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Henry (Sammy) Ferdinand Schultz Was born in Janesville, WI on October 16th, 1912. He went into World War Two right after the depression on February 13th’1942. In the military, Sammy was a truck driver. Sam was a member of the Armored Force School in Fort Knox, Kentucky. He hauled personnel, supplies and ammunition for training purposes. His other occupational specialties were mortor gunner, demolition specialist and machine gunner. “He had a book on building bombs,” remembered Mike, Sammy's step-son.
In his three years in the service Sammy received many decorations including the Victory Medal, American Theater Ribbon, European African Middle Eastern Theater Ribbon with Four Bronze Battle Stars, three overseas service bars, one service stripe and a Good Conduct Medal. He would travel through Northern France, the rolling hills and forests of the Ardennes, Rhineland in Germany and Central Europe. “He would never talk about the war,” remembered Mike, Sammy's step-son.
The Capitol Cocktail Lounge sponsored a party for returning soldiers. Sitting in the booth with a shot of whiskey in front of him, Sammy surely felt that the war was over. In a way, it was about to begin.
Sammy got out November 20th, 1945. After the war, the 5'6 135 pound veteran moved to Idaho where he operated the press for the Spear Bullet Factory. Sammy married briefly and had two children, a son and a daughter. His daughter's name was Lyn. Sammy moved to the West Coast, like many young men, for work on the railroad. He started in Dunsmuir and transferred to Klamath Falls. Sam fell in love with a real-estate agent by the name of Cynthia Reed. They were married for several years before being divorced.
April 27th, 1968 the 50-year-old petite woman disappeared. Her car was discovered in Redding with blood on the tailgate and in the trunk. Sam’s concern and outrage over the slow-moving investigation was heightened when he was targeted as a suspect. He was one of three men that was given a polygraph test and he passed. “He was always so upset how they conducted the investigation." said Mike. Sam kept every news clipping that came out, followed every advancement in the case that, sadly, went cold. "They were just divorced when she was killed. That was something else that made him bitter," said Mike "He would just lock all that stuff up. Make no mistake, Sam had seen hurt.”
Nearly ten years later, Sam met a feisty mother of three, Mary Soto. At that time Mike and his wife, Diana lived with Mary. “Sammy was a loud-mouth,” remembered Mike. It took a while for the boys to warm up to their mother's new boyfriend. Sammy didn't care for Mike's brother, Joe. “Joe probably told Sammy off,” said Mike. “But, he was fun to be around, when he was younger.”
Rose, Mike’s younger sister, was in Germany with her husband, Tom Keen. Mary and Sammy would be together for a decade, most of which they lived together. Mary and Sammy tried to get married once when Mike and Diana drove them to Reno in a '72 Nova. It was Summer of 1977. That morning Sammy started drinking and got "toasted." Who doesn't drink in Reno. Still, the Justice of the Peace wouldn’t marry them. "I will never forget the word the pastor used, “incoherent.” Sammy kept interrupting the pastor because he had written his own vows. “He had his own words he wanted to say,” remembered Mike. Mike had never seen Sammy so mad.
Eventually his drinking worstened and he got sick. “They put him in the hospital for detox and he never touched a drink again. He was probably sober the last 15 years of his life. I will never forget that, they tied up his feet so he wouldn’t walk around. I think that’s what scared him.”
Mary was so embarrassed, she would never reconsider marrying Sammy. Mary and Sam split eventually, both of them extremely stubborn. They still went out to eat but they just couldn’t live together. "It broke his heart when she died," remembered Mike. Mike used to bring Sammy to the cemetary to visit her grave. "We had to stop doing that," remembered Mike. "It would tear him up, you almost had to pack him out of there.”
There was never a time when a cigarette wasn't in Sammy's hand. "When they came out with that second hand smoking thing, he just went livid. When they told him he couldn’t smoke in the restaurants anymore he’d go off," said Mike. This was one of those instances where Sammy would become unmanageable. “That’s not why I fought in the war," he'd say. He’d fought for freedom. I told him, “You’re not the only one in the place. You have to be considerate of people” Sammy felt that the American people were losing freedoms all of the time. “If we don’t stand up now, they’re gonna roll right over us,” he'd say. Sammy was a fighter.
It seemed that the only place where Sammy was truly comfortable was on the water. "God he loved to fish," remembered Mike. He'd built several boats. "He was a natural born carpenter." He started as a cabinet-maker but was never really good at it. He enjoyed it, though. It was his hobby. "Boats grew from that," remembered Mike." He could work off of blue-prints.” Every year, he would take a fishing trip to Alaska. He always wanted to go back once more to Alaska.
His distanced himself from Lyn, his daughter. She always tried to reconnect with him. "I've just wondered over and over why you acted as if you didn't care to know about me," she wrote. "I have a 16 year old boy who looks very much like the only picture I have of you. When my boys do wrong or disapoint us, we keep loving them and letting them know we care and aren't going to give up on them." the stream of cards and letters that Sammy received had pictures of the young family growing up. Lynns boys grew from toddlers to teenagers to men. Her word remained pain-soaked. She poured her heart into his letters, letters from a daughter rejected and trying to understand why.
“I could take the BS he would give me, we were total opposites." Mike explained "Of course I took it with a grain of salt.” It was Mike's last parental connection. Mike, Rose and Tom did what they could to make Sam's last years bearable. “But the war, it changed him. It made it bitter. Towards the end, he was really hard to get along with.” said Mike. “I loved him, but I never want to be like him.”
Mike was working 6 days a week and wanted to bring Sammy to live with him but was too concerned that Sammy would fall or something would happen during Mike’s 12 hour shifts at the mill. Sammy went into assisted care, something that to this day, still upsets Mike. Sammy's appetite had waned throughout the years and he had gotten gaunt. He'd been fighting a few minor infections. He got up, ate breakfast, had a cigarette and went to sleep and never woke up. His death-certificate stated sepsis due to an infection - and malnutrition. Sammy died with a full head of hair.
Lyn's last letter was addressed to Mike. It's tone was hurt verging on bitter. Mike had no idea that Lyn had been writing Sammy all of these years. "The relationship between dad and us kids was the way it was, and we can't change anything now. . . we learned something from it. We learned and vowed not to be like that. . . I hope there is a plus there somewhere."
"He was really knowlegible. I learned a lot from him." said Mike. “He was buried in his military uniform. Nobody went to see it but me, but I had to make sure it was done right.”
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