Recipes for Living Mike and Lucile Roe

I was born on August 13, 1951, in Columbus, Georgia, the first of three children born to Stanley Earl and Muriel Jean McIlheran Samuelson. Stanley (Stack) Samuelson was recalled into the Army during the Korean Conflict and stationed at Fort Benning, Georgia, where I was born at the base hospital. I still have the canceled check to show that I only cost $10.00.

The family moved to Lyons, Nebraska, during my first year, where father Stack purchased the local weekly newspaper. Lyons is a rural town of 1,000 people in northeastern Nebraska. One unique thing about the town was that it was a dry town, meaning there were no liquor stores or local bars. This made for a healthy childhood environment. Lyons had a two block main street with retail stores lining the brick street downtown area. Lyons offered citizens two car dealerships, three grocery stores, two bakeries, a well-run movie theater, clothing stores, bowling alley, locally owned municipal light plant, local creamery, municipal telephone company, and two parks-one with a large swimming pool, baseball field and bandstand with a lagoon area. Kids were able to travel anywhere in town on their bicycles-and we did. The swimming pool was a great place to go for fun, as was the local park to fish.

Some of my fondest memories are of my growing up years in Lyons, where we lived for the next 13 years. During this time I grew up doing all the wonderful things kids did in rural America during the fifties. Because of the funds made available to war veterans, my folks and other young married couples were able to get low interest home loans. Although the homes seem small by today’s comparisons, along with other young couples my folks built a new home and the neighborhood, some two blocks long, boasted about 40 young children. Neighbors got together frequently for picnics and we shared a big neighborhood garden during the spring. This made for some wonderful friendships while I was growing up.

My sister Sheryl Ann was born in 1952, so I had to give up my crib at an early age. I started to school when I had just turned five, because all the other kids were going and I didn’t want to be left out. I was immature for my age and school was difficult for me academically. My parents got me reading teachers and tutored me during the summers, but I struggled. Socially, was somewhat shy, but sports were a savior for me as I could hold my own, and enjoyed playing and did well in baseball and basketball.

My family always took a summer vacation. I was fortunate to have traveled the United States, having visited all but a few of the continental states by the time I graduated from high school.

Many of us kids worked, country kids helping on farms; and the kids in town working at an early age in their parents' businesses. I started sweeping floors at the newspaper when I was five- or six-years-old. The newspaper was a home away from home for me. I was learning a trade that would eventually be my career. Back in the 50's, the news stories and advertising were gathered and typed using the old manual typewriters. Linotype machines were used to set galleys of lead type, which were run through a hand operated proof machine and then corrected. Headlines were all hand set with the different size and font of lead alphabet. Advertisements were received by the newspaper on cardboard matte form and then had to be cast using hot molten lead. It was a dirty, sweaty, heavy job with no air-conditioning. Pictures taken for the newspaper were etched into a plastic material and then adhered to wooden blocks to be positioned in with the lead type.

Once the stories and advertisements were proofread, the pages were put together like a jigsaw puzzle in big steel chases to be placed later on a steel bed of the big cylinder printingpress. The operator of the press would stand on a platform toward the back of the press and hand feed the large sheets of newspaper into position, where they would be grabbed and printed before being stacked in a large tray at the end of the press. Barely big enough to see over the wooden platform holding the newspaper had the opportunity to run the big Melay Printing Press. Other memories I have of the newspaper in Lyons were the times we printed the Burt County fair books. This was a job for several of us young kids. While listening to the radio, we would go around a large table collating the different pages of the fair book.

Thomas Lynn was born six years after me and now Sheryl and I had a little brother to fight with. One of my fondest memories of Tom was the time the parents were out of the house and I happened to find a cigar on top of the refrigerator. Someone who had a newborn baby had given it to Dad. Tom was four and I was ten and we thought this would be a good opportunity to smoke. Lighting up the stogie, I played like I was important, Tom all the time wanting to get his hands on the cigar. Shortly after I lit the cigar, I heard the folks in the driveway and now was the time for Tom to get his wish. The folks walked in and here was little Tom puffing on this big cigar. It didn't take long before they figured out what had happened and I was taught a lesson when I had to smoke the entire cigar, even using a toothpick to finish the part I couldn't hold. I was sick for three days, but never smoked again. Shortly after that incident, my dad offered all of us kids a $100 bill at the age of 21 if we never smoked. All three of us collected on that offer.

My father comes from a large family of seven kids-boy, girl, boy, girl, boy, girl, boy. All are two years apart accept the youngest, Wayne. We were close to Wayne, Nebraska, where my grandmother lived and were able to get together for holidays and had many touch football games with the cousins. There was much competition amongst the family, as all of Dads' brothers and sisters were either valedictorian or salutatorian of their graduating class, except Dad. I like to think he was the one who had fun.

Dad was a comic, always clowning around as he was growing up. I remember that he always owned a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. He had what I refer to as a fishing car that was of a 40's vintage with big velvet seats, arm rests and whitewall tires. It reminded me of the gangster type cars you would see in the movies. One such car was painted bright yellow, with "Here Comes Stack", painted in black lettering over the front windshield.

I'll never forget the time he dressed up as a woman with a blond wig. He went over to the neighbors’ and flirted with the husband while the wife tried to figure out just who this was.

Another time while baby-sitting us, Dad called a neighbor, Morris Payne, and explained to us that this person was the boogie man and he was going to come get us if we didn't go to bed on time. It must have worked because we were scared.

Dad was always active in the communities where we lived-on the city council, and fire and rescue squads. When that black phone in the basement hall rang, it was a reminder of some tragedy.

Mom was a homemaker during our growing up years. The cookie jar was always full and meals always fixed at breakfast, noon and supper.

The family attended the Methodist Church in Lyons, a big white building with a balcony in the back. We always sat upstairs, I guess because families with children were out of the way there.

Before moving to Osceola, our family spent one year in Kearney, Nebraska, where Dad got out of the newspaper business to teach high school. Struggling in school, I reentered the eighth grade and still carry some trauma from that. Teaching had changed since Dad's college days, so purchasing the Osceola Sentinel-Tribune newspapers was accomplished in 1966.

I attended all four years of high school at Clarke Community, working in the newspaper and participating in school sports. Many friendships were made during this time and double dating was fun.

My senior year was an interesting one, as our family was host to American Field Service student Bernt Wickstrom from Sweden. "Berny" was my roommate that year, and I learned a lot about how kids in other countries lived. There were also AFS students living in surrounding towns. We had get-togethers which gave us the opportunities to know about life in various countries.

During my senior year I did a stupid thing when some classmates talked me into using my father's presses and printed up fake I.D. drivers’ licenses. I'll never forget coming home from a basketball game and receiving the call to come down to Sheriff Johnny Steams' office. I knew when I walked into the office just what was going down. County Attorney Dick Ramsey put me on probation but the humiliation of facing my parents was bad enough. Oh, the things we crazy kids do.

Following high school graduation, I attended college in Wayne, Nebraska, where both my parents and my father's parents had graduated. I went there two years, living with my grandmother. Looking back on them I realize that the years spent reminiscing about family with my grandmother were some of the most interesting years, even though I was young and didn't appreciate how much it meant at the time.

I graduated from the University of South Dakota in Vermillion, with a degree in journalism. Since college and my return to Osceola, I have the distinction of moving some 29 times. During that time I have worked for several Iowa newspapers; a magazine in Fort Worth, Texas; was sales representative for Highland Manufacturing in Osceola and owned a print shop in Missouri.

My first marriage was to Ellen Elizabeth Jenkins in Estes Park, Colorado, in 1979. Amanda Michelle was born January 26, 1982. She was the first Samuelson girl since my sister Sheryl, some 28 years earlier and 24 Samuelson boys later. I always wanted a daughter, so Mandy was my pride and joy. I took her everywhere I could. My divorce to Liz has caused much pain between my daughter and me. I hope time will heal some of the feelings.

One occasion that stands out was the time Mandy was staying with me, and Uncle Tom had gotten into some trouble with the police. The folks were out of town and Tom called me early one morning to come bail him out of jail. So I bundled up Mandy and went up to the Sheriff's station. Tom owned the local car wash and had me go get a paper sack full of quarters in order to bail him out. So, here was little Mandy sitting on the sheriff's counter helping count out quarters to get Uncle Tom out of jail.

After my divorce and a farm accident in which Tom's back was broken, Tom and I visited a Lyon's classmate, whose family was in the funeral home business. Finding out what was involved in that business, we both decided to change careers, flew out to California to visit a mortuary college and enrolled.

This was like opening a new world to me, not only career-but concept-wise. Part of our education included the history of embalming beginning with the Egyptians and how they entombed their kings. As some of those tombs have been opened, King Tut being the most famous, it is obvious that they believed life does not conclude with death; and, as I have been exposed to other cultures and their beliefs, I absolutely concur.

Through my experiences with death and dying, I came to fully realize that the veil between life and death is very thin. During some removals from crime scenes and homes, I actually felt the spirits in the room. I truly believe that we have angels watching over us, that life here is a school or training ground and death is only a transition in life, the body a temporary shelter for our spirit, until the Lord comes again and we will be reunited with body and spirit again. Death is nothing to fear. We are here to grow and develop our spirits, coping with the daily trials of life and attempting to spread good to others around us. This is not beyond Christianity but it expands and makes more real what Jesus said and demonstrated.

During my years of schooling at Cypress College, through a classmate, I met Lynne C. Marshall. She was living and working in Glenwood Springs, Colorado, where she worked as secretary to the president of a Ski Clothing Corporation-Obermier. Lynne's great uncle is General George C. Marshall, the rebuilder of Europe following WW IT. She grew up on the beaches of California and sang with the "Young Americans". Lynne and I were married in Las Vegas in 1988, while I was employed with Davis Funeral Homes in Las Vegas, Nevada. Coming from the mountains of Colorado, this was a difficult adjustment for Lynne and her two teenage daughters, Kary and Jennifer. It was a big change for me, too, adjusting to three women in the house.

Lynne had joined the Mormon faith as a teenager and attended church regularly. I, on the other hand, had been raised in the Methodist tradition. Later I also joined the Mormon Church. By that time I had experienced several funerals according to different faiths and believed the Mormon testimonies of faith were simple and clear in following Jesus' teachings.

When I had completed training in the Mortuary Science School, in 1987, I came back to Iowa for a short time and worked in Des Moines for Dunn's Funeral Home, before I decided to take the job with Davis for more work experience and better pay. Davis owned and operated three mortuaries and one cemetery, doing some 2,400 calls per year. My brother Tom had already been working for Davis and shortly after I arrived we were one of four sets of brothers working for that firm. Besides Tom and me, there was the owners, Gary and C.K. Davis; Tom and Steve Huesman; and Brian (Pee Wee) and Brad Brusa.

There were, indeed, all kinds of experiences in a variety of funeral related areas. Serving a diverse community the type of Las Vegas, I was exposed to many different cultures and faiths. Having had limited exposure in rural white America, I became aware instantly of many differences in how the Black, Latino and Asian cultures handle death, as well as the different religions-Jewish, Buddhist, Hindu, and the Christian Science faiths.

Gang and drug related shootings were common and those services were nervous times as we never knew when retaliation might take place at the cemetery. I mostly worked at the downtown facility and was introduced to a seedy side of society along with the high rollers and interesting characters. The reputation of gambling and mob activity I found to be justified. It did give a sense of excitement to the job. Growing at the rate of 5,000 people per month, the city seems unlike anywhere else in the United States.

A large percentage of deaths in Las Vegas was people there vacationing and arrangements were made to have their bodies shipped back home. Many people were from other countries, so, when making arrangements, I was able to work with other countries' consulates in meeting their health requirements in getting the body home.

I mostly worked at the Charleston funeral home. C.K. was the manager of this facility, which had been a restaurant that was fire bombed and rebuilt as a funeral home in 1980. Located across the street from the University Medical Center hospital, close to the county medical examiner's office, county courthouse and two well-respected nursing homes, the mortuary was well situated. Gary Davis, C.K.'s brother was the owner of the business, along with investors Dick Davis, Gary and C.K.'s father and Lou Wiener, Bugsy Seagle's lawyer.

Other recognizable names: One of the celebrity calls I made was removing and embalming Cornelious Gunter, the lead vocalist of the band, the Coasters. The Coasters had a hit album which included the hit song "Charley Brown". Another celebrity call was to a small home on Wayne Newton's Shenandoah Estate. It seems that in acquiring his property, Mr. Newton allowed the tenant, a little old lady, to stay on the property until death. In another case, a successful black janitor of Caesar's Hotel, killed his wife and two daughters just prior to his daughter's eighteenth birthday and then went down to the Strip and up to the top of Caesar's Palace and jumped to his death.

During the time I was out west, I also worked eight months in Las Cruces, then returned to Las Vegas to work for Palm Mortuaries, the largest funeral firm in Las Vegas, doing some 4,500 calls per year. When Redd Foxx died in California, Palm received the call to handle the arrangements for burial in Vegas. Andy and I received the telephone call from Los Angeles and each had an interesting talk with Eddy Murphy. I personally received the body of Redd Foxx and dressed and cosmetized him for viewing. He wore a white tuxedo. Making arrangements with his Oriental wife was interesting as Hollywood was involved. We drove the coach to his home prior to going to the cemetery. In attendance at the service were Ella Fitzgerald, Eddy Murphy, Phyllis Diller, Paul Anka and many other celebrities too numerous to mention. Prior to the O.J. Simpson scandal, when O.J. came to a funeral of one of his cousins, he came back to Larry Neubauer's office to sign autographs. That was just months before the murder of his ex wife and Ron Goldman.

One interesting service involved the death of the owner of the Palomino Palace Club. The service brought out all of the dancing girls, dressed in scantily clad outfits. Many of the Palm staff volunteered to work the service. Another involved a popular puppeteer, who passed away. The chapel was turned into a theater that day and a show was put on in his honor. Many strip performers were present, including all the comedians that were performing in town.

Whatever glamour the Las Vegas image may have is badly tarnished by the fact that it has the highest suicide rate per capita in the country. Some of the suicides are gory beyond description and devastating to those left to mourn the death, because there is guilt along with sorrow. Many calls were made to the different hotels to remove bodies of gamblers, who came to town hoping to make it big, but ending up taking their own life, rather than face their creditors. In one case, with the suicide note on the table at a motel room, the deceased had left over $5,000 in cash on the table and shot himself claiming he had owed money to many creditors.

There were other cases of suicide that revealed the person’s sense of hopelessness in living. One time while returning from a call to Sunrise Hospital, I had stopped for a soft drink at a convenience store. When I pulled back out onto Charleston Street, I saw a man in the middle of the street holler out ''Watch this, Debbie", and then proceeded to light his clothing on fire. Because he had just soaked his clothes in gasoline at the station, he went up like a human torch. I'll never forget the picture in my mind of this man in flames staggering across Charleston, before a stranger rolled him on the ground and another person used a fire extinguisher to douse the flames. I thought I was in a war zone and that he would be my next pick-up. Another suicide was a teenager who shot himself in the family's front yard after being turned down by a girl he hoped to take to the prom.

Of course, no occupation is without some humor, even this one. My most interesting story concerned a mishap that occurred during an early morning memorial service that took place at the edge of the cemetery lake. The sunrise service was beautiful as the air was fresh and cool, and the swans and ducks were comforting to the family. Following the service, as the funeral director, I was asked to scatter the cremains of their husband and father on the lake. Upon doing so, out of the comer of my eye, I saw a duck from the other side of the lake come flapping his wings as fast as he could, skimming across the lake gobbling up the cremains. As the family and I stood in shock to see the duck eating Dad, I thought "lawsuit". It wasn't very long before I heard hysterical laughter from the family, only to learn later from the son who commented that Dad had been an avid duck hunter and now the ducks had the last say.

While I was a director with Palm, I'll never forget the times we had services that went unplanned, but somehow worked out in the end. On one such occasion, the coach failed to start just as we were ready to leave the church to go to the cemetery. Another coach was brought in and instead of the family being upset with the delay, they found it quite humorous as their father had been an auto mechanic and they were pleased with the happenings.

All during my time working in Las Vegas, Lynne and I were looking to own a funeral home of our own. After looking at several homes and communities, returning to Osceola seemed like the best opportunity. In 1998, along with parents, Stack and Jean, we opened Samuelson Funeral Home in Osceola. If you had asked me 15 years ago what my plans for the future were, I would have said operating the newspaper in Osceola. Although I greatly miss certain aspects of the newspaper, comforting area families with a funeral service at a difficult time is very rewarding.