The Paterson Boys

Our Faith

The Paterson Boys

Yesterday and Today

By Stephen L. Wilmeth

            The fight wasn’t unexpected.

            The game was in the confines of old James Stadium. That was where we played our home games long before Silver High School had its own football field. Perhaps the college component of the atmosphere was a factor, but it was a great place for high school football.

            The game was against El Paso Andress. We played them on their home field the year before. That game should have ended at half time. We had them down 21-0, but we were out of gas. The heat and our absence of any depth prevailed and a team that played into the quarter finals in the big school playoffs in Texas beat us 22-21.

            A year later, we had them at our place. We were seniors and had a pulling guard that weighed 157 pounds soaking wet. His name was John Paterson. He had moved from Clifton, Arizona the year before. He had assimilated and was one of us. What he lacked in speed and size, he made up in endless endurance and attitude.

            John had been talking hokey with Andress’ defensive end, a kid who had come in being touted as a high school All American. We knew George Oaks and we bantered back and forth with all the bravado of being that age and under those lights. John was six or seven inches shorter than George and at least 55 pounds lighter, but that didn’t matter.

            The whistles were blowing and threats were being exchanged when I turned to see John swinging away at him. The problem was he wasn’t landing any blows because George stood out beyond John’s reach with a hand on his helmet. John was flailing air. George was smiling and suggested we needed to take care of this before somebody got mad. We drug John away while he was telling us what he would do if we’d just let him go.

            That was a glimpse of John. What he lacked in natural talents he made up in sheer will. He never believed for a minute he couldn’t succeed … at anything.

            The funeral

            Last Saturday, I slipped into the Methodist Church in Silver City just before the service. Dusty and Pat Hunt saved a place for me and we talked and greeted friends and family around as we waited.

            We were there to honor the memory of Helen Gunnary Paterson, wife of Alex and mother of the Paterson children.

            In shared duties, John and his brother, Tom, remembered their mother. The outcome was as courageous as it was dignified.

John took the lead and talked about early years and how his mother had grown up speaking Finnish on a Minnesota farm. She had been that state’s spelling champion, but had foregone studying English in preference to nursing. Her nursing degree brought her to Morenci, Arizona and the Phelps Dodge hospital. It was there she met a young man delivering milk to the hospital from his Ward Canyon dairy every morning at 5:00 AM. That was Alex, and, soon, they were married.

From that union four children would be born … John, Jimmy, Tom and Mary Helen.

The surviving Paterson children were in attendance. When John talked about his brother, Jimmy, he struggled. Jimmy was killed in an electrical accident. The family struggled to survive the loss. It was Jimmy’s death that made the family decide they simply couldn’t live in Clifton anymore. They moved to Silver City in 1967. Alex began his teaching career in the Cobre School System and Helen became a school nurse.

In horrors, John divulged they arrived in Silver City with a mattress tied to the top of their car only to meet the football team out running. I don’t remember the incident, but I do remember the first time I met him.

Tom then approached the dais and spoke.

Tom was younger. In the vernacular of time, he was just a ‘kid’. He was always there, and we all came to know what a bright young man he was. Early in high school, he went to work for a local vet and never played sports. When John and I were in college at Western, we watched Tom’s activities variously, and he became known outside the family circle as a growing sensation in scholastic achievement.

That extended to his decision and ability to go to Texas A&M. It then extended to his selection as a Rhodes Scholar finalist, and it would continue with his acceptance into a new PhD Ag Econ/ law degree combination at the University of Wisconsin, Madison.

After years of different directions, I saw Tom at a reception at Purdue where we were attending some national meetings. He had hitched a ride from Madison with some ladies and he was following them around in his droopy, patented slouch walk. From across the hall, I knew that could only be Tom Paterson.

“Hey, Tom,” was the greeting. “Where’ve you been?”

I became convinced that night Tom Paterson was going to survive without having played football. I retrieved all doubts, and smiled at the success of that little brother.

His eulogy for his mother was polished proof.

To the Ranch

In the decade before Jimmy’s death, the Patersons bought a federal lands ranch north of Luna, New Mexico. I know now it was not just a ranch, but a place to go and heal. It became their natural sanctuary.

It remains that way.

John’s journey was always a matter of blue collar scholastics. He finished at Western where he worked his tail off to survive. Interestingly, success started appearing in chemistry and that gave him encouragement. When he finished his BA with nary a professor giving him much of a chance much less offering praise or encouragement, he enrolled at Utah State. He was in a different element and bovine nutrition was closer to his heart and his talents. He finished his MA and set a course for higher goals. From there, it was on to Nebraska where he earned his PhD.

I was in Kansas City one time on business when John was a young professor at the University of Missouri. I drove over and spent the weekend with him and Diana at Columbia. He was happy and in his element.

When he got to the University of Montana and filled the roll of their extension beef specialist, he blossomed. I would seen him from time to time on RFD TV on Cattlemen to Cattlemen or read something about him in a beef periodical. He retired in 2014 and took a position with the National Cattlemen’s Beef Association where he will continue to impact the cattle industry.

Tom remains in Houston where he not only fills the role of a high powered Texas attorney he looks like one. When I walked up to him to greet him after the service his shop made boots and tailored suit largely hiding any suggestive abdominal silhouette were proof positive he is, indeed, that successful Texas attorney. I shook his hand, but I also reached around him, hugged him, and told him I was proud of him.

As Brothers Paterson and I talked, ranch remained a central theme. Tom talked about his loss of a pasture because of some endangered species. John talked about the difficulty of keeping labor. They both knew of my situation with our ranch operation being submersed into a national monument. They had seen the Blaze TV Losing our Land segment, and they had seen some of The Westerner history.

We discussed philosophy, but, mostly, it was a time for renewed greetings.

And, now

Our future is starting to appear in its rear view mirror.

We are graying and we are no longer as we were. That is disconcerting, but it is reality. The service that brought us together serves as a punctuation mark. It is a marker. It was also the forum that suggests what actually lies ahead.

Alex and Helen Paterson were enormously proud of their family and individual accomplishments. The eloquence of first Alex and then the brothers, though, brought to light a greater promise that surpasses the temporal issues of which we dwell.

It heralded family and Christian values.

There is no way we escape the coming years without tragedy and strife. Together we’ve shared life’s true pleasures and pain …

Along with our nation’s turmoil, end of life experiences will accelerate. Alex suggested that Heaven’s door is open and the streets pave the way to a new and better existence. That is our Christian promise, but there remain duties in this setting.

A meaningful path was glimpsed in the faithful performance of the brothers. It was couched in words, but it reflected the true gift. It was the reminder that each of us must exemplify actions that support our steadfast devotion and faith in … our loving, living God.

Stephen L. Wilmeth is a rancher from southern New Mexico.