A Eulogy for my father…

Carson City is a much quieter place now. Our father, John Bettencourt Williams, who livened up this western town with his shenanigans, has passed on to another place that needed his special touch. He was the last of eight wild and lively Portuguese children with the surname of Williams and you can bet that every place they ever lived was affected by their special sense of humor and wit.

Our father left us after 87 years of living a full and exciting life. At 17 he joined the US Navy and spent time on the USS Reynolds, a destroyer, as a baker’s assistant. After  serving in the WWII Pacific Theater, he returned home, learned the skills of house painting, and worked for his father-in-law in the San Francisco Bay Area. In winter he taught skiing and charmed many a woman including our mother on the slopes of Lake Tahoe. His painting business became a building business and he gained his General Contractor license in Nevada building anything and everything, from homes and offices to local brothels, or that’s how the story goes. JB, as he loved to be called, started a Christmas tree business at Lake Tahoe, employing family and friends. His business flourished as he supplied Christmas trees for much of the San Francisco Bay Area and many a child delighted under the glow of one of JB’s trees.

There wasn’t a woman or dog he didn’t love, a tree he couldn’t grow, a horse he wouldn’t ride. He kept land in California, Nevada and Arizona. He designed and built a home we called, JB’s Castle, in Carson City, using recycled materials, including the marble tile from San Francisco’s Fox Theater. He lured quail into his yard in Carson and grinned as he tried to trap them. He shot squirrels in his underwear and cowboy boots from his front porch, cursing their abuse of his newly planted pine trees. He never left his home without being dressed like a cowboy gentleman in new Levis and snap cowboy shirts or a well-tailored western suit and exotic boots. He loved the Basque restaurants in Carson Valley and never passed up a good steak. He talked to anyone who would listen and made friends easily wherever he went.

He spent his winters in Mexico collecting ironwood sculptures and his summers in Nevada selling and gifting said sculptures. He hunted dove across the desert and loved a good yard sale. He could never pass up a screaming deal whether or not he needed whatever was being sold.

He taught his children the value of a buck by keeping a wheel of fortune slot machine in his home and paying our allowance in nickles. We quickly learned the meaning of the “house advantage”. He was generous to a fault but always joked that he’d “rather owe to you, than beat you out of it”.

He is survived by two ex-wives, three children, six grandchildren and two great grandchildren, that we know of however others were suspected though never verified. He loved all women at an unrivaled pace and charmed more than we could keep count.

On a last but serious note, the man that taught us the meaning of practical jokes and the power of a fire cracker has now left the building, but is finally at peace. His ability to entertain is being enjoyed in another place and we know he is laughing and smiling and charming those around him. He will be missed by many.

His life will be celebrated on May 29 at 1pm at Walton’s Chapel of the Valley at 1281 N. Roop St.in Carson City. Anyone wearing black will not be admitted unless it’s a formal western suit and they bring a bottle of Vodka.

RIP JB…you are with us always…