Skip Granger, 1960
Actually, it all begins in a little two bedroom home in Joplin, Missouri, over 80 years ago when I came home from Freeman Hospital to share a bedroom with my sister, Brenda. But I don’t want to begin our story there, so fast forward about 18 years to Wichita, Kansas.
Brenda and me. We were always buddies.
Many of you knew my older sister, Brenda, who graduated from Wichita High School East in 1958. She then attended KU before heading to California, not looking for fortune or fame. While still in Kansas, she
influenced my decision to join Sigma Nu fraternity, a major influence in much of my life. When I pledged Nu Chapter, she came over from her Tri Delt house that evening and presented me with my rights of passage, a real non-electric Gillette razor and a fifth of Ancient Age bourbon! Another very special gift that she later gave me was a key to the Playboy Club before I was old enough to join! But that’s also another story.
When she moved to California in 1962, I was soon to follow, visiting her often and learning much. But that’s not my story either. Rather, it began when I met her new boyfriend, Francis Leonard ”Duke” Boyd III in 1966, whom she had met at the NoName Bar in Long Beach. He was a unique, ”larger than life” fellow who did achieve both fortune and fame, and we were all along for the ride.
After Duke and Brenda were married in Hawaii, they lived over a garage in Huntington Beach. Duke worked in a Purex factory at night and surfed by day, along with selling the surf trunks that he had designed, at beach towns along the Pacific Coast Highway. The trunks had wide legs to allow surfers to get down on the board easily as well as a pocket for board wax. Duke used a lace-up-the-front plus a new closure called velcro instead of a zipper. They were made on demand by Doris Moore of California, who made ladies wear, specifically lacy collars made popular by Mamie Eisenhower. When Ike left office, demand for Mamie collars lessened,
so she and Duke talked about becoming partners. They needed a name, and she asked what was the ultimate in surfing, like a hole in one in golf. Duke said, ”You go to the front of the board and hang all ten toes over the edge, called “Hang Ten.” And thus history was born. Hang Ten developed an extensive line of surfing clothes and sold the company in 1970.
As I said, Duke was unique. He had been offered the opportunity to partner with his close friend Joey Cabell to start a new restaurant called The Chart House, which he declined. It later became a chain of around 25 popular dining places. We used to dine often at the original Chart House, and they were known for great steaks and served their salad family style. Duke liked to take many guests and always sat at the head of the table from which he used to serve up everyone’s salad. Knowing that I didn’t care for tomatoes, I was passed a plate full of only tomatoes. Being hungry, and full of MaiTais, I ate them all! Since that time, I have loved tomatoes and always want more.
Another time, Duke stopped at a cafe with my whole family in the car, got out and got himself a cold drink while the five of us waited in the car. He was an only child, so I wrote it off to his upbringing.
My Family at the Boyd Family Ranch, 1973
After living in Huntington Beach for many years, the Boyds bought a ranch on Spotted Bull Lane, next to the huge Irvine Ranch. One morning, Duke went for a horseback ride alone and saw a trailer on that ranch. He asked what they were doing, and when they told him that they were subdividing it for homes, he bought three lots and rode home and told Brenda to pack up the kids and animals. ”We’re heading for Aspen!”
Not every story has a happy ending, and this one is no exception.
Without going into a lot of detail, Brenda came to visit us in Marin in March of 1980 to see our newborn daughter Amanda. Three months later, she took a group of friends to Grand Junction, CO to celebrate her 40th birthday on June 17th. We had invited Mary Ann’s parents out for Father’s Day, which we celebrated with a special dinner in San Francisco. The following day, as I was leaving for my regular weekly overnight business trip to Silicon Valley, I had a 
premonition and returned to the house. It was Brenda’s 40th birthday, and we always call our family and special friends to sing to them on that day. Although I was running late, we had a wonderful conversation with Brenda.
Left, Brenda, Duke, and Family below Maroon Bells
The following night, a friend called after hearing of a mid-air crash of a private plane near Aspen. After some investigation, I learned the horrible truth and called our family minister to ask him to go to my parents’ home to be with them when I called. Knowing that Dr. Cobb was now with them, I made one of the most difficult calls of my lifetime.
Taking Amanda with us for my parents to hold during the services in
Aspen, we flew in a small plane over and back from Denver, the only fast way to get there in those days. Many residents had been in the two planes that collided over Maroon Bells, Brenda’s favorite place on earth, so it was a mass funeral. Mary Ann’s parents had given me an expensive silk necktie for Father’s Day. I had not shed a tear during the days since learning the bad news, but just before the open services I managed to wet down my new tie, tearfully alone in the parking lot.
As for me, I vowed never to fly in a small plane again, which was difficult since we have always traveled quite a lot, and I stopped celebrating my birthdays. For years my only gift was the special cheesecake that Mary Ann lovingly makes for me each year, even to this day. Then one day, I saw a Maserati with a ”For Sale” sign on it. Being my birthday, I went to drive it. The owner wanted me to see how fast it went over White Hill, not knowing that I loved it for its beauty, not its speed. He lost the sale, but I gained my birthday back, and so far we have lived happily ever after.
Losing a sibling in an unexpected event is always more difficult than losing family at the end of long illness. I have had warning and time to prepare for the demise of my family. Once they leave your address book, they take your heart and memory. I have one sibling left, and we talk everyday.