Submitted by: Peggy Epstein, 1/2010

This entry relates to the past.

Categories of this entry: Coming to Davis

 Early in 1919 my parents, Has and Hazel Leask, came from Santa Cruz so Has could enroll in the U.C. Farm School. They motored into town through the narrow railroad underpass, and put up for the night at the University Hotel, northwest corner of Second and B Streets.

They were excited and nervous. Has was just out of the Army, a town boy headed toward a long-desired life as a farmer, financially dependent on his father, and responsible for a pregnant wife. Hazel was excited and nervous on general principles, under the circumstances.

Next morning they descended to the parking lot and found their car with a flat tire. This was not too bad, as far as Hazel could see; she was very familiar with cars and flat tires were her specialty; she was an engineer at heart, even in 1919. Has was not mechanical. But he was supposed to be in charge, so he set about changing the tire. As he struggled to unscrew a lug, Hazel leaned down to encourage him (or maybe to give advice). He was startled, turned suddenly to hear her, and hit her squarely with the wrench. She cried out. He cried out. They clutched each other in mutual distress. It was a great drama.

And so it was that Hazel Leask, now an Aggie student wife, showed up in her new life with a very, very black eye.