On October 27, 2018, I attended the memorial service for Stanley Dawson Arnold, something a bit out of character for me. Dawson was born at the Riverside Hospital in Susanville—however with the City of Susanville’s current linear thinking, this institution could not have existed. More about this later—a tale that Dawson would relish.

Those familiar with the family, Dawson’s father, Stan, took over the management of Fruit Growers Supply Company’s Story Club in August 1930.  It was a three-story recreational building for the Fruit Grower’s employees, though it hosted numerous public functions. Stan paid a nominal $20 month to rent the facility. It had been a money losing proposition for the company. In the agreement, Stan could keep all the profits operating the Story Club, but he would also be liable for any  losses. For Dawson it was a great place to roam around and grow up in. However, it was one of those scenarios when all good things come to an end, and the Story Club was destroyed by fire in 1944, and not rebuilt. Like the proverbial phoenix rising from the ashes, his father enrolled in law school, and Dawson years later would do the same to become an attorney.

Fast forward  years later, the Arnold family moved to South Pine Street. I, grew up on the corner of South Pine and Cottage. While I became acquainted with Dawson then, that changed in a dramatic way back in the mid-1980s, during my stint as a Lassen County Deputy County Clerk, and by this time Dawson held the position of Lassen County Counsel. One of my duties, was to, on occassion clerk the Lassen County Board of Supervisor meetings. Of course Dawson was there. Dawson would slip me small pieces of paper during the meeting. These were colorful comments about a topic at hand or a person in the room, in an attempt to make me lose my decorum. He nearly succeeded. Remember, C.W. Franklin?

Dawson had many passions, and sailing was one. In this same time frame, he approached me about a sail boat regatta on Honey Lake.  My only qualification was my knowledge about the lake. In a whirlwind fashion it occurred in the spring of 1987–my first sail boat experience. Of course, one of the attendees, was Dawson’s long time friend Mark Totten.  While Mark, not a sailor per se, had his outboard motor boat there, equipped with a depth finder, Mark did an informal sounding of the depth of Honey Lake. All in all, a good time was had. Dawson later confided to me, it was a real pain to clean his sail boat from the alkali residue from that excursion.

From 1989-2000 I resided on the 200 block of South Pine Street, just a few doors down from Dawson and Carol. We spent many a memorable evening discussing what not—though the truth be told there was a many time it was early in the morning before I made it back home.

Thank you Dawson for enriching my life—Tim I. Purdy

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