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LARRY A. WALLACE
FAMILY MEMORIES
WRITTEN 2015
My name is Lawrence (Larry) A. Wallace, and this my story. I was born
on January 19, 1951 at Chanute Air Force Base, in Rantoul Illinois.
My parents were Roger D. Wallace, a career military man from
Haverhill, Massachusetts. My mother Agnes C. Quinlan, a local girl, born
in Ludlow, IL with a rich Irish heritage.
Both sets of my Great Great Grandparents, on my mother’s side, had
Agnes Quinlan & Roger Wallace wedding 1950
farmed in El Paso, Illinois, in McLean County.
Both sets are buried 30 feet apart in El Paso, in
St. Mary’s Cemetery. On the Paternal side, there
were the Corbitts, Patrick and Mary (Dearney)
Corbitt. They had seven children. Mary died
early in 1869, when my Great Grand Father,
Richard Patrick, was about 6 years of age. Patrick died in 1880, and
Richard was 16. Sometime between 1880 and 1892 Richard changed
the spelling of his last name to Corbett.
On the maternal side were the Cleary’s, Michael and Sarah (Murphy).
They had come to this land with their families and prospered. They also
managed to multiply, having 12 children, all of whom survived to
adulthood. Michael died in 1907, and Sarah in 1917.
Their oldest daughter was Mary Agnes, who liked to be called “Molly”.
Molly was the third in line and she was my Great Grandmother. She
was born in El Paso, as was my Great Grandfather Richard. They were
married in El Paso, on February 10, 1892. That same month they moved
to Ludlow and began farming.
Michael & Sarah Murphy Cleary and some of their children circa 1890s at their farm
east of El Paso IL circa 1890
Richard & Molly Cleary Corbett family circa 1912. Row
1: Michael, Richard, Bessie, Josephine, Molly, John Row 2:
Roy, Raymond, Ethel
My Great Great Grandfather Michael Cleary had purchased farms in
Ludlow for five of his sons. It is likely that he had a hand in the purchase
of the Corbett farm, as well. Michael Cleary also sent some of his
daughters to Ludlow, to work alongside the sons. The Corbetts worked
hard and thrived. They were active in their Church and their
community. Richard, my great grandfather, lost his farm during the
depression. Years later, my mother told me that he went under trying
to help his friends, neighbors and relatives. She also told me, he never
truly recovered from the experience. Several years ago, I was able to
tour the original farm house, just outside of Ludlow. After losing his
farm, he and John Corbett, his youngest son, leased another piece of
property from the Brown family and they farmed that property. At
some point, that property was purchased. It remains in the family
today. Richard died there in 1947. Mary “Molly” died in February of
1951, when I was about one month old. As a young boy I spent as many
days as possible there, pretending to be a farmer with my Great Uncle
John Corbett. But, I was really a military brat, and a city kid.
Farm Tour 2008 Booklet by John Duffin
The Corbetts had nine children. Two died early in life. But the oldest
daughter, Ethel Mary, born in Ludlow, in 1993, was my grandmother.
She was wonderful woman, with great love for her family and the
church. In December of 1919, she married Martin Leo Quinlan, shortly
after he returned from WWI. They were married in Ludlow.
My grandfather, Martin was born in 1891 in Hardwood, to Michael and
Mary McKevitt Quinlan. Michael was born Ireland, and immigrated.
First living in Illiopolis, with his siblings near Springfield, Illinois. Mary
McKevitt, was born in Cleveland, Ohio, to Owen and Mary McKevitt.
Owen and Mary farmed near Lincoln City. Mary and Michael Quinlan,
farmed two miles west of Ludlow. They had nine children.
Martin was their eighth child. Both Mary and Michael Quinlan died of
Pneumonia, in March 1905 within 10 days of each other. Martin age 14
and younger brother Theodore were placed in an orphanage. Later
their oldest brother Owen would remove them from the Orphanage,
Martin & Ethel Corbett
Quinlan 1919
and put them to work on the farm. At best it was a difficult life. As was
normal at the time the oldest brother got the farm, younger siblings
became field hands.
Martin and Ethel had ten children. All survived to adulthood, however
Rita Ann died at age 20 in 1945, and John Edward was struck by lighting
and killed, in 1951. The Eight surviving children produced 31
grandchildren.
There are now only three surviving members of my mother’s family.
Mom’s brother Willard Joseph Quinlan, known as Uncle Bill. He and
Aunt Caroline have a lovely place just outside of Rantoul. I have two
aunts. Both live in California with their husbands. Rosemary and Robert
Shull Sr. live in Goleta, near Santa Barbra. Aunt Sarah lives in Upland,
east of Los Angeles with my Uncle Tom Leonard.
Times were always good at Grandmas Quinlan’s house. It seemed like a
Holiday whenever we were there, or it was a Holiday! And there were
Martin Quinlan family circa 1945
Row 1: Sarah, Bill, Rose Row 2: Agnes,
Betty, Martin, Ethel, Mary Jo, Marguerite
Row 3: Richard, John Missing: Rita
reunions. I think when we would come they would have a reunion. I
remember one at the VFW, downtown and another in the backyard of
their house at 609 Bell Place. I also recall the Christmases were great
there as well. Throw in a wedding or two and it was a party. I also recall
how well my cousins treated us when we came to visit. I have
memories of Mitchell Court, where they lived when I was born. I recall
most clearly the coal box in the front yard for the furnace. And then my
cousin Sharon giving me a ride of the rear fender of her bike and
getting my ankle stuck in the spokes. I recall Sharon and Joe McNamara
Jr. selling ice cream on a delivery bike. Rita and Jan Hamik, were the
movers and shakers of the day. They always had a game or a play going
with a part for everybody. I remember Paul Snyder and Jim Quinlan
were bigger and older but paid attention to me. That meant a lot to me.
Good Times!
But we always seemed to be passing through. Here today and gone
tomorrow. We moved about a lot it seemed. Too young to understand,
and not allowed to question why, it was just that way. I did not
understand for years.
My father Roger Wallace joined the Navy in June of 1943. Born in
January of 1928 in Massachusetts, he was only 15 years old. His parents
were James A. Wallace Sr. and Wenona Florence Lunnie. His father
had lied and signed him in. He had done the same for my father’s older
brother James A. Wallace Jr. Life was not good at home.
On February 19, 1945 my father, age 17, was at Iwo Jima. A Machinist
Mate on the USS Lubbock, a Liberty ship, built here in Vancouver. Soon
after that he was at Okinawa. At the end of the war he was mustered
out of the Navy. He then joined the Army Air Corps. He was sent to
Europe and served with the occupation forces. He was assigned to
aircraft maintenance with a fighter wing. By 1948 he was back in the
country at Keesler AFB. He learned to fly there, in open cockpit trainers.
When the Army Air Corps separated into the Army and the Airforce he
ended up in the Airforce. He was sent to Chanute Airforce Base where
he took his “Refrigeration” training.
1943 Wenona, Russell, James Sr, Roger, Jimmy,
Wenona's mother Martha E. Dandrow
Bradstreet
My mother worked in the Food Service Industry all her life. At this time
she was working for Earl King at King’s Castle on the main drag of
Rantoul. Prior to that, she had worked at the Steak and Shake. This is
where my parents meet. Mom loved to dance. Dad was apparently was
a good dancer, both with and without roller skates. It was a love that
lasted the next 53 years.
Our next duty post was White Sands Missile Base, New Mexico. It is hot
there, so they must have had lots of refrigerators.
We were then sent to Northern Maine, to Presque Isle Airforce Base.
While there both my sister Martha J. and my brother John Roger were
born. Marty was born in March of 1953. John was born in November of
1954. In October of 1955, because my father was restricted to country,
Alaska was the only overseas assignment he could receive. So we were
transferred to Elmendorf Airforce Base. Dad worked up on the
mountain at the Nike Missile Site on the refrigerators.
Roger Wallace Agnes Quinlan Wallace
Mom landed a job at a new restaurant “The Lucky Wishbone”. It had
just opened in November 1955. 51 years later, in October of 2006,
mom would trip and fall at the Wishbone. Breaking her hip and ending
her career in the Food Services Industry, at the age of 76. She did not
need the job, nor did she need the money. She just loved the people
and the environment. In 1955 there were 12,000 people living in
Anchorage Alaska. This number included both military bases. The
restaurant was located on the Richardson Highway outside of town.
Just across the road was the Territorial Police Headquarters. Still there
today, The Lucky Wishbone celebrated their 60th anniversary in
November 2015. Still run by the original owner, George Brown. George
is 93, a WWII Pilot. He still flies his Cessna 185 floatplane.
In 1960 after Statehood we were sent to Spokane, Washington, to
Geiger AFB. By 1962 we were headed 100 miles west to Larsen AFB, in
Moses Lake, Washington. In 1964 my sister Cecelia Joy was born, in
Moses Lake. We were then transferred to McCord AFB, in Tacoma,
Washington. In June 1966, my father retired from the Military. He was
38 and had served for 22 years. We left Tacoma on July 1st 1966 and
drove the Alcan Highway back to Anchorage. It took 4 days.
By July 4, 1966 there were 50,000 people in Anchorage. The rapid
increase in population was mostly due to the construction following the
earthquake. The Wishbone, unmoved, was now inside the city limits.
Anchorage was a very rough and tumble town. The town was growing
fast. I started High School at Dimond. It was the third High School for
Anchorage. The problem was that it had not been built yet. We had to
double shift for a year with the new East High School. We lived on the
south side, near the airport, outside the city. Mom went back to the
Wishbone immediately. Probably the 5th of July. Dad started a
refrigeration business with a partner that quickly failed. He went to
work for a new Sears store as the Building Engineer in October of 1966.
He helped build and maintain the first mall in Alaska. It was attached to
Sears. He was there for next 23 years. In 1967 my parents bought their
house on Imlach Way. My son Roger now owns it. By spring of 1967 I
went to work at the Wishbone, replacing the owner’s son. He was
headed off to college.
The Lucky Wishbone would be the starting block for my family for years
to come. I worked there all through high school. Throughout all the
years the Wishbone has always been a gathering place for the Police. It
still is. It was here that I had my first encounters with the Police. I was
actively recruited by the Alaska State Troopers. But the City Police had
better looking uniforms, seemed to have more fun, and did not have
the military baggage (forced transfers) attached to them. Very early,
while still in high school, I decided that is what I wanted to do.
In May of 1969, at 18, and a few days out of school, I got a Union
Dispatch to Amchitka Island. It was located 1,500 miles west, at the end
of Aleutians. It was also the best construction job in Alaska. We were
doing underground nuclear testing there. Under Contract, I worked 10
hours a day, seven days a week for six months. I then did a stint in the
arctic during the early oil exploration days. I then did another six
months on Amchitka in 1971. Upon returning from the construction
camps, I drove truck and hauled freight. I unloaded railcars. All the
while biding my time until I could apply to the City Police Department.
By the time I was 21 years old, I had apparently worn out my welcome
with the Anchorage Police Departments administration. Starting at 16
after my first ride along I was hooked. I spent every extra bit of time I
had for the next several years riding in patrol cars. I must have been
running around with the wrong cops. I could not even get in the
reserves. In the interim, I had returned to the Wishbone. It would be
several more years before I got that dream job. .
The Wishbone continued to be at the center of our family’s existence.
I met my first wife there. Both of my sisters worked there. My son
Roger later worked there. I still have a niece who works there.
In early 1979 I got a call at the Wishbone. It was the Police Chief in
Kotzebue. He was retired out of the Seattle area. He proved to be one
of the smartest police executives I would ever meet, and a great friend.
Later he would joke about answering an ad, “Sleepy Little Fishing
Village, on the Northwest Arctic Coast, Desires Police Chief”. He got my
name from the local banker, who was on his reserve force at the time.
The Banker’s name was John Palmer. He had worked at the Wishbone
for several years. The Chief asked me to apply. Before I could be hired,
John Palmer was transferred by the bank to Kodiak, Alaska. The
following year, John and I were attending the same Municipal Police
Academy, in Sitka. Twenty years later John retired as the Police Chief in
Kodiak.
The Chief in Kotzebue had a problem. The place was a Zoo. My first
wife Penny was required to attend my oral interview. He wanted to
make sure we both knew what we were getting into. He had a base
crew of five guys and one woman. He was trying to fill nine positions.
Ten cops is a lot of cops for less the 4000 people. He was looking for a
two year commitment. Penny said she could do it, so I committed. I
started on July 27, 1979. Then we figured out that there was no decent
place to live and the school was very poor. Our oldest, Roger, was 5 and
about to start school. Our youngest, Roy Corbett, was 9 months old. I
lived at the Police Station in an empty office for the first few weeks and
ended up renting a room from my Sergeant. Penny, in the meantime,
had landed a good job with British Petroleum in their records
department. She wanted to keep the job and we both wanted Roger to
get a good start in school. At the end of three years, because of hard
work on my part and attrition on the Departments, I had been
promoted to Lieutenant. Penny had done equally well. But our
marriage was over. Today Penny has a Masters in Business
Administration and specializes in Records Management. She helps large
companies and small countries with their records problems. I am proud
say that throughout it all, we remain the best of friends to this day.
In 1979 the City of Kotzebue made the World Book of Lists as the
World’s second most hated city. We were number two, after Tehran
Iran, and they had our Hostages. We were known for violence, filth and
mosquitos. The Chief had his first Homicide, the first month he was
there, in Oct 1977. In July of 1978, eight months later, he had his
second. The victim in that case was a twelve year girl. She was
murdered in the most savage way. Kotzebue had averaged one
homicide every two years throughout written history. There had never
been a solved homicide there. If you killed somebody you got away
with it. It would take seven years to solve the little girl’s case. The 1977
homicide took nearly twenty. It also seemed as if we were operating in
the suicide capital of the world. We had two cops commit suicide in
1980. They were brothers. One was a reserve. We were the sexual
assault capital of the world as well. One time I worked eleven rapes in
thirteen days. And we were just beginning to learn about the child
sexual assaults.
Man with a gun calls were a dime a dozen. We were lucky, we only had
two cops shot while I was there. I have no idea how many times I was
shot at. I do remember the night the guy shot my left front tire out and
put a round in the front fender of my personal vehicle. He shot at us 35
times. We did not fire a shot. In 1980 Penny called the Police Station for
me one Sunday afternoon. She was told by dispatch that it would be a
while before I could call her back. They told her I was in a gun fight
down the street.
We had a great City Manager. He turned the City around while the
Police Chief fixed the Police Department. By 1983 the City became
recognized as an All American City. New vehicles, good equipment and
training for all Departments. I spent much of my first three years going
to training schools. The State and the Alaska Police Standards
Commission were awash in Oil Money and they were investing it in
Training. Our City Manager was on the Commission. I got my
Intermediate Certificate and my Police Instructors Certification. Over
the next few years the Police Department got a better hold on the
streets. We gained the trust of the people which is paramount.
Every once in a while you are at the right place at the right time. In
January of 1981 the Chief sent me Anchorage to train with the Troopers
Homicide Unit. My Training there was wrapping up at the end of
February. Pope John Paul was coming on the 26th, and they expected
and got 100,000 people. The head of the Unit called the Chief and got
permission for me to stay and help with the Plain Clothes Unit at the
airport. I held the door for the Pope when he returned from saying
Mass downtown. An experience I will never forget.
In December of 1979, at the suggestion of the Police Chief, I joined the
Volunteer Fire Department. The Chief and the City Manager were
also members. After a devastating fire in 1981 I was assigned to assist a
State Fire Marshall with his investigation. They then sent me to Cause
and Origination Investigators Training. In 1982 the City Manager asked
if I would take the New Position of Director of the new Regional Fire
Training Center. It was about to be constructed. It was one of five such
centers in the State. When I agreed the City promoted me to Fire
Captain and sent me to the Anchorage Fire Training. I got my Fire
Fighter Certification and then Fire Fighters Instructors Certificate. My
job was mostly administrative. But I taught some subject areas in all the
classes we held. After two years, and once everything was up and
running, the City allowed me to transfer back to the Police Department
at the rank of Captain.
In 1986 when the Police Chief retired I was made Acting Chief. I applied
but the City was not interested. They were having trouble replacing
him. I was acting for two years. In the midst of this my wife Daphne
(who had been with the Department since 1977) was the Chief Jailer,
ran the records department, and was the Chiefs Executive Assistant.
But she could not work for me. She soon found work with the Alaska
State Troopers. She was there 16 years.
The next Chief was hired in 1988, and I went back to being a Captain.
He lasted about three years. This time around I did not apply. They
came to me and asked me to apply. I turned in a short letter of interest.
I was promoted to Chief of Police in September of 1991.
In early 1997 the State of Alaska announced a PERS sponsored early
retirement program. If you retired early they gave you credit for three
additional years of service. I had eighteen and a half years in and could
leave with credit for 21 and a half. It would cost me $93.00 a month to
retire early. I was 46 years old, I figured I could steal that much. While I
was thinking about it, Maniilaq, the local nonprofit end of the Native
Corporation, offered me a position as Director of Security and
Occupational and Environmental Safety. I filed the next day and never
looked back. Maniilaq Association is the largest employer in the region.
My adopted daughter Minnie has worked there since 1989. Her son
Landis works in Security there and Daphne is a Social Worker there
since her retirement from the Troopers.
I was at Maniilaq for three years. In January of 2000 my mother asked if
I could come home and help with my Father. He was in poor health and
developing Dementia. Dad died October 9th 2001 with me at his side.
I spent the next year helping put my mother’s life back together. She
almost immediately went back to work at the Wishbone. I began to
look around at what I was going to do. I heard about the CSO program
for the U.S. Marshals Service from my son Roger who was a Deputy
Sheriff in Portland, Oregon. I applied. It took a year, but in March of
2003, I was sworn in as a Court Services Officer for the Marshals Service
in Portland, Oregon. I went to training in Atlanta, Georgia. It was a great
job and I got to work all over Oregon over the next three years.
In October 2006, I got the call. Mom had broken her hip and I needed
to return to Anchorage. I sold my house and returned. Like with my
father I was situated better to be able to take care of my mother than
were my sisters or brother. While taking care of my mother, I spent my
spare time researching family history.
I lived with and took care of my mother from 2006 until she died on
May 31, 2009. She died at home, as was her wish, in the exact same
spot as my father. They are buried together in the National Cemetery at
Fort Richardson.
Roger Wallace, his mother Winifred and
his daughter Joy aboard The Jolly Roger
in 1976 Seward Alaska
There were only a few loose strings to tie up. My parents had done a
masterful job planning and preparing for their old age. My sister Marty,
a Paralegal, had been named the executor of their estate years before.
By November I was able to return to Vancouver, Washington and
bought a new place.
I like Vancouver. I can get on a plane and be in Alaska in three hours. Or
I can get in my car and drive anywhere in the country in three days. I go
to Alaska two or three times a year. I also spend time every year in
Arizona. Daphne comes to Vancouver a couple of time a year. Minnie,
my daughter, has three sons all of whom are attached to Daphne. We
say they are not spoiled but are over loved. I love to travel with them
by car. They are Landis Tyler, Delbert Lawrence, and Paul Roger. We
also have two great grandchildren, Kanen Blake and Zander Lawrence.
Landis, Delbert, Minnie and Paul at St. Mary’s Cemetery, El Paso IL 2013 by
their great great great grandparents, Michael & Sarah Murphy Cleary gravesite.
In late 2011, my brother John fell and broke his hip. Where else but at
the Wishbone. He had not been in good health to begin with. As a
result, he died on August 24, 2012. He was 57 years old. At his request
he was cremated and buried at sea.
I continue to travel and have been back to Illinois to visit relatives many
times. I have enjoyed contributing to many Roots activities.
lw
ROOTS REUNION OCTOBER 2012 BLOOMINGTON IL: In October 2012, Larry Wallace brought his
wife, Daphne, and grandson, Landis. They are from Kotzebue, Alaska. Kotzebue is 33 miles
north of the Artic Circle on Alaska’s western coast. Daphne offered a prayer for the family in her
native Inuit language.