1981-1985 TSI: The Office and Employees

Posted on April 25, 2021 by Mike

Who did what in the early days of TSI. Continue reading →

When we moved into the Elks Club’s front house in January of 1981, Sue and I possessed an IBM 5120 computer, a lot of hope, and not much else. Our new dwelling had a spacious place for an office and two extra bedrooms in case we needed to expand. I think that we set the 5120 up in the office with a table and a few chairs. I don’t remember where we obtained the furniture. Sue probably scavenged odd pieces from somewhere. I remember that Sue eventually had a big wooden desk in the spare bedroom.

Downtown Rockville: Crystal Blueprint is on the right.

We also had little in the way of office supplies. Fortunately, Crystal Blueprint & Stationery, a nicely stocked office supply store was in downtown Rockville within easy walking distance. I remember walking there often to pick up a copy of the local newspaper, The Journal Inquirer, from the metallic yellow box, and some index cards or an accordion file from Crystal Blueprint.

That shopping center¹ also contained a grocery store called Heartland Food Warehouse and a men’s clothing store, Zahner’s.

Our first employee was Nancy Legge, a debater at Wayne State who came to visit us in Rockville during the summer of 1981, as described here. She stayed with us for a week or so after her traveling companions left. We put her to work stuffing envelopes for a mailing. I don’t remember if we paid her, but I do remember giving her the title of Executive Vice President of Sales Promotion.

Our first full-time employee was Debbie Priola, who had been employed by one of our Datamaster clients, National Safe Northeast. In 1982 (I think) Sue hired her to answer phones and to do bookkeeping and other clerical functions. I do not remember that Sue interviewed anyone else for the position, but she might have.

Debbie drove to Rockville every morning from New Britain. She was a smoker. Throughout most of the eighties so was Sue. So, I learned to live in a smoke-filled environment.

By the time that we hired Debbie we certainly had access to Datamasters. We may have kept manual books for a month or two, but we soon used the Datamaster for Accounts Receivable, Accounts Payable, and General Ledger. Sue was in charge of all of this, and she also did the payroll.

Debbie was really into celebrities. She brought copies of People and Us magazines to work and read them at lunch and during slow periods.

Debbie possessed a trait that I found unbelievable. She was a very good artist. She explained that she saw shades of colors rather than objects. I was (and still am) the exact opposite. I hardly even notice what color things are. I had no problem working in the same office as Debbie, but our radically divergent views on so many things might have made it difficult for me to work closely with her on projects. Fortunately, I don’t remember ever having to do it.

I remember that for Christmas one year Debbie bought me a book about Laurel and Hardy. I guess that she must have heard me praising W.C. Fields and the Marx Brothers and concluded that I liked all old-time comedians. I don’t.

After she had worked for us for a while she got a new boyfriend, who, I think, was trying to start a business of some sort. At some point—I think that it must have been 1985—he prevailed on Debbie to loan him some money. She did, but part of what she gave him was TSI’s money. Sue discovered the discrepancy when she closed the books at the end of the month. She confronted Debbie in private. Debbie promised to pay it back, and she did. At that point Sue fired her.

I had never fired anyone, and up until then neither had Sue. In my opinion she did a very good job of handling this difficult situation.

In the eighties the best way to reach prospective employees was a help-wanted ad.

We finally had enough business in 1984 to justify hiring a programmer. This time I placed ads in the two local newspapers, the Hartford Courant and the Journal Inquirer, which covers the eastern suburbs of Hartford. I don’t have the text of the ad, but I am sure that we described it as a starting position and requested applicants with some programming experience. It also mentioned that familiarity with BASIC or the Datamaster would be a plus, but we did not expect anyone with such a background to respond. We interviewed two people in our office. Both were women in their twenties.

If it had been left up to me, I would have hired the other lady (whose name I long since forgotten), but Sue was very impressed with Denise Bessette, who was married and lived in Stafford. Denise either called us after the interview or wrote us a letter that indicated that she really wanted to work for TSI. So, we asked her to come in again, and I agreed that we should hire her.

At the time Denise was working for Royal, the typewriter company. At the time Royal was trying to break into the personal computer market. She wrote small programs to demonstrate to prospects the potential of the system. The programming language that she described to me was incredibly primitive, probably to compensate for the memory and storage limitations of the hardware. In those days it was difficult to get a PC to do anything more complicated than a simple game.

At one time Royal was a major employer in Hartford.

I assured Denise that the programming environment that TSI used was much more powerful and was also much easier to use. I don’t think that we even talked with anyone that she worked with at Royal. She may have just been a contractor there. I am certain that I talked with no one. Sue might have.

Denise also smoked. In the eighties the pernicious addiction seemed to be more prevalent among young women than young men. Almost everyone whom I knew who smoked and was my age or younger was female. I don’t know why.

For a while TSI had four employees, and the other three all smoked. During this period I experienced headaches pretty often. I carried Excedrin with me wherever I went.

Before we hired Denise we had bought a Datamaster with a letter-quality printer. When she was in the office, I let her use the computer. I worked on it before she arrived—I was usually in the office by 6AM—and after she left. When Denise was in the office, and I was not training her or explaining a new project, I wrote out new programs by hand or edited program listings. If the weather was good, I went outside in the courtyard behind the house to work in the sun on a card table.

At night I printed listings of programs. I had written a Datamaster routine that accepted a list of program names and created a text file with a list of commands that could be executed to print the listings for the designated programs one after another. Occasionally the paper would jam. When I awoke I fixed the jam and then had it resume printing. I could work on the computer while the printer was active.

Our listings, by the way, were on continuous 8½x11″ paper. We filed them by program number in accordion files for the client. When I visited the client I brought the accordion files in a sample case.

I spent most of the first few months of Denise’s employment helping her learn BASIC and the tools available on the Datamaster. Within six months she was up to speed, which I defined as meaning that her efforts were saving me more time than I spent explaining, checking her work, or redoing what she had done. Six months may seem like a long time to reach the break-even point, but most programmers whom we hired never ended up saving me time.

Denise primarily worked on TSI’s software for ad agencies. It was difficult enough to teach someone the agency business. There was no need to get her too involved in the vast array of other businesses that are described here.

Denise had a very young child, Christopher (NOT Chris), when we hired her. When he got a little older she brought him to work occasionally.

After she had worked for us for a few years, Denise asked us if she could shift to part-time. She wanted to finish her college education and get a masters degree. She told us that she had applied to prestigious Smith College in Northampton, MA, and had been accepted to study math and economics.

At this point Denise was a very valuable member of the TSI team. She understood how I approached projects, she appreciated the need for consistent programming structures, and she had learned enough about advertising to make many decisions on her own. I informed her that TSI would take as many hours as she was able to give us. However, I knew that it was likely that I would need to hire another programmer, which meant, in the best case, six months of reduced productivity from our #1 programmer, me.

Denise and I worked together for thirty years. Giving in to Sue on the decision about who should be our first programming hire was probably the best choice that I ever made. My life would have been unimaginably different if we had hired the other candidate.

Our third full-time employee was Kate Behart, who lived somewhere west of the river near Hartford. We wanted to hire someone to help with marketing and administrative tasks that neither Sue nor I wanted to control. I don’t remember interviewing her. Sue must have done it.

We later learned that Kate had changed her name. It was originally Sally Stern. She didn’t get married, and she was not in the witness-protection program. Rather, because she did not get along with her father, she did not want to be associated with him.

Kate was into some New Age stuff. We later discovered that she also used the first name Saige in some of her activities in those areas.

Kate was picky about what kind of chair she used. We let her pick one out, but she brought in a pillow to sit on when she used it.

I never saw any of Kate’s cats, but she was definitely a cat person. She told all of us that she liked to pick them up and smell their fur. I can understand that impulse better now, but at the time I had never owned a cat. I am not sure that I had even petted one.

The most peculiar thing about Kate was her interest in Connecticut Lotto, which the state instituted in 1983. She had bought a book that contained strategies for playing the numbers. She allowed me to read it. I told her that it was utter hogwash. Although she was a pretty smart person, she seemed to believe the book’s claim that “hot” and “due” numbers existed. These games are incredibly bad investments. If they weren’t, states would not rely on them for revenue.

I upset Kate quite a bit once. We drove to Boston together to make a presentation to a potential client. I used the phrase “guys and girls”. She was greatly offended. She considered the term “girls” demeaning. Maybe so, but once the word “guys” left my mouth, I could think of no better way to compete the thought. No one says “gals” any more.

Kate once sent a letter to an ad agency in New Jersey on TSI stationery. She did not ask me to approve it, and, in fact, I had no idea that she ever wrote letters to prospects on company letterhead. This one made some claims about a software company based in Dallas that specialized in ad agencies. Some of the statements were not true. Kate evidently misunderstood something technical that I had said in the office.

The president of the offended company sent me a letter complaining about Kate’s letter. It threatened legal action. I was shocked to learn what she had done. I told Kate that I needed to approve all correspondence and told her that the company was threatening to sue us, which they were. Kate was suitably contrite. I sent out a letter of apology to both the prospect and the software company. We heard no more about it.

Kate worked with us for several years. I don’t remember why she left, but I think that we parted on amicable terms.

Our phones looked like this, but they had a few buttons on the bottom

My strong impression of the first few years of TSI was that Sue spent them on the phone, and I spent them on the computer. By the time that we hired Denise we had ordered a second phone line and installed Contel telephones. I think that we still had only two receivers, one in the office and the other in the spare bedroom, which had become Sue’s office. There was a rollover feature from one line to another, as well as a way to put clients on hold. My recollection is that we used this system until we moved in 1988.

We were never able to communicate directly with our Datamaster clients’ computers. If a problem needed to be fixed immediately, we had two choices: drive to the client’s or talk someone through keying in program changes over the phone. Sue drove to F.H. Chase pretty often, and I was on the road in the Hartford area several days a week. One car—the Duster—was no longer enough.

This car looks very familiar. I think that my Celica was this color, and Sue’s was darker.

In 1982 we both went shopping for cars. We decided to purchase Toyota Celicas. At the time there was a self-imposed quota by Japanese auto manufacturers. There was only one person at the first Toyota dealership that we visited. He was sitting at a desk reading a newspaper. He did not budge when we entered. We had to walk to his desk to get his attention. He told us that they had no cars. He wasn’t even interested in talking with us.

Eventually the market loosened up a bit, and we were both able to purchase new cars. The idea of bargaining for a better price was never even a consideration. Both cars had standard transmissions. Sue’s had air conditioning. I would never have paid extra for such a frivolous feature in an Arctic state like Connecticut. I don’t remember precisely what either car looked like, but I remember that I loved to drive mine.

TSI still used continuous multi-part forms for billing and statements for as long as we stayed in business.

Sue established a relationship with a gentleman at Desco Data Systems, the company in East Windsor that provided the computer used by Sue’s sister Karen at their father’s company. I don’t remember his name, but he specialized in custom forms. He did a good job in providing us with web-mounted letterhead and multi-part invoices. We recommended him to all of our clients, and most of them used him for their custom computer forms. I never heard a bad word about him, and our customers were not shy about complaining about problems.

Our IBM customer engineer was Jim Michaud, who lived in Rockville. I remember that he came to our office on several occasions, but I cannot remember why. I cannot remember any serious problems that we ever encountered with any of our Datamasters. Maybe there was something that he needed to do when we initially took delivery on systems for our clients.

I also remember that Jim had two cars with vanity license plates: ICANOE and IKAYAK. They both had roof racks.

1. Crystal Blueprint stayed open in that location until 2018. Heartland and Zahner’s (which still operates stores in neighboring towns) moved out much earlier. I remember walking into Heartland one day and being shocked by its half-empty shelves. It closed shortly thereafter.

2. I think that Jim Michaud is still active in the sport of white-water canoeing. He has a Facebook page devoted to his photos. An interview with him in 2015 is posted here.

1980-1981 Transition to Rockville

Posted on April 4, 2021 by Mike

Back in the Land of Steady Habits. Continue reading →

By the fall of 1980 my dream of a life as a debate coach seemed unattainable. I enjoyed coaching as much as ever, but I could not visualize how I could make an enjoyable career of it. A few colleges hired someone just to coach debate, but these highly prized positions seldom turned over. Although I had a good record, I had no strong connections. Moreover, I had no idea how to find and obtain such a job.

There was not an abundance of potential coaching positions, and the vast majority of them were for someone with a PhD who would act as Director of Forensics and would also perform other roles in the speech department. This path did not appeal to me for at least four reasons:

I would need to finish my PhD, which meant doing my dissertation. This did not appeal to me at all, for reasons that are described here.
I could not see myself as a faculty member of a speech department. I had little or no respect for any of the speech professors that I had met, and I dreaded the prospect of dealing with departmental politics.
I would be expected to research and publish. Nothing about the field of speech communication interested me enough to research.
I would be expected to teach and serve on committees of MA and PhD candidates. I would almost certainly get stuck teaching the statistics class that every grad student hated. I probably also would be the guy on the committee who forced students to deal all of the problems with the design of their studies. I cannot seeing myself approving any approach that misused statistics or drew only patently obvious conclusions. I would not mind much if some people didn’t like me, but I did not want to be the ogre of the department.

There was one other factor. Sue and I had very little money by the end of 1980. I needed to start bringing in some bacon pretty quickly. I knew that I had a real talent for computer programming, and I really enjoyed bringing an idea to life. So, I determined that I should try to help Sue turn TSI into a real business.

But not in Detroit. The neighborhood that we lived in had deteriorated markedly. The third break-in at our house (described here) convinced us that we had to move. Following the rest of the Caucasians to the suburbs would be expensive and would only address one problem. The other was that the entire Detroit area was in the throes of a severe auto recession. Finding customers there would be difficult for the next few years. Most of the rest of the country was doing better. Sue wanted to return to New England, and I concurred.

The third break-in was, in one way, a blessing in disguise. The thieves took the television and the stereo. They did not take the 5120 computer, which weighed ninety-nine pounds, or the printer. We didn’t have any valuables, drugs, or guns, but they certainly looked for them. Between the second break-in and the third we had bought renter’s insurance. So, we had fewer things to move, and the claim gave us enough money to hire movers.

I think that Sue made a short trip back to Connecticut in the fall of 1980 to look for a place for us to rent. Somehow her dad helped her find a wonderful house in Rockville. The rent was $300 per month. That was more than twice what we paid in Detroit, but it was still an incredible bargain, and it was a perfect place for a small business.

Rockville, a “village” in the town of Vernon, was less than a half-hour drive from downtown Hartford, even in rush hour. The prosperous part of the Hartford area was mainly on the west side of the Connecticut River. However, we would not have been likely to find anything comparable in the wealthy suburbs. If we did, our rent would probably have been a four-digit number.

Rockville at the turn of the century (i.e., around 1900) was a very prosperous mill town. Eight decades later it was still the location of many mansions that were once owned by the people who owned or managed the mills. One of the most impressive of the mansions was (and is) owned by the Rockville Lodge of Elks¹. We rented the mansion’s Carriage House from the Elks. The address was 9 North Park St. North Park has one of the steepest slopes without switchbacks of any straight street that I have ever seen. I never tried to jog up it.

The Carriage House was a split-level dwelling. The stairway was in the middle. To the left of the front door pictured at left were levels 1L and 2L and the attic. To the right were the half cellar and levels 1R and 2R. The front door was on level 1R. Two rear doors were on level 1L.

Behind the house was a courtyard that was approximately twenty feet deep and twice that in width. The left side of the courtyard was open. The other two sides were brick covered with ivy. I eventually planted a vegetable garden here.
Level 1L contained the living room (which contained a fireplace), a dining area, pantry, and a kitchen on the far left. We used the massive barnboard shelves to serve as a divider between the dining area and the living area. A door led from the kitchen to a courtyard. A second door to the courtyard was on a landing at the foot of the stairs in the middle of the house. The only shower in the house was on that landing.
The half-cellar was across from the back door in the middle of the house. It had a sink as well as the oil burner, water heater, and fuse box. Above it was level 1R. The only use we had for the cellar was during my abortive sauerkraut experiment several years later.
Level 1R contained the main office. We placed the 5120 computer and printer and Sue’s credenza here. Eventually the office acquired additional equipment and furniture. There were windows on the front side and on the right. There were no windows on the courtyard side.
The master bedroom took up the front half of Level 2L. The spare bedroom housed the waterbed and later became Sue’s office. That room and the bathroom (tub but no shower) were on the courtyard side.
Level 2R was another bedroom with a sloped ceiling. We only used it for overnight visitors.
Level 3L was an attic that could be reached from the bedroom on 2R by a door at the top of three or four stairs. It contained possessions of a previous resident. We did not use it.

Key: H=Carriage House; C=Courtyard; E=Entrance Driveway; X=Exit Driveway; G=Garage; K/B=Elks’ Kitchen and Banquet Hall; B=Bar; M=Main House; W=Woods.

One-way driveways leading to the main house and the Elks Club bar were on either side of the Carriage House. The entrance could be seen from the main office on 1R and the exit from the kitchen on 1L.

The club had garage space for three cars. We were allowed to use one of them. The garage was forty or fifty feet from the kitchen door.

The grounds of the Elks club contained a fairly large wooded area. In the winter we scoured it for firewood. We could not afford to buy it at a store. We were quite poor throughout our first few years in Rockville. I think of these as the macaroni years.

The placement of the shower was inconvenient, but the only thing that I really hated about the Carriage House was the oil heat. It was horribly obsolete in 1981². I can hardly believe that I am still living in a residence with such an outmoded heating system forty years later.

When we moved in we only had one phone line. Eventually we bought a multi-line system.

Most of our friends from 1972-1975 were no longer in the Hartford area. We reconnected with Tom and Patti Corcoran, who were living in Wethersfield, the city just south of Hartford. By this time they had two kids, a boy named Brian and a girl named Casey.

I think that this photo of Casey and Brian is from 1983 or 1984.

We spent a lot of time with the Corcorans. They often fed us much better than we would have otherwise eaten. They came to visit us occasionally as well. I remember that I fixed country-style ribs and sauerkraut for them once. I don’t think that Casey tried any; in her early years she consumed only nectar, ambrosia, and the dew from daffodils. However, Brian was shocked when he took the first bite. “This is good!” he exclaimed with as much enthusiasm as he ever exhibited.

Sue registered TSI as a partnership at the town hall in Rockville. She was the president; I had no title. We never sat down and decided who was responsible for what part of the business. She arranged for her dad’s accounting firm to help her set up our books. Dan Marra³ of Mass and Hensley worked with her.

We hoped to be able to establish a relationship as the go-to programmers for IBM’s small business clients, but that did not work out too well at first. IBM went through periods when they loved the third-party programmers who specialized in IBM systems and periods when they were not eager to work with us. Early 1981 was one of the latter periods.

I tried to come up with ways to market Sue’s experience with IBM’s construction payroll system. Unfortunately, we had no access to any lists of IBM’s installations. Sue did some custom work for FH Chase Inc., a construction company south of Boston, and another firm in Boston. At FH Chase she worked with Victor Barrett⁴ and Mary Brassard. I also recently came upon an invoice from 1981 that Sue sent to Scott & Duncan, Inc. in Roxbury, MA, for a change to its payroll system. It was sent to the attention of Paul Williamson. I don’t remember anything about that company.

Sue sold one copy of Amanuensis, the word-processing program that I wrote, to Brown Insulation in Detroit, and I developed the retail inventory control and sales analysis system for Diamond Showcase. Sue also did some work for clients that she had contacted when we were in Detroit. They included CEI, based in Howell, MI, which owned a number of companies in various locations,

We were not making it. Sue and I were very frugal, but we were not reaching our “nut”. For one thing, the price of oil, which was at an all-time high, was killing us. I was just about at the point of throwing in the towel and looking for a job doing … I don’t know what. However, in July of 1981 IBM made an announcement that had a big effect on both our business and our personal lives. It was not the IBM PC; that came later. It was the System/23, also known as the Datamaster. At some IBM offices it was called the Databurger.

1. The Elks still own it in 2021.

2. I am embarrassed to say that forty years later we are still living in a house that is heated by oil. It makes me feel like a caveman.

3. Dan Marra lives in Colchester in 2021.

4. I am pretty sure that Victor Barrett works and lives in St. Charles, MO.

1977-1980 Part 3B: Debate at Wayne State: The Coaches

Posted on March 15, 2021 by Mike

My recollections of the other coaches. Continue reading →

Any treatment of any aspect of debate at Wayne State University in the second half of the twentieth century must begin with George Ziegelmueller¹. During the course of my seven years of debate I had formed two opinions of him: 1) He was a mediocre debate coach; 2) He was a horrible judge. I certainly underrated him as a coach (at least on the affirmative), but not as a judge. Of course, I was (and still am) prejudiced. After my last tournament (districts in 1970, which is described here) I hated him as much as I have ever hated anyone in my life.

Nevertheless, I can usually compartmentalize. George and I had a good working relationship from the start. I did whatever he told me to do. I had great respect for his ability to deal with the bureaucracy, and I have no doubt whatever that the welfare and success of his debaters meant the world to him.

My favorite George story took place in the Detroit Metro Airport in 1980. Six of us were preparing to attend the National Debate Tournament at the University of Arizona. George and I were the coaches. The debaters were senior Scott Harris, juniors Kevin Buchanan and Mike Craig, and Dave Debold, who was only a sophomore.

We were all very excited. For three of the four guys it was the very first time that they had flown to a tournament. For me it was also very special. I had never been to the state of Arizona. Also, I knew that this might well be my last debate tournament ever.

George handed out the tickets to each of us. He informed us of the gate from which the plane would depart. Before we went through security, however, Dave noticed something amiss. “These tickets are for Phoenix,” he said. “Isn’t the University of Arizona in Tucson?”

Our tickets were indeed non-stop tickets to Phoenix on Frontier Airlines. Incredibly, George was able to exchange the tickets for ones to and from Tucson. We only had to wait in the terminal for an hour or so, and all of our luggage was also transferred to our new flight.

George did not really believe in tipping. Having been to Europe several times, I agree with him in principle. However, this is not Europe; most American restaurants paid (and still pay) their employees scandalously low wages.

The way George expressed his philosophy about tipping was this: “I pay for the meal out of the back-pocket of my pants; the tip comes from the front pocket.” That is, he paid for the bill with folding money and the tip with change.

I only accompanied George on a few trips. When I did, I would covertly pass the hat among the debaters. I would add my donation and give the total collection to one of the debaters. On our way to the car he/she would remember something left behind in the restaurant, return to the table, and supplement the tip with what we had collected.

The tournament in Denver was held at Metropolitan State College, now known as Metropolitan State University. It was an excellent venue.

I worked very hard during my first year at Wayne. I went to whatever tournaments George selected for me, and I did not step on anyone’s toes. Even before districts I asked George if I could go to the National Debate Tournament in Denver in the spring. George was taken aback by this request.

Jack Kay, after all, was his right-hand man. George said that I could accompany the team to districts, but he and Jack would judge. I replied that the team (Debbie McCully and Scott Harris) did not need me at districts. However, they had very little experience on the national circuit, and I had a lot. I knew many of the debaters on the national scene and almost all of the coaches. I even volunteered to pay my own way to Denver if and when our team qualified. George eventually agreed, and he found the money.

This helped diminish, but not erase, the memory of the round against Ohio U. at districts in 1970.

Pam and Billy Benoit² (beh NOYT) were my office-mates in Manoogian Hall. They had both attended Ball State University in Muncie, IN, and Central Michigan in Mount Pleasant. In 1979 Billy presented a paper on philosophy at a conference in Amsterdam. Pam went with him. I don’t remember how they got away with this. They both taught several classes.

Sue Comparetto somehow persuaded them to allow her to join them on this trip. She enjoyed the city immensely, and has wanted to return³ for the last forty-two years.

The Benoits once invited Sue and me over for supper in their apartment, which was near the campus. The repast itself was a little skimpy by my standards until they pulled out their fondue pot and the dipping snacks.

Billy and Pam were among the first players of Dungeons and Dragons (D&D) after I had purchased the original boxed set on August 17, 1978, as a present for myself on my thirtieth birthday. In the first few adventures we took turns as Dungeon Master. These were “Monte Haul” dungeons. The player characters soon reached level 5 or 6.Outlandishly rich orcs were slain by the thousand.

When the Player’s Handbook appeared a year or so later, I constructed a dungeon with a style that was more verismo. Deep in that dungeon was the lair of the fiercest monster they had yet to encounter, Frix the White Dragon. Non-player characters had warned everyone that he was very powerful because of his super-cold breath. One day Pam, Billy, and Vince Follert decided to go after him.

After a few minor skirmishes they found Frix’s cave, but, alas, Frix struck first and turned the entire party all to icicles. All three players were very angry at me for not providing them with a way to resurrect their highly prized characters.

The denouement of this story is in Vince’s section of this blog.

In 2021 I unearthed my slightly warped copy the graduate student’s bible.

By the time that Billy and Pam were ready to submit their dissertations in the spring of 1980 Sue and I had an IBM 5120 computer in our house. Sue used it for her fledgling programming business. I also tinkered with it. I had written a word processing program that printed documents in the format approved by the American Psychological Association. The only printer that it could use was a dot-matrix, but that was not yet considered gauche. I called my program “Amanuensis”.

The 5120 supported this printer and no other.

The university allowed graduate students a fixed number of minutes of computer time per semester. Pam and Billy traded me their minutes for one or two semesters in exchange for my printing of their dissertations using Amanuensis. Needless to say, I had to enter the text and footnotes through the keyboard. Producing a long paper with footnotes perfectly on a manual typewriter was a daunting task.

I ran into a few problems because, of course, no one checked my work. They became very jittery as the deadline day approached, but I was able to hand the final copies over to them with a few hours to spare.

In the winter of 1978-1979 Pam and Billy invited Sue, me, Vince, and, I think, John Pfeiffer to a weekend at a family cabin near Pokagon (poh-KAY-gun) State Park⁴. My recollection is that we drove there on Friday evening and returned on Sunday afternoon. Two thing stand out in my mind from this event. The first was mundane. Evidently there was a shortage of water in the plumbing system. The bathroom bore a sign that read: “If it’s yellow, let it mellow; if it’s brown, flush it down.” Five of us shared that toilet.

The other memory of that trip is epic. The toboggan run in the park is long and fast. The channels for the toboggans were not particularly narrow, but Billy was a big guy, and, to put it in nautical terms, he was broad in the beam. I think that we only participated in one run. We split into two groups of three. I went with Vince and John. Sue was in the Benoit’s group. The safety precautions for the ride were minimal. A guy at the top yelled “Keep your legs in!” before he gave the toboggan a shove.

Our toboggan ride was somewhat thrilling because the pace was fast, and the riders had absolutely no control. I was in front. I just made myself as small as I could. The guy behind me had his legs on both sides of me. The guy behind him likewise put a leglock on the middle man. By the time that we reached the bottom, which was a quarter mile from the launching tower, one of Vince’s legs had rubbed against the side of the track a few times. He was sore but not injured. John and I were unscathed.

The three in the other toboggan did not fare as well. All three suffered scrapes. Billy was by far the worst. He stuck out on both sides of the toboggan and suffered rather ugly burns. We did not take him to the hospital, but he could hardly walk for a day or two, and he was sore for weeks.

Sheri Brimm joined the program in the fall semester of 1978. She had just graduated from Wright State University in Dayton, OH. She knew very little about debate. If Wright State had a debate team, I never heard of it, and they were in our district.

Sheri lived in an apartment near campus with her husband David. I seem to remember that he was going to Law School at Wayne State.

I was in one class with Sheri. I think that it was with the rhetoric professor, Dr. Jim Measell. For one of our assigned papers he provided very explicit instructions for what he wanted. I knew this guy and warned Sheri that she should do it exactly the way that he prescribed. She said that she thought that what he really was looking for was creativity. She may have been kidding, but she got a bad grade on the paper.

I also took one trip with Sheri. We were in charge of a van full of debaters headed for a nearby tournament. Akron University comes to mind, but I may be wrong. I let her drive because I wanted to work with some of the debaters. While we were still in Detroit it began to snow or sleet, and there was a little ice on the road. Basically, it was a normal winter day in Michigan in the seventies. The van started to skid. I yelled to her from the back of the van, “Slow down.”

“The car is hydroplaning,” she explained, but she did not drive noticeably slower.

“Hydroplaning is on water. This is ice. SLOW DOWN!” I countered.

I did not have many dealings with Sheri even though she returned for 1979-80. George may have let her work with some of the novice debaters, and she kept a chair warm during practice rounds.

Gerry Cox⁵ was my age. George was eighteen years older than I was. Everyone else in the FU was younger than I. Gerry joined the staff in 1979 after finally earning his bachelor’s degree the previous spring. I coached Gerry in my first two years. We became good friends, even though we had almost nothing in common. I also kept in touch with Gerry after I left Wayne St. He came to visit Sue and me twice while we lived in Rockville, CT. More memories of him can be read here.

I have three vivid recollections of Gerry from that last year. For years Gerry had been associated with the department off and on. I remember well the way that he treated the departmental secretary, whose name was, I think, Janet. On one occasion Gerry approached her desk and greeted her with the following: “Why don’t we rent a room at a hotel, rub Crisco all over both of our bodies, and see what happens?”

This approach was quite a bit different from my short conversations with her.

The second strong memory is of the only time that I ever saw Gerry nervous. He was for some reason chosen to give a speech on traffic safety to members of the Detroit Police Department. It may have been a contest. I drove him there for moral support.

Gerry had seen these up close a few times.

Gerry was reluctant even to enter the room. Apparently he feared that one of Detroit’s finest would recognize him from years gone for encounters in markedly less formal encounters, probably bars. At last we entered and took a seat. Gerry kept his eyes lowered while we were so seated.

Eventually Gerry gave his speech, which argued that requiring helmets for riders of motorcycles was a bad idea. It was a terrible speech. He claimed that requiring helmets would not reduce injuries much and that in some cases it would be counterproductive. I was shocked that a former Wayne State debater would make such a claim without a whiff of evidence.

Helmets are obviously counterproductive.

The close of his speech was greeted with tepid applause. As he approached me, he said softly, “Let’s get out of here.”

In the car I asked him why he made those claims without any evidence. He was stunned. He asked me, “Are you saying that I forgot to read the evidence?”

When I confirmed it he laughed and laughed and buried his head in his hands.

Steve D’Agostino coached some of the Individual Events (IE) people in 1977-78. I hardly knew him. I think that he had academic problems and left after one year.

Vince Follert⁶ was a pretty good debater at Loyola in Chicago, a Jesuit university. I judged him a few times before he graduated in 1977. His partner was weak, and the coaching at Loyola was not great. Even so, they did pretty well. I was favorably impressed.

Vince had a studio apartment near the campus. I am not sure that I ever entered it. He came to supper at our house on Chelsea a few times. We became pretty close friends. We usually ate lunch together at one of a few favorite restaurants on Woodward. Woodward Coney Island is still there in 2021! Their loose hamburger sandwiches were very tasty. I don’t remember the name of the other restaurant. Vince was enchanted by one of the waitresses who never wore a bra.

Vince stayed at Wayne for two years. I taught his classes whenever he was at a tournament, and he returned the favor when I was out of town. In the fall of 1978 he made the mistake of asking me to take his very first class. Here is how I began: “My name is Mike Wavada. Don’t write it down; I am not your teacher. Your real teacher is named Vince Follert. He is away at a debate tournament today. You won’t like him. He is fat, he smokes like a chimney, and he talks too fast.”

I did not mention it, but he also went through several six packs of Diet Pepsi every day.

Vince was as fond as I was of Dungeons and Dragons. He played every chance that he got. He was even more angry than the Benoits were at the instantaneous demise of his beloved characters when they stormed into Frix’s lair. I think that Vince’s main character was named Guelph the Elf.

Several months later he confronted me about the incident. “Resist Cold is a first level clerical spell, isn’t it? We were just idiots. We deserved to die.” He was right. They probably could have absconded with Frix’s fabulous treasure horde if they had bothered to prepare for cold weather with spells that any rookie cleric would know.

Vince and I attended a convention of the Central States Speech Association⁷ in the spring of 1979. We both presented papers there.

I don’t remember why we did not take Greenie. Instead, we rented a car from Budget. We got a good deal. There was a modest daily charge, but there was no mileage limit. My recollection is that we drove to St. Louis, went to the convention, and then drove back within twenty-four hours. That seems almost incredible. Maybe the trip took two days. In any case the man at Budget was astounded when he looked at the odometer.

I did not witness Vince’s presentation. His panel occurred at the same time as mine. Walter Ulrich, a very fine coach at the University of Houston, presented the first paper in our room. He argued that the value of the proposition should always be from the perspective of the collective interest of the people of the United States. There was time for questions after the evaluations. I asked Walter what he thought of propositions that were stated at a different level. For example, one of them that I debated in high school said that nuclear weapons should be controlled by an unspecified international organization. He opined that those resolutions were illegitimate.

The approach I called unfair is based on Archbishop Whately’s view of presumption.

My paper, which was the last one in our session, was on causality. I posited was not a useful construct in argumentation. Debates should focus on necessary conditions and sufficient conditions. I also argued that the negative teams had the responsibility to defend something in every debate. It was perfectly OK to defend what currently existed or what the government might do, but arguing that a case should be rejected because Congress could just pass a law to solve the problem or provide the benefit was an unfair reliance on the concept of presumption.

The two reviewers hated my paper. Dave Ling, the coach from Central Michigan (and a Wayne State alum), was at least nice about it. The other reviewer was from Washington University of St. Louis, a guy who was renowned as the worst judge on the circuit. He made fun of me. The time allotted was exhausted by the time that they finished. I did not get a chance to rebut what they said.

Most top coaches would have agreed with every word that I said, but they did not often attend conventions like this one.

One last memory of Vince popped into my head. One day in 1979 he came into Manoogian with a hickey on his neck. He made no attempt to hide it, but he would not talk about it.

Vince received his masters degree in the spring of 1979. He coached debate for Dale Hample at Western Illinois in 1979-1980.

Ken Haught might have been on the staff in my last year, 1979-1980. I remember him, but only vaguely

Jack Kay was George’s right-hand man when I arrived. He was still a graduate student, but he had an office of his own. I came to learn that Jack had been a member of the Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) in his younger years. Reportedly he had actually met Tom Hayden and Jane Fonda.

Jack married Ruth Colwander, who was just a sophomore in my first year at Wayne State. Jack had been the coach of Ruth and the other novices in the previous year. They had done very well.

I don’t know why, but I interacted very little with Jack. I remember only two fairly innocuous incidents. The first occurred at a staff meeting. George told us that some financial assistance had become available for one debater. I don’t remember the amount. George asked for suggestions as to who should get it. I immediately recommended that Ruth, who was the only serious debater who had a job, should be considered. Jack, who was involved with but not married to Ruth, was astonished at my suggestion. I guess that he thought of me as a foe. If so, it was not mutual.

The second event occurred at the National Debate Tournament in 1978 in Denver. Wayne State sent one team (Debbie McCully and Scott Harris) and three coaches to this tournament.

Wayne State’s team met (I think) one of the teams from Redlands in the eighth round. The whole tournament knew that both teams from Redlands were running a case that had something to do with infanticide. I had never heard it, and I no idea of the substance of Redlands’ plan.

Jack ran into the library. I don’t know if he found anything. I kept out of his way.

Jack had, however, heard the case in a previous round. When he saw that our team was facing Redlands, he rushed to the library to try to photocopy something. He then spent the little remaining time lecturing Debbie and Scott on how to attack the cse.

I wished that he had shared his ideas with us earlier—there were fairly long breaks for power-matching after every round. I said absolutely nothing at the time; he might have had an inspired argument.

Scott and Debbie lost 3-0. If Jack had not taken over, I would have advised them to relax and avoid the temptation to twist any of their prepared arguments to fit this case. Instead, they should just try to challenge everything, make reasonable claims of their own, and watch for mistakes. They should then concentrate on finding one decisive argument that they could win and sell it dramatically in the last rebuttal.

Of course, they still probably would have lost to a team with more high-level experience.

Jack was a big guy. He was also, unless I am mistaken, the only Jewish member of the staff. He was, I guess because of his size, recruited to play Santa Claus at the FU Christmas party. However, his “ho-ho-ho” was worse than pathetic. So, I made the big laugh from off-stage while he was entering.

Ron Lee joined the staff in 1979-80 wife his wife Karen. She was my age and debated at either Southern Illinois or Illinois State. She might have done something with the team at Wayne, too.

Ron debated at Wayne State, at times with Jack Kay. The only thing that I remember about his coaching technique was that he insisted that the team eat at restaurants that had waiters and/or waitresses. He hated going to counters for his food.

John Pfeiffer came from Florida He was at Wayne State for my first two years. In the second year he was the IE director.

John had an interesting background. He had worked at Disneyland as a strolling bear character. He said that it was the worst job in the world. He had also appeared as a character on roller skates in Shakespeare’s The Two Gentlemen of Verona.

Donaldson’s Covenant books were my favorites.

Tuna Snider¹⁰ came to Wayne State in 1979-80, my last year, and was installed in Jack’s old office. I had known him a little when he was the coach at Boston College. I never heard anyone call him anything but Tuna.

I don’t think that I went to any tournaments with Tuna. In fact, the only interaction with him that I remembered was when he noticed that I was often sitting around the debate lounge reading a paperback book. One day he asked what kind of fiction I liked, and I answered, “Swords and sorcery”. He made a positive noise and returned to his office. In truth I read most of these fantasy books just to get ideas for D&D dungeons.

For some reason Tuna did not attend the NDT with us in Arizona in 1980, and my memories of his involvement with the program seemed to be minimal. Perhaps he had a falling out with George.

1. George died in 2019. A press release from the university can be read here.

2. In 2021 the Benoits are on the faculty of the communications department of the University of Alabama at Birmingham. Billy’s Wikipedia page is here. His boss’s career is described on this webpage. Click on her photo or the blue text.

3. Sue and I have a river cruise scheduled for October of 2021. It departs from Amsterdam, and we have also scheduled one extra day there.

4. The toboggan run at Pokagon State Park remained open through the pandemic winter of 2020-2021. Its website is here.

5. Gerry died in an automobile accident in, I think, the eighties. At the time he owned a company that produced machined parts for auto dealers. It was located in his family’s home town in Kentucky.

6. Vince died of colon cancer in the early eighties.

7. In the twenty-first century it is called the Central States Communications Association.

8. In 2021 Ken is the Dean of Arts and Sciences at Dickinson State University in North Dakota.

9. Jack died in 2015. A tribute to him can be read here.

10. Tuna Snider got his PhD from Kansas, not Wayne State. He died in 2015 after spending more than thirty years at the University of Vermont. His Wikipedia page is here.

1977-1980 Part 3C: Debate at Wayne State: The Debaters

Posted on March 14, 2021 by Mike

Debaters (and others) of my coaching era. Continue reading →

The members of the Wayne State Forensics Union differed from the debaters whom I coached at U-M in several important respects.

Almost no one taking classes at Wayne State (except athletes) lived on campus. Nearly all the other students commuted.
Some Wayne students relied on public transportation (buses), but in the Motor City many of them had their own cars.
Some had jobs.
More than a few stayed in the FU for more that four years. One, Gerry Cox, left and returned off and on for more than a decade. I am pretty sure that everyone whom I coached at U-M graduated in four years.
Some FU members were not full-time students. I did not realize this at first.
Some of the people in the FU probably could not have met the entrance requirements at U-M. This was especially true of the novices without debate experience.
Almost all of the U-M debaters wanted to become lawyers, and, in fact, did. Most of the FU members had different ambitions.
There were roughly as many females as males in the FU. In my four years as an undergraduate at U-M there were two females, and none in my three years of coaching.

Here are my recollections of the debaters at Wayne State whom I can remember. In the first section are people who were already part of the Wayne State debate team when I arrived in 1977. They are in alphabetical order. In the next section are the freshmen in my first year, then people who arrived later (including a few IE performers), and finally people whom I remember but all or part of their names escape me.

Ruth Colwander¹ had been a novice in 1976-77. She had a job in 1977-78. This probably limited her participation a little, but she went to some tournaments. I remember working with her in practice rounds. I tried to get her to vary her emphasis in rebuttals in order to sell the most important argument. As described here, she was inducted into DSR-TKA in 1978 with my class. We performed the “Debbie Debater Doll” sketch together. I am sure that I embarrassed her when I went off-script, but I got the biggest laugh of the night. Even Ruth could not keep a straight face.

Ruth married Jack Kay in, I think, the summer of 1979, but she continued in the program.

I am embarrassed to report that I have no specific memories of Bob Conflitti². I am quite sure that he often hung around in the lounge. I can almost picture him.

I have a great many memories of Gerry Cox³. I wonder what the limit is on the word count in WordPress blog posts.

The first time that I saw Gerry was on one of my first ventures into the forensics lounge in 1977. He was obviously a lot older than the other people in the lounge. He looked like what he was, a somewhat overweight biker. He had dark curly hair and a beard. He had massive biceps⁴ that he was obviously quite proud of.

Gerry was regaling a group of people with a tale about his days in Texas. I don’t remember all of the details, but he and a group of his friends were sitting around drinking beer and shooting at armadillos, which he said were like rats in Texas.

In fact, the nine-banded armadillo is the official state small mammal of Texas.

This sounded like BS to me. I kept my peace, as I normally do in new situations, but as soon as I could I looked up armadillos in an encyclopedia. It verified that they were common in Texas. I later told Gerry about this, and he was somewhat insulted. When I reminded him that at the time I had never seen him before, he smiled and conceded the point.

Shortly thereafter, George called me to his office and told me that Gerry had been with the program for a long time. He was a licensed machinist, which was a big deal in Detroit. George said that Gerry took classes only for a semester or two. Then he unceremoniously hopped on his motorcycle and rode off somewhere. Each time that he returned both the university and the FU welcomed him back.

Gerry was from Kentucky. I assume that he came to Detroit to work as a machinist at some point in the sixties or seventies. I don’t know how he got interested in debate. He did love to talk.

In 1977-78 Gerry debated with Paul Slavin. think that they were both “seniors”, a less rigid concept than I was accustomed to. They mostly went to lower level or junior varsity tournaments. I am pretty sure that I accompanied them on at least one such outing, but my memories of most tournaments during this period are somewhat vague.

Gerry and Paul had a peculiar relationship. Gerry’s favorite routine during a practice round was to cry out ‘Kryptonite!” whenever he thought that Paul had made a blunder in his rebuttal. The implication was that SuperGerry would have prevailed in the contest if “Slave Dog” had not uncovered the one glowing green crystal that minimizes his super powers.

Gerry played in our Dungeons and Dragons group a few times, but he was not as serious about it as most of the regulars were. However, he was part of the group who drove out to visit Sue and me in Rockville, CT, in the summer of 1981. It may have even been his idea.

I don’t remember the occasion, but Gerry and one of his friends invited me out for a drink one evening. To my surprise we went to one of Detroit’s many topless bars. The only thing that I remember about it is that one of the performers balanced on one high heel, kicked her other leg up sharply, grabbed it with one hand, and played her thigh like a guitar.

After the first time that someone broke into our house in Detroit (described here), Gerry wanted to move in with us for a while and sleep on our waterbed. He said that he would bring his 9mm Luger with him. I declined his offer.

Gerry confided that over the years he had totaled two or three vehicles in crashes after nights of partying. In each case he had been within ten minutes of home, and in each case he walked away with only minor injuries. Trying to talk him out of driving home was always futile. He always insisted that he was fine, and he was … until he fell at the wheel.

Several years after I had left Wayne State Gerry and (I think) the friend from the topless bar story again drove to Connecticut to visit. They only stayed for a day or so. I remember them talking about having to roll back the odometer on the car before they sold it. It had something to do with the engine. I also recall driving them around the Rockville area for a small tour. They thought it was pretty nice, but Gerry’s friend, having seen no factories or office buildings, wondered where everyone worked. I have also sometimes wondered the same thing.

Several more years elapsed before Gerry called me again. By that time he had founded his own company to produced accurately machined parts using computers. He had hired Dennis Corder to write some administrative software for him using a pseudo-database product on a PC. The project was finished, but Gerry and Dennis had parted ways under less than amicable circumstances. He now needed to revamp the program for some reason. Gerry asked me if I could do it.

I told him that I might be able to do it, but I wouldn’t be able to do anything else. At the time we had a lot of projects going, and I definitely preferred to work on things with which I was familiar. Also, remote support was still problematic in those days.

Knee pads are easier to find than programmers.

Gerry asked me for advice on what to do. I told him that he should go to a sporting goods store and purchase a pair of knee pads. Then he should locate Dennis Corder, and get down on his knees and beg him to fix it. Even iff he found another programmer willing to help, the new guy would almost certainly want to rewrite the whole thing. I certainly would.

A few years after that Gerry invited Sue and me to come visit him in Kentucky for a big celebration of something to do with his company. We agreed to come. A short while after that Kent Martini, who (to my great surprise) had been working with Gerry in some capacity, called to tell us that Gerry had died in a car crash. Kent said that we could still come if we wanted to, but there would not be a public celebration. We went. Our very bizarre experience is described here.

Andre Debuschere was the antithesis of Gerry Cox. He was very thin, especially in the neck. This allowed his necktie to drop well below the waist before Trump made this an acceptable style.

Although he shared a surname with perhaps the most celebrated man in Detroit, Dave Debuschere, the relative that he bragged about was Napoleon III. He also claimed to be able to read Egyptian hieroglyphs. As far as I know no one ever went to the trouble of finding some for him to test this claim.

One day I was in the kitchen area of the forensics lounge reading an article in a magazine. Andre walked behind me and started making comments about something in the magazine. I politely asked him not to read over my shoulder because that is something that really annoyed me. He did it again, and I exploded in rage, something that I tended to do about once in a decade.

Kent Martini remarked, “Well, Andre, he did warn you.”

Andre was a reasonably good debater, but no on wanted to be his partner. Tom Harding mostly got the assignment.

I read in Don Ritzenheim’s thesis that Steve Fusach was an officer of the FU. I remember the name but nothing else.

Tom Harding was the invisible man of the FU. He was a smart guy and a good debater, but he insisted on taking his studies seriously. Since his major was pre-med, that meant that he actually studied quite a bit. So, Tom’s appearances in the lounge were few and far between.

I remember well the time that he entered when a group of us was engaging in good-natured speculation about something vaguely related to chemistry or botany or anatomy or something else that Tom was knowledgeable about, and we weren’t. He laid out the facts of the matter and silenced the room.

“Get out of here,” I yelled at him. “We were having a perfectly good argument before you butted in.” That time I was kidding.

Scott Harris⁷ arrived at the FU with very little high school experience, and he had only attended a few tournaments the previous year. Nevertheless, all the coaches recognized that he had as much talent as anyone. Most of my dealings with him are described in the blog about tournaments.

Scott’s parents were extremely religious. They were strict fundamentalists. So, he was not able to participate in extracurricular activities as much as he would have liked. He never played D&D with us, but I bet that he would really have enjoyed it.

Now really impress her by jumping across the creek while carrying both bags.

Scott was by far the best athlete in the FU. He could probably outdo everyone else at anything to do with sports. One of the most embarrassing moments of my life occurred the one time that I played golf with Scott and his dad. At one point we had to cross a small creek. Even though I was carrying my clubs I essayed to jump across it. I made it with an inch or two to spare. However, the weight of the clubs forced me to sit in the water. I had to play the rest of the round with wet trousers.

Scott was the only debater who learned how to throw cards. I mocked his technique, but he could throw them as far as I could, and I had made a study of it. He just picked up a deck and started flinging cards.

Scott’s most impressive ability was to flip a coin high into the air, catch it, slam it onto the back of his other hand, and call it heads or tails. He was always right because he tossed the coin in such a way that it did the same number of somersaults every time, and he checked whether it was heads or tails at the start.

It was obvious that Scott had all the tools. I would have been really disappointed if he had not turned out great. I got back in touch with him when by chance I heard him on this fantastic episode of Radiolab.

While I was at Wayne State, Nancy Legge mostly debated with Teresa Ortez. In March 1980 they won the National Junior Division Debate Tournament. I have no memory of this tournament at all. I was probably working with the four guys who had qualified for NDT that year. Nancy represented Wayne State in two NDTs after I left.

Nancy’s most memorable characteristic was her abhorrence of snakes. Whenever she visited our house we hastened to cover up Puca’s cage with towels. As long as no one ever mentioned him or any of his relations, she was fine.

Nancy often played D&D with us. Her primary character was a dwarf named Porpo. Most of thought that Nancy was in a rotten mood when she played, but actually it was Porpo who had a bad attitude.

While I knew her, Nancy had romantic entanglements with Gerry Cox and Dennis Corder.

Nancy was part of the group that drove to Connecticut to see Sue and me in the summer of 1981. She even stayed with us for a little while after the rest of the crew returned to Michigan. She did a little work for TSI that earned her the title “Executive Vice President of International Marketing”. If we paid her, she might have even been our first employee.

My most vivid memory of Teresa occurred just as the party for my thirtieth birthday was breaking up. She wanted to drive home, but Mike Craig and I did not think that she was in any condition to drive. We insisted that she sit on the couch in the living room and listen to us tell extremely boring stories. Our strategy worked. She fell asleep, awoke a few hours later, and drove home without any problem.

I also remember that I actually danced with Teresa that evening. I can easily count on one hand the number of times that I have been on a dance floor. So, this must have been special.

I saw Kent Martini⁹ once before I started coaching at Wayne state. He was debating in the final round of the state high school debate championship in 1976. His team from Royal Oak Kimball was on the affirmative. Kent was the first affirmative speaker. The opponents were twins from Belleville. I had been judging in the tournament, but I did not judge the finals. It was a pretty good debate, and Kent’s team one.

Kent later told me that it had been a pretty big upset. The two teams had debated several times. Kimball usually lost because Kent’s partner, Steve Yokich, had not been able to get through all the Belleville arguments in the 1AR. So, in the final round Steve and Kent switched positions because Kent could handle the “spread” better than Steve. It worked.

On one of the team’s trips to Camp Tamarack, which is described here, Kent went the extra mile for his team in the scavenger hunt. The item needed was a pair of blue jeans. On the other teams people scampered to their cabins to retrieve a pair. Kent calmly kicked off his shoes, doffed his blue jeans, and cast them on the pile. He then stood there in his tighty whiteys waiting for the next item.

I liked Kent a lot. If there was not a lot of work to be done, he could always come up with something to help while away the time on long car rides. Usually these involved voting on secret ballots about something. Then someone would count the ballots. For example, “Who on the team is the most …”

Kent lived with his mom, Dawn, until he graduated. She drove a gold Trans-Am with a huge black eagle on the hood. I addressed her as “Mrs. Martini” when I met her. She corrected me and told me just to call her Dawn. It did not occur to me at the time that I might be as close to her age as I was to Kent’s. Also, I had never heard Kent mention his dad; perhaps Dawn no longer used the name Martini.

Kent invited me and two other guys over to Dawn’s house to play a few rubbers of bridge. One of the guys was, I think, the best man at Kent’s wedding. I don’t remember anything else about the evening.

Kent got married to Linda Calo after he graduated in 1979. Evidently they had met briefly when Kent was passed out from excessive drinking. When he came to his senses he asked his future best man, “Who was that girl who helped me? She had great boobs.” Of course, this story was a big hit at the wedding reception.

Kent invited a bunch of people over to his apartment one evening. This must have been after he married Linda. He had a stack of Penthouse magazines. Each of us had to find a letter in the Penthouse Forum column and give a dramatic reading. My interpretation of a letter in which a cow or a sheep played a central role was judged the best. Everyone agreed that I had excellent posture.

I played golf with Kent at least twice. Once somewhere in the Detroit area with Jerry Bluhm. The other time was when Sue and I came to Kentucky.

My first year was the last at Wayne State for Debbie McCully¹⁰. She debated with several partners in 1977-78 before George named her and Scott Harris as Wayne State’s representatives at districts. They made it to nationals. These and other debate adventures are described here.

Debbie worked as a waitress at the Golden Mushroom restaurant on 10 Mile in Southfield. She arranged for the restaurant’s staff to prepare and serve a Chinese supper for the Christmas party in 1977.

I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life when, in Debbie’s presence, I mentioned that the registration on my car had expired and that I was not too worried about it. Shortly thereafter Debbie drove to school an unregistered car that belonged to her father. It was stolen from the parking garage, and a big mess ensued.

The lesson that I learned was that it was better to wait several decades before bragging about stupid decisions that I had made, even if I got away with them.

At some point in the year Debbie applied to Baylor’s speech department to be a graduate assistant. I wrote a letter of recommendation for her. I don’t know why she chose Baylor, a Baptist university in Waco, TX. She certainly did not ask my advice. George might have had an “in” there. At any rate she was accepted.¹¹

There was a slight problem. Although Debbie had been an active part of the FU for quite a few years, she had far too few credits to graduate in the spring term. Vince Follert and I worked with her to come up with a plan whereby she could fulfill Wayne State’s graduation requirements by the end of the summer. This entailed taking a full course load and signing up for and passing quite a few placement tests. It was a difficult assignment, to be sure, but no other approach seemed remotely feasible.

It turned out that she was less serious about this than Vince and I were. She went to classes for the first half of the summer. Then she reconnected with an old boyfriend and lost interest. I am not sure if she finished the summer classes, and I am pretty sure that she never took any placement tests.

For my thirtieth birthday party (details here) Debbie changed into a Wonder Woman costume at the end of her shift at the restaurant at which she worked and made the twenty-minute drive to our house in Detroit. I was quite impressed.

Paul Slavin mostly debated with Gerry Cox. He was from Bad Axe, MI, which is located in “the Thumb” of Michigan. I think that he was the only person whom I ever met from the Thumb.

I worked quite a bit with Paul and Gerry during my first year at Wayne State. At some point Paul told me that he was going to have to quit the team for financial reasons. I advised him to see George, whom I suspected of having access to resources for just such a situation. Paul didn’t want to do it at first, but he eventually did and stayed on the team

I did not really know Chris Varjabedian¹² very well. He had debated with Bill Hurley in 1978. They had qualified for the NDT. Bill then graduated. I saw Bill in the FU a few times.

Chris debated with Kent in the fall semester of 1978, but I never got to work with them or go to tournaments with them. Chris quit at some point that year, but he came back in 1979-1980 and debated with Scott Harris. They qualified for the NDT and lost in the octafinals.

George was very impressed with Chris. George told me that Chris understood “sign reasoning” better than any debater that he had coached. I cannot claim to understand the concept. Does “A is a sign of B” mean that B is a necessary condition for A. If so, why not say so? To me using the word “sign” seems mostly to be employed by people who can’t do the math or understand the statistics. Maybe that is what Chris figured out.

George adopted Scott and Chris for the entire 1979-1980 season and kept them under his wing. The rest of the coaching staff hardly got to see them. They did well, too, but the second team did almost as well. The debate season is described here.

We had two very talented novices that started their careers at Wayne state in the fall of of 1977, Mike Craig and Kevin Buchanan.

Mike Craig¹³ went to Royal Oak Kimball High School, the same school that Kent had attended. Even in his freshman year Mike hung around with Jo Anne Mendelson^.¹⁴

Mike really enjoyed playing D&D. He once remarked that he could envision himself playing D&D at 30, but he could not envision himself as a debater at 30. He came up with some really good ideas for both dungeons and characters. He also wrote a short comedic play that he showed around to everyone. It was very well done.

As a freshman Mike debated with Kevin Buchanan. I don’t think that I ever got to go to a tournament with them when they were partners. They were very good. Maybe we went to Novice Nationals together. I went to many tournaments at Northwestern over my six years of coaching.

Mike Craig was famous for his appearance on one of the television debates in which he argued that Christmas should be banned. That TV show is described here, as are his adventures at debate tournaments.

Kevin Buchanan attended Belleville High School. He debated with Mike Craig when he was a freshman at Wayne State. I don’t think that he debated in 1978-79, but he returned to the team in 1979-1980. His favorite saying was “the essence of putrescence”.

It was important to take whatever Kevin said with a grain of salt. He liked to tell stories just to see how people reacted. He was in a Speech 100 class that I taught. He gave his first speech on “Pseudo sciences”. He began the section on martial arts by casually mentioning “When I was in the marines …” I snorted at that, but no one else reacted at all. No chance. Jarheads committed for four years in those days. He could not possibly have been that old.

People didn’t say “Thank you for your service” in those days. If they had, I would surely have said it when he finished his speech. Would he have blushed?

Kevin claimed that he never paid for a pair of shoes. He wore them for a week or two. Then he took them back. Maybe.

There was a lot of gossip that Kevin was having an affair with Sheri Brimm. Kevin did nothing to stop the rumors. Maybe.

I think that most of the following people arrived at Wayne State in 1978 or later. I also included a few participants in IE. I did not work with them enough to have a clear idea of when they arrived.

I think that Al Acitelli¹⁵ was a freshman in 1979. He mostly debated with Mark Buczko, at least while I was at Wayne State.

Al was one of those who visited us in Rockville in the summer of 1981. He insisted on making spaghetti for us. We all thought that he meant that he would make a special sauce, but in fact he made the noodles by hand. It was good, but it seemed like a lot of effort to make something on which to pour sauce from a bottle.

I remember Sara Allen¹⁶ from one of those debate trips on which we arrived back in Detroit very late and very tired. I remember that she was the last one that I delivered to her house somewhere well north of 8 Mile. That still left me with a pretty long drive left back to the Wayne State Motor Pool and then my house.

My only clear recollection of her is that she was short and cute. Apparently she still is more than forty years later.

Mark Buczko¹⁷ debated with Al Acitelli. I think that George assigned me to work with them, but I don’t remember taking them to any tournaments.

Mark also liked to play D&D with us. He developen a character named Cnir Edrum who was an assassin by trade. He was surprised that I quickly recognized this as Murder Inc spelled backwards.

The problem with characters of the assassin class was that no one wanted them in the party. He tried to disguise himself, but his skills were seldom in demand by the characters who were looking for dungeons to explore. I concocted a few solo adventures for him in which someone gave him a contract for a hit.

Mark was in the group that drove out to Connecticut in 1981. He told me at some point that he was into rock climbing. He Corrected my misapprehension that rock climbers sometimes use shrubbery for hand or foot holds.

Dennis Corder¹⁸ was also a freshman in 1979-1980. He went to Belleville High and was a much bigger star than anyone else in his class at Wayne State. I think that he made it to the final round of the state tournament. George must have assigned a partner to him, but I don’t remember who it was. It might have been Nancy Legge. They were an item for a while.

Gerry Cox hired Dennis to design and implement administrative software for his machining business. Their relationship later soured. I don’t know the details.

Dave Debold¹⁹ went to high school at Royal Oak Kimball (like Mike Craig and Kent Martini). I think that he was a freshman in 1978-79. For most of the first year he debated with Kim Garvin. They also went out together for quite a while.

Dave and Scott Harris received a first round bid to the NDT in 1981. They made it to the quarterfinals.

Kim also qualified for the NDT in 1981 and 1982. Nancy Legge was her partner. I did not know her very well.

I think that Dorothy Giman²⁰ was a freshman in 1979-1980. I remember only her bright red hair and huge gazoingies. In a game of volleyball Dorothy was encouraged by Kevin Buchanan to “put your body into it.”

Roseann Mandziuk²¹ was one of the most successful performers in IE. She might have also debated a little. I went to at least one tournament with her.

I remember that she wrote and presented a prize-winning speech on human evolution.

Robin Meyers also was very successful in IE. In the spring of 1978 she got a little upset at me for not inviting her to Debbie’s Defilement Party, which is described here. Actually, I did not invite anyone. I just posted a notice on the bulletin board.

Robin might have debated a little at Wayne State. She was elected 2^nd VP of DSRTKA in 1978, a fact that escaped my notice at the time.

My primary association with Steve Rapaski was through pinochle. In 1980 there was usually a pinochle game in progress in the lounge. I don’t remember who started this activity, maybe Gerry Cox.

Steve Rapaski drove a rolling greenhouse like this one.

Steve was a horrible card player, so much so that I once coerced him into signing an affidavit in which he swore never to play pinochle again. Nevertheless he came to George’s pinochle party. The results are described here.

Steve drove to school in an AMC Pacer, that car with enormous windows. If the sun was out, the back seat was uninhabitable, even in the winter.

Like a lost puppy Steve Rapaski followed around a girl named Laura who lived in Gross Pointe, the fabulously wealthy community just east of Detroit. I don’t remember her last name. She was the only person from any of the Pointes that I ever met.

The smart money was also on Laura as the source of Vince Follert’s mysterious hickey.

I went to at least one tournament with John Ross. I think that it may have been at Wooster.. His partner was a young lady whose name I don’t remember. While we were strolling together between rounds, I mentioned to John that she had said that in the last round he had done the work of three men.

Shemp had a full-time job in *The Bank Dick*.

He fell for it. “Really? She said that?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “Larry, Moe, and Curly.”

John later ran in marathons. His time in the New York City Marathon was good enough to earn him a spot in the Boston Marathon.

I remember three other people fairly clearly, but I cannot recall their names.

I remember that I invited one of the debaters to sit next to me when I judged an elimination round at a novice or junior varsity tournament. After I had turned in my ballot, but before the result was announced, I asked him what he thought of the debate. He insisted that the affirmative team had won. I predicted a 3-0 decision for the negative, and I was right. The affirmative had completely botched one critical argument, but this guy missed it.

He also played the Michigan Lotto, a horrendous investment that only pays out half of what it takes in. He told me that he could beat “boxing’ three numbers. So, he would pick two numbers, say 5, 6, and 8. He would then buy tickets for 56, 58, 65, 68, 85 and 86. He always bought six tickets in this set pattern. I tried to explain that his six numbers had the same odds as buying any other six other numbers, but he couldn’t understand that either.

I remember taking a fairly large group of people to a tournament somewhere. We stayed in a motel for one night. I offered to buy KFC for everyone. One woman was a vegetarian. So, I brought her with me on the trip to KFC. On the way we stopped at a supermarket. She picked out what she needed for supper, and I paid for it from the budget.

When we returned we all ate together in one of the rooms. Then we all goofed on Wonder Woman on TV.

My last memory is my worst one. A tall bombastic guy who did IE was in a Speech 100 class that I taught. He missed a speech and never made it up. That automatically dropped his final grade one and a half letters. He also obviously did not study much for the final. I gave him the D that he deserved.

He also borrowed a book from me and never returned it.

1. In 2021 Ruth is still active in debate and forensics in Michigan. Her LinkedIn page is here.

Middletown, NY, is close to Port Jervis, NJ.

2. Bob received his JD from Georgetown. I am pretty sure that in 2021 he is an Attorney in Middletown, NY. His LinkedIn page lists his role as “Counsel to the District Attorney at Orange County District Attorney’s Office”.

3. Gerry died in an automobile accident in the late eighties or maybe early nineties. At the time he owned a company that produced machined parts for auto dealers. It was located in his family’s home town in Kentucky.

4. Gerry told me on the telephone in the eighties that he started running to lose weight. He was aghast when the first pounds to go were in his arms. For some reason he ran on his toes, a poor technique that produced painful shin splints. I gave him Dr. Kronkheit’s famous advice: “Don’t do that.”

5. In 2021 Andre is apparently an attorney in Sterling Heights, MI..

6. In 2021 Tom is evidently a psychiatrist in Traverse City, MI.

7. In 2021 Scott is still a revered coach of the University of Kansas debate team. They won NDT (again) in 2018. In 2020 he was ranked as the fourth-best coach and second-best judge in the entire county. A summary of his academic accomplishments can be found here.

8. Nancy Legge is a professor of Communications at Idaho State University. Go Bengals! You can read about her career at ISU here.

9. Kent at some point around 1990 started a business providing training and other types of consulting for businesses. His FaceBook page is here. He told me that he always got on airplanes with the disabled people. His line was, “I need just a little more time to board.”

10. Debbie (McCully) Stavis is the CEO of a company that offers financial guidance to families in the Houston area. The website is here.

11. I can understand why the Baylor debate team would have wanted her as a coach, but I cannot comprehend how the school would have accepted her as a graduate student. Surely someone must have glanced at her transcript.

12. In 2021 Chris is an attorney. His LinkedIn page is here.

13. Mike Craig is a professional writer in 2021. His primary topic seems to be poker. He lives in Arizona. His Twitter handle is @MikeCraigIsAmok. His Facebook page is here. I can’t believe that I know two professional writers. One writes about beer and golf; the other writes about poker.

14. How exciting is this? Mike and Jo Anne are still married. She is Director of Faculty and Instruction at the New School for the Arts & Academics in Arizona. Her Facebook page can be seen here.

15. Al Acitelli lives in Sarasota, FL, in 2021. You can read about him here. Search for his name and then click on his picture.

16. Sara’s website is here.

17. I am pretty sure that in 2021 Mark resides in California, perhaps in San Pedro, in 2021. He called me on the telephone once when Sue and I still lived in Rockville. I don’t remember why.

18. Dennis eventually became a lawyer in Florida. He took his own life in 2003. All that I know about the story is what is written here.

19. Dave went to law school at Harvard. He is a lawyer in Oakton, VA, in 2021. His LinkedIn page is here.

20. In 2021 Dorothy is apparently know as Dorothy Small. She is a realtor. Her LinkedIn page is here.

21. Rosanne earned a PhD in speech at Iowa. In 2021 she is a professor at Texas State University. Her LinkedIn page is here.

1972-1974 Connecticut: Sue and Mike

Posted on February 3, 2021 by Mike

Could a relationship between a preppy lad from Kansas and a country lass from Connecticut last? Continue reading →

For the few weeks that I worked in the Variable Annuity area of the Life Actuarial Department at the Hartford, my desk was behind Sue Comparetto’s, and we shared a phone. She was the head clerk in Bob Riley’s section. This meant that she was the only person there entrusted with an electronic calculator. Those silent marvels would soon replace the gigantic noisy Fridens, but they still required an AC connection and cost about $1,000.

I am pretty sure that Sue’s first impression of me was negative. Our only noteworthy interaction was when I was called upon to talk with someone on the phone. My desk had no phone; I had to use hers. I never called anyone, and most of the calls that I received were nerve-wracking; I perspired all over the receiver. I wiped it off before I gave it back, but it was still rather gross.

I did not know Sue well, but what I heard about her was somewhat disconcerting. She lived in East Hampton, CT, with Diane DeFreitas and, I think, another young woman. She did not have a car. A “Cuban plumber” sometimes gave her a ride part of the way to the Hartford. She hitchhiked the rest of the way. She had picked up a black Labrador puppy at a flea market and named him Siddhartha. At some point she must have realized that this situation was not sustainable, and she took the dog to the pound. Someone else may have catalyzed the decision.

I remember that one day both she and Diane decided to dress slutty for work. Sue did not like dress codes. She told me that she had been suspended from high school for vigorously protesting the dress code. Her parents were not amused by this behavior.

Oh, yeah. One other thing—Sue smoked. My dad smoked, but hardly anyone else with whom I had ever spent much time did. John Sigler also spoke, but he hardly ever lit up in my presence.

After I was assigned to the Individual Pensions area I only saw Sue in passing and at the Friday evening gatherings at the Shoreham Hotel’s bar, situated very conveniently between the Aetna and the Hartford. At some point one of the most important events of my life occurred, and yet I have no clear memory of the details. For some reason Tom Herget set me up with Sue for some event. I don’t remember when it was or even what we did. I have a vague recollection of the Aetna Diner (Sue liked their moussaka) on Farmington Avenue, but maybe that was on a different occasion. I am pretty sure that Sue told me on that occasion that I reminded her of her husband, and she was astonished to learn that my middle name was Dennis. She explained that her husband’s name was Dennis, and his middle name was Michael.

I don’t think that I previously knew that she had been married. This explained why she did not look even vaguely Italian. I certainly did not know that she was still legally married. I had to make a snap judgment whether being with her was a mortal sin or a venial sin. It was a tough call, but I was pretty sure that any further contact would move the needle over the line. For twelve years I had attended Catholic schools, and I had never missed going to mass on Sunday. Not once. I probably confessed more impure thoughts than I actually had. You have to confess something.

I somehow quieted my conscience and had a good time that night, and Sue and I started “seeing each other.” By this time she had moved to Rockville and rented a room in the basement of a house owned by a female employee of the Hartford named Jackie. She also had somehow persuaded a bank to finance her purchase of a 1972 Dodge Colt.

During this period Sue was also, at least in theory, studying for Part 1 of the actuarial exams. She was at a huge disadvantage compared with others taking the test in Hartford. Most of them got study time and took classes in the subject. She did not pass.

It must have been on an evening in October that Sue offered to fix a steak supper for John Sigler and me. Jackie must have let Sue use the kitchen; Sue’s apartment barely had room for a bed and a couple of chairs. We all sat around after dinner drinking Mateus, talking, and listening to Leonard Cohen records. Finally John departed. I spent the night with Sue on her small waterbed, a totally new experience for me.

Over the next few months Sue and I went to numerous places together. A bunch of us walked down to Constitution Plaza together to attend a noontime rally for George McGovern. 1972 was the first time that I was allowed to vote in a national election. In 1968 the voting age was twenty-one, and I was only twenty. Sue, who was born in 1951, was barely old enough to vote this time. I really hated Nixon. I suspected (correctly, as it was later revealed) that he had deliberately scuttled the peace talks in Paris about Vietnam. Never mind his secret war in Laos and his part in the overthrow of the democratic government in Chile. I never had to serve in Vietnam, but I blamed Nixon for stealing two years from me when I was in my prime.

Sue and I both voted for McGovern. I even put a McGovern-Shriver¹ sticker on Greenie’s bumper. I felt as if I had gotten McGovern one more vote than he would have otherwise received. Of course, it made no difference. Most Americans believed Tricky Dick really had a “secret plan” to end the war, they were afraid of the godless communist menace, and for some reason they did not like McGovern.

Sue and I attended a couple of movies in theaters. I seem to remember that there was a theater in West Hartford that showed older movies. I am pretty sure that we saw Blow-up together and at least one Marx Brothers movie.

We ate at a few restaurants in Rockville. I am certain that we shared a ham and olive pizza a small restaurant on Main St. near Route 83. It must have been part of a chain. It had a number after its name. Sue liked to go to Friendly’s. At the time their menu consisted of overpriced hamburger, overpriced cheeseburgers, overpriced “Friendly Franks”, and ice cream. Sue focused on the ice cream.

I cooked a few meals for us in my apartment. For example, I fixed a sirloin beef roast using McCormick’s Meat Marinade², a trick that I learned from my mother. Sue was pleasantly surprised at how good it tasted. She said that she had never liked beef roasts. She explained that when her mother cooked them she left them in the oven until they were grey, dried out, flavorless, and chewy. I tried to fry a chicken, but it did not work out too well. I had to put it in the oven before serving because some parts were not done. Microwave ovens existed, but I did not have one. After that we stuck to extra-crispy chicken from the colonel. However, I bought at least three cookbooks, and I developed a few very tasty specialties.

I took Christmas very seriously in 1972. It was only the second holiday season that I had spent away from my family, and this time I was really on my own. The feeling was much different from any previous Christmas. I spent a lot of time shopping for little gifts and writing personalized Christmas cards for my friends. Sue and I attended the Carol Sing at the Hartford Times Building in downtown Hartford. The Times³ published a half-page photo of the huge crowd that was assembled. My off-white cowboy hat and fleece-lined suede coat made it easy to spot us in the photo. We showed the clipping to all of our friends.

My first New Years in Connecticut was also memorable. I decided to roast Cornish game hens for supper, and we invited Tom Corcoran and Patti Lewonczyk to join us. The four of us were also invited by Tom Garabedian and Gail Mertan to a party at Tom’s house in East Hartford. The meal was a big success. I think that Sue cooked some kind of vegetables, maybe her famous carrots Lyonaise. Of course, we also served wine.

We all probably ate too much. No one felt like going to a party. However, it was less than a mile to the Garabedian house. So, we all piled into one of the cars and drove there.

The only two people in the house when we arrived were Tom and Gail. Evidently Tom had persuaded his parents to make themselves scarce. Tom and Gail had laid out a cornucopia of food and beverages—enough for several dozen people. No one else ever came. It was not much of a party, but if we had submitted to the lethargy induced by the supper, it would have been a disaster.

Over the holidays I got to meet some of Sue’s family. Her parents, Art and Effy Slanetz, and siblings all lived in a farm house on North Maple St. in Enfield. Sue was the oldest child; she had two sisters, Karen and Betty. They were nothing alike. She also had a brother Don. I met Effy’s dog, Queenie, and a bevy of Sue’s uncles, aunts, and cousins, all of whom lived within a few miles of the Slanetz’s house⁴. Many of them seemed to make a living by driving trucks in one way or another. Their favorite sport was NASCAR. I did not contribute much to the banter.

Behind the house was a fairly large field that was actively farmed by the Polek family that lived in the house that was between the Slanetz’s house and a warehouse in which Art stored all kinds of old mechanical junk. Sue told me that that the field was their family’s land at one time. When she was little they raised potatoes.

The winters in the seventies were brutal. Early in 1973 (I think) I was driving Greenie, and Sue was riding shotgun after a snowfall of a couple of inches. We were headed south on I-91 through Hartford. I was driving at a very reasonable speed in the right lane, and, thank God, there were no cars nearby. All of a sudden my car’s rear wheels began moving to the left, but the front wheels did not. The car performed a spin of about 315°, and my left front bumper whipped into the guardrail on the left, which brought us to a halt.. Neither of us was injured. We were both wearing seat belts—I never let anyone ride in my car without a seat belt. It was amazing that my car suffered only a negligibly small bump, and the vehicle was positioned so that I could quickly steer back onto the highway. This scary event made me realize that I had to be very careful with this car in dicey road conditions.

Sue had a very large number of friends. My favorites were Bob and Susan Thompson. Bob worked in a small factory. He complained about the smell of the chemicals there. His job might have had something to do with linoleum. I think that Susan was a teacher. They had a house in Coventry and an extremely amorous dachshund. Once he gained purchase on a pants leg he was difficult to detach. Bob owned a Plymouth that saw its best days in the Eisenhower administration, or maybe earlier. In snowy weather he liked to take it into an empty parking lot and make it spin donuts.

When we had not seen Bob and Susan for a few months, I asked Sue why. She said that she had loaned them some money, and she was pretty sure that they were avoiding her because they could not afford to repay her.

On Valentine’s Day 2013 I bought Sue a present and a card. She had forgotten about it, and therefore she did not reciprocate. I took it a little hard.

Eventually I learned that Sue and time just did not get along. She regularly forgot holidays, birthdays, and appointments. She also could not gauge the passage of time. She might think that events occurred a week ago actually happened two months earlier. If she said that something would take fifteen minutes, it usually took an hour or more. If any food (e.g., beef or lamb) needed to be cooked for a specific amount of time, I had to do it. In retrospect I marvel that she had chosen to grill steaks for John Sigler and me. I cannot remember how they turned out. I was not paying too much attention to the food that night.

Sue was always late. I adopted the habit of carrying a book around with me for the inevitable waiting periods.

The fridge that we moved wasn't wrapped. — The fridge that we moved wasn’t wrapped.

I recall that in February of 1973 Sue and I helped one of her many friends move to a new place. The woman who was moving might have been one of Sue’s roommates in East Hampton. I remember that I was one of the people assigned to get an old refrigerator up the staircase. We succeeded, but I could not describe what technique was employed beyond brute force. At one point the woman who was moving asked what day it was. I said that it was Saturday the 24th (or whatever it actually was). She said “No. I mean, what month?”

I decided that Sue’s twenty-second birthday on March 2 should be Sue Comparetto Day. I offered to buy her anything that she wanted. She wanted to shop for a camera. We drove to a camera shop of her choosing, and she selected a thirty-five-millimeter camera with a leather case. I would have inserted a photo of it here if I knew where it was. I guarantee that it is in the house somewhere. Sue would never have thrown it out. I did find the case, which still had one of her combs in it.

We went to two concerts together in March. The first was at the Bushnell Auditorium in Hartford on Tuesday March 6. The headliners were Loggins and Messina, whose only real hit “Your Mama Don’t Dance” was very popular at the time. Sue and I must have attended in hopes of seeing the advertised opening act, Jim Croce. Neither Sue nor I can remember him appearing. Apparently he canceled for some reason. Almost everyone in the audience was at least five years younger than we were, and they enjoyed the L&M performance a lot more than we did. By the end of the show we really felt like old fogeys.

The other concert was at the Palace Theater in Waterbury. Pink Floyd had just released “Dark Side of the Moon”, which is widely considered their masterpiece. There were huge speakers blasting out sound from all four corners of the theater, and there was an abundance of strobe lights and other dramatic flashes. The crowd went crazy, but I was definitely ready to leave after fifteen minutes. You can listen to the whole two-hour concert here.

On April 1, 1973, Sue’s husband Dennis committed suicide. Sue went to the funeral. He had attempted suicide at least once in the fall. Sue had visited him in the hospital on that occasion.

When the weather got warmer Sue and I enjoyed a very pleasant trip to Gillette Castle, a bizarre structure that overlooks the Connecticut River. It was built of local fieldstone by the actor William Gillette. He is most famous for his portrayal of Sherlock Holmes more than 1,300 times on the stage, once in a silent film feature, and twice on radio programs. The estate is now a state park. I found it to be a very interesting place. The grounds were very relaxing. There was even a small train that had been used by Gillette himself. We had a very nice picnic.

We also spent some time in the interior⁵ of the castle. The extremely ornate inside was at least as fabulous as the grounds and the view. This was one of my favorite days in my first trip to Connecticut.

At some point Sue decided to quit her job at the Hartford. She found a new line of work at Travelers Equity Sales. She had to take a test to become a registered rep. She passed on the first try and worked there through the spring and most of the summer. While she worked at the Travelers she became a close friend of Diane Robinson, who originally came from Passumpsic VT, and Karen Peterson.

Around the same time that she changed jobs Sue moved to an apartment on Jefferson St. (or maybe Washington St.) in Hartford. I don’t remember much about it. My only clear recollection is of the only time in my life that I ever ran out of gas. I was about two blocks from her house and perhaps one hundred feet from a gas station. Even though it was slightly uphill I was able to push Greenie up to the pump all by myself. I was only a little stronger then; Greenie was very light and easy to push.

During her time at T.E.S. Sue and I started to grow apart. She was a whirlwind of activity, and I often felt left out. She had a gazillion friends of both genders, and sometimes I became jealous. She probably started to think of me as too clingy.

When I met Sue, she already had a boa constrictor named Puca, but he was barely six feet long and skinny. She did not feed him much, and when she did, all that he got was a dead mouse heated over a light bulb to fool his heat-detecting senses. One evening we visited her friends Stan and Pat Slatt in Marlborough. They had a ten-foot boa constrictor that Stan fed live rats and a thirteen-foot python that regularly ate a full-grown rabbit. I had no fear of Puca, but these two monsters gave me pause.

In the summer of 1973 Sue moved to an apartment complex on Wales Rd. in Andover. Her apartment was right across the street from the one that Scott and Cindy Otermat lived with their huge dog Cinders. I saw her only a few times before her big trip.

Sue, Diane, and Karen decided to quit their jobs and drive to Alaska. I am not sure that their plans were any more specific than that. I don’t know what they used for money. Maybe they knocked over a bunch of banks in those states along the Canadian border, or they might have found a big nugget of gold in the Klondike. They did not take Sue’s car. She left it at her apartment, which she “sublet” to a guy who worked on roofs for a living. I am pretty sure that they were “involved” before she left. He also was supposed to take care of Puca, but the reptile escaped from his cage either just before Sue left or just after.

This was the greatest adventure in Sue’s young life, but I was absolutely miserable. I felt sorry for myself. It was hard for me to face all my friends. I took a lot of long walks.

During the trip the three ladies all hooked up with Air Force guys stationed in Alaska. Diane ended up marrying Phil Graziose. They lived in a trailer park in northern Vermont for a number of years and then bought an old house in St. Johnsbury with a storefront in which Phil ran a locksmithing business.

On the trip Sue became seriously involved with an Air Force guy name Randy, who came from, of all places, my home town of Kansas City. I refused to listen to the stories of her adventures, but I could not help overhearing that there was one incident in which someone nearly drowned.

This matchbook cover is the only trace of Fast Eddie’s that I could find on the Internet.

Meanwhile, back in the lower forty-eight Friday, August 17, 1973, was a memorable day. Since it was my twenty-fifth birthday, I invited everyone to help me celebrate. At least eight or ten of us went to Fast Eddie’s bar on the Berlin Turnpike. I had never been drunk in my life, and I had no intention of overindulging that evening. The problem was that we were drinking beer by the pitcher, and people kept refilling my glass without asking me. I never asked for a second glass. My mother had drilled into us that if there was food on our plate or beverage in our glass, we were expected to consume it. If there was a possibility that we might not want it later, we were not to put it on the plate. Once it was there, however, …

At any rate, this was the only time in my life that I have driven a car when I definitely should not have done so. Fortunately, Greenie pretty well knew the way back to my apartment, and there were no incidents. The next day I awoke with my first hangover and played my epic tennis match with Jim Kreidler. It is described here.

Tom Corcoran and Tom Herget had been living in a large old house at 345 Hartford Avenue in Wethersfield. The third housemate had been a guy named Monty. Herget had furnished the house from items he picked up at second-hand stores on Park St. in Hartford. In August of 1973 Monty had to leave for some reason. They asked me if I wanted to take Monty’s place. It was a no-brainer. The rent was less, and life would surely be more interesting. In addition, I would be rid of a lot of scenery that connected with memories that now seemed bitter to me.

In August of 1973 I bought and read the popular book I’m OK—You’re OK by Thomas Anthony Harris. It described the research on hemispheric separation in the brain that showed that under certain circumstances people clearly have two (or more) relatively independent decision-making mechanisms. We identify with only one of them, the one that can read and talk. When something happens that this portion of the brain did not order, we are likely to say “I don’t know why I did that.” Understanding that the first “I” and the second “I” in that sentence are largely independent agents really helped me to understand people, including myself, better.

During this period I was being paid to study for Part 5 of the actuarial exams. The subject matter was indescribably boring. Can you think of anything more tedious than studying the history of mortality tables? I liked my work, and I had made some great friends in Connecticut, but there was one aspect that I really missed—debate tournaments and the thrill of competing at the highest level. I began to think about going back to college to coach debate. I wrote to Bill Colburn at the University of Michigan to inquire if that was feasible. He replied that I needed to apply to graduate school. He thought that he could arrange for financial assistance for me. I also did a little bit of research on my veterans’ benefits.

I heard that Sue had come back from Alaska, but I did not see her for quite some time. Finally she came over to the “345 Club” one evening. For some reason I was up in my bedroom. I think that the two Toms tried to talk her out of it, but she came up to see me. I don’t exactly remember what happened, but she ended up staying the night with me.

I learned that Sue had landed a new job at the “Little Aetna” section of Connecticut General. When she returned from Alaska she discovered that the roofer had not been paying the rent. My recollection is that her car was also repossessed. She eventually found Puca—alive—between two towels in a linen closet.

So, Sue and I began what I think of as the “toll bridge” section of our relationship. In those days the Charter Oak Bridge and the Bissell Bridge had toll booths in both directions. The fastest way from the 345 Club to Sue’s apartment was via the Charter Oak Bridge and I-84⁶. One could save a little money by buying a book of prepaid tickets, and that is what both Sue and I did.

The worst ice storm that I have ever seen hit central Connecticut on December 16-17. More details are provided here. The storm affected Wethersfield much worse than it did Andover. So, like my housemates, I abandoned the 345 Club, brought some clothes to Sue’s apartment, and stayed there for a while.

One morning during that winter—I don’t remember if it was before or after Christmas—I was driving from Andover to Hartford. Greenie was headed westbound on the portion of I-84 between Manchester and Bolton. It was early in the morning; the sun had just come up. The road conditions did not seem too bad, and I was going a moderate speed in the right lane. This time my rear wheels decided to go to the right. My car did a 180° spin before coming to a stop in the breakdown lane on the right side of the highway. I waited for traffic to clear and then, taking advantage of Greenie’s extremely small turning radius, executed a tight U-turn. I then continued on my journey. My mantra was the same as that of every male in his twenties: “No harm; no foul.”

I had decided to fly to Kansas City at Christmas to visit my family. Sue was somewhat shocked when I asked her whether she wanted to come with me, but she said yes⁷. We were only there for a few days, but she got to meet a lot of my family, including Fr. Joe and my grandfather, John Cernech, who by then had become very nearly deaf. She must have slept on the roller bed in Jamie’s room. My recollection is that Jamie had a date on most of the evenings while we were staying there.

Mad Murphy’s was in this building on Union St.

Another event that I remember clearly during the subsequent few months was the night that Sue and I and a group of friends grabbed a table at Mad Murphy’s, a bar near the train station in Hartford. We came there to listen to Sue’s neighbor, Carl Shillo, and his band. We stayed until the closing time, and we had a great time. The highlight was when they played “Ob-la-di Ob-la-da” just before closing. Everyone marched around in a long conga line and sang along.

Passumpsic is an unincorporated village in the town of Barnet. The community is located 3 miles south of St. Johnsbury, the last civilized outpost on I-91.

By April or May I had arranged to coach debate at U-M. I asked Sue if she would come with me. She, who was in those days always ready for an adventure, agreed.

Sue and I drove up to Passumpsic to see Diane and her many siblings at least once. I don’t remember when. Tom Herget came with us. I don’t think that Phil had arrived yet. The Robinsons held a barn dance, which I cannot say that I enjoyed much; dancing is definitely not my thing. My favorite memory of this trip was when Diane’s father claimed that he had always wondered why he and his wife had so many more offspring than the other couples until someone explained to him what caused it.

I am pretty sure that Sue made other trips without me. She considered the three-hour drive an easy one, and she was enthralled by the simple lifestyle of Diane’s family.

In 1972 the Hartford recruited three single guys named Tom. The next year two married actuarial students named Jim were hired—Jim Cochran and Jim Hawke. Their wives were Ann and Lesley respectively. The Cochrans were from Wisconsin. The Hawkes were from Texas, although Jim had a bachelor’s degree in math from UConn. I don’t know how they ended up in the Land of Steady Habits.

I remember at least one evening spent at each of their houses, although I cannot say when either event happened. The Hawkes lived in a house in Manchester and a son named Ethan⁸. Sue and I had supper with the Hawkes and spent most of the evening enjoying Jim’s renditions of rags by Scott Joplin.

A short time after that Jim and Ethan joined Sue and me on an excursion to her property on “Bunyan Mountain”⁹ in Monson, MA. We parked well below Sue’s property and climbed up. I think that we had some sandwiches and toasted marshmallows.

Sue took photos of this occasion. If she can locate any of them, I will post something here.

Jim and Ann Cochran lived in a house in Glastonbury. They invited us over to play the state card game of Wisconsin, Sheepshead. Neither Sue nor I had ever heard of it. I don’t think that anyone outside of the state of Wisconsin has ever played it more than once. Jim and Ann patiently explained all of the rules to us. Then on the first hand something—I don’t remember what—occurred. As a result both Jim and Ann triumphantly yelled out “It’s a leaster!” They then introduced a whole new set of rules as to how this particular hand would be played.

A brief glance at the Wikipedia page for this game lists some of the “variants” to the rules and hints at many others. Even though tournaments of games are allegedly held in Wisconsin, I suspect that the real purpose of this game is to lure unsuspecting non-cheeseheads into playing the game under a small subset of the rules. The Wisconsinites can then introduce new rules often enough to make the foreigners so confused and frustrated that they leave. Then the Wisconsonites can enjoy their fondue in peace.

Sue’s family played a trick-taking game called Setback or Auction Pitch, which has the benefit of far fewer rules. I played a few times, but there did not seem to be much to it. When someone in Sue’s family asked if anyone wanted to play cards, they meant Setback.

In June of 1974 I broke the patella (kneecap) on my right leg playing pickup basketball. The event itself is described here. I had to miss a few days of work, and I was unable to drive at least until the cast was removed. I decided to move in with Sue in Andover. This also seemed like the best time to tell my parents about that she would be taking care of me in her apartment. They were not thrilled by the idea, but at least they did not commandeer a plane and come to rescue me from her clutches. They weren’t too surprised when I told them that she was going to accompany me to Ann Arbor in a few months.

The rest of the summer was rather blissful for me. I could not play softball or golf, but I attended all of the Mean Reserves games and all the other get-togethers. I cannot remember any unpleasant occasions.

1. Senator Tom Eagleton was nominated for Vice President at the 1972 Democratic Convention. Shortly thereafter he resigned from the ticket when it was discovered that he received psychiatric treatment for chronic depression. The Republican Veep candidate, Spiro Agnew, was a crook, but his crimes did not come to light until after the election.

2. Sue and I returned to the castle in the summer of 2020, but because of the pandemic the interior was not open. We had another nice picnic, and I took some spectacular snapshots of the river beneath the castle.

3. For some reason McCormick’s discontinued this wonderful product in 2019 or 2020. Someone has started a “Bring Back McCormick’s Meat Marinade” Facebook page.

4. The Hartford Times was a moderately liberal paper owned by Gannett and published in the afternoon. In 1972, however, it endorsed Nixon. I wrote a letter to the editor in protest. They published one or two of the hundreds that they received about the endorsement, but not mine. The paper was sold in 1973. In 1976 it accepted the fate of most PM papers and ceased publication.

5. I did not realize at the time that I had only met the Lockes, Effy’s side of the family. The Slanetzes were not homebodies at all. They were widely dispersed. Only one Locke had moved away, Sue’s Uncle Bob, whose family lived in western Michigan.

6. Prior to 1984 the interstate highway that runs from Hartford to the Mass Pike just north of Sturbridge was called I-84 from Hartford to Manchester and I-86 east of Manchester. The never completed road that led from Manchester toward Providence was called I-84. Since 1984 the former highway has been called I-84, and the latter I-384.

7. Sue helped with the production of her high school’s musical Oklahoma. She strongly identified with the character of Ado Annie, the “girl who can’t say no”. I hereby affirm that I have hardly ever heard her turn down an invitation to do something, although she will sometimes cancel later when she realizes that it would be impossible for her to be in two places at once. This may be the biggest difference between Sue and me. I have almost never committed to anything unless I was certain that I was willing and able to do it.

8. The youngster grew up to be Ethan Hawke, the famous actor.

9. Evidently this “mountain” is actually part of Chicopee Mountain. Sue obtained this property as part of an agreement with her father-in-law, Chick Comparetto. There is a nice view of the valley from one spot that is either on or near her land.

Wavablog

Memoirs, bridge, popes, travel, and other stuff

Tag Archives: Rockville CT

1981-1985 TSI: The Office and Employees

1980-1981 Transition to Rockville

1977-1980 Part 3B: Debate at Wayne State: The Coaches

1977-1980 Part 3C: Debate at Wayne State: The Debaters

1972-1974 Connecticut: Sue and Mike