Wednesday's Story

Dad and his airplane. He LOVED to fly.

Following is an article written about my dad that appeared in The Arizona Republic shortly after his death.

Marvin Cooley was a good farmer.

He worked hard and prayed hard and taught his kids to do the same. He played guitar and loved to sing old cowboy songs like "Ghost riders in the Sky" and "Cool Water". (I remember falling asleep to dad singing and playing the guitar....loved it!)

Cooley stood up for what he believed was right, no matter the cost. In 1968, after a dispute with the Internal Revenue Service, he stopped paying income taxes. For the rest of his life, the tenacious melon farmer battled the agency in court. He wrote books, pamphlets and newsletters and traveled the country giving seminars to tax protesters. He appeard on innumerable radio and TV shows. He also served three prison terms, totaling almost five years, and paid close to $1 million in fines.

Throughout it all, he never backed down, believing in the righteousness of his cause.

Marvin Lavar Cooley died April 2, 2000 of complications from diabetes and a series of strokes. He was 73.

Cooley was born and raised on his family's farm on Baseline/Hobson Roads in Gilbert. He learned to fly airplanes when he was only 16 and took to the air whenever he had the chance. He was an excellent pilot who loved aerobatics. He enjoyed taking his kids up for wild rides. (I remember him saying, "get ready, here we go" and a flip in the airplane we did. I didn't like it!!)

Cooley wanted to enlist in the Army in World War II, but was too young. His parents wouldn't sign a release, but did consent to his joining the Merchant Marine. Though he got to travel some, working in boiler rooms was not glamorous.

Later, when he was of age, he and some buddies joined the Army, but the war ended days later.

Cooley was sent to Japan and became a baker. (Hence, my love for baking:) After a few disasters, including trays of inedible doughnuts, he got the hang of it and remained an avid baker the rest of his life. Everyone loved his coconut cream pies.

After his discharge, Cooley served a two-year mission for his church in Toronto, Canada, where he met his first wife, Ruth. They had two children together, but divorced in 1962.

Later he married Ann Wright and adopted her four children, who adored the guitar-playing singing cowboy who always wore boots and even knew how to yodel.

Dad and Mom at the Grand Canyon

Marvin and Ann had four children together (I am the oldest of the four more), making a total of 10 children.

The kids loved farm life, busting open ripe watermelons and eating them warm. They irked their dad by making mazes in the wheatfields. He'd ask them, "Do you know how many loaves of bread you just trampled?"

Cooley always loved melons and created his own by crossing a casaba with a cantaloupe. He called it the "jackalope", and sold them three for a dollar at his roadside stand.

Cooley was a pious man whose devotion to his church never wavered. He led daily prayers in his home, sometimes so longwinded his kids would miss the bus and have to walk to school.

His troubles with the IRS began with an audit in 1968. Appalled by their tactics and attitude, Cooley ceased paying income taxes and proceeded to write and publish several books, including The Big Bluff, Tea Party '76, and Tax Slavery or Manhood. His dream was to see the IRS and income taxes abolished.

In 1975 he began the first of three prison terms for failure to file an income tax return (I was oh so young when daddy left). He began his term in California, but was transferred to the minimum security prison in Safford, where he played tennis with John Ehrlichman, the Nixon White House adviser during the Watergate years, and returned to the kitchen as a baker. His sourdough pancakes and cinammon buns were favorites with the other prisoners.

Cooley greatly admired the resistance methods of Mahatma Gandhi and disdained those who advocated violence.

Cooley suffered several strokes in the late 1980's that hampered his ability to battle the IRS. Nevertheless, he fought on, earning the nickname "the wounded bear" among tax protesters. He was sentenced to two other prison terms in 1990 and again in 1994.

Prison never broke his spirit. When he was released from his first term, he added a new song to his guitar repertoire, one that quickly became a favorite: Johnny Cash's Folsom Prison Blues.