attendance record.
On a summer day after graduation, while mowing hay, Harold
lost his wallet. He searched and searched, but it was nowhere to be found. His
driver’s license was in it, and that’s important to a boy. He didn’t want to
get caught driving without one, so he and his friend Grant went to Driggs to
the courthouse, where they noticed a big poster – “Join the United States Marine
Corps”. It looked fine, and they got excited and enlisted right then and there.
As World War II had come to an end, he was stationed stateside, in California,
for two years, in a reclamation salvage depot, working with the Civil Service
Corps. This was a good experience and he learned much.
Part 2 – by his
daughter, Sandi B. Hemming
While in the Marines, Dad worked in the machine shop, took
several correspondence courses and developed an interest in the construction
business. When he was discharged, he
moved to Idaho Falls to look for a job.
He walked into Bonneville Lumber Company and told the owner that he
‘could build most anything’ and was hired.
He worked for that company, although it changed owners, for the
remainder of his career.
His first assignment there was to build his own small
office, where another man taught him the fundamentals of drafting. With a drafting desk and his three-sided
scale and a work ethic that wouldn’t quit, he eventually became the
Construction Sales Manager.
As a child, I recall some confusion when asked to fill out a
form that required my Dad’s occupation.
Knowing that he drew a lot of plans, one year I decided he was an
‘architect.’ I must have been corrected,
because the next time I decided to use the term ‘contractor’. But since I wasn’t sure exactly what a
contractor was, that didn’t feel quite right either. But then, the lumberyard ran an advertising
campaign with radio and print ads with the tag line, ‘Call and talk to the
Answer Man.’ That was it – my Dad was the
Answer Man. That felt right – still does
today.
Over the course of
his carrier, he built many homes, agricultural buildings, apartments, and even
some grand hotels. The hotels were
5-star custom hotels, built for cats, with a penthouse suite for baby kittens. Some people here today may have had the
privilege of having a tour of one of his fine feline hotels.
Another of his construction masterpieces was our swing set,
no little aluminum swing set from Sears for the McCracken kids. He built ours out of telephone pole and if
that wasn’t high enough, he built it on the edge of a hill. I’m quite sure it was not OSHA approved but
it was kid approved.
During his childhood in the Teton Valley and during his time
in the marines, church attendance was sporadic at best. But when Dad married Mom, he soon learned
that she expected to go to church, every week.
Doing so soon earned him his first calling; he was asked to greet people
and pass out hymnbooks. He must have
done it well, for soon he was serving as Elders Quorum President. One Sunday during this time he needed to
repair a fence and stayed home from church to do so. When a quorum member drove by and rolled down
his window to say, “President, what are you doing?”, he vowed to never miss
church again, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t until just recently.
He went on to serve as Bishop. This was a busy time in our lives. When I turned 8, he took me upstairs to
Kevin’s bedroom, sat in the old rocking chair, and held me on his knee while he
interviewed me for baptism. This was
long before the consolidated meeting plan, so meetings were many and long. On a typical Sunday, Mom’s lap held both mine
and Marsha’s head as we napped. But one
Fast and Testimony meeting, I stayed awake long enough to hear my Dad bear his
testimony. He spoke of counting his many
blessings, naming them one by one. He
mentioned me by name. I never forgot the
special feeling it gave me to make his blessing list and to feel the Spirit
tell me that he did indeed know the gospel was true.
During his tenure as Bishop, he was given the task of
building a new meetinghouse. At that
time, wards had to raise a percentage of the funds required. That was a big enough task, but once the
money was earned, he also had some building responsibilities. We had a set of construction missionaries,
but many volunteer hours were also required.
They had the perfect man for the job – he knew how to build, he was
willing to put in long, long hours, and he considered it a sacred privilege to
be building a house for the Lord.
Dad was sometimes a man before his time. He and his counselors used to entertain the
ward by putting on wigs and playing air guitar.
I’m pretty sure they were the world’s first lip syncers. One of their legendary performances was ‘I
Yust go Nuts at Christmas.’
Sometimes even Bishops need a break. Once, Dad took a week’s vacation to get some
work done around home. We were firmly
instructed that we could play only in the backyard and we could NOT, under any
circumstances, answer the phone. A
staycation before the term was coined.
Later Dad served as Stake President and Patriarch. He spent many years serving in the Idaho
Falls and Rexburg temples. As a Sealer,
he sealed many of his grandchildren to their eternal companions, even traveling
many miles and, reluctantly, getting on an airplane, to do so. I was always so grateful for my bonus mom,
Cleo, who stood by his side during those years and supported him through her ever-faithful
service, devotion, and support.
One of Dad’s favorite callings was an unofficial one, that
of designated funeral speaker. He
sometimes spoke in multiple funerals in a week. I believe he was in demand as a
funeral speaker because of his ability to tell of the Plan of Salvation in such
a sure and happy way. During a recent
visit, he asked me if I would be able to come to his funeral. My replay was, “I was hoping you’d speak at
mine”. I meant it.
Many years have passed since that day he walked into
Bonneville Lumber and promised that ‘he could build most anything.’ He was so right. He could build apartment buildings or amazing
swing sets, huge potato storage facilities or ingenious flag poles, he could
build a quality home with walls straight and plumb or a hen’s nest with the
same precision. Along the way, though,
he did some of his best building as he built people, family, friendships,
relationships, and testimonies.
I testify that although Dad has finished his work on the
Earth, he is not done; he will continue to work and serve and build.
Part 3 –
by his daughter, Sharlene M. Smith
Daddy could design and build anything, and he did. But most things were not for show. They were practical and usually made to make
life easier for someone else.
He made a signal that flopped down from the lid of the mailbox
when opened indicating that the mailman had indeed delivered the mail, designed
so Grandma would not have to make any dry runs to the mailbox. He created
anything he could to make life easier and better for mama and Cleo and many
others.
The most important thing Daddy dreamed of and built was a
family. I know you all saw Daddy at
church and in the lumber yard and knew that he was a good man, but, you should
have seen him at home; there he was a really good man!
When
Harold McCracken returned home from the Marines, he brought with him a load of
dirty clothes. He made a visit to the
White Star Laundry in Idaho Falls to get some help. There he met a beautiful young woman named
Coila Speas. After handing over his
laundry bag, he quickly crossed the street to the payphone, called her up, and
asked her out on a date. In a few months
he talked her into marrying him, and his family building began.
Six children were born to them, Sharlene, Kevin, Sandy, Marsha,
Louise, and Carol.
After Coila’s death in 1975, he met and married Cleo Barker and
his family grew again as he welcomed also Joe, John, Barb, and Rob into our
family.
Spouses were added as children married. Soon grandchildren began to come. Today there are 29 grandchildren, 91 great
grandchildren, 2 great great grandchildren, and there are 4 more grandchildren
and 1 great great grandchild on their way.
I like to think that they each will get a good-bye hug and a little
counsel from Grandpa as they leave for earth.
He will tell them to be a “good kid.”
That’s what we all heard as we said good-bye and headed anywhere. One night as I said good-bye to Daddy a few
months ago and headed to my home, he said the usual, “Be a good kid!” Then he looked at me and said, “You’ve always
been a good girl, huh?” I didn’t want to
contradict that statement, it sounded so good, but I knew in my heart that if I
was a good kid, it was his fault.
“Behind every good kid is a great Dad!”
Daddy built things that lasted, and his family was no
exception. He made sure that temple
sealings were done, so his family could be protected by covenants and be
together forever. Thank you, Daddy.
Daddy would tell us how
a little, show us how a lot, and then
let us do.
When we were little we had a wonderful summer tradition – we
brewed root beer. Mama had found a
wonderful bottle outlet – the farm laborers stash of beer bottles that the ward
farmers would save for her. They were
the perfect size for a serving of root beer and an easy shape and size to
cap. Under Mama and Daddy’s direction we
mixed up the root beer, filled the bottles, laid them on their side to age,
waited patiently for about a week, and then started enjoying the fruits of our
labor. It was a daily ritual to have a
bottle of RB. One day as Daddy was
pulling in from work for supper, he was greeted by his four children sitting on
the pole fence in front of the house next to the road. Each very visible to the public held a beer
bottle in their hands! That was the last
time those bottles were used. And we
learned how important it was to avoid even the very appearance of evil. Thank you, Daddy, for teaching us.
When I was a teen-ager, curfews were often a topic of conversation
among friends. Daddy never gave us a
curfew that we remember of. Somehow, he
must have always been confident that he had taught us correct principles and
prepared us and known that he must trust us to govern ourselves correctly.
For the most part I was pretty good at governing myself and
returning home at a wise time – partly because nothing ever hurt quite like
seeing a look of disappointment on my dad’s face. One night I didn’t do so good. When I got home, Daddy was there waiting. Disappointment was in his eyes, hours of
worry on his brow, and badly needed sleep had been stolen away. There was no anger that night, only firmness
as he reminded me of the wisdom in keeping safe hours, returning home early,
and the need of sleep to prepare me for the work of the next day. There was still a hug and a kiss and “I love
you, goodnight”.
In the morning there was no bringing up the night before. Instead I met a smiling dad who seemed glad
as ever to see me. Thank you, Daddy for
your trust.
The builder of our family was a man of integrity. That blessed each of us. One week I made a trip to Rexburg to
participate in Women’s Week with my college daughter. I spent the night with Daddy and Cleo. They left early in the morning to serve in
the temple. A little later I left for
the campus, making it only to the Archer Store just around the corner from
Daddy’s home. There my car quit and
coasted into the parking lot. It was in
the days before cell phones, and I had locked Daddy’s house. I had no idea what to do with my car or how
to get to the college. A man then came
out of the Archer Store and asked me what the problem was. I spilled the whole story. He asked me who my father was. I pointed to Daddy’s house across the field
and said, Harold McCracken. He walked
into the store and came out with a set of keys.
I will never forget his words, “Anyone who is related to Harold
McCracken is welcome to use my pick-up anytime”. He gave me the keys and sent me on my way for
the whole day. He didn’t know me, but
because he knew my “great dad,” he figured I must be a “good kid”. Thank you, Daddy, for living all you taught!
The builder of our family loved our mothers. He knew how to sit by his wife’s side, how to
walk hand in hand with her, how to pick up a dish towel and help her out.
For his grandchildren there was always a twinkle in his eye and a
teasing smile. They remember that no matter how they were feeling, Grandpa
could always make them laugh. College grandchildren remember Sunday dinners
around the honey pot with toothpicks and with lots of life and dating advice. They
remember how important it was to get Grandpa’s okay when they found the person
they wanted to marry. Becca treasures
Grandpa’s last words to her last week as she shared her wedding invitation with
him, “Nice, nice!” Grandpa’s approval
meant a lot and he freely gave it. These words from a granddaughter sum it up
just right, “I have always been very proud and felt very special to have Harold
McCracken as my grandpa!”
Yes, Daddy’s career got lots of his time and attention, as did his
church service, which taught us all lots, but thank you, Daddy, for always
remembering that family is the #1 priority, for it is, forever.
Another granddaughter wrote in her journal, “I hope I get to be a
part of many more sealings done by Grandpa McCracken. When I listen to and watch Grandpa during
those treasured moments in the temple I feel as though “all is well”. Thank you, Daddy, for teaching us and showing
us how “all can be well” here on earth and eternally. You didn’t miss anything, and as a family, we
surely hope our lives will someday prove that we were watching closely, that we
are a bunch of “good apples” and “good kids” that are going to make this world
easier and better for others just like you did. That’s the way you built us.
Part 4 –
by his stepson, Robert Barker
I am sure that it’s nearly impossible to convince a 15-year-old
boy that having a gruff former Marine Corps Soldier come into your life is a
blessing! I know that I was none too keen on the whole idea, and to say that it
was a smooth transition would be a long shot.
I rebelled and was not very cooperative with the whole thing.
It was after I was married and gone that I realized just how
fortunate we were that Harold had come into our lives.
I had always thought about the impact that the whole thing had on
me, and not about my mother. Harold and my mother loved each other deeply and
completely. Together they found happiness, comfort and joy. They were a great
team and enjoyed working on projects together, visiting family and friends,
fishing, and attending church services. I know that it was a blessing that they
met, fell in love, and made a life together.
Harold was an architectural genius. When I bought my first home, a
real fixer-upper, Harold drew up a plan to renovate and repair it. He helped me
do the work. He always knew how to make changes work and keep things up to
code. He made the improvements seem painless and easy. When we were done, I had
a nice, well laid out home for my family.
Years
later I built a garage onto that house and again Harold came to help, armed
with a drawing and a bucket full of tools. He helped me build a quality garage
with minimal expense. He would say, “Pick up 6 of these and 4 of those and do
this and do that.” I probably drove him crazy with phone calls like, “Now what
do I do with this?” and “How should I do that?” He took it all in stride. I
learned a lot from our time spent together and I am thankful for his knowledge
and willingness to help.
Harold was very creative – gate latches, cat condo, garden
irrigation, strawberry patch.
Harold believed and practice the Boy Scout motto, “Be Prepared” –
he always had everything he needed for whatever activity he was doing.
Harold was a very religious man. He served in many volunteer
positions. He would always put his church service first. He always took pride
in those jobs and fulfilled them to the best of his ability.
Harold was a good neighbor. He tilled the local neighbors’ gardens
and plowed driveways. He would visit neighbors often, especially if they were
sick or just needed some company.
That 15-year-old boy now looks back and thinks, “What a great man
Harold was” and realizes what a blessing it was to have that gruff old Marine
in his life.
Harold
Arthur McCracken
Obituary
Harold
Arthur McCracken graduated from this earthly existence on July 13, 2018, with
his sweetheart, Cleo, close by. All those whom he has served and loved know
that he graduated with honor.
Born in Tetonia, Idaho, on October 14,
1927 to Demar and Lucille Chase McCracken, he grew up working beside his father
and grandfather and loving the hills, streams, and adventures of the Teton
Basin. This love only grew fonder throughout his life, as his
car almost automatically headed that direction when there was time for fishing,
camping, or just a drive.
When he was only 10, after medical
efforts to fight cancer had been exhausted, Harold’s father passed away. He and
his mother and sister, Mona, were left alone for only a few months until
Lucille married Elmer Beard, and once again Harold had a loving dad and soon
two brothers, Aaron and Leon. He spoke often of his love and appreciation
for this wonderful Dad.
Graduation from high school happened
just after the end of the war, but Harold still was drawn to serve his country
for two years in the marines. Upon his return home and with a load of dirty
clothes, he visited the White Star Laundry for help and there met a beautiful
young woman, Coila Speas. He quickly crossed the street, made a call from
a payphone to the laundry and asked her out on a date. It didn’t take
Harold long to talk her into marrying him. They were later sealed in the
Idaho Falls Temple.
Harold had found employment at
Bonneville Lumber Company, convincing them that he could build anything. With
the help of an understanding and trusting employer, the ability to work hard,
remarkable integrity, and by constantly taking advantage of learning
opportunities, he worked his way to Construction Sales Manager. He was
associated with lumber yards for his entire career, serving many families and
businesses, as he supported his family.
Harold and Coila welcomed six children
into the world, Sharlene, Kevin, Sandi, Marsha, Louise, and Carol. In 1975,
after a lingering illness, Coila passed away. Harold later married Cleo
Barker, which. fortunately, added one more daughter and three sons to his
family.
Service in the Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter-day Saints was always a very important part of his life. Serving in many
callings from a scout leader to stake patriarch to temple worker filled the
hours of his life and endeared him to the hearts of many.
Harold was preceded in death by his wife
Coila, daughters Louise and Carol, sons John and Joe, parents, sister,
brothers, and son-in-law. He is survived by his wife Cleo, daughter Sharlene
(Ronnie) Smith, son Kevin (Marilyn), daughter Sandi (Bruce) Hemming, daughter
Marsha (Dean) Burdick, daughter Barbara (Dale) Scott, son Rob (Kally) Barker,
29 grandchildren, 91 great grandchildren, and 2 great-great grandchildren.
“Happiness is the by-product of a life
well lived.” This was true for Harold and for all those his life touched.
Funeral service will be held Thursday,
July 19th, at 11:00 a.m. at the Sunnydell LDS Church, 201 West 8000
South, Rexburg, with Viewings Wednesday from 6:30 to 8:00 p.m. at Eckersell
Funeral Home in Rigby and Thursday from 9:30 to 10:45 a.m. at the church.
Interment will be in the Sutton Cemetery. Condolences may be sent to the
family online at www.eckersellfuneralhome.com
