Back in Chicago, Clyde met his wife-to-be, our mom, Doris in 1935. Clyde would ride Doris on the handlebars of his bicycle. Clyde liked bicycles, motor scooters and dogs. He was a great athlete and loved to play baseball in the road with big 16” softballs. He was a noisy kid.

“You could always hear him yelling” our mom said.  She said they called him ”Potlicker” because he liked to lick out the cake pots. But our mom called him "Bud." Funny... I never asked why. Now it is too late.

As they got older, Clyde and Doris would drive to Lake Geneva and skate on the frozen lake.

Doris never made it to 5 feet. Clyde was over a foot taller. But were meant for each other.

In 1940 Clyde signed up for the Army Air Corps at Chanute, in downstate Rantoul.  When he was transferred to Craig Field in Selma, Alabama, Doris took the train down and they get married. In July of 1942, their first son, Craig was born.

After training, Clyde was assigned to the 492 Bomb Group as crew Chief of B-24 44-40066.  Arriving in England in April, 1944, he was notified that he now had a second son, Bruce.

Like many of the "Greatest Generation" Clyde did not talk much about the war.  He did tell us stories about painting big white stripes on wings the day before D-Day. We also know he helped deliver fuel to Patton and dropped propaganda leaflets over Germany.

Arriving home without a scratch in Sept, 1945, Clyde and Doris ordered a "Streamlite" trailer to be made for them at the Chicago plant.  They towed it to Rantoul where many, because of the post war housing shortages, were living in railroad cars and packing crates.   The trailer was small, but it was theirs.  It satisfied his need for self-sufficiency.  Eventually, they got military housing at Chapman Courts where, in 1949, Arlene was born.  As we children grew up, we each got Schwinn bicycles for our birthdays.

Now in his mid 30s, Clyde was on a roll. 

Clyde was a big man: 6-2 and 220 pounds.  He was very strong and did all the work himself.  There was no money. There were no contractors... just us and a lot of work.  That is my dad, trowling the concrete. Where did he learn that? Behind us (left picture) is the wood storage barn plus a mountainous pile of tarp-covered wood from that old house.  The pic on the right shows how we used that old wood to make our garage. Bruce revisited the place in 2009 and reported that the piles of unused wood were still there, 53 years later.

 In 1956, Clyde found a 1940 Taylorcraft airplane that needed recovering and bought it for $300.  We learned to fly in it, parking it a mile away at a grass field.  Over the winter of 1956-7, we rebuilt it.  

How did he know how to do all these things?

In 1957, he was transferred to Elmendorf, AFB, Anchorage, Alaska where he heard about some 5 acre "Home-sites" that had not been proven up on.  All we had to do was dig a well, build a house and it would be ours.  So that is what we did.  Of course, it was surrounded by piles of unused wood covered under tarps. He sold it that way.

In 1960, Clyde and Doris were back in Rantoul, retired from the Air Force.  Now in his early 40s and still vigorous, Clyde soon discovered that he could be the Schwinn dealer in Rantoul.  He bought the corner property at the intersection of 136 and Grove and turned it into Rantoul's Schwinn bicycle dealership.  Clyde enjoyed taking young boys under his wing, teaching them what he knew.

In 1971, Clyde and Doris moved to Naples, Florida, where he once again built another dream house in the country.   He also helped Arlene and her new family build a home on adjacent property.  Life slowed down just a little as Clyde and his dog, Scudder enjoyed Arlene’s children.

Flea markets made Clyde happy too, and Sierra Vista had a good one.  But now in his 80s, his knees were giving out and he was having trouble walking.  He had trouble driving, too and lost his driver's license.  By the late 2000s, Clyde was spending most of his time in front of his TV. 

 Self sufficient to the end, Clyde passed away with no warning, in his own bed at his own home.

Way to go, Daddy.

I am sure it would please him to have his cremated remains placed under a pile of wood, under a tarp.

Arlene Vetter Hallman

You and your family have my sympathy.

Tim Mayer, Rantoul, Illinois

Bill Robinson, Riding into History, Florida

Take care. Larry Coolidge - ex Vetter employee

Don Korkowski - Rantoul friend

It seems like we always spent a lot of time with you all out at the old school house. We played kick the can, spent nights up in the tree house and watched you all work on your projects out in the book shed. We inspected the fall out shelter and watched you all pack for your trip to Alaska. I remember the old house that you all tore down. Mom would never have let any of us fly, but I remember going out and seeing the plane.

After you all moved to Alaska, I remember telling my mom that I could help her drive so that we could go up and visit you all. Of course I was probably only 12 at the time! I wonder why she turned down that idea!! But I never forgot the idea of going to Alaska. In fact my wife and I flew up there and got married in Anchorage in 1993. Ultimately in 1995 we moved there when I took a job at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. I owe that adventure to your dad for supporting the adventuresome spirit you all enjoy. Some of that spirit rubbed off on me. The end of May we will be heading back to Alaska in our Motor home.

I will miss "Bud". I can truthfully say that he was one of the significant influences on my life. He was like a second Dad. I will miss him.
Dick Harding
Battleboro, NC and formerly, Rantoul.

Much love,

Charlene

May God comfort you and Carol and Zak and Morgan at this time.

God's Blessings Joe Glass

Craig:

I grew up across the street from your Dad’s bike shop. Lived in Chapman Courts, (Rantoul, IL) also remember a Laundromat and Ernie’s Grocery. My brother was slightly injured crossing Grove to go to Ernie’s. Got hit my a VW bug of all things. Any bigger I am sure he would have been gone. Great tribute to your dad. Thanks for sharing!

Thank you, Pat. Before it was Ernies, it was called Court Grocery store. My dad would bet that his Coke bottle's date of manufacture would be farther away than yours. Farthest away won. Closest bought.

My Dad was a character, wasn't he?

Craig