1966 Summer Between High School & College

Posted on September 12, 2020 by Mike

In June of 1996 my dad and I made our first and only road trip together. The primary purpose was to help me decide between the University of Iowa and the University of Michigan.

Our first stop was in Detroit, where my dad introduced me to Howard Finsilver¹, a sales agent for my dad’s employer, BMA, and his son, Sandy, who was my age and planned to attend U-M in the fall. I spent some time with Sandy and a group of his friends from (I think) Mumford High. At least one of them was also going to U-M. Then (as now) most good students in the state hoped to attend U-M. In some parts of the country many top students disparage state schools, but not in Michigan. Sandy and all of his friends were quite impressed that I had been admitted as an out-of-state student.

We shot some pool in the basement of the house of one of the friends. Someone then drove Sandy and me around Detroit to show me some of its highlights. I don’t remember details, but I doubt that the Chamber of Commerce would have agreed with the sites that they chose.

The diag and the bell tower at U-M. — The view from the steps of U-M’s graduate library: the diag and the bell tower.

On the next day dad and I drove the thirty-seven miles to Ann Arbor to talk with a professor from the math department. I don’t remember the specifics of the conversation, but I absolutely fell in love with the town, the campus, the entire atmosphere. And that was before I ever set foot in the football stadium. Just about everyone who visits the town in the spring or summer has this reaction.

On the way to Iowa, we stopped somewhere in Indiana to play some golf. I don’t think that either of us enjoyed the round much.

The last hundred or so miles before we got to Iowa City we saw almost nothing but corn on either side of the road. The professor we talked to at the university made a pretty good case, but I had already decided that I wanted to attend the University of Michigan.

My dad was fairly often involved in providing entertainment for some of the company’s salesmen and regional sales managers when they came to the home office in KC. In the middle of July one of the salesmen had brought two of his sons with him on such a visit. One was close to my age and the other, who also worked as a BMA salesman, was in his twenties. I think that their last name was Roberson. BMA bought three primo tickets for me and the two sons for the Starlight Theater, an outdoor venue in Swope Park that showed musicals in the summer. The show was Bye-Bye Birdie, and it starred the rock group Gary Lewis² and the Playboys. This occurred at the height of the group’s popularity. The group had one big hit, “This Diamond Ring”, and a number of other songs that did well on the charts.

I am sure that the newspaper’s caption was useful to those who thought that J.L. was a government figure. If the wife bent forward just a little or wore her hair down, I would be in this photo.

Gary Lewis’s father was the comic actor, Jerry Lewis. On Monday, July 11, Jerry and his wife and entourage were in KC for their son’s opening night. Believe it or not we were in the fifth row right in the middle. Jerry Lewis was seated in the fourth row between his wife, who did not utter a word all night, and another woman who must have been an agent or something. Jerry Lewis himself sat a few inches from my right knee.

As soon as Jerry Lewis arrived, he consulted privately with another staff member who was seated on the other side of Lewis’s wife. The staffer left for a few minutes and then returned with a large paper cup that was quite different from the kind available at the concession stand. Lewis sipped from it until intermission. Before the play started a few young people came up to ask for his autograph. No dice. The staffer who brought the drink did not let them get close to the star.

During the first few minutes of the performance J.L. tried to record the sound. He had great difficulty operating the recording device. The results of his efforts were a snake’s nest of tape around his feet and a torrent of blue language, the likes of which I would not hear again until I took part in basic training at Fort Polk in 1970. He abandoned the recording project somewhere before intermission.

At intermission J.L. and the staffer exited through a door that was not accessible to the public. They returned just before the play resumed. J.L. was fidgety and generally disruptive throughout the rest of the show. He downed another large paper cup of the mystery beverage during the second half. The Robersons told me that they could smell alcohol.

The play itself was OK. The rest of the actors were fine. I am not a big fan of musical comedy, but I had really liked the story when I saw the movie with Ann-Margret³. Gary Lewis was not believable as a teen dreamboat, and his rendition of “One Last Kiss” was almost laughable, IMHO. The group then played “This Diamond Ring”. They might have also played one or two other songs. There was no screaming from teenage girls in the audience.

I enjoyed Cinderfella, mostly because I was captivated by Anna Maria Alberghetti

At the end the Robersons asked the staff lady politely for autographs, but Jerry Lewis wanted only to get out of the theater immediately. He was in a very bad mood.

My opinion of Jerry Lewis did not change much. I thought that he was a self-centered obnoxious jerk both before and after this occasion. He pretty much ruined the event for everyone within fifteen feet of him.

I don’t remember what I did for the rest of the summer other than mow lawns and play golf. I don’t recall a job.

In late August my parents drove me and some of my belongings to Ann Arbor. Jamie probably came with us. I don’t remember much about the trip except my eagerness to get on with the next phase of my life. Of course, I was also a little nervous.

The University had notified me that I had been assigned to 315 Allen Rumsey⁴ House in West Quad. We drove there and met the third-floor RA, Jim Krogsrud, whom everyone called Gritty. Because classes did not begin until the following week, almost no one had moved in yet. Nearly all incoming freshmen had attended the week-long orientation period during the summer. I was allowed to stay in room 315 while I attended the orientation.

Gritty explained that all the rooms were doubles, but three people had been assigned temporarily to room 315. He said that he was sure that this would be promptly resolved. The family helped me carry my stuff up to the room. Then I said good-bye to them, and they drove off into the sunset.

Gritty asked me a few questions, one of which was whether I played bridge. He was very happy to hear that I did. He and Andy, the house’s RD, liked to play, and they were looking for opponents. He also explained how the laundry and other aspects of life in the dorm worked.

They must have served meals in the West Quad dining room for the few of us who were there that week. I don’t remember having to find restaurants or walk to another dorm.

After breakfast on the day after my parents left I met with my orientation group. Our group leader was a guy. I don’t remember his name. The members of our group were all enrolled in the college of Literature, Science, and the Arts. One of the first orders of business was taking language placement tests. LS&A had a two-year language requirement. I was preparing myself mentally for the Latin test when the group leader told me that he had received a note stating that I did not need to take the test. He said that he had never heard of such a thing. He advised me to take the test anyway.

I showed up for the Latin test. It consisted of a multiple choice grammar test and a sight translation of some lines from Vergil. It seemed pretty easy to me; I was the first person to leave the test room.

I later learned that my 790 on the SAT’s Latin achievement test was the reason why I did not need to take the test. However, I did not get any academic credits for skipping the four semesters of introductory Latin. I did, however get three credits for Advanced Placement English and eight for AP math.

A few days later I got to consult with my academic advisor, who was, of all things, a biology professor. I only met with him for a few minutes once per semester; I don’t recall his name. He told me that I should have been invited to the honors program. He made a few phone calls, after which he told me that I was now in it. He then penciled in a schedule of four classes for me:

Math 195. There were three math sequences, two for honors and one for others. 195 was the first class for the higher ranking of the two introductory honors math sequences.
Great Books, an honors class in the English department.
Chemistry 103, the introductory class for students who did not take chemistry in high school.
Russian 101, which would meet a requirement for math majors—two semesters of Russian or German.
Two semesters of phys ed were also required for freshmen. I picked the course in golf for the first semester.

However, when I got to the actual registration, I discovered that all sections of Great Books were closed. So, I added a 300-level Latin class that focused on Cicero’s orations. It was only a two-hour class, but I already had eleven credits under my belt from the AP tests.

I felt pretty good about this schedule. The subject that worried me the most was chemistry. I figured that I would need to work harder than I did in high school, but that was not really saying much.

While at registration I came across a girl distributing flyers for the U-M debate program. On Tuesday, the day before classes began, the team was holding an open house for anyone who was interested in debate. Based on my lackluster high school career, I had little expectation of debating at U-M, but I took the flyer anyway.

I was on my own in Ann Arbor. I knew almost no one. Only a handful of guys⁵ had moved into Allen Rumsey House yet. The only other person on the third floor of AR was Gritty. I probably should have made an effort to meet people in my orientation group—in all likelihood most were from other states with no friends in Ann Arbor. It never occurred to me. That’s the way I am.

I spent a great deal of time in my room that first week playing one-at-a-time, once-through-the-deck Klondike solitaire. I recorded all of my scores. I also read quite a bit. I had an AM-FM radio, but no other electronics.

In 1966 all freshman students were required to live in dorms. The residence halls were called “houses.” The men’s houses were in three groups. The houses in East Quad and West Quad had only males. South Quad had men’s houses and women’s houses. The remainder of the houses for girls were on the northeast side of central campus in the area known as “The Hill”.

Having been constructed in the thirties, Allen Rumsey House (#1 in the above photo) was the oldest dorm on campus. Little had been done to modernize it in the ensuing decades. With approximately one hundred guys, it was also the smallest house.

On the east side was a corridor between AR and the International House (#3). Wenley House (2), which was almost as old as AR, shared a wall on the west. South Quad was to the south, on the other side of East Madison St. On the north side was a courtyard. Two doors on the other side of led to the central section of West Quad, which contained the cafeteria and a lounge area. A third door led to the bowling alley (#4) and a shortcut to the Michigan Union (#5) and the rest of the central campus, the site of all my classes.

I quickly found the lounge on the first floor of Allen Rumsey House. It had comfortable chairs, a trophy case, a rug, and a piano. The house subscribed to the Michigan Daily, the Ann Arbor News, and a few magazines, including, I later learned, Playboy.

Downstairs was a game room with a small pool table, a ping pong table, and a free juke box! A section of this room and a separate room had televisions and chairs. Both TVs were 19″ black and whites. Next to the small TV room was a study hall that AR shared with Wenley House.

I eventually got up the nerve to shoot pool with another lonely guy named Dan Schuman. He had no hair anywhere on his body, and he was very cynical. We got along great. We played eight-ball. Although he was a better shot than I was, he was unaccustomed to an opponent who always left the cue ball pinned to a rail. The games were long and, for him, frustrating. I usually won.

Used books for every class could be purchased at the two big bookstores, Ulrich’s and Follett’s. Ulrich’s was on South University; Follett’s was on State St. I bought the textbooks for Russian, Math, and Chemistry at one of them. The Latin class had no textbook.

I think that classes started on the Wednesday after Labor Day, September 7. By Tuesday I knew that my roommates in 315 were Ed Agnew from Bloomfield, MI, and Paul Stoner from Adrian. Across the hall in 314 was Dave Zuk. His assigned roommate did not show up. So, Gritty had us draw straws or something to decide who would move across the hall. Paul was selected.

This was good news and bad news. I did not like Ed very much, but I did like his stereo. His taste in music did not accord with mine or anyone else’s that I have ever met. He loved “big band” music, and his all-time favorite recording was the soundtrack from Victory at Sea. However, he did let me use his stereo when he was not around, which, I soon discovered, was essentially every afternoon and evening.

I did not bring any of my records, but 1966 was an exceptional year for popular music. I spent most of my savings on albums. That is to say, I bought three or four records.

I didn't have any, but this is what they looked like. — I didn’t have any, but this is what razor blades looked like in the sixties.

Our room was on the north (courtyard) side. I claimed the bed on the west side, leaving the one on the east side for Ed. Two big windows on the north side were fronted by a large double desk with two chairs. The east wall was an external wall, but there were no windows. We each had a dresser. Maybe we shared a closet. There was a sink with a mirror over it on my side. There was also a slot over the sink for disposal of dull razor blades. I have never seen anything like it anywhere else. I wonder how many blades were inside the wall. I used an electric razor in college. Each room had a plain wall phone. I don’t remember whether they allowed us to make calls on it or not. To get mail you had to walk to the center part of West Quad next to the cafeteria.

I always just walked up State St. to the Frieze Bldg. I don't know why google maps advises avoiding it. — I always just walked up State St. to the Frieze Bldg. I don’t know why google maps advises avoiding it.

I attended the debate meeting in a room on the second floor of the Frieze Building, the headquarters of the speech department. About twenty people attended. We got to meet Dr. Bill Colburn and a couple of grad student coaches, including Jeff Sampson, who debated at Northwestern, a national power. Evidently there was no individual events program.

All of the new people filled out a form outlining our experience and interests, and then we watched a debate between two of the varsity teams. I thought that they were both horrible, and I was shocked to learn that they were U-M’s best teams.

I was paired with a fellow from Portland, ME, named Bob Hirshon. They told us that the topic was “Resolved that the United States should substantially reduce its foreign policy commitments.” Bill and Jeff privately made it clear that they were excited that Bob and I were interested in debate, and they wanted us to represent U-M at the Michigan Intercollegiate Speech League (MISL) novice tournament in October. We would be debating only on the negative. I was second negative.

I was shocked to be on the receiving end of all of this attention. I was uncertain whether I would be able to handle it, but I agreed to try. So did Bob.

1. Howard Finsilver died in 2005.

2. According to Wikipedia Gary Lewis was a better drummer than a singer. His voice was overdubbed on the recordings of his hits. I was surprised to learn that he was drafted the following January and served in Vietnam and Korea. After his hitch in the army he stayed on the fringes of show business with new incarnations of his band. In 2020 he was still performing at age 74.

3. Just to be clear, Ann-Margret appeared in the movie; she wasn’t my date.

4. Ann Arbor is named after Ann Allen and Ann Rumsey, early settlers of the town.

5. In 1966 there were no coed dorms at U-M. In fact, female students were not even allowed to enter Allen Rumsey House except under special circumstances.

1961 Spelling Bee

Posted on September 9, 2020 by Mike

Big fish in a small pond? Continue reading →

QHRS students were graded in spelling every six-week period. We were issued a “speller”, which was a soft-cover textbook that had words that were appropriate to the grade level. There were exercises in it, too, but I cannot remember what they were like. Although I only glanced at these books, I don’t think that I ever got anything but an A in spelling in my eight years at QHRS.

We had spelling bees in class now and then. Since I almost certainly read as much or more than anyone else in the class, and I was extremely arrogant, I always expected to win. Sometimes I did. Sometimes I missed a word and had to sit down and resume making spitballs.

In the early part of 1961 (when I was in the seventh grade) an announcement was delivered over the intercom concerning the National Spelling Bee. QHRS was participating, and students from all grades were eligible. The way it worked was that two students from each class were allowed/required to go to Sr. Dominica’s office for a spell-down to determine the school champion. This “lucky” person would be allowed/required to go to Olathe, the county seat, for the championship of Johnson County, KS, the next step toward the national championship.

I don’t remember anything like this in any previous years. I think that 1961 was the first year.

The two seventh grade classes had a spelling bee to select our two representatives. I remember that it rapidly boiled down to five or six spellers. I was one; the others were all girls, most of whom were holding rosaries or holy medals. The eliminated boys manufactured ammunition. In the end Patty Lally and I were left standing. We were escorted to the principal’s office, where we stopped to glance at Dante’s words over the door: “Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate“. We went in.

The one on our altar had curtains and a lock.

The final round held there was at once comical and intense. On the one hand there were first graders stumbling over one-syllable words. On the other hand the respected yet despised eighth graders were also there. Even so, they all fell before Patty and me. The pair of us traded correct renditions for a few rounds, and then I was presented with a conundrum, the word “tabernacle”.

Most people probably have never seen this word when it is not surrounded by “Mormon” and “Choir”. However, as an altar boy I knew precisely what a tabernacle was. Hundreds of times I had had a ringside seat¹ when Fr. Ryan or Fr. Finnerty opened the tabernacle to remove the wine and hosts that were about to transubstantiate into the body and blood of Christ. I also remembered the word being used in the Bible to describe the place in which the Israelites kept the Ark of the Covenant.

I definitely knew the letters that composed the word and the order. What I was uncertain of was whether the first letter was capitalized. I tried to visualize it with a small t, and it did not look right. So, I announced that the first letter was capital T. When I finished, the judges conferred for a minute or so before deciding that I was wrong. So, I left the office and walked down the hallway convinced that I had let down both my family and my gender.

Then someone came running out of the office to tell me that I must summon whatever hope remained in my soul and reenter Sr. Dominica’s lair. Needless to say, Patty spelled “tabernacle” correctly. I mean, the judges gave the game away when they took so long to make a decision. However, to win she needed to spell one more word, and she missed some embarrassingly easy word. I am not sure what it was. They asked me to spell it, and I did. Then I spelled another word correctly. So, I was declared the winner.

What did I win? Well, there was no trophy or even a certificate. I won a few broadsheet pages of newspaper that contained nothing but a very long list of somewhat obscure words. There was no guarantee that any of the words would be used in any subsequent contest, and words that were not on the list were also fair game.

I don't think that they made us wear numbers. — I don’t think that they made us wear numbers.

I felt obligated to go over the list once or twice before the county championship in Olathe², but there was no context for any of the words, and I, mindful that most probably would never be used, was not about to look up every word on the list in a dictionary. So, I probably was not as prepared as the people who were really serious about this (or at least they were in the episode of Psych—season 1, episode 2).

I don’t remember too much about the county spelling bee. My mother drove me to Olathe. Nobody from QHRS was there. In fact, I don’t think that anyone besides parent-chauffeurs attended.

I spelled a handful of words correctly. About half the spellers had been eliminated when I missed a word. I don’t remember what the word was. I was not as competitive in those days as I became later. Maybe I had not tasted enough failure.

It surprises me that I cannot remember any spelling bees during my last year at QHRS. Maybe the school did not participate in the national contest that year.

1. Actually, of course, I was always kneeling.

2. At the time Olathe was separated from the Johnson County suburbs by plenty of farmland. Now those farms are long gone. Olathe and the Shawnee Mission towns are contiguous. Our drive in 1961 was mostly on two-lane roads with fields on both sides. I-435 did not yet exist. The east-west street at the bottom of this map is 135th St. So, it was almost as far south of QHRS as the school was from the junction of the Kaw and Missouri Rivers.

1961-1962 QHRS Rockets Basketball

Posted on September 7, 2020 by Mike

The Washington Generals had nothing on us. Continue reading →

If we had had this gym, we could have been contenders.

Basketball has never really been my sport. As a kid I had very little opportunity to learn the game. The Queen of the Holy Rosary parish did not have a gym,¹ and there were no baskets on any of the houses in my neighborhood on Maple Street. There were two basketball goals in the asphalt parking lot at school, but by the time that I reached the sixth grade, we spent our recess periods on the field in back of the school.

When I was in the eighth grade an announcement was made over the intercom that QHRS would have a basketball team in the CYO league. I don’t think that the school even had a team the previous year, but I could be wrong. I do know that, unlike in football, only the eighth graders were allowed to play.

In grade school I participated in absolutely every activity that the school offered. So, despite the fact that I had only played a few times and only even watched a very few games on television, I tried out for the team. Everyone made the team, which consisted of ten or twelve guys. I was not a starter, but I was also not the worst player on the team.

We had uniforms, but I am not sure whether we had numbers. Maybe we just had tee shirts. I think that I would remember my number if we had them. We had to supply our own sneakers, socks, and, in my case, glasses guard.

Our coach was Pat Wise’s father. The school must have rented some space at a nearby public school that had a gymnasium. We practiced there a few times, but I cannot recall actually learning how to play. We ran layup drills and scrimmaged. I am pretty sure that we had no actual plays.

Going into our penultimate game we had zero victories. In fact, we had never come close. I had been inserted a few times in garbage time, but I never scored any points. So, we all knew that we had only two more chances for glory.

I wonder if the starters for the Washington Generals ever missed the first half.

I am not sure whom we were scheduled to face in that epic game, maybe Blessed Sacrament. We assembled at QHRS and then went to the game in two cars. For some reason all of the starters rode together.

I was in the other car with the rest of the scrubs. We arrived at the gym and started to warm up. Quite a bit of time went by, and there was no sign of the other car. We did not have cell phones or beepers in those days. So, the five of us who were there had to start. I am not sure that we even had a coach or that anyone had assigned positions. Basically we just freelanced.

The first half ended before the other car arrived. The starters were pleasantly surprised to learn that we were actually in the lead at the half. I think that I made one basket from two or three feet away and one free throw.

Despite the assurance from our starters that they would be able to “take it from here,” we ended up losing a rather close game. We also lost the last game. So, in my three seasons of competition in grade school football and basketball, my teams had zero wins and one tie.

We built a lot of character.

1. When the new church was built after we moved to Leawood, the old church was converted into a gymnasium.

1955-1961 Part 5: Events and Activities

Posted on September 4, 2020 by Mike

Daily life in Prairie Village, KS Continue reading →

Jamie: The biggest event, by far, of my years in grade school was the birth of my sister Jamie on January 4, 1956. Since I had been hoping for a younger brother whom I could shape in my own image, I was bitterly disappointed at the news. I was seven years and four and a half months old, in the middle of second grade in the weird split class taught by Sr. Lucy.

I remember little about those first few years. She quickly became a very cute little girl with blonde hair and dark eyes. Both of my parents had very dark hair and brown eyes. I inherited their hair, and she got their eyes. Her hair got darker as she got older. My eyes constantly changed color but never turned completely brown. I can’t remember Jamie having any serious health issues while we were in Prairie Village.

We would often watch Romper Room (with Miss Virginia) or Captain Kangaroo while I waited for my school bus to arrive. Our favorite parts were the Tom Terrific cartoons, especially Might Manfred the Wonder Dog. Jamie called me “buzzer”, and when the Bluebird arrived, she happily announced “Bus school!”

War! The player on the bottom wins all ten cards in the middle.

When she was older we sometimes played cards seated on the floor in the living room. Her favorite game was war, which she almost always won. I have never been known to take losing very graciously. On one occasion, after a few defeats at war, I was frustrated enough to suggest that we play a different game called sevens and fives. I invented rules as we went along, always with some reference to seven or five, for example, “Oh, you got a deuce, 7-5=2, so you must give me five cards.” She never caught on, and I was finally victorious.

My parents sometimes joined us in the Game of Life. I did not cheat.

My dad worked in advertising and public relations. His company, Business Mens Assurance (BMA) required him to travel a few times every year. My mom also usually attended the annual meeting, which was held at some resort location like Sun Valley, ID, or Banff in Canada. On those occasions we had a babysitter. I think that my grandmother Clara took care of us once or twice, but usually the sitter was hired. Jamie and I did not like this. The ladies were nice enough, but we were used to delicious and nutritious meals every night. None of the sitters came close to reaching this standard.

On the other hand, if my dad went on a trip by himself, our meals actually improved. There were a few really tasty dishes that my dad banned from the table. There were several of these, but the most memorable one was chicken breasts wrapped in bacon and chipped beef, covered with mushrooms, and baked in cream of mushroom or cream of chicken soup. She served it over rice, which my dad detested.¹

Jamie went to kindergarten at Tomahawk School when I was in the eighth grade at QHRS. I paid scant attention at the time. However, much later she told me that she had to walk to school, and on one occasion some older kids had assaulted her in some way, verbally or physically or both. That is all that I know; I have no recollection of this at all.

Jamie liked to go to Fairyland, a small amusement park on the Missouri side. Our parents took us a few times. I did not enjoy it much. Rides have never been my thing.

Medical/Physical: My health was generally good. My mom had to take me to Dr. Batty’s office to get stitched up a few times. Other than that I was pretty healthy; I probably got the flu once or twice, but I remember that I had close to perfect attendance nearly every year. I never even broke any bones.

I got the left side but never the right.

Like everyone who was around when the polio vaccine effectively removed one gigantic worry, my mother definitely believed in inoculations. Since I hated needles, this was a problem for me, especially since my smallpox inoculation never “took”. I had to go back every year or two to try again. Several times my mother sat me down and emphasized that if there was ever an outbreak of smallpox, I must try to get inoculated.

My dental health was essentially perfect after the water got fluoridated. I had hyperdontia, an extra tooth between my upper incisors and the left canine. The dentist checked it every time that I visited his office. Finally he decided to pull it, and all of the other teeth just adjusted themselves in my gums. I never needed braces.

I got my first pair of glasses in 1959, and until the end of high school every time that I went to the optometrist I needed a stronger prescription. After I reached forty I needed reading glasses, but a decade or so later, my need for both types of lenses decreased.

I have hypermobility in the joints of my hands. In grade school I could painlessly touch every finger and my thumb on my left hand back to my wrist. My right hand was only a little less flexible. I could also slip any finger in and out of the lowest joint. I could still touch my left thumb all the way back a few years ago, but it hurt. Now my fingers sometimes painfully slip into the wrong joint by themselves, and I have to force them back.

I entertained the guys and grossed out the girls with these tricks. I also liked to show how I could wiggle my nostrils and my ears. I learned the former from a pet rabbit and the latter (both at once or one at a time) from Howdy Doody’s goofy friend, Dilly Dally.

Pets: I have a dim recollection of a pet rabbit that got away and got caught by a dog a few houses down the street. That did not end well.

I know that I also had parakeets at least twice. One was named Mickey, and one was named Nicky. I taught them both to talk.

One day a black and tan dachshund showed up in our back yard. He would not leave, and he came inside as soon as we opened the door. My dad wanted nothing to do with him, but my mom, after placing notices in all the proper places, gave him food and water. I named him Sam.

After a couple of months, when everyone but my dad had fallen in love with him, some people from a few blocks away claimed Sam. We let them have him back, of course, but the three of us were pretty upset about it.

At the time my grandmom Hazel also kept in her apartment in KC MO a slightly chubbier dachshund with the same coloring named Tippy. At some point after Sam’s departure she gave Tippy, whose real name was Donnys Perry von Kirsch, to us. He was a little more difficult to love, but, once again, three of us came around.

The problem with Tippy was that he liked to bite ankles. He had a wonderfully intuitive sense of where every creature’s Achilles’ tendon was located, and he had strong jaws. There were a few small incidents, but we learned to control him.

Tippy liked to sleep with me in my bed, and, after we had moved to Leawood, he loved to play ball with me in the living room. I would throw a handball against the brick base of the fireplace. He would chase it when it bounced back. Then we would fight over the ball, and he would growl with pleasure.

I remember that on one Easter Sunday my mother had baked a rather large ham in the morning. I don’t know why, but while we were at mass she left it on the kitchen table. Tippy somehow got up on the table and devoured about half of it. Needless to say, my mom was upset, but there was instant karma. Tippy was miserable with an upset stomach for several days.

Sports: My parents occasionally visited their friends, Boots and Fay Hedrick², to play poker. They had a son, John, who was my age. He had a deluxe Erector Set, and a basketball hoop was in their driveway.

For some reason, I spent the afternoon at his house once, and we watched the Celtics on TV. Ever since then I have been a Celtics fan. I have never seen an NBA game in person except for one exhibition game to which Tom Corcoran invited me in the nineties.

I played football and basketball at QHRS. Separate posts document my heroics on the gridiron and (posted here and here) the hardwood (posted here).

I was an avid but not fanatical baseball card collector. I also read all of the box scores for every Major League game every day. Since there were only sixteen teams at first, this was not that burdensome.

I played 3&2 baseball. My travails and glory on the diamond are detailed here.

There was not a lot of space around our house. I was therefore very excited to discover the Wiffle Ball shortly after its commercial introduction. It allowed baseball games in confined areas. I saved up my allowance money and rode my bike to the Prairie Village shopping center to buy the original set, which consisted of a skinny wooden bat and a hollow plastic ball with holes on one side to facilitate curves.

The holes provide wind resistance. Thus, a Wiffle Ball will go nearly as fast as a hardball when it is thrown or hit, but it will slow down much more rapidly. To make the ball curve, the holes must stay on the same side of the ball throughout flight. Any spin added by the fingers or wrist is counterproductive.

The best pitch, in my opinion is thrown perfectly sidearm with the holes down. This causes the ball to sink, and, since the harder part of the ball is on top, it normally produces hard grounders or soft fly balls, both of which are usually easy outs. The spectacular pitches are straight overhand with the holes on one side or the other. Whereas a major league curve ball might break two or three feet, a Wiffle Ball will often break twice that much (over a much shorter distance), and the right curve and left curve are thrown with exactly the same motion. It is also possible to throw a sidearm riser, but the hard side is on the bottom, and so fly balls carry pretty well.

The balls did not last long. They tended to crack and tear because the bat had no “give”. Seldom did a ball last a week. A few years later a 32″ yellow plastic bat greatly improved the durability of the balls. My training with throwing and catching a Wiffle Ball did not greatly improve my performance in hardball, but i put it to good use in our pickup games at Sandia Base in 1971.

I also collected football cards and played with them in the hallway. I remember being astounded by the Charlie Ana card because his weight was listed at 300 pounds. This is a vivid memory, but it must be wrong. There is no trace of him on google.

My dad and I watched NFL games together. He liked the Chicago Bears. My favorite team was the upstart Cleveland Browns. My favorite players were Otto Graham, Lou “The Toe” Groza, and, a few years later, Jim Brown.

I went bowling at Overland Bowl a few times. They charged ten cents a line and had human pinsetters. I was not very good. I could not get the ball to curve on demand, perhaps because of my super-flexible wrists. My best game was 180, a record that stood until I rolled a 190 when I was in my fifties. That was the last game that I ever bowled.

I also remember that my grandmother Clara took me and my cousins Johnny, Terry, and Ricky bowling at least once in Leavenworth. That establishment also employed someone to set the pins. I remember this as a great time. I am pretty sure that my grandmother also treated us to some ice cream.

I never took bowling as seriously as other sports. I did not have a ball, and I had to rent shoes. I remember, however, that my parents bought Jamie and me an indoor bowling game that had vinyl pins and a hollow plastic ball. We set it up in the hallway of the house on Maple St. It was the perfect width.

King Louie was the big name in bowling allies in KC. They had automatic pinsetting machines and projectors that displayed the scores above each lane. They charged a lot more than a dime. Some of their buildings seemed like palaces to me.

My dad could not swim. My mother insisted that I take swimming lessons in the morning at the Prairie Village Pool. I think that I did this for two years, but I don’t remember the details.

I did not enjoy this activity. It usually seemed chilly to me before entering the water, and I was so cold after I got out that I could not stop my teeth from chattering. Another annoying factor was that I was a below-average swimmer. It was obvious that no matter how much I practiced, I would never be very good.

I often rode my bike to swimming lessons. One morning a German shepherd came sprinting toward me from the left. I have never been afraid of animals, but this one jumped up and bit me on the left thigh. I don’t remember what happened next, but the dog’s owners had to keep him chained up for a month to make sure that he was not rabid. My wound was not serious; I don’t even think that I needed stitches.

One great benefit of the swimming lessons was that I was able to earn the Swimming Merit Badge without much difficulty. I also took a Red Cross class that rewarded me with the Lifesaving Merit Badge, at that time the biggest impediment for most guys to attaining the rank of eagle.

No skiing or skating.

Fads: I could make the hula hoop spin for a few minutes, but I was not great at it.

In 1959 or 1960 trampoline parks started popping up like dandelions in Johnson County. I never went to one. Suddenly they all closed down, presumably because of lawsuits from people who broke an arm or leg.

The only songs on the radio that I really liked through my years in grade school were novelty songs like “Beep Beep” or the ones that featured a guy imitating Walter Winchell.

Scouting: I spent a lot of time in the Boy Scouts. I became a Cub Scout as soon as I was eligible, and I went right up all the ranks—Wolf, Bear, Lion, Webelo. My mother was a den mother for a while. We wore our uniforms to school if we had a meeting afterwards. I remember that “A cub scout follows Akela,” but I never had any idea what it meant.

I was also in Boy Scouts. At the end of the summer after eighth grade, I had achieved the rank of Life, and I only needed one merit badge for Eagle.

Getting lost in KC is almost unheard of.

My favorite merit badge was for hiking. It required three or four hikes of a few miles and one longer hike. I took the long hike with Gary Garrison and maybe one other guy. There were no adults. We walked out to Swope Park, had a picnic lunch, spent at least an hour or two at the zoo, and returned. We did not solve any of the world’s problems, but we at least defined the crucial issues concerning our friends, our families, and our school. It was tiring, but we had a great time.

I almost always enjoyed extended periods of time spent with friends. I loved going on camping trips. I never missed one. Our troop usually camped out in a field, which still abounded in the KC area, at least once per summer. On one of these outings I first tried coffee. I could tolerate the bitter taste if I added quite a bit of milk and sugar. I never drank coffee regularly until I started working on computer programs ten or more hours per day in the eighties.

I attended all the Camporees, held on one weekend every year. We had to put up our own tents and sleep on air mattresses or whatever we brought. Patrols competed against one another in various events. The one that I remember is knot-tying. I also remember frying steaks in Italian dressing. It was an accident, but they were absolutely delicious.

The most memorable one was when the clouds exploded one night, and I awoke to find myself afloat on my air mattress outside of the tent. We packed up and abandoned the field on which we were camping at dawn. It was great fun!

I absolutely loved going to Camp Naish for a week every year. We slept in permanent tents with raised wooden floors. We used straw mattresses. They supplied the straw and bed frames; we supplied the ticks and sleeping bags.

We sang interesting songs at meals, and there were huge bonfires most nights. We did all kinds of stufff—orienteering, capture the flag, many varieties of games with pocket knives such as stretch, mumbley-peg, and chicken. I cannot remember any medical emergencies, but I have trouble imagining how they could have been avoided.

I have many other memories, too, but I think that I will keep them to myself. I will just say that you grow up a little bit each year at scout camp.

I was never homesick. I have absolutely no negative memories of summer camp. My only negative memory of any camping trip was that Camporee night in which the field in which we were camping transmuted into a shallow lake.

One year Boy Scout Troop 295 (or maybe Cub Scout Pack 205) must have needed money. We were all asked to sell upscale candy bars to our neighbors. The person who sold the most won a new bicycle. I knocked on a lot of doors, and I did sell a lot of candy. However, Mike Kirk sold more and won the bike. I won the second prize, twenty silver dollars, which are still resting comfortably in an envelope in my sock drawer as I write these words. I suspect that they are worth a lot more today than Mike Kirk’s bicycle.

I read Boys’ Life from cover to cover every month. I especially enjoyed the fiction, which for several months involved the adventures of an alien being.

Me wearing last year’s pants sitting on my saxophone case with QHRS’s best lunch between my feet. I was probably waiting for the school bus. The shoes puzzle me. I could swear that I never wore loafers.

Music: I did not have much interest in recorded music until the eighth grade. However, QHRS did have a band of sorts. My parents agreed to purchase an instrument for me. My inability to pucker eliminated the brass instruments. I ended up selecting the saxophone. The cheapest available model was an E-flat alto, which is what I got. If I had it to do over, I would pick a piano or a string instrument, which would have forced me to learn more about chords and keys.

The band director was Rocco DeMart. My mom would drive me to lessons with him in the basement of Jenkins Music Store in Prairie Village. The band put on at least one concert, and Mr. DeMart also held recitals. I played in at least two of them.

I did not really enjoy playing the saxophone much. My mother had to nag me to practice. My only clear recollection from those days was Mr. DeMart’s pleasure when I unexpectedly played “Was that the human thing to do?” in double-time. He thought that the way that I played it sounded better than the way that it was written.

The saxophone mysteriously disappeared when I was in the Army.

Reading: I read a very large number of books. I can’t tell you why, but I read David Copperfield twice. I really enjoyed Robert Louis Stevenson and anything that had sports or adventure.

Movies: I remember going to a few films. I am pretty sure that I saw Gone with the Wind in the theater with my mother and some other people. I slept through most of it.

The movies that I saw with friends were mostly westerns or war movies. I remember standing with some friends in a very long line at the Overland Theater to see Sink the Bismarck. We got all the way to the front of the line. However, rather than sell us a ticket, they told us that it was sold out. We all had to ride our bikes home, but we saw it later. It was not worth all of that effort.

Birthday Party: One year my parents said that I could have a birthday party. I got to invite two guests. I chose Joe Fox and either Kent Reynolds³ or Rick Ahrendt. I don’t remember any other details. Hardly ever did any of my friends come to our house.

I also threw myself a party for my thirtieth birthday in 1978. Other than that, none.

Visits: My dad would occasionally bring home one of his company’s agents or sales managers for supper. These were basically non-events for me. After supper I would retreat to my room to read, work on model airplanes, or play with my baseball cards.

I am not sure of this, but I think that occasionally my mom would host three ladies in the afternoon to play bridge. I might have watched a few hands. I know that by the time that I was in high school I had a reasonably good idea of how to play. It seems plausible that I might have learned something by watching. I think that we had a copy of one of Charles Goren’s books. If so, I undoubtedly read it. I read all the books that my parents had.

My dad’s army buddy, Jake Jacobson, visited us at least once. I am not sure of the year, but I clearly remember several things. It was warm out, and Jake drove us around in his convertible. In those days he was portly enough that he could use his stomach for steering if he needed both hands for something else.

We drove out to Swope Park in KC MO for a picnic. Mom was there, but I don’t think Jamie was around yet. Jake and dad drank beers and threw the empty cans into trash cans from long range. Such antics were new to me. When I got rambunctious, Jake would say “Michael, decorum!” My dad really liked that phrase.

If my dad and Jake ever talked about the army days, it was in solemn tones.

Work: I mowed our lawn. My dad must have mowed it when we first moved to Prairie Village. I cannot remember that ever happening, but I don’t think that he would have hired someone. Maybe my mom did it. She could do anything. By the time that I was ten or so, regular lawn-mowing was part of my chores. My recollection is that my allowance was a quarter per week.

I have no clear recollection of mowing any of the neighbors’ lawns when we lived on Maple St. in Prairie Village, but I might have.

Somehow I got involved with selling Christmas cards every year. I don’t remember the details, but I showed samples to a lot of people. I also took orders and delivered the cards when they arrived. My mom definitely helped.

1. I think that his prejudice was largely due to his experiences in World War II. He associated rice with the Japanese, and he had no use for them. I purloined this recipe and have prepared it to enthusiastic receptions dozens of times. I omit the chipped beef because it is too expensive and the dish has plenty of flavor without it.

2. Fay Hedrick lived to be 100. She outlived Boots by thirty-four years. Her obituary is posted here.

3. Kent Reynolds’ LinkedIn page is here.

1955-1961 Part 4: Vacations

Posted on September 1, 2020 by Mike

Two great trips Continue reading →

My dad very seldom took a day off from work. He saved up his vacation time for big trips that were always in the summer. We took several family vacations while I was in grade school. I think that our first big vacation probably occurred in 1955. I don’t remember my mom being pregnant. So, either I have the year wrong, I was oblivious of her condition, or we left Jamie with a babysitter or grandparents.

Our destination was the Colorado Springs area. Although Colorado is immediately west of Kansas,¹ Colorado Springs is over 600 miles from KC. My dad drove our ’54 Ford. Mom was navigator, an easy job in Kansas. The back seat was my domain. Of course we counted cows, right side of the road vs. left side. However, for much of the trip I stood up and practiced clapping as loudly as I could. It must have driven my parents crazy.

The Garden of the Gods near Colorado Springs.

I remember that they let me fish at a trout farm. It was like shooting fish in a barrel, which I thought was great fun. We drove up Pike’s Peak. We visited the Garden of the Gods and a place where we had a chuckwagon buffet, which I really enjoyed. We also went to a bar/restaurant owned by a relative of (I think) Grandmom Hazel. His name was Louis Something. He served me a Roy Rogers with a tiny umbrella in it. I thought that it was fantastic.

We also went to a race track. I found it fascinating that people discarded their losing tickets on the ground. I gathered up a bunch of them in hopes of finding a winner. No luck.

Before writing this, it never occurred to me that this trip introduced me to both bars and gambling.

I am pretty sure that I only played one card.

My most vivid memory of the trip was when we went to a huge bingo hall. I called out “bingo’ at the same time as one of the other players. There was some controversy. I don’t remember the details, but they ended up awarding the prize to the other person. I was upset about this. I may have even made a scene.

Somehow I came into possession of a Pinocchio doll that was as large as I was. Maybe it was a prize; maybe my parents bought it for me to shut me up. I don’t think that I liked it. I punched it in the nose quite often during the return trip.

All in all I had a very good time. I have always loved to travel.

Our biggest vacation was, I am pretty sure, in 1959. I would have been nearly eleven, and Jamie three and a half. My dad drove all four of us all the way to New England in our ’57 Ford Fairlane and then down the East Coast to Washington, DC. I sat in the back seat with Jamie. On the way there we took the northern route through Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York. I kept track of our progress on a map. I don’t remember what Jamie was doing.

The first day was an unqualified disaster for me. My mom had prepared a picnic lunch for us. Our first stop was was at a park with picnic tables in Mexico, MO. After lunch we drove east for an hour or so, at which point I realized that I did not have my billfold. I only had a few dollars, but that was a big loss to me. Each dollar bill could purchase 110 baseball cards, if one bought the packs enclosed in cellophane that held eleven cards and cost a dime,² as I always did. Besides, I had never left anything of value behind before, and I felt stupid and irresponsible.

I felt even more stupid when we stopped for supper. My dad ordered a steak, and so did I. I was later told that we could not afford the vacation if I ordered a steak every night. I didn’t much care what I ate; my tastes have always been pretty eclectic. I just wanted to know what was expected of me before I made more mistakes.

Most of the rest of the trip was delightful. My dad did almost all of the driving. The Interstate Highway System was only three years old. Therefor, large portions of our drive was on two-lane roads that served as Main Street in town after town. We started looking for motels without “No Vacancy” signs when my dad announced that he was getting tired. Since this was the peak season for automobile travel, the rest of us found this somewhat stressful.

Our first major stop was in Albany, NY, the home of my dad’s army buddy, Jake Jacobson. We spent one or two nights at his house. We got to meet his wife Ruth and his son Paul, who was a year older than I was. Jake took us out to eat at a restaurant that served something that I had never before encountered, antipasto. I remarked that it sounded like Andy Pafko, who played his last season in 1959 for the Milwaukee Braves. Jake liked my little joke, which in turn made me like him. Afterwards he showed some home movies. All that I remember about them was that they showed off Ruth’s legs.

The next day I got to play hardball with Paul and some of his friends on a field with fences and everything. I was very happy that I got a hit or two, and my team won.

We then drove up to Maine and traveled through each of the six New England states before we ended up at the Roosevelt Hotel in New York City. I think that we stayed overnight in a motel in Maine or New Hampshire. I remember that I slept through the entire state of Rhode Island.

The Jacobsons joined us in New York to watch a the A’s at Yankee Stadium. We sat near the right field line. We had a very good view of the “Pennant Porch”. Joe DeMaestri, of all people,³ hit a home run for the visiting A’s. The four Wavadas were the only people who cheered. It did not feel like it at the time, but this was the best of all the teams in the thirteen-year history of the A’s in KC.

All of us took the elevator to the observation floor of the Empire State Building, and Paul and I climbed the stairs to the crown of the Statue of Liberty. The most memorable event, however, occurred in our car. My dad got confused somewhere in the Bronx and ran a red light. A policeman pulled us over. When he saw on my dad’s driver’s license that we were from Prairie Village, KS, he could hardly contain his mirth. He let us proceed after lecturing my dad on the differences between driving in Gotham and on the prairie. For example, there are fewer buffaloes in NYC.

Our next stop was the Chalfonte Hotel in Atlantic City, which at that time was a thriving tourist town not yet overrun by casinos. We spent our time there on or near the boardwalk, but we did take the opportunity to watch the high-diving horse on the Steel Pier.

Stopping in Atlantic City was a good idea. New York City and Washington, DC, are intense places. I hate to drive in both of them. Atlantic City was fun and relaxing.

Our final major destination was the nation’s capital. We stayed at the Mayflower Hotel. We saw the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument, the reflecting pool, the congressional buildings, and the White House. The most memorable aspect of this part of the trip was very puzzling. Somehow my mom and dad were unable to find the Smithsonian Institution. The Metro was not opened until seventeen years later. So, we couldn’t just get off at the Smithsonian stop. Still, …

In the above map the White House is at the upper left, and the congressional buildings are at the lower right. The teardrop shapes are Smithsonian buildings. Admittedly some of them did not exist in 1959 or were not part of the Institution, but it astounds me that we were unable to locate any of them, and we looked for hours.

Couldn’t find them? The Natural History Museum, which is the one that I really wanted to visit, was only 1.5 miles from our hotel, and we were much closer to our purported objective than that several times. I was very frustrated, and I may have shown it. Jamie tried to console me. To this day I cannot explain this experience (or lack thereof).

Our return trip home was not very eventful. We were all ready for home. My recollection is that because my dad had never been in South Carolina, we selected a route that allowed us to “dip a toe” there. Then we just headed west toward God’s country.

1. Kansas borders four states: Colorado on the west, Nebraska on the north, Missouri on the east, and Oklahoma on the south.

2. Bruce Smith Drugs in Prairie Village provided two options for buying baseball cards. For a nickel you could get five cards and a piece of gum in an opaque paper wrapper. For a dime you could get eleven cards but no gum. However, you could see both the top card and the bottom card. This could help you avoid the disastrous possibility of buying five cards that you already had. Nobody liked the gum anyway.

3. DeMaestri hit only hit six homers in 1959.

Wavablog

Memoirs, bridge, popes, travel, and other stuff

Monthly Archives: September 2020

1966 Summer Between High School & College

1961 Spelling Bee

1961-1962 QHRS Rockets Basketball

1955-1961 Part 5: Events and Activities

1955-1961 Part 4: Vacations