Name: Hugh Wallace Hogue
Born: 5 Jan 1894
Place: Tingley, Ringgold Co IA
Died: 2 June 1969
Place: Long Beach, Los Angeles Co CA
Place: Westminster Memorial Park, Orange Co., CA
Married: 2 Nov 1924
Place: Guthrie Co IA
Hugh Hogue at
Knotts Berry Farm
Hugh and Birdie had three children:
||Born premature at 4-1/2 months. He was
apparently cremated as the death record has "None" listed for
cemetery. Age is stated as 15 minutes.
|Patsy Ruth Hogue
Aunt Pat was born 18 Jan 1929 and died 29 May 2015. She had four
children. Her daughter, Rhonda,
died in 2012. |
|Billie Dell Hogue
||1931-1995 ||Mom was
born 10 Jun 1931 and died 14 Nov 1995. She had four children. Lonnie died in
|Ronald Hugh Hogue
||Ron was born 1 Feb 1939 and died 7 Oct 1994. He had
one child, Heather
The following obituary was probably published in the Long Beach
Press-Telegram. (It's not noted on my copy, nor is the date of the notice.)
"A Tribute to Dad" was published beneath it. If I recall correctly, the
officiating minister at the funeral declined to read it. I've forgotten his
My mother told me years later that I had broken a date so that I could
visit grandpa at the hospital. I'd forgotten that. As it turned out, it my
last opportunity to see him. He died that night. But I do remember that he
took my hand and we both cried. I think he was worried about me; worried
about my long hair, about my agnostic and left-leaning ways. I've since
considered that California in the 1960s might have been a confusing and
perhaps even terrifying time for this gentle lad born on an Iowa farm in
At a family reunion in 1988, Norman Ferber (Aunt
Pat's first husband) called Hugh, his former father-in-law, a "prince
among men," a statement that would ring perfectly true to anyone who knew
him. But, according to my grandmother, he was known in their hometown of
Tingley as "Squirt Hogue," due to his diminutive stature.1 His
younger grandchildren, particularly Heather, called him
Hugh Hogue's Obituary
Hugh W., son of Robert I. and Joanna Hogue, was born in Tingley, Iowa, Jan.
5, 1894, and departed this life June 2, 1969.
His parents were devout Presbyterians, so their son was born right into the
faith, leaving that heritage and also teaching his children to be honest and
upright in all their dealings.
Nov. 2, 1924 he was united in marriage with Birdie Nina McDowell, with whom
he lived 44 years and seven months.
During the last 49 days of his earthly life, his wife and family were
constantly at his bedside in the hospital and convalescent home.
A devoted husband and father, he, as they, longed for the day of his
Now his spirit rests and hovers near his bereaved ones, whose love
would not hold him but rather, would rejoice in his higher homecoming. For
truly, in a beautiful new way he has come home.
He leaves to mourn his passing, his widow, Birdie; two daughters,
Patsy and Billie; a son, Ron, and nine grandchildren.
A Tribute to Dad
There was a whisper of greatness in my Father, but I doubt he
himself knew it. His most brilliant thoughts were left forever unsaid,
because he rarely spoke ... only the words he found necessary for daily
survival. And when he spoke, he spoke softly. Indeed, he walked softly as
well. Everything about him was muted and gentle.
The small-town, farm-boy chemistry that created my father's peaceful
ways never left him. His accomplishments were internal in nature, but they
were lush. In short, my father harmed no one by his presence on this planet.
And although this achievement may seem modest at first glance, look
Consider what is called a quiet, simple man, with a traditional
philosophy of life and death, and a startling capacity for tolerance and
love. He surely must have amazed himself with his ability to accept and
understand the changing world that surrounded him.
My father was an artist ... in his own way, within his own scope.
From landscapes to signboards to houses. He allowed his brush to enlarge
with the addition of each new line on his forehead, each new year on his
life, each new dream that grew old.
Yet, there was a great element of surprise about him. He caught you
off-guard. When my father used humor, he was genuinely funny. When a
depression took hold of his spirits, he was despairingly low. He thrived on
his worry for others. And when he gave you his love, it was bound by his
life-time, and such was his wish.
We, his family, accepted his love through half a century; and we
accepted his life-time as well, giving all that we could in return. We now
accept his death for the future it holds for him.
My father believed in God, and welcomed the eventual sight of Him.
And his, who permitted His stream of peace to be reflected in the streams of
my father's life, must surely now welcome the sight of him...
A man who held no claim to fame, but who leaves us with a grateful
second look at his one miraculous accomplishment -- he harmed no one by his
presence on this planet, and we, his wife, his daughters, his son, his
grand-daughters and grand-sons, his friends, his relatives, his animals ...
All original portions ©
Michael Cooley, OrbitInternet.net -