My dad passed away on April 5 in 2001. He was in his 81st year and basically got his wish — he did not linger — he went to work that day, wasn’t feeling so well, drove home, and while watching the big golf tournament on TV, became worse, called my sister who drove him to the emergency room. He apologized to her for having to take him, her kids arrived, they stepped out of the emergency room, and he passed away. Kind of nice really, we did not have to say goodbye. But kind of sad too — it was a surprise, we weren’t expecting it.
My dad was generous with his money.
He had an engineering degree from USC, was on the tennis team, was discharged from the US Army for asthma, worked at Lockheed Aircraft for a long time where he met my mama, and then they took a plunge into starting his own business. He got Bob Wian to sell him a franchise to “Bob’s Big Boy” — and so began a long career of “JB’s Big Boy”. He and my mom worked on getting the first store open in Provo, Utah in 1961. They wanted to attract the students at nearby BYU.
He had a lot of success — over a hundred restaurants, employing thousands of people. Even hired his old boss from Lockheed.
But later, he had a lot of failures. Never wanting to die with no money or inheritance to leave us — that’s exactly what happened. The stock certificates for his last company were not worth the paper they were printed on. And he used to laugh and lament — that these stock certificates may be only good for wallpaper. This was a new start-up company — he had been trying to get a new career ever since he got voted off the board at JB’s Big Boy and lost control of what was once his own company. By 1987, the board also voted to get rid of the Big Boy to save franchise fees, and JB’s Big Boy became JB’s Restaurant — a chain of bad coffee shops that eventually went bankrupt in 2002 and again in 2011.
My sister Talee and I reflect on the good old days — we never had to worry about money. It was great. [Oh how I miss those easy summer days at our beach house.] But we didn’t really think about it either. In fact, it’s a blessing when you don’t have to think about money — like when you’re sick with the stomach flu, you can’t stop thinking about getting better. You count the hours. It’s a relief when you’re well, and you don’t have to think about your health. It’s similar with money. When you don’t have a consistent income you have to think about it all the time.
Growing up, I was a rich girl and didn’t really know about the poor. Or know what it felt like to worry about money. So, today, I’m thanking my dad for not leaving me a fortune. It’s all good. In a macro-view of things. In a spiritual purifying way. I have experienced struggling, firsthand. So has my sister. Business failures within our own families brings on compassion (or anger — you get to choose.)
I know how humiliating it is when the church helps you. And friends. Thankful, yes, but humiliating. But it’s all good. So thanks, Dad for not leaving us a ton of money. It’s all good. We have many fond memories. Thanks for both experiences. Although, at this stage, I would love to find a stash of cash left by my dear old dad. Lessons learned.
Summer days in Huntington Harbor.
JB on family vacation
JB’s Big Boy
Opening of a JBs Big Boy, Jack Broberg
One of the few times my mom and dad dressed up
The Bob Hope Classic, Golf Tournament. JB with my mom and Billy Casper
Originally posted Nov 2014. Updated Feb 2023.
