G. W. Dingus

G. W. Dingus died Christmas Eve of heart failure after a full and happy life of 94 years. He was a well-respected engineer, a loving husband and father, and a 62-year resident of Pampa. Memorial services will be at 2:00 PM Saturday, December 29, 2012, at St. Matthew's Episcopal Church, with Rev. Linda Kelly, rector, officiating. Cremation arrangements are under the direction of Carmichael-Whatley Funeral Directors. Bill was born in 1918 in Van Dyke, Texas?a hamlet long gone--and grew up in the comparatively sprawling burgs of Comanche and Munday. His parents, George Washington Dingus and Nancy Gressett Dingus--both born in 1877--had six children, of whom Bill was the fifth and the first son. He was a farm boy with an aptitude for carpentry, reading, and problem-solving. Times were hard then, but later Bill always seemed mildly surprised at the suggestion that he'd had a hardscrabble upbringing. He first started contributing to the family coffers at age 12, when he was hired to mow the courthouse lawn for a dollar.He graduated from Texas Tech in 1941 with a degree in mechanical engineering and, having been in ROTC, was already in the Army's 98th Engineers when war broke out later that year. By the end of December, Bill and his regiment had shipped out. They went first to England, then to North Africa, building roads, airstrips, and prisoner-of-war camps. He always said that his best memory of the war was the day he told his all-black company that they were moving to a new site. One soldier asked, "Are you coming with us, Lieutenant Dingus?" When he said yes, the men all cheered. In 1944 he was transferred to the War Room in Naples, where he tallied casualties from the fronts and tracked the enemy's movements. On leave once, he and a couple of friends took a jeep and drove off to view Mount Vesuvius, which was then erupting. As Bill liked to tell it, "Suddenly a boulder the size of our jeep flew over our heads. Next thing I knew we were under the vehicle, staring wild-eyed at each other." Bill came home safe (he was then a major). In 1947, he was living on the coast and working as an engineer for Freeport Sulfur. That night he dropped in at a USO canteen and spotted a pretty blonde opening Cokes. He crossed the room and, when she bent down to grab another bottle from the ice tub, he bent down too and impulsively kissed her. They were engaged three weeks later. Her name was Pat Robbins, and they married May 17, 1947. They never fell out of love. They moved to Pampa in 1950. Bill worked for almost thirty years at Cabot Corporation's carbon-black plant just outside town. A born inventor, he patented several gizmos and devices, notably the PRD pelletizer, which made messy carbon black easier to measure and handle. He used to say that Cabot believed the "PRD" was for "Pampa Research and Development," but he'd actually used the initials of his wife. He enjoyed his work at Cabot and regularly visited the company's plants in Canada, Italy, and Spain. When he was transferred to Ashtabula, Ohio, in 1963, the family found the city so different from Pampa that they enjoyed a year-long adventure. All of Bill and Pat's children attended Rice University, a fact they were always happy to bring up, even to complete strangers. After retirement, Bill became a consultant and he and Pat lived briefly in Salt Lake City, San Antonio, and St Louis. When he quit working for good, they still loved to hit the road, especially to visit their grandkids.Bill was fun to know. He was a crackerjack whistler and card player. He had a dry sense of humor and an amusing assortment of facial expressions. He was a staunch conservative and a strong if quiet Christian. He rarely got up later than six, and the rest of the family always awoke to the smell of bacon frying. He could make a batch of biscuits or two cherry pies in twenty minutes. His favorite all-time meal was pinto beans and cornbread. During family trips, he led the rest of the car in antiphonal singing. ["On top of Old Smoky! On top of Old SmOOOO-kEEEy . . .] He collected safety razors, and once owned almost 400 of them. He was a lifelong devotee of Civil War history and all kinds of poetry, especially light verse, which he would quote at the drop of a hint. Bill is survived by his wife of 65 years, Pat Dingus, and his four children: Jane Dingus (and husband, John Hildebrandt), of Mount Pleasant, South Carolina; Anne Dingus of Austin; Nancy Dingus Crites of Hannover, Germany; and Bill Dingus (and wife, Mary Anne), of Midland. His grandchildren and great-grandkids include Kate Hildebrandt of Houston; Phil Redman of Austin; Dayton Crites (and wife, Kristen Munson) of Logan, Utah; Caroline Crites of Hannover, Germany; Margaret Crites Barrett (and husband, Nathaniel Barrett) of Dallas; Lizby, Paul, and Mariah Dingus, all of Midland; and Sean, Joy, Elizabeth, and Julia Hildebrandt of Portland, Oregon. He also relished the company of his far-flung nieces and nephews and his many fine friends. He was predeceased by his five siblings and his grandson Parker Redman. In his final three years, Bill was tended to by a wonderful crew of caregivers headed up by Dora Jimenez. We thank them for treating “Mr. Dingus” with patience and tenderness as he slowly slipped away. If you’re kind enough to consider a donation in Bill’s memory, please send it to his long-time church, St. Matthew’s Episcopal, 727 W. Browning, Pampa, Texas, 79065. We love you, Daddy, and we hope we told you that enough times. Enjoy the reunion up there. We’ll think of you every day and take care of Mother till she joins you again. Thank you for everything. Goodbye.