Although born in Kansas City, Missouri, he was raised across the state line in Kansas City, Kansas. Early in his life he decided he did not like the name "Jim" and began going by his middle name, Ed. The US Army, when he signed up, really didn't care whether he liked his first name or not, so for them he was James E. Mayer. James E. Mayer stuck with him even later in life as a businessman. As a family member, you could always tell if someone knew him through business or family connection depending on whether they referred to him as Jim or Ed. For this writer, he was my uncle Ed.
Ed loved adventure; he would his entire life. As a 13 year old, he and a friend made the daring decision to jump a freight train in order to get to a better swimming hole in the next town over. Not only were they successful, but also it would begin a series of railroad escapades that would span over the next five years. At first, he would only "hop a train" when he was out of school, but eventually he left home altogether after the 8th grade. Ed would sometimes refer to those years as his "misspent youth", but I suspect it was among the happiest times of his life. Generations of the family were regaled with stories of hobo camps, stealing pies from window sills, ducking bullets from the "yard bulls" (aka railroad security guards), riding through every state in the union, the unfortunate result of gorging on fresh oranges, and seeing first hand the ravages of people impoverished by the Great Depression. Undoubtedly, the most important person he met on his travels was a man who convinced Ed he was too smart to stay in the hobo life and that he needed to get back to school.
Apparently, it struck a chord. A few months later, a worldly seventeen year old Ed Mayer enrolled as a sophomore in Rosedale High School in Kansas City, Kansas for the fall term. It took more courage than he imagined, once he realized how much age and life experience there was between him and his new classmates. But he did it, and in the process made a good friend, Dp Hays. That friendship led him to one he would later describe as the love of his life, Edde Frances Bickell, his new friend's niece. Ed and Edde Frances were married on April 24, 1940 at St. Alouisius Catholic Church by Fr. Terence Devlin. Witnesses were Bill Bickell (bother of the bride) and Kathryn McNamara (best friend of the bride). Their daughter, Terry Beth, was born the following April, 1941. By December 7 of that year, Pearl Harbor was bombed and marked the beginning of the United States' entrance into World War II. Because Ed was married and had a child, he was not going to be drafted. However, on December 1, 1942, with a toddler at home and Edde Frances 7 months pregnant, he enlisted. Years later he would recall the tears streaming down Edde Frances's face, holding their newborn son, James Dp, and clasping the hand of their nearly two year old daughter as the Army bus drove him away to training. It was the first time he thought he may have acted too impulsively. But, there are no mulligans when you've joined the Army, so he completed his training and on April 1, 1942, he reported for active duty. Ed was a B-29 bomber pilot, who flew 14 bombing missions over Japan. He was stationed on Tinian Island and witnessed the Enola Gay, which bore the A-bomb, take off. After the war, Ed had a number of sales jobs, and eventually his own insurance agency. Ed was an exceptional athlete. I can remember him, even in his sixties, diving into a swimming pool from a low diving board and hardly leaving a ripple in the water. He loved golf and routinely beat men at it who were half his age. He also loved sharing jokes. Occasionally he would have one that was off-color, so he'd cup his hand over his mouth and whisper the joke to the man next to him. Of Ed's many talents, whispering was not among them, so everyone wound up hearing the joke.
At it's racy end, all the women in the family would yell in unison, "Ed!".
He'd just laugh, feign innocence and say, "What?", as if he didn't know what. Did I mention he was ornery?
Ed and Edde Frances had been married just short of 55 years when she passed away. He was devastated.
A few years went by and he began a friendship with a widow who had been a mutual friend of Edde Frances and Ed. They cruise traveled all over the world and, though it wasn't quite as exciting as forbidden train hopping, it was still a great adventure. His final big trip was with his youngest grandson, Spencer Lewerenz. They spent three weeks touring China.
Ed was a member of Curé of Ars Catholic parish since it's beginnings in 1960. He lived independently his entire 96 years, 11 months, and 3 weeks, always had a great memory and (he would want me to tell this) had a full head of hair. He died at his condominium in Overland Park, Kansas, surrounded by family and his beloved friend and companion, Mildred Kepler
--biography by Terry Beth (Bickell) Barnes
Ed loved adventure; he would his entire life. As a 13 year old, he and a friend made the daring decision to jump a freight train in order to get to a better swimming hole in the next town over. Not only were they successful, but also it would begin a series of railroad escapades that would span over the next five years. At first, he would only "hop a train" when he was out of school, but eventually he left home altogether after the 8th grade. Ed would sometimes refer to those years as his "misspent youth", but I suspect it was among the happiest times of his life. Generations of the family were regaled with stories of hobo camps, stealing pies from window sills, ducking bullets from the "yard bulls" (aka railroad security guards), riding through every state in the union, the unfortunate result of gorging on fresh oranges, and seeing first hand the ravages of people impoverished by the Great Depression. Undoubtedly, the most important person he met on his travels was a man who convinced Ed he was too smart to stay in the hobo life and that he needed to get back to school.
Apparently, it struck a chord. A few months later, a worldly seventeen year old Ed Mayer enrolled as a sophomore in Rosedale High School in Kansas City, Kansas for the fall term. It took more courage than he imagined, once he realized how much age and life experience there was between him and his new classmates. But he did it, and in the process made a good friend, Dp Hays. That friendship led him to one he would later describe as the love of his life, Edde Frances Bickell, his new friend's niece. Ed and Edde Frances were married on April 24, 1940 at St. Alouisius Catholic Church by Fr. Terence Devlin. Witnesses were Bill Bickell (bother of the bride) and Kathryn McNamara (best friend of the bride). Their daughter, Terry Beth, was born the following April, 1941. By December 7 of that year, Pearl Harbor was bombed and marked the beginning of the United States' entrance into World War II. Because Ed was married and had a child, he was not going to be drafted. However, on December 1, 1942, with a toddler at home and Edde Frances 7 months pregnant, he enlisted. Years later he would recall the tears streaming down Edde Frances's face, holding their newborn son, James Dp, and clasping the hand of their nearly two year old daughter as the Army bus drove him away to training. It was the first time he thought he may have acted too impulsively. But, there are no mulligans when you've joined the Army, so he completed his training and on April 1, 1942, he reported for active duty. Ed was a B-29 bomber pilot, who flew 14 bombing missions over Japan. He was stationed on Tinian Island and witnessed the Enola Gay, which bore the A-bomb, take off. After the war, Ed had a number of sales jobs, and eventually his own insurance agency. Ed was an exceptional athlete. I can remember him, even in his sixties, diving into a swimming pool from a low diving board and hardly leaving a ripple in the water. He loved golf and routinely beat men at it who were half his age. He also loved sharing jokes. Occasionally he would have one that was off-color, so he'd cup his hand over his mouth and whisper the joke to the man next to him. Of Ed's many talents, whispering was not among them, so everyone wound up hearing the joke.
At it's racy end, all the women in the family would yell in unison, "Ed!".
He'd just laugh, feign innocence and say, "What?", as if he didn't know what. Did I mention he was ornery?
Ed and Edde Frances had been married just short of 55 years when she passed away. He was devastated.
A few years went by and he began a friendship with a widow who had been a mutual friend of Edde Frances and Ed. They cruise traveled all over the world and, though it wasn't quite as exciting as forbidden train hopping, it was still a great adventure. His final big trip was with his youngest grandson, Spencer Lewerenz. They spent three weeks touring China.
Ed was a member of Curé of Ars Catholic parish since it's beginnings in 1960. He lived independently his entire 96 years, 11 months, and 3 weeks, always had a great memory and (he would want me to tell this) had a full head of hair. He died at his condominium in Overland Park, Kansas, surrounded by family and his beloved friend and companion, Mildred Kepler
--biography by Terry Beth (Bickell) Barnes
Although born in Kansas City, Missouri, he was raised across the state line in Kansas City, Kansas. Early in his life he decided he did not like the name "Jim" and began going by his middle name, Ed. The US Army, when he signed up, really didn't care whether he liked his first name or not, so for them he was James E. Mayer. James E. Mayer stuck with him even later in life as a businessman. As a family member, you could always tell if someone knew him through business or family connection depending on whether they referred to him as Jim or Ed. For this writer, he was my uncle Ed.
Ed loved adventure; he would his entire life. As a 13 year old, he and a friend made the daring decision to jump a freight train in order to get to a better swimming hole in the next town over. Not only were they successful, but also it would begin a series of railroad escapades that would span over the next five years. At first, he would only "hop a train" when he was out of school, but eventually he left home altogether after the 8th grade. Ed would sometimes refer to those years as his "misspent youth", but I suspect it was among the happiest times of his life. Generations of the family were regaled with stories of hobo camps, stealing pies from window sills, ducking bullets from the "yard bulls" (aka railroad security guards), riding through every state in the union, the unfortunate result of gorging on fresh oranges, and seeing first hand the ravages of people impoverished by the Great Depression. Undoubtedly, the most important person he met on his travels was a man who convinced Ed he was too smart to stay in the hobo life and that he needed to get back to school.
Apparently, it struck a chord. A few months later, a worldly seventeen year old Ed Mayer enrolled as a sophomore in Rosedale High School in Kansas City, Kansas for the fall term. It took more courage than he imagined, once he realized how much age and life experience there was between him and his new classmates. But he did it, and in the process made a good friend, Dp Hays. That friendship led him to one he would later describe as the love of his life, Edde Frances Bickell, his new friend's niece. Ed and Edde Frances were married on April 24, 1940 at St. Alouisius Catholic Church by Fr. Terence Devlin. Witnesses were Bill Bickell (bother of the bride) and Kathryn McNamara (best friend of the bride). Their daughter, Terry Beth, was born the following April, 1941. By December 7 of that year, Pearl Harbor was bombed and marked the beginning of the United States' entrance into World War II. Because Ed was married and had a child, he was not going to be drafted. However, on December 1, 1942, with a toddler at home and Edde Frances 7 months pregnant, he enlisted. Years later he would recall the tears streaming down Edde Frances's face, holding their newborn son, James Dp, and clasping the hand of their nearly two year old daughter as the Army bus drove him away to training. It was the first time he thought he may have acted too impulsively. But, there are no mulligans when you've joined the Army, so he completed his training and on April 1, 1942, he reported for active duty. Ed was a B-29 bomber pilot, who flew 14 bombing missions over Japan. He was stationed on Tinian Island and witnessed the Enola Gay, which bore the A-bomb, take off. After the war, Ed had a number of sales jobs, and eventually his own insurance agency. Ed was an exceptional athlete. I can remember him, even in his sixties, diving into a swimming pool from a low diving board and hardly leaving a ripple in the water. He loved golf and routinely beat men at it who were half his age. He also loved sharing jokes. Occasionally he would have one that was off-color, so he'd cup his hand over his mouth and whisper the joke to the man next to him. Of Ed's many talents, whispering was not among them, so everyone wound up hearing the joke.
At it's racy end, all the women in the family would yell in unison, "Ed!".
He'd just laugh, feign innocence and say, "What?", as if he didn't know what. Did I mention he was ornery?
Ed and Edde Frances had been married just short of 55 years when she passed away. He was devastated.
A few years went by and he began a friendship with a widow who had been a mutual friend of Edde Frances and Ed. They cruise traveled all over the world and, though it wasn't quite as exciting as forbidden train hopping, it was still a great adventure. His final big trip was with his youngest grandson, Spencer Lewerenz. They spent three weeks touring China.
Ed was a member of Curé of Ars Catholic parish since it's beginnings in 1960. He lived independently his entire 96 years, 11 months, and 3 weeks, always had a great memory and (he would want me to tell this) had a full head of hair. He died at his condominium in Overland Park, Kansas, surrounded by family and his beloved friend and companion, Mildred Kepler
--biography by Terry Beth (Bickell) Barnes
Ed loved adventure; he would his entire life. As a 13 year old, he and a friend made the daring decision to jump a freight train in order to get to a better swimming hole in the next town over. Not only were they successful, but also it would begin a series of railroad escapades that would span over the next five years. At first, he would only "hop a train" when he was out of school, but eventually he left home altogether after the 8th grade. Ed would sometimes refer to those years as his "misspent youth", but I suspect it was among the happiest times of his life. Generations of the family were regaled with stories of hobo camps, stealing pies from window sills, ducking bullets from the "yard bulls" (aka railroad security guards), riding through every state in the union, the unfortunate result of gorging on fresh oranges, and seeing first hand the ravages of people impoverished by the Great Depression. Undoubtedly, the most important person he met on his travels was a man who convinced Ed he was too smart to stay in the hobo life and that he needed to get back to school.
Apparently, it struck a chord. A few months later, a worldly seventeen year old Ed Mayer enrolled as a sophomore in Rosedale High School in Kansas City, Kansas for the fall term. It took more courage than he imagined, once he realized how much age and life experience there was between him and his new classmates. But he did it, and in the process made a good friend, Dp Hays. That friendship led him to one he would later describe as the love of his life, Edde Frances Bickell, his new friend's niece. Ed and Edde Frances were married on April 24, 1940 at St. Alouisius Catholic Church by Fr. Terence Devlin. Witnesses were Bill Bickell (bother of the bride) and Kathryn McNamara (best friend of the bride). Their daughter, Terry Beth, was born the following April, 1941. By December 7 of that year, Pearl Harbor was bombed and marked the beginning of the United States' entrance into World War II. Because Ed was married and had a child, he was not going to be drafted. However, on December 1, 1942, with a toddler at home and Edde Frances 7 months pregnant, he enlisted. Years later he would recall the tears streaming down Edde Frances's face, holding their newborn son, James Dp, and clasping the hand of their nearly two year old daughter as the Army bus drove him away to training. It was the first time he thought he may have acted too impulsively. But, there are no mulligans when you've joined the Army, so he completed his training and on April 1, 1942, he reported for active duty. Ed was a B-29 bomber pilot, who flew 14 bombing missions over Japan. He was stationed on Tinian Island and witnessed the Enola Gay, which bore the A-bomb, take off. After the war, Ed had a number of sales jobs, and eventually his own insurance agency. Ed was an exceptional athlete. I can remember him, even in his sixties, diving into a swimming pool from a low diving board and hardly leaving a ripple in the water. He loved golf and routinely beat men at it who were half his age. He also loved sharing jokes. Occasionally he would have one that was off-color, so he'd cup his hand over his mouth and whisper the joke to the man next to him. Of Ed's many talents, whispering was not among them, so everyone wound up hearing the joke.
At it's racy end, all the women in the family would yell in unison, "Ed!".
He'd just laugh, feign innocence and say, "What?", as if he didn't know what. Did I mention he was ornery?
Ed and Edde Frances had been married just short of 55 years when she passed away. He was devastated.
A few years went by and he began a friendship with a widow who had been a mutual friend of Edde Frances and Ed. They cruise traveled all over the world and, though it wasn't quite as exciting as forbidden train hopping, it was still a great adventure. His final big trip was with his youngest grandson, Spencer Lewerenz. They spent three weeks touring China.
Ed was a member of Curé of Ars Catholic parish since it's beginnings in 1960. He lived independently his entire 96 years, 11 months, and 3 weeks, always had a great memory and (he would want me to tell this) had a full head of hair. He died at his condominium in Overland Park, Kansas, surrounded by family and his beloved friend and companion, Mildred Kepler
--biography by Terry Beth (Bickell) Barnes
