Tuff Hilliard



Tuff Hilliard
Picture: Walter Carl "Tuff" Hilliard (1914-1987),
with hands in brown jacket pockets, in front of his house in Thermopolis, Wyoming, ca 1985.

    This is Walter Carl "Tuff" Hilliard (1914-1987), father of Carl Ralph Hilliard and Carol Hilliard Pearcy and grandfather of Bronson Ralph and Brendan Michael Hilliard, and Shannon L. and Dean W. Pearcy. He is the fraternal twin brother of A. E. "Sandy" Hilliard, the son of A. F. "Jack" Hilliard, the grandson of Noah Hilyard, and the great-grandson of Jeremiah Hilyard.
    Tuff worked for Marathon Oil company for 43 years as a field hand. He did any and all jobs in the field, and developed a reputation as being both solidly reliable on the job and Herculean in his physical strength.
    Tuff married Velna Close, a school teacher, in 1935, and the two had their first child, Carl Ralph Hilliard, in 1937. Carl, called "Bud," is my father. Later, in 1941, Carol Beth Hilliard, my aunt, was born.
    The family first lived in Gebo, Wyoming, a coal-mining and oil town outside Thermopolis, Wyoming, some 90 miles southeast of Cody. Tuff worked in the oild field, Velna took care of the baby, and her father, Ralph Close, worked as an electrician in the nearby coal mine.
    The couple lived in Elk Basin, Wyoming, outside Cody, and later in Dry Creek, Montana, from the time of World War II until the early 1960s, when they moved to Lance Creek, Wyoming, an oil town in eastern Wyoming. Finally, in 1977, Tuff retired, and he and Velna moved to Thermopolis and bought the only house they ever owned.
    Tuff was a fisherman, a woodworker, and a friend to all who knew him. He taught me how to drive a stick shift (with great difficulty, I might add), how to fish, how to shoot a shotgun. He was fond of Westerns, liked Johnny Cash, watched "Hee-Haw" and "Sanford and Son," and voted Democrat his entire life.
    He could also summarize a situation in peerlessly abrupt style. Once, in criticizing a relative whose children had a propensity to marry early, he said "None of her kids were happy unless they were married right out of the eighth grade."
    If you want to know how he talked, rent the John Wayne movies "The Cowboys" and "True Grit." Tuff had the same intonation in his voice, a raspy kind of western voice made rough by cigarettes, coffee, and a hot, dry climate. He had a deep, manly chuckle for a laugh. Dad called him "the Old Man," which is what we call our fathers in our family.
    Tuff died June 1, 1987, of heart failure, at the hospital in Casper, Wyoming. He joked with the nurses and EMT's in the ambulance all during the two-hour ride from Thermopolis to Casper. His last major project was changing the oil in my aunt's car. At his funeral, grown men cried like little kids. One of his friends came up to me and said, "that man was the best friend I ever had."
    Not a bad epitaph. Tuff is buried in a cemetery in Thermopolis, on the top of a red-dirt bluff that overlooks the town, the Big Horn river, and the Big Horn Mountains in the distance. It is a deserving place of rest for a good man, maybe the best I ever knew.

CONTINUE THE JOURNEY


Written by Bronson Hilliard