A slice of my mom’s incredible life, the farm girl from Iowa…
Born in Iowa to Danish (Lutheran) immigrants and raised on a farm, Betty Katherine Beck grew up during the Great Depression of the 1930’s. Life in those days were packed with chores, from sunrise till sunset seven days a week. Pictured in this lovely photo, she had just graduated high school in Waterloo Iowa and was about to enter a local business school where she would gain clerical knowledge of how to run a business. In that male-dominated era, the best she could hope for was to be a secretary.
Her parents were her guardian angels…
Svend Beck came to the United States before the outbreak of World War 1. He chose a hard living as a brick layer. Fredericka joined him and they married. During the war he served in the United States Army as a foot soldier. After the war he returned home and they moved from the town of Waterloo onto a farm.
During the Great Depression Fredericka ran the farm while Svend went from town to town looking for work. Back then, the only way to be promoted on a construction site was to go behind the scenes and fistfight your rival or superior for the promotion.
Svend eventually started his own construction company, a master bricklayer and contractor who built sturdy schools, churches, hospitals and homes. These were extraordinary people, salt of the earth. During Prohibition (when alcohol was banned) Svend brewed his own beer in a bathtub in the basement.
Betty (left) with Aunt Jo and Uncle Bob…
Note their farmhouse was built to withstand tornados, sweltering summer heat and bitter cold winters. It takes a special person to be the oldest child in a family. Mom had responsibilities around the farm, a list of chores that never ended, besides setting an example for her younger siblings. Loving, caring for, and teaching them strong family values came naturally for my mother. I should know, decades later she instilled those same noble qualities in my older sister, brother and myself.
Life was simple back then, uncluttered by modern technology. In 1933 Mom wrote her a letter to her father who was out of town looking for work. Here are a couple of excerpts: “Dear Daddy, I suppose mother told you about the fair. I won second prize on my peppers, and got a can of corn. One lady at the fair said I could have won first prize on my school dress if mother would have made it, and she did... The first little Jersey (cow) we got died. And now we have two little kittens from the blind cat... If you come home in three weeks you’ll come home on my birthday, and then we can celebrate it on Sunday. With all my love, Betty.”
Betty and Aunt Jo down on the farm…
Here are the two Beck sister standing outside the farm house wearing traditional Danish dresses. Mom and Aunt Joe had a special bond throughout life. When times were difficult, you could find my mother talking to her younger sister on the telephone. I have a collection of letters between the two siblings during different stages of life. When my parent’s marriage failed, it was Iowa and the warmth of Mom’s family that helped heal her emotional wounds.
Both Marines, after the war they married…
Betty was a staff sergeant for the Marine Corps stationed in San Francisco. Nearing the end of the war my father Leon was sent stateside after several bouts of Malaria. Mom ran a Marine office that sold War Bonds. My father worked in the same building. How could he not fall in love with her beauty and charm. For my mother, Dad was not as tall as he would have liked, but his big city (Baltimore) charm and zest for life eventually won her over—she finally said yes to his third proposal.
The above photo was taken years later, after we moved to Hollywood and could afford a black and white television. Life before my father became famous was good. He mowed the lawn and tended a rose garden. When his celebrity soared above the clouds, their marriage began to lose its foothold on the ground.
After twenty-two years of marriage to Dad…
The small town girl from Iowa disappeared under the glittering Hollywood lights—and the public scrutiny that surrounded my father. Leon had an intense personality, and living with a world famous author took its toll on our small family. Although he loved Betty with all his heart, everywhere Leon went people recognized him. Royalty, politicians and movie stars clamored for his autograph.
We lived in a fortress behind a ten-foot tall brick wall to keep his adoring public—and those who constantly sent him death threats. He loved his little family, but fame, fortune and his quest to save humanity ruined our harmonious life.
Mom suffered many a lonely night when Dad was off on a research trip or giving a speech on the other side of the country—and world. Eventually, she had had enough of his philandering, packed my brother and I and the family dog into the station wagon and we drove nonstop to Iowa. Mom raced out of the car and into the waiting arms of her mother and Aunt Jo.
Betty met Frank McGill at a nudist colony…
A World War II Air Force radio operator during the European Campaign, Frank lost his leg (below the knee) during a bombing run over Germany. He returned home and raised four children while carpentering during the days and schooling at USC at night. Frank worked his way up the corporate ladder and became the executive vice president of Sunkist.
He met my mom during a therapy retreat at Elysium Fields, in Topanga Canyon. Mom and Frank never raise their voices to one another in anger (a big change from 22 years with my father). They loved one another beyond words.
A good man with a kind heart, Frank became my stepfather and the third most important role model in my life (after Dad and my older brother Mark). Frank and I became lifelong friends and I had the privilege of caring for him during his last three years. I could not imagine having a better stepfather.
The first family reunites in Santa Monica…
At our Santa Monica home with Uncle Bob, Svend, Fredericka, Betty and Aunt Jo. Over the years my mom never forgot her roots. Svend and Fredericka sent Dad and Betty the down payment for our first house in Larkspur California. Her folks and siblings supported my father’s career during the early years. Grateful, my father paid them back ten-fold with loving interest.
When I was a teenager my grandfather suffered a stroke. He came to visit us but still had not regained full movement of one side, his face drooped and he walked sideways. Embarrassed to show any sign of weakness, my proud grandfather apologized to me for his looks. I remember throwing my arms around him and saying, “Bestafa (Danish for grandfather), it doesn’t matter. I love you so much, that I don’t even notice there is anything wrong.”
All five have all passed. Their love has never left me, and their fond memories will forever remain alive in my heart.
When Mom’s days became numbered…
My (thoughtful) sister Karen and I took Mom and Frank on a gondola ride near their home in Seal Beach, through canals similar to those in Venice Italy. All the houses aligning the canals were lit up with Christmas lights. Music played and people sang joyful songs. It was their special time, and my sister and I were honored to share it. Resting on a shelf, I see this photo most every day. It reminds me to smile, and to be grateful for having such an incredible mother, and a family.
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