Parents: Thomas Jefferson "TJ" Hill and Ida May (Martin)
Hubert learned to be resilient physically and emotionally at a very young age. When he was five years old, his parents and three older brothers were committed to a tuberculosis sanitarium while he entered fosterage with a couple in Lubbock, Texas. After his family exited, he entered the same sanitarium by himself, cared for only by busy nurses. At age six, he lost his mother to TB. That same year to avoid the threat of he and his brothers being taken from his widowed father and placed in an orphanage, the family walked almost 500 miles from Lubbock in west Texas to New Boston in east Texas to reach the safety of a farm owned by his father's brother. Hubert's pet pig, Nancy, accompanied them on the journey to protect her boy.
As he grew, he tried hard to be just as strong and quick as his older brothers. Little Hubert, or "Junior," as his brothers called him, tagged along, slowing them down or accidentally foiling their plans to "adopt" food from unwatched park picnic tables, off fruit trees or from within discarded grocery store or café boxes. Yet, they always made sure Junior got something to eat. "The Hill Boys" acquired a reputation as feisty, but most folks knew the kids were just trying to survive while their father worked long hours as a sharecropper and mechanic.
Hubert finally surpassed his brothers and father as a teen in the Texas heat, pulling more cotton faster and filling multiple hundred-pound bags per day than they did, then heaving them 10 feet up into trucks waiting to go to the gin. He grew wiry and wily, ready to participate in the family's side gig: moonshine. His father distilled his own blend of righteous corn whisky and Hubert helped with distribution. Many times, he hunkered in the back seat of the family's Ford Model T nannying crates at his feet full of precious, tinkling mason jars while one of his twin brothers, Clinton or Quinton, drove like a demon across Lubbock County to drop off white lightning to customers, and what a lot of customers there were! The boys out-maneuvered the "revenuers," but sometimes got stopped by police and one time held up by another moonshine crew who tried to steal from them, but the twins talked their way out of jail and trouble by pointing to slim, young Junior in back. How could a nice boy like that be up to no good?
Hubert married the love of his life, Hazel, when he was 19 and she 15, and cherished her for 59 years until her death in 2009. They made a wonderful team from the start. She traveled the US with him when he became a journeyman ironworker, spending weeks or months in different locations. With her support, he transformed from fierce to steady and meticulous, and bosses noticed. They began asking for Hubert Hill by name on all types of building projects around the nation from skyscrapers to bridges to power plants. The only thing Hazel wouldn't do was watch him scale tall, metal frameworks 10, 20 or 30 stories high. Without safety equipment. He carried buckets of rivets, wire and welding rods with a grace and ease that belied his distance above the earth.
He became a master with the ironworker's union and worked on bigger, more impressive projects as the Cold War heated up. He was the preferred gang boss on jobs and achieved high credibility with management because his crews worked more efficiently and produced better results. Many structures in Colorado bear the mark of his work, such as the Eisenhower Tunnel, the Rocky Flats nuclear trigger production facility, Cheyenne Mountain, the Climax Mine and the Brush Power Plant.
With harder work came better pay, so he and Hazel decided to start a family. Their first addition was a beautiful, new, teal GMC pickup truck in 1953. That truck has been his baby ever since. He had it restored in the 1990s to near-new quality and drove it proudly around town and to local car shows until 2019; he even acquired vintage truck groupies who'd wait for him on Golden Road during the Golden Car Show on the first Saturday of each summer month.
When daughter Iris arrived, the couple settled in Golden, Colorado, first in their 34-foot trailer in a couple of mobile home parks, then, after son Steve was born, into a house Hubert built for his family. He joined the Masons in the 1970s, achieving the 32nd level as a Shriner of the Black Hawk Lodge; later, he inducted Steve into the organization as well.
He and the family drove the 10 hours to Lubbock often for family reunions, birthdays, weddings and just to be with their dear siblings, nieces, nephews, cousins and extended family. Likewise, they hosted many relatives at their home and enjoyed taking visitors sightseeing in the mountains and in Denver.
Hubert's resilience was tested again terribly in 1972 when Iris died in a car crash. His grief was a storm from which he could not shelter. Yet, he got up each morning, went to work, spent time with his wife and son and talked with friends and family. Just not about Iris. Ever. If her name was mentioned, his eyes would tear up and he'd turn away.
He continued to hang iron until Steve established Five R Trailers in 1975 at which time, he and Hazel pivoted effortlessly to support their son's entrepreneurship. There, he repaired horse, cargo and dump trailers, customized pickup trucks into fantastic "duallys" and, as the business grew, acquired his CDL license to haul trailers from national manufacturers and deliver new trucks to excited customers. He always took time to entertain shop visitors with stories of his youth while keeping a watchful eye on operations. He continued to come to work every weekday up until COVID shut down the world.
He felt truly blessed to become Grandpa to two handsome boys, Jake and TJ, and opened his heart to his daughter-in-law, Renata, for whom Hubert was and always will be "Dad." The birth of each of his five great-grandchildren lifted him through the clouds, higher than any building he'd ever built.
Hubert was preceded in death by his parents, his brothers, Willie James "Cotton" Hill, Clinton Jefferson Hill, Quinton Efson Hill and A Ross Hill; his wife, Hazel Ann (Stueart); and his daughter, Iris Ann (Hill) Patterson.
Hubert is survived by his son, Steve DeWitt Hill, and daughter-in-law, Renata Baron Hill; grandson Jake Steven Hill, and his wife, Melissa Rose (Wolff); grandson Thomas Jeremy "TJ" Hill, and his wife, Courtney Rita (Flynt); five great-grandchildren, Dylan, Landyn, Bentley, Collin and Adelynn; a brother- and sister-in-law; and numerous nieces and nephews. He loved you all.
Predeceased by wife Hazel and daughter Iris, and his dear brothers and his parents.
Hubert learned to be resilient physically and emotionally at a very young age. When he was five years old, his parents and three older brothers were committed to a tuberculosis sanitarium while he entered fosterage with a couple in Lubbock, Texas. After his family exited, he entered the same sanitarium by himself, cared for only by busy nurses. At age six, he lost his mother to TB. That same year to avoid the threat of he and his brothers being taken from his widowed father and placed in an orphanage, the family walked almost 500 miles from Lubbock in west Texas to New Boston in east Texas to reach the safety of a farm owned by his father's brother. Hubert's pet pig, Nancy, accompanied them on the journey to protect her boy.
As he grew, he tried hard to be just as strong and quick as his older brothers. Little Hubert, or "Junior," as his brothers called him, tagged along, slowing them down or accidentally foiling their plans to "adopt" food from unwatched park picnic tables, off fruit trees or from within discarded grocery store or café boxes. Yet, they always made sure Junior got something to eat. "The Hill Boys" acquired a reputation as feisty, but most folks knew the kids were just trying to survive while their father worked long hours as a sharecropper and mechanic.
Hubert finally surpassed his brothers and father as a teen in the Texas heat, pulling more cotton faster and filling multiple hundred-pound bags per day than they did, then heaving them 10 feet up into trucks waiting to go to the gin. He grew wiry and wily, ready to participate in the family's side gig: moonshine. His father distilled his own blend of righteous corn whisky and Hubert helped with distribution. Many times, he hunkered in the back seat of the family's Ford Model T nannying crates at his feet full of precious, tinkling mason jars while one of his twin brothers, Clinton or Quinton, drove like a demon across Lubbock County to drop off white lightning to customers, and what a lot of customers there were! The boys out-maneuvered the "revenuers," but sometimes got stopped by police and one time held up by another moonshine crew who tried to steal from them, but the twins talked their way out of jail and trouble by pointing to slim, young Junior in back. How could a nice boy like that be up to no good?
Hubert married the love of his life, Hazel, when he was 19 and she 15, and cherished her for 59 years until her death in 2009. They made a wonderful team from the start. She traveled the US with him when he became a journeyman ironworker, spending weeks or months in different locations. With her support, he transformed from fierce to steady and meticulous, and bosses noticed. They began asking for Hubert Hill by name on all types of building projects around the nation from skyscrapers to bridges to power plants. The only thing Hazel wouldn't do was watch him scale tall, metal frameworks 10, 20 or 30 stories high. Without safety equipment. He carried buckets of rivets, wire and welding rods with a grace and ease that belied his distance above the earth.
He became a master with the ironworker's union and worked on bigger, more impressive projects as the Cold War heated up. He was the preferred gang boss on jobs and achieved high credibility with management because his crews worked more efficiently and produced better results. Many structures in Colorado bear the mark of his work, such as the Eisenhower Tunnel, the Rocky Flats nuclear trigger production facility, Cheyenne Mountain, the Climax Mine and the Brush Power Plant.
With harder work came better pay, so he and Hazel decided to start a family. Their first addition was a beautiful, new, teal GMC pickup truck in 1953. That truck has been his baby ever since. He had it restored in the 1990s to near-new quality and drove it proudly around town and to local car shows until 2019; he even acquired vintage truck groupies who'd wait for him on Golden Road during the Golden Car Show on the first Saturday of each summer month.
When daughter Iris arrived, the couple settled in Golden, Colorado, first in their 34-foot trailer in a couple of mobile home parks, then, after son Steve was born, into a house Hubert built for his family. He joined the Masons in the 1970s, achieving the 32nd level as a Shriner of the Black Hawk Lodge; later, he inducted Steve into the organization as well.
He and the family drove the 10 hours to Lubbock often for family reunions, birthdays, weddings and just to be with their dear siblings, nieces, nephews, cousins and extended family. Likewise, they hosted many relatives at their home and enjoyed taking visitors sightseeing in the mountains and in Denver.
Hubert's resilience was tested again terribly in 1972 when Iris died in a car crash. His grief was a storm from which he could not shelter. Yet, he got up each morning, went to work, spent time with his wife and son and talked with friends and family. Just not about Iris. Ever. If her name was mentioned, his eyes would tear up and he'd turn away.
He continued to hang iron until Steve established Five R Trailers in 1975 at which time, he and Hazel pivoted effortlessly to support their son's entrepreneurship. There, he repaired horse, cargo and dump trailers, customized pickup trucks into fantastic "duallys" and, as the business grew, acquired his CDL license to haul trailers from national manufacturers and deliver new trucks to excited customers. He always took time to entertain shop visitors with stories of his youth while keeping a watchful eye on operations. He continued to come to work every weekday up until COVID shut down the world.
He felt truly blessed to become Grandpa to two handsome boys, Jake and TJ, and opened his heart to his daughter-in-law, Renata, for whom Hubert was and always will be "Dad." The birth of each of his five great-grandchildren lifted him through the clouds, higher than any building he'd ever built.
Hubert was preceded in death by his parents, his brothers, Willie James "Cotton" Hill, Clinton Jefferson Hill, Quinton Efson Hill and A Ross Hill; his wife, Hazel Ann (Stueart); and his daughter, Iris Ann (Hill) Patterson.
Hubert is survived by his son, Steve DeWitt Hill, and daughter-in-law, Renata Baron Hill; grandson Jake Steven Hill, and his wife, Melissa Rose (Wolff); grandson Thomas Jeremy "TJ" Hill, and his wife, Courtney Rita (Flynt); five great-grandchildren, Dylan, Landyn, Bentley, Collin and Adelynn; a brother- and sister-in-law; and numerous nieces and nephews. He loved you all.
Predeceased by wife Hazel and daughter Iris, and his dear brothers and his parents.
Parents: Thomas Jefferson "TJ" Hill and Ida May (Martin)
Hubert learned to be resilient physically and emotionally at a very young age. When he was five years old, his parents and three older brothers were committed to a tuberculosis sanitarium while he entered fosterage with a couple in Lubbock, Texas. After his family exited, he entered the same sanitarium by himself, cared for only by busy nurses. At age six, he lost his mother to TB. That same year to avoid the threat of he and his brothers being taken from his widowed father and placed in an orphanage, the family walked almost 500 miles from Lubbock in west Texas to New Boston in east Texas to reach the safety of a farm owned by his father's brother. Hubert's pet pig, Nancy, accompanied them on the journey to protect her boy.
As he grew, he tried hard to be just as strong and quick as his older brothers. Little Hubert, or "Junior," as his brothers called him, tagged along, slowing them down or accidentally foiling their plans to "adopt" food from unwatched park picnic tables, off fruit trees or from within discarded grocery store or café boxes. Yet, they always made sure Junior got something to eat. "The Hill Boys" acquired a reputation as feisty, but most folks knew the kids were just trying to survive while their father worked long hours as a sharecropper and mechanic.
Hubert finally surpassed his brothers and father as a teen in the Texas heat, pulling more cotton faster and filling multiple hundred-pound bags per day than they did, then heaving them 10 feet up into trucks waiting to go to the gin. He grew wiry and wily, ready to participate in the family's side gig: moonshine. His father distilled his own blend of righteous corn whisky and Hubert helped with distribution. Many times, he hunkered in the back seat of the family's Ford Model T nannying crates at his feet full of precious, tinkling mason jars while one of his twin brothers, Clinton or Quinton, drove like a demon across Lubbock County to drop off white lightning to customers, and what a lot of customers there were! The boys out-maneuvered the "revenuers," but sometimes got stopped by police and one time held up by another moonshine crew who tried to steal from them, but the twins talked their way out of jail and trouble by pointing to slim, young Junior in back. How could a nice boy like that be up to no good?
Hubert married the love of his life, Hazel, when he was 19 and she 15, and cherished her for 59 years until her death in 2009. They made a wonderful team from the start. She traveled the US with him when he became a journeyman ironworker, spending weeks or months in different locations. With her support, he transformed from fierce to steady and meticulous, and bosses noticed. They began asking for Hubert Hill by name on all types of building projects around the nation from skyscrapers to bridges to power plants. The only thing Hazel wouldn't do was watch him scale tall, metal frameworks 10, 20 or 30 stories high. Without safety equipment. He carried buckets of rivets, wire and welding rods with a grace and ease that belied his distance above the earth.
He became a master with the ironworker's union and worked on bigger, more impressive projects as the Cold War heated up. He was the preferred gang boss on jobs and achieved high credibility with management because his crews worked more efficiently and produced better results. Many structures in Colorado bear the mark of his work, such as the Eisenhower Tunnel, the Rocky Flats nuclear trigger production facility, Cheyenne Mountain, the Climax Mine and the Brush Power Plant.
With harder work came better pay, so he and Hazel decided to start a family. Their first addition was a beautiful, new, teal GMC pickup truck in 1953. That truck has been his baby ever since. He had it restored in the 1990s to near-new quality and drove it proudly around town and to local car shows until 2019; he even acquired vintage truck groupies who'd wait for him on Golden Road during the Golden Car Show on the first Saturday of each summer month.
When daughter Iris arrived, the couple settled in Golden, Colorado, first in their 34-foot trailer in a couple of mobile home parks, then, after son Steve was born, into a house Hubert built for his family. He joined the Masons in the 1970s, achieving the 32nd level as a Shriner of the Black Hawk Lodge; later, he inducted Steve into the organization as well.
He and the family drove the 10 hours to Lubbock often for family reunions, birthdays, weddings and just to be with their dear siblings, nieces, nephews, cousins and extended family. Likewise, they hosted many relatives at their home and enjoyed taking visitors sightseeing in the mountains and in Denver.
Hubert's resilience was tested again terribly in 1972 when Iris died in a car crash. His grief was a storm from which he could not shelter. Yet, he got up each morning, went to work, spent time with his wife and son and talked with friends and family. Just not about Iris. Ever. If her name was mentioned, his eyes would tear up and he'd turn away.
He continued to hang iron until Steve established Five R Trailers in 1975 at which time, he and Hazel pivoted effortlessly to support their son's entrepreneurship. There, he repaired horse, cargo and dump trailers, customized pickup trucks into fantastic "duallys" and, as the business grew, acquired his CDL license to haul trailers from national manufacturers and deliver new trucks to excited customers. He always took time to entertain shop visitors with stories of his youth while keeping a watchful eye on operations. He continued to come to work every weekday up until COVID shut down the world.
He felt truly blessed to become Grandpa to two handsome boys, Jake and TJ, and opened his heart to his daughter-in-law, Renata, for whom Hubert was and always will be "Dad." The birth of each of his five great-grandchildren lifted him through the clouds, higher than any building he'd ever built.
Hubert was preceded in death by his parents, his brothers, Willie James "Cotton" Hill, Clinton Jefferson Hill, Quinton Efson Hill and A Ross Hill; his wife, Hazel Ann (Stueart); and his daughter, Iris Ann (Hill) Patterson.
Hubert is survived by his son, Steve DeWitt Hill, and daughter-in-law, Renata Baron Hill; grandson Jake Steven Hill, and his wife, Melissa Rose (Wolff); grandson Thomas Jeremy "TJ" Hill, and his wife, Courtney Rita (Flynt); five great-grandchildren, Dylan, Landyn, Bentley, Collin and Adelynn; a brother- and sister-in-law; and numerous nieces and nephews. He loved you all.
Predeceased by wife Hazel and daughter Iris, and his dear brothers and his parents.
Hubert learned to be resilient physically and emotionally at a very young age. When he was five years old, his parents and three older brothers were committed to a tuberculosis sanitarium while he entered fosterage with a couple in Lubbock, Texas. After his family exited, he entered the same sanitarium by himself, cared for only by busy nurses. At age six, he lost his mother to TB. That same year to avoid the threat of he and his brothers being taken from his widowed father and placed in an orphanage, the family walked almost 500 miles from Lubbock in west Texas to New Boston in east Texas to reach the safety of a farm owned by his father's brother. Hubert's pet pig, Nancy, accompanied them on the journey to protect her boy.
As he grew, he tried hard to be just as strong and quick as his older brothers. Little Hubert, or "Junior," as his brothers called him, tagged along, slowing them down or accidentally foiling their plans to "adopt" food from unwatched park picnic tables, off fruit trees or from within discarded grocery store or café boxes. Yet, they always made sure Junior got something to eat. "The Hill Boys" acquired a reputation as feisty, but most folks knew the kids were just trying to survive while their father worked long hours as a sharecropper and mechanic.
Hubert finally surpassed his brothers and father as a teen in the Texas heat, pulling more cotton faster and filling multiple hundred-pound bags per day than they did, then heaving them 10 feet up into trucks waiting to go to the gin. He grew wiry and wily, ready to participate in the family's side gig: moonshine. His father distilled his own blend of righteous corn whisky and Hubert helped with distribution. Many times, he hunkered in the back seat of the family's Ford Model T nannying crates at his feet full of precious, tinkling mason jars while one of his twin brothers, Clinton or Quinton, drove like a demon across Lubbock County to drop off white lightning to customers, and what a lot of customers there were! The boys out-maneuvered the "revenuers," but sometimes got stopped by police and one time held up by another moonshine crew who tried to steal from them, but the twins talked their way out of jail and trouble by pointing to slim, young Junior in back. How could a nice boy like that be up to no good?
Hubert married the love of his life, Hazel, when he was 19 and she 15, and cherished her for 59 years until her death in 2009. They made a wonderful team from the start. She traveled the US with him when he became a journeyman ironworker, spending weeks or months in different locations. With her support, he transformed from fierce to steady and meticulous, and bosses noticed. They began asking for Hubert Hill by name on all types of building projects around the nation from skyscrapers to bridges to power plants. The only thing Hazel wouldn't do was watch him scale tall, metal frameworks 10, 20 or 30 stories high. Without safety equipment. He carried buckets of rivets, wire and welding rods with a grace and ease that belied his distance above the earth.
He became a master with the ironworker's union and worked on bigger, more impressive projects as the Cold War heated up. He was the preferred gang boss on jobs and achieved high credibility with management because his crews worked more efficiently and produced better results. Many structures in Colorado bear the mark of his work, such as the Eisenhower Tunnel, the Rocky Flats nuclear trigger production facility, Cheyenne Mountain, the Climax Mine and the Brush Power Plant.
With harder work came better pay, so he and Hazel decided to start a family. Their first addition was a beautiful, new, teal GMC pickup truck in 1953. That truck has been his baby ever since. He had it restored in the 1990s to near-new quality and drove it proudly around town and to local car shows until 2019; he even acquired vintage truck groupies who'd wait for him on Golden Road during the Golden Car Show on the first Saturday of each summer month.
When daughter Iris arrived, the couple settled in Golden, Colorado, first in their 34-foot trailer in a couple of mobile home parks, then, after son Steve was born, into a house Hubert built for his family. He joined the Masons in the 1970s, achieving the 32nd level as a Shriner of the Black Hawk Lodge; later, he inducted Steve into the organization as well.
He and the family drove the 10 hours to Lubbock often for family reunions, birthdays, weddings and just to be with their dear siblings, nieces, nephews, cousins and extended family. Likewise, they hosted many relatives at their home and enjoyed taking visitors sightseeing in the mountains and in Denver.
Hubert's resilience was tested again terribly in 1972 when Iris died in a car crash. His grief was a storm from which he could not shelter. Yet, he got up each morning, went to work, spent time with his wife and son and talked with friends and family. Just not about Iris. Ever. If her name was mentioned, his eyes would tear up and he'd turn away.
He continued to hang iron until Steve established Five R Trailers in 1975 at which time, he and Hazel pivoted effortlessly to support their son's entrepreneurship. There, he repaired horse, cargo and dump trailers, customized pickup trucks into fantastic "duallys" and, as the business grew, acquired his CDL license to haul trailers from national manufacturers and deliver new trucks to excited customers. He always took time to entertain shop visitors with stories of his youth while keeping a watchful eye on operations. He continued to come to work every weekday up until COVID shut down the world.
He felt truly blessed to become Grandpa to two handsome boys, Jake and TJ, and opened his heart to his daughter-in-law, Renata, for whom Hubert was and always will be "Dad." The birth of each of his five great-grandchildren lifted him through the clouds, higher than any building he'd ever built.
Hubert was preceded in death by his parents, his brothers, Willie James "Cotton" Hill, Clinton Jefferson Hill, Quinton Efson Hill and A Ross Hill; his wife, Hazel Ann (Stueart); and his daughter, Iris Ann (Hill) Patterson.
Hubert is survived by his son, Steve DeWitt Hill, and daughter-in-law, Renata Baron Hill; grandson Jake Steven Hill, and his wife, Melissa Rose (Wolff); grandson Thomas Jeremy "TJ" Hill, and his wife, Courtney Rita (Flynt); five great-grandchildren, Dylan, Landyn, Bentley, Collin and Adelynn; a brother- and sister-in-law; and numerous nieces and nephews. He loved you all.
Predeceased by wife Hazel and daughter Iris, and his dear brothers and his parents.
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