1948-1970 Mom and Me

Posted on August 16, 2024 by Mike

This was the most difficult to write of the hundreds of entries in this project. I decided to set an ending date of 1970 because after I left for the army face-to-face contacts with my mom were quite limited. My dad came to see me when I was working at the Hartford, but it was only for a day at the end of a business trip. Mom stayed home. I don’t remember them visiting us at all for the three years we lived in Plymouth. They both came to Detroit once, and they did not like it at all. After my wife Sue and I moved back to Connecticut they visited a handful of times, but, except for the first trip, they spent most of their time with my sister Jamie and her family.

Sue and I visited them in 1973. After that we were too poor and too busy to travel much until I started flying much more in the nineties. I arranged a stop in the Kansas City area whenever it was feasible, which was pretty often. However, the ones when she was still alive were mostly for parties or other celebrations. I remember very little of the conversation. Also, through much of this period she was reluctant to contribute much.

In fact, I reluctantly admit that the sum total of my knowledge about my mother is pitiful. Dolores Ann Cernech was born on October 2, 1925, in Kansas City. Her parents were John and Clara Cernech. My understanding is that Clara was half German and half Polish. Cernech is a Croatian name. John’s mother was at least partly Irish.

Mom grew up in Kansas City, KS. In 1943 she graduated from Bishop Ward High School, which was less than a mile from the Cernech residence at 40 N. Thorpe. Students in her graduating class were asked to specify who their favorite band leader was (!) and what they hoped to become in life. Dolores Ann Cernech answered “Tommy Dorsey” and “Private Secretary”. The latter seemed like a peculiar response in the age of Rosie the Riveter.

I am not sure how she met my dad, who was a year older and went to high school in Atchison, KS, about fifty miles away. My understanding is that they were already acquainted before my dad enlisted in the army in 1942.

I wish that I had learned more about what my mom did in the period between her graduation and Jim Wavada’s discharge from the army in February of 1946. I have a vague recollection that she had worked in a clerical position somewhere, but she must have been communicating with my dad while he was in the army. They were married on September 1, 1947, which was eighteen and a half months after he was discharged from the army. It definitely was not a shotgun wedding. It was officiated in St. Peter’s by my dad’s brother, whom I knew as Fr. Joe. I did not show up until eleven and a half months later.

What transpired in the year and a half between my dad’s discharge and the wedding? Decades later he disclosed two nuggets of information about that period: 1) Mom’s father was against the marriage, but Clara persuaded him that it was for the best; 2) He might have gotten into serious trouble if he did not get married.¹ He also mentioned something about pinball machines, which in those days were common in bars.

Dolores and Jim took up residence in the Cernech’s house in KC KS. I am not sure if John and Clara lived there at the time. It was not a large house, and I know that at some point John, an employee of the Boss Glove Company, was transferred to Grand Island, NE. I have dozens of questions that I should have asked while they were still alive. Did they have a honeymoon? If so, where? Presumably my dad worked at BMA. Did mom work, too, at first? How did they get around? They did not have a car until 1954.

I have no doubt that my mom ran the household’s finances from day one. My dad was nearly incapable of balancing a checkbook. For the most part she was very frugal at least during the time that I lived at home. My dad bought suits and other dress clothes for work. My mom sewed most of her own clothes.

I am equally certain that my mom took on any task that involve any kind of a machine or any tools. My dad had the least mechanical aptitude of anyone whom I have ever encountered. What about yardwork? The house on N. Thorpe had a very small yard. I doubt that the family owned a power mower. So, somebody must have mowed the grass with an old-fashioned push mower. Uncle Rich might have helped, but my money is on mom. I can’t imagine my dad doing it even once.

Life in KC KS 1948-54

The first big event after the marriage was my birth on August 17, 1948. It must have been a horrific shock for her to see my mangled face. I have been told that the physicians performed the first surgery shortly after birth. There were follow-up procedures before I started going to school and another one after I completed the eighth grade.

My parents almost never brought this up. They had obviously discussed the matter and decided that they wanted me not to fret about my appearance. That certainly succeeded. Very few people whom I have met paid as little attention to appearances as I did.

I remember one trip to the shoe store when I was quite young. The salesman talked mom into purchasing arch supports for my very flat feet. I think that that only happened once. After that off-the-rack was good enough. I did not start using arch supports regularly again until I was in my seventies. Those came from Walmart, cost $10, and could be worn with any shoe or none.

I cannot remember my grandparents ever living in the Cernech house with us. Richard Keuchel², Clara’s youngest brother, lived with us. He kept to himself most of the time, but I remember that he occasionally brought me a small present or gave me some coins for baseball cards.

I vaguely remember mom taking me with her on a few shopping trips. Most of the time she probably walked to Central Ave., a lively retail area just a couple of blocks from the house. We might have taken an occasional bus or “street car” (trolley) as well.

The one type of excursion that impressed me the most was trips to the library. I was allowed to pick out my own books in the children’s section. My tastes primarily ran to westerns. I don’t remember her reading these books to me, but she must have, at least at first. I remember also that I had a rather large book that had fables in it. The only one that I recall was about an ant and a fiddle-playing grasshopper.

My recollection, which is probably at least a little off, is that I had the run of the neighborhood by the time that I was four or five. I am pretty certain that I walked to both kindergarten and first grade, and I remember spending a lot of time with my friends in the neighborhood. I don’t think that I was allowed to cross the alley in back of the house by myself, but I remember playing with friends up and down N. Thorpe Street. I also remember our telephone number, FAirfax 9890.

I remember attending several weddings and funerals of mom’s relatives. However, we had no automobile. Maybe those took place after we moved.

Did my mom have any friends? I don’t recall any. She knew everyone on N. Thorpe. She grew up there. Someone told me that she selected one of her classmates from Ward High to be her maid of honor. I have a photo of the wedding, but the people are not identified. I think that the same lady might have been my godmother, but she did not have any role thereafter in my mother’s life.

Maybe looking after me was all that mom could handle. Four instances came to mind that might have made her wonder what she had gotten herself into:

In addition to all of the trips to the hospital, she also arranged sessions for me with a speech therapist. This was apparently in anticipation of difficulties in speaking due to the amount of plastic in my upper lift. I don’t remember ever having trouble articulating, and I did well in the formal presentation required by the therapist.
I related the story here about the rock-thrower whom I beat up in kindergarten. I received no punishment that I remember. Mom and the teacher explained that what I did was wrong, but I don’t remember their reasoning. My reasoning was that “he had it coming.” In westerns this happened to people all the time.
One morning I made a scene at Mass because The Lone Ranger was on television³, and I did not want to miss it. I think that mom had to escort me out of the church on that occasion, but I am only guessing.
The problem that I had with the box of letters in first grade is also documented here. I would really love to know what mom thought when the nun informed her that I seemed incapable of reading and writing.

The only other vivid memory that I have of life on N. Thorpe was of mom painting a fruit tree freehand on one of the walls in the kitchen. Everyone praised it. In retrospect it made me wonder what else she could have accomplished if she were not so devoted to our small family. Unfortunately I inherited my artistic ability from Jim.

There might have been some trips. I think that the two of us took a train trip somewhere in the south. Clara (and maybe John) may have also been along. It seems to me that we spent some time in Hot Springs, AR. I am pretty sure that we also visited mom’s relatives in the Dallas area either on that trip or a separate junket. The mother’s name was Jule Palmer or something like that. Either or both of these might have been after the move, but I don’t think so.

Mom loved animals. I remember a dog named Trixie, which was, I am pretty sure, Mom’s pet before she got married. Trixie must have died before we moved. I have no recollection of her at our new house. I am pretty sure that we also had a pet parakeet named Mickey before we moved. Someone taught him to talk, probably mom.

Prairie Village

I found a set of four photos developed at Katz drugs, which was near our house in PV. They were dated Easter 1955. The other three are also at a train station, and they all include a couple whom I don’t recognize.

In early 1955 the three of us moved to 7717 Maple, Prairie Village, KS, about twenty miles south of the house on N. Thorpe. In addition to setting up a household in a suburban location, mom almost immediately had to deal with my childhood illnesses—chicken pox, measles, and whooping cough—that I contracted one after another. Fortunately, that was pretty much the last time that I was sick until I contracted the Russian Flu during exam week in college.

Evidently mom’s father did not think much of the blue house on Maple St. He called it “a cracker box.” My dad told me much later that my mom uncharacteristically retorted, “Yes, but it’s our cracker box.” Well, theirs and the bank’s.

I remember that mom took me to the doctor to receive the smallpox vaccine. I have always hated the idea of injections, and I dreaded this. I had to return for a second (and maybe a third) vaccine because the first one “didn’t take.” The second one did not either. I never got that little volcano-shaped scar on my arm. For the only time that I can remember mom took me aside and told me in a deadly serious tone that I must NEVER forget what she was about to tell me. If ever there was another outbreak of smallpox, it was critical for me to receive the vaccine again.

I spent no time in the hospital while we were living in Prairie Village, but I spent a lot of time at the doctor’s office. I ran into a shopping cart at the grocery store one day. It did not require stitches, but the mark is still visible just a quarter of an inch from my right eye. I ran into a parked car on the lot of Queen of the Holy Rosary during recess. I dodged the tag, and the nineteen stitches in my mouth were a badge of honor. I got four more stitches when I ran into the barbecue grill in our backyard while catching a popup that my dad threw to me. While returning a punt on the football field my nose got smashed and bent a little. On all of these occasions mom drove me to see Dr. Battey, our family physician. On one of the later occasions he told her that my head was held together by catgut.

I almost forgot one incident. Mom insisted that I take the free swimming lessons offered at the PV public pool. I rode my bike to the pool for the morning lessons. One day a German Shepherd came running out of a house on my left, growled, and chomped me on my leg. Someone called mom, and she came and got me. I don’t know how many stitches were required. The dog did not have rabies or anything else. He just got loose that day.

I hated the swimming lessons because I got so cold that my teeth chattered. Also, that was where I realized my footprints looked like they were made by a duck with toes. However, I later was glad that I learned how to swim.

When my myopia became evident in the third or fourth grade, mom took me to the optometrist. Since then I have seldom been seen without my specs unless I was in water or playing football.

My mom drove me to many activities. While writing this I began to wonder when and how she learned to drive, and how she got her license. Maybe she learned before she got married.

Aside from my tendency to run full-speed into inanimate objects, I did not cause many problems for her. She never helped me with homework, but I didn’t need it until I got to the chain rule in calculus class. She didn’t need to nag me to do it. I got tired every evening and voluntarily went to bed at about the same time. She never had to wake me for school. I was usually awake before she was. I took the bus to school, and I was always ready and waiting for the Bluebird.

What she did help me with were projects. I remember that we had to make a map of a state or country out of papier mache. I picked France. I was making a big mess of it until she stepped in. She also helped out with my years in scouting. She was an excellent den mother for a while; all the guys said so. When I had trouble growing bean plants for the Nature merit badge, she gave me a tip (I don’t remember its nature) that allowed me to succeed. She also made a costume of St. Peter for me for wear for an all-saints version of Halloween.

In retrospect I find it incredible that she was willing to get up to drive me to Queen for the 6am Masses for which I was a server and then pick me up when it was over. She also carted me around to sporting events. I often stayed after school (and therefore missed the bus) for band practice or great books or safety patrol or scouts or the school newspaper or football or basketball. Sometimes I walked home, but at least half of the time I engaged mom’s taxi service.

I do not remember Mom giving me much advice beyond basic Catholic principles. However, I very clearly remember her reaction when I got into a fight with Michael Bortnick. He was my age but considerably bigger. I came into the house crying and told mom that he beat me up, and he was bigger than I was. She merely replied, “Then you should have avoided fighting him.” I remembered that and applied it with great success throughout my remaining life..

As soon as I was old enough I got to play on a team in the local 3&2 baseball program that served as a Little League for Johnson County, KS. The team was sponsored by Sunflower Drugs. I undoubtedly made the team through the intercession of Don Wood’s father. This was the last summer before I got glasses. I was a good fielder and base runner, but I batted .000. I only hit the ball once—on my very last at-bat.

The next summer I did not make the team. I was ready to quit baseball, even though I really wanted to play. I was even more depressed than I was when I missed a catechism question in second grade (described here). I was totally unprepared mentally for failure.

My mom told me that I should not quit; there were plenty of other teams. It was good advice. I somehow learned about the team sponsored by Bauman’s Red Goose Shoes. I had a good time on that team, and I even got quite a few hits.

Mom did not like the idea of me playing football in the seventh and eighth grade, but she allowed me to go out for the team. Even after she had to take me to the doctor after I got clobbered on a punt return, she let me continue. It meant a great deal to me.

I remember that for a short period we (I am not sure if Jamie was involved) spent a few minutes every evening reading the Bible from start to … well, I think that we finished Genesis before the project was abandoned. I would love to have heard that decision being made.

Like millions of other Americans our family owned a nicely bound Bible with those incredibly thin pages. Ours, of course, was the Douay-Rheims version, which is the only English version recognized by the Catholic Church. It had a dozen or so brightly colored illustrations. I don’t know what happened to it.

My mom was friendly with all of the neighbors, but the only ones that she socialized with were the Leahys. I remember that once when I was in second or third grade she was late getting home from somewhere. For perhaps the only time ever I was all alone after the school bus dropped me off. I started crying, and Jean Wallace, the lady with three kids of her own who lived directly across the street, calmed me down.

At some point we procured a phonograph player and a few records, probably 78s, which in those days were made of very brittle shellac. My dad’s favorite song was Eddie Fisher’s version of “Oh, My Papa”. I was playing it one day. When I took it off the turntable, I dropped it, and it broke. I was very upset, but mom consoled me.

The only television shows that I remember my parents watching were Your Hit Parade and Perry Como’s show. As the English say, my mom fancied Perry. We watched a lot of other shows, too, but none of them stand out in reference to my mom.

When she was working, which seemed to be doing all of the time, she often broke into a song. The one that she sang the most was the Andrews Sisters’ version of “Dance with a Dolly”⁴.

Jamie

One day shortly after we moved to PV my parents announced to me that they were “praying” to have another child⁵. I thought that this was a great idea. I would have a baby brother whom I could boss around and eventually teach “the ropes”. Imagine my shock when dad told me that mom had given birth to an girl on January 4, 1956. Did they actually pray for a girl? Why?

Jamie was nothing like me. Her face was decidedly not mangled. By the time that she was a few years old she had blonde hair⁶. Even I thought that she was good looking. Furthermore she avoided crashing into objects much better than I did. Her visits to Dr. Battey’s office were always routine.

I was approximately seven and a half years older than Jamie. I figured that she could figure out pat-a-cake on her own, and so I mostly ignored her. However, we often watched Captain Kangaroo and Romper Room together before I went to school.

The fact that mom had another little one to mind nearly all the time that I was in grade school made it even more remarkable that she was willing to drive me to all my activities. I think that it also explained why she let me roam the neighborhood with no evident supervision. She even let me shoot off firecrackers on the Fourth of July.

Decades later Jamie told me that as she was walking to kindergarten at Tomahawk School some older boys accosted her. I had heard nothing about this, but I was often oblivious. I wonder what I would have done if I knew about this. I would have been in the eighth grade, at least two years older than anyone at Tomahawk.

I remember that I asked mom one year whether I could help with playing Santa Claus on Christmas eve. She let me do it. I don’t remember any details.

Our pets have been discussed in some detail here. My mother’s role was central. My dad had no use for animals. He was obviously either fearful of or disgusted with them to an extent that I never saw in any other person. Mom made sure that they were

Mom handled the tricky situation that begin with the appearance of a dachshund (eventually named Sam by me) with no tags brilliantly. She allowed him to go back to his owners on his own, but for some reason he seemed want to stay at our house. She advertised somewhere that we had him, and eventually someone claimed him. Jamie was crushed, and I was also upset, but mom explained to us that we had no right to take him from the other family.

My grandmother Hazel came to the rescue by giving us her pet dachshund Tippy. However, he seemed to want to spend most of his time with me.

Leawood

At the end of the 1961-62 school year the Wavadas moved south and east a few miles to 8800 Fairway in Leawood. Once again we were in a new parish, Curė of Ars. Jamie started grade school in September at C of A, and I started my freshman year at Rockhurst High School. So, this was a new experience for everyone.

I don’t recall having many conversations with my mom. I cannot remember asking her any probing questions. My recollection is that on most days she worked pretty much from the time that she got up until the supper dishes were in the dishwasher, and all of the food and accoutrements had been put away. The one major incident in my youthful life that she had to deal with was the time in 1964 when she had to accompany me to traffic court. Nothing came of it, but I did grow up a little bit that evening.

My mother was a great cook. We enjoyed delicious meals almost every day except, of course, on Friday. My parents decided that instead of eating out occasionally, we would have steak on Saturday evening. My dad grilled them over charcoal on the patio in good weather. If the weather did not allow that, mom broiled them. My favorite meal, by far, was fried chicken⁷. We had it once a week, usually on Wednesdays.

I was not big on breakfasts. Cereal usually sufficed for me. A special treat was “pigs in the blanket”, which were link sausages baked inside of biscuits that had been folded over them.

My lunches were the envy of everyone in my classes. Usually I had a ham sandwich, an apple or other fruit, a small bag of chips, and a thermos of soup. Most kids had to put up with cheese sandwiches or PB&J with little or no variety. I went to a Catholic school; many of those moms were making at least a half dozen lunches. In high school I usually ate lunch in the cafeteria.

Trips

My dad worked in the sales department at BMA. Every few years my dad and mom would take a business trip together for big meetings. They were generally at a resort or in the vicinity of special events. They were usually gone for the better part of the week. Sometimes they hired someone to take care of Jamie and me. I had very little interaction with these women. I remembered that the suppers that they prepared with uniformly disappointing.

I found four photos that were labeled “Easter 1957” by the company that developed them. At the time I was finishing second grade, and Jamie was a little over one year old. They show my mom and dad stepping onto a train. Based on her outfit, this must have been a business trip on which she joined him. Someone must have taken the photo. I am guessing that it was Clara Cernech. She probably took care of us while they were gone.

My mom did not regale us with tales of these adventures. I remember that she was most impressed by the one in Banff, Canada. I have no recollection of her talking about any of the other places, and I doubt that I pestered her for details.

Details about our family vacation trips have been provided here.The four of us took one big vacation to the east coast while we were living in PV. Mom took over the driving for a part of the trip. That was the only time that I ever saw my dad riding shotgun. Most of her time was spent with Jamie, who was only three or four years old. Our other trips were usually to Minnesota. Mom must have enjoyed the breaks from cooking and cleaning, but she mostly seemed to busy herself with other things.

Health

My mom was in good shape. She did not smoke. She drank very little, and ate mostly fresh foods in moderate amounts. She also exercised. I remember her watching Jack LaLanne and his dogs, Happy and Walter. I never partook of these activities, but I remember being awestruck when Jack nonchalantly did vertical pushups on a step on a ladder.

She also played golf a little. She played with my dad and me a few times, and while I was waiting to get drafted we played as a twosome. I think that she played with other ladies off and on. She was a good athlete, but her golf swing got worse the more that she played. In the end she bounced her torso up and down on every swing. This peculiar motion made it very difficult to hit the ball cleanly. I always suspected that advice from my dad was responsible for the degradation of her game. I don’t know how much (or even if) she played after I entered the army.

She wast 5’7″, which was considered quite tall in the forties. She was skinny enough to be nicknamed bird-legs in high school. She never got fat or even a little pudgy.

I only remember mom being sick a few times, mostly during the Christmas season. Overworking and the pressure probably got to her. She did have a few issues. Her “sinuses” bothered her a lot. She took Dristan tablets for the “sinus headaches”, but they did not help much. I also remember some kind of saltwater purge that she did. When my dad quit smoking many years later this issue disappeared almost immediately.

She also suffered from varicose veins. I don’t know any details. She might have also had diabetes. I know that her mother did. Mom never complained about anything, and she never let any symptoms slow her down.

When she was in middle age she started to have problems with memory and confusion. It was not Alzheimer’s, but the doctors never were able to pinpoint what caused her so much difficulty. My dad said that she asked him one time, “Jim, what did I do wrong to deserve this?” Of course, he had no answer.

When she died in 1998 (described here) my dad did not request an autopsy to determine what the source of her problems was. I rather hoped that he would, because I wanted to do something about it if I inherited it. I am older when I write this than she was when she died. So, I guess that I did not get it.

The biggest regret in my life is that I squandered the opportunity to know this wonderful woman better.

What I inherited from my mom:

Skin color
Hair
Build
Social reticence
Love of music (but different taste)
Work ethic
General demeanor
Aversion to arguments
Early bird.

1. The fact that I asked no more questions is, to me, convincing evidence that I must be somewhere on the autism spectrum. I have never asked people about their lives. Although I have always been good at remembering names, I almost never remember the names of relatives of acquaintances, even if I have seen them many times. For example, I have a great deal of difficulty remembering names of members of Sue’s family. I know my own cousins, but I could not name any of their children. It never really occurred to me that I was excessively solipsistic. I just considered myself less nosy than most. In my defense I always try to think of the potential effect on others before I do something, and I never deliberately do anything that might inflict pain on someone else.

2. Uncle Rich apparently died in 1972. My recollection is that he worked for a company called Gustin Bacon Mfg. that manufactured pipe joints and, for a time, air horns for trains. I have no idea what he did there. I also don’t know if he remained in the house on North Thorpe after the Wavadas moved south in 1955.

3. I don’t know when we purchased the TV, but I was a big fan of the Howdy Doody Show, and I am almost certain that I watched Hopalong Cassidy, which only ran until 1952. I cannot picture our television in the house on N. Thorpe, but we must have had it there.

4. This was a bizarre song: three women fantasizing about dancing with another woman. “All the fellows wishing they were me.”

5. This naturally raises the question of whether my parents employed birth control. The Church has never sanctioned anything besides the “rhythm method” for birth control. If that was what they did, they were certainly good at it. I was conceived a little over two months after their marriage. Jamie was conceived shortly after they moved to a new house with a spare room.

6. It turned quite a bit darker by the time that she went to school.

7. When I started cooking for myself I almost immediately tried to fry chicken. I never got it quite right. It is difficult and time-consuming. The spattering of grease makes a mess. I eventually just gave up. It did not seem to me to be worth the effort.

8. In my dad’s estate I found a used ticket for Super Bowl III and one for the Rose Bowl in 1970 that featured Michigan and Southern Cal.

1955-1961 Part 3: Baseball

Posted on August 28, 2020 by Mike

Small-time ball in a big-league town. Continue reading →

Worst logo ever.

Kansas City officially became a big-league town in 1955, when the laughingstock of the American League, the Philadelphia A’s, moved to Kansas City. Arnold Johnson, the owner of Yankee Stadium, had been allowed to purchase the club from the long-time owner of the A’s, Connie Mack. If this seems bizarre, remember that major league baseball is not subject to any antitrust laws. Johnson intended to move the franchise west. He chose the town in which he already owned the stadium, Kansas City.

The people in KC were definitely ready. In the first year the team drew an impressive 1,393,054 fans, more than they ever had in Philadelphia. The team was very bad when it arrived, and over the years it got even worse as Johnson made one deplorable trade after another, mostly with the Yankees. The 1961 world champion Yankees, considered by many to be the most dominant team ever, boasted ten former A’s, including two-time MVP Roger Maris.

The A’s played in Municipal Stadium, the same stadium that had hosted the top Yankee minor-league team, the Blues. My dad had seen Mickey Mantle play there. The parking situation was bad, but no worse than at Fenway. By the time that the team left, the neighborhood was not too good.

This was the very card that I got in trade for my 1954 Mickey Mantle. My dad was aghast.

My dad took me to games every year, or at least nearly every year. When the team arrived, my favorite player was a Puerto Rican named Victor Pellot, who played under the name of Vic Power. He was the A’s first All-Star, unquestionably the best fielder in the league, and a decent hitter as well. I loved the way that he passed the bat from one hand to the other while waiting for the pitch. The A’s ended up trading him to Cleveland to acquire Maris.

When we went to the games, I always bought a program and kept score for both teams. We really got our money’s worth at my very first games, April 23, 1955. The Chicago White Sox edged out the home team 29-6. The gory details are here. At least I got to see Vic Power hit a dinger.

In later years I liked to follow Norm Siebern, Bob Cerv, and Harry “Suitcase” Simpson until they too were traded away.

My dad listened to the A’s games on his transistor radio while he was watering the front lawn on summer evenings. He really despised the team’s announcer Monte Moore, who would never say anything bad about the management. As year after year of frustration mounted, all of Moore’s optimistic talk became almost unbearable for dad. Everybody in KC thought that Arnold Johnson was crooked. If you don’t think so, you should read this list of his transactions with the Yankees.

For the last fifteen games of the disastrous 1964 season Charlie Finley, who had putchased the club after Arnold Johnson died in 1960, hired Betty Caywood to attempt to attract ladies to Moore’s broadcasts. It is definitely wrong to think of her as a dumb blonde. She had a masters degree from Northwestern. However, she had one big problem, which she admitted to her boss, “Charlie, I don’t know the first thing about baseball.”

The A’s stayed in KC for thirteen seasons. They never had a winning record. The worst year was 1964, when they were an appalling 57-105. Their best effort was just two years later, when they finished only twelve games under .500. In their last year in KC, 1967, however, they finished last in the American League. By then Finley was sponsoring all kinds of stupid enticements to try to get people to come to the games—absolutely anything to distract from the team’s abysmal performance.

Over the course of thirteen seasons the A’s tried nine different managers. I don’t think that their primary roblem was the manager.

The most frustrating thing for the long-suffering fans of Kansas City was that by the time that the A’s departed for Oakland in their Kelly green and Finley gold clown suits, the team had amassed a very impressive stable of young players. How could a team that had Reggie Jackson, Rick Munday, Sal Bando, Vida Blue, Bluemoon Odom, Rollie Fingers, Campy Campaneris, and Catfish Hunter have been so awful?

3&2: When I was growing up in suburban Johnson County, KS, there was no Little League. Is that surprising? Well guess what, we did not have McDonald’s either, and no one cared. Just as the local chain Smaks provided people in the KC area with low-priced hamburgers, 3&2 baseball in Johnson County took the place of Little League. The kids in my neck of the woods were (and still are) more than satisfied with 3&2.

This is PART of the current Johnson County 3&2 complex that includes 27 baseball fields!

The organization, which is now called the 3&2 Baseball Club of Johnson County¹, provided an opportunity for young people at all levels to play hardball (with bats made of wood!) in a well-organized and supervised situation. They now even have teams for pre-kindergaten youngsters! My precocious nephew Joey Lisella, who carried a bat around with him on his fourth birthday, would have loved it!

As many games as possible were played at Segner Field, a complex that included a handful of fields complete with lights, grandstands, dugouts, and refreshment stands. I considered this place paradise. I fell in love with it at first site. I could think of nothing that could possibly match the thrill of playing there, and I was right!

My baseball career did not get off to a great start. I began at the lowest level, Midget C. I think that this was after fourth grade, which would be 1958, but I may be off by a year. My team was sponsored by Sunflower Drugs, a local store that still had a soda fountain counter large enough to serve our whole team at once. Midget C teams dressed in ball caps, blue jeans, sneakers, and tee shirts. Our shirts were red and white, with our sponsor’s name prominently displayed.

I suspect that I was allowed onto the team because of the influence of Mr. Wood, who was, I think, one of the coaches. I was a good fielder and one of the fastest runners. However, my arm was weak, and my hitting left a lot to be desired.

We had a good team. We won most of our games. Whenever we prevailed we were transported to Sunflower Drugs to get free ice-cold cherry cokes. We often were ahead by substantial amounts, which let the coach put me in to play. We did not win our league. My recollection is that we lost to the winners because they bunted us to death.

I think that we played at Segner once or twice. Most of our games were at fields at nearby schools. We practiced at Tomahawk School.

One time near the end of the season our team’s entire practice was devoted to a fielding contest. Nine guys took the field. A coach hit ground balls and fly balls. You had to leave the field for a time if you made an error. I stayed on the field longer than anyone else. This was probably the highlight of my season.

In the games that I got to play in I did OK in the field, but I was atrocious in the batter’s box. I actually batted .000. I did get on base a few times with walks, and I even scored a run or two. On every other occasion (except two) I struck out. I never even hit a foul ball.

The first exception was the time that I reached first because of catcher’s interference. When I swung at a pitch my bat grazed the catcher’s mitt. I thought that I had accidentally done something illegal and dangerous, but the umpire firmly told me to take first base, which I gladly did. Who says that you can’t steal first?

After the coaches explained the rule to me, I could not help myself from thinking that the catcher’s mitt just a few feet behind me would be a lot easier to hit than most of those pitches. Nevertheless, I did not try to do it again. I was a Boy Scout and an altar boy, remember.

The other exception was my very last at-bat in that red and white tee shirt. I actually hit a weak fly ball over the first baseman’s head. Unfortunately he had time to take a couple of steps back. He then reached up and caught it. Nevertheless, I was thrilled that I finally had a chance to sprint down the first base line after making contact.

I tried out for Sunflower Drugs the next year, but I did not make the team. I thought that my ignominious baseball career was over, but my parents told me that other teams needed players. I ended up playing with some guys from QHRS on another Midget C team, Bauman’s Red Goose Shoes. You might think that our tee shirts would be at least partially red, but they were actually green and yellow.

By this time I had a season of experience under my belt and a pair of glasses in front of my very myopic eyes. I was just an average player on an average team, but at least I was not a laughingstock at the plate. I got my share of hits, but nothing exciting. I played every position except pitcher and catcher. My favorite positions were first base and second base because neither required a strong arm.

If you are wondering if our sponsor provided treats for us at the shoe store, the answer is no. No cherry Cokes, no free shoes, nothing. In baseball parlance, a goose egg.

In my third and last year I played for the Prairie Village Optimists Club. This was a Midget B team, which meant that we had real baseball uniforms with bloused pants, long socks, and cleats. We would also be playing more of our games at Segner Field.

I started almost every game even though I was not in the official starting lineup. My family did not take on a vacation that summer, but many of the other players did. I played seven positions again, mostly replacing whoever was on vacation at that time.

Our team had was peculiar in one regard. We had two starting pitchers. One of them was probably the best in our league. He was actually too old to play in Midget B, but because he had polio when he was younger, he was granted an extra year of eligibility. Whenever he pitched, we were at least in the game. The problem was that he was totally undependable. The manager, Mr. O’Neil, never knew if he would show up or not.

Our other pitcher was Mr. O’Neil’s son. He could throw strikes, but his velocity was not great, and he had no “stuff”. It was only one step up from batting practice.

With only a game or two remaining we faced the only undefeated team, Bill Cook’s Standard. Our shortstop was on vacation, and I replaced him. I could field grounders well enough, but if I had to move in either direction, the throw to finrst was difficult for me. To avoid putting my rag arm on display, we dispensed with fielding grounders between innings. Instead we just lobbed the ball around around the infield.

Our good pitcher took the mound, and he had a great day. With a couple of innings to play, neither side had scored. I had hardly been tested at shortstop, and I was the lead-off hitter when we took our cuts. I don’t remember to which field I hit the ball, but I got all the way to third base. I never hit a home run in 3&2; this was my best hit ever. I was so psyched.

The guy batting behind me then struck out. The batter after him popped up to an infielder. If either of them had even hit a ground ball, I was primed to race toward home.

Now, however, there were two outs, and I was still stuck on third. I decided to follow the advice of Egbert Sousé and take a chance while I was young. I broke for home on the first pitch. I was hoping for a passed ball or wild pitch, but I was prepared for a hot box. The catcher caught the pitch cleanly. He made a move toward me and then—a moment too soon—he threw the ball past me to the third baseman. I had not yet committed to going back to third. I put on a burst toward the plate, got past the catcher and scored before he could grab the throw back from the third baseman and tag me. We were up 1-0. Incidentally, the next batter made an out. My gamble was a good one, better than Og Oggilby’s.

The other team also scored in their half of the inning. We got two runs in the next inning to take the lead back 3-1. Our pitcher got tired in the last inning. I don’t remember the details, but they somehow had the bases loaded with two out. The batter hit a pop fly into short left field. I raced back as fast as I could. I thrust out my left hand and I nabbed the ball on the far end of my glove’s webbing. The ball looked like a scoop of vanilla ice cream on a cone.

Just then my parents were arriving at the field to take me home. They missed seeing my catch, but they arrived just in time to see my teammates literally carrying me off the field on their shoulders. I have had a few great moments in my life. I am not sure that any topped this one.

1. Johnson County abuts KC KS on the north and KC MO on the east. It now boasts a population of over 600,000—20 percent more than KC MO and five times the size of Hartford.

1961-1962 QHRS 8th Grade

Posted on July 27, 2020 by Mike

Last year at the Queen. Continue reading →

The enrollment at Queen of the Holy Rosary School (QHRS) increased dramatically while I was there. By the time that I was in the eighth grade, almost one hundred kids were in the graduating class. The school buildings still exist in 2020, but QHRS has been replaced by a new school called John Paul II School, which serves two parishes, Queen and St. Pius X. The athletic teams, known in my day as the Rockets, are now called (I think) the Huskies. I counted twenty-one 8th grade graduates in the 2020 class, only eight of whom were boys. The school’s website says that they compete in the CYO football league, but I don’t see how.

The great tragedy is that when QHRS was eliminated, so apparently were all of the records. So, this website may be the only extant source of information about my heroics on the gridiron.

Final report cards in 2020 were delivered via something called Educonnect. Father Ryan, who read aloud every student’s report card in every six-week period of all eight years that I attended QHRS, must have rolled over in his grave.

The 2020 staff comprised twenty-five women and two men. In my day almost all the teachers were Ursuline nuns. We had a nurse, a Spanish teacher, and a math teacher who were lay women. Perhaps there was one more woman. There were definitely no men.

The JPII school website now mentions core classes and “specials”. At QHRS every class was a core class. When I was in eighth grade we attended mass at 8:00 every day. Our classes were religion, English, math, Kansas history, and Spanish. Ms. Jancey taught math, and Ms. Goldsich taught Spanish. The rest of the classes were taught by Sr. Ralph and Sr. Kevin. It seems reasonable to expect that we would have been taught some kind of science and/or civics, but I have no memory of either. Since we got grades in music and art, some time must have been allotted for them.

There was definitely no phys ed. We had two recesses, which I think lasted thirty minutes each, and a lunch hour. So, maybe we only had time for five or six classes.

By the way, there was no food served at lunch, but you could buy milk for almost nothing. I had a big grey lunch box, and I am positive that my mother prepared the best lunches.

What did I learn? I learned a technique for approximating square roots that I actually used in my first summer job. I learned a lot of trivia about Kansas that no one at the University of Michigan knew. I learned to count and to say a few phrases in Spanish. There probably was other stuff that stuck, but I cannot pinpoint any.

My eighth grade graduating class had close to one hundred students, but I only attended classes with half of them. We had two groups, dumb and dumber. I never took any classes with any of the students in the dumber group. If they did not participate in any activities, I might not know them.

We sat in alphabetical order in the same classroom all day long. The teachers came to us. So I will list the students in that order. Here are the boys that I can remember:

Ricky Ahrent was on the basketball team.
Bernie Bianchino was on the football team.
Tommy Bitner
Brennan Botkin
Andy Brown, who had asthma, played on the 1960 football team. I don’t remember him on the ’61 team. He might have been in the other class.
Bob Dalton was definitely not in my eighth-grade class. He might not even have been at QHRS that year. We had been very good friends several years earlier, when he went by Leo. His parents owned a set of greenhouses in which they grew flowers. I was shocked to discover that Dalton’s Flowers is still thriving in Overland Park in 2021.
I think that Joe Fox was on the basketball team.
Mike Farmer had red hair.
Gary Garrison was in Boy Scouts. He was also in my class at Rockhurst.
Jim Glenn was one of the linemen on the left side for the football team.
Tom Guilfoyle had a brother in the other 8th grade class and another brother in 7th grade. I think that Tom played basketball.
Arthur Gutierez. Nobody seemed to recognize that his dark complexion and last name might have indicated that his family might have come from a former Spanish colony.
Joe Hrzenak was on the football team.
Mike Kirk was on the football team. He was also in the Boy Scouts.
Joe Landis was on the football team.
Jim Neal was on the football team and Bauman’s Red Goose Shoes.
Denny McDermott was on the football team.
Mike O’Shea was on the basketball team.
Larry Pickett was on the basketball team.
Gary Renner arrived for the last two years. He was a pretty good friend. He went to Rockhurst, but he was not in my homeroom class.
Kent Reynolds was on the basketball team. He was the only person who was in the same class that I was for all eight years.
John Rubin’s Wikipedia entry is here.
John Rutherford was on the basketball team.
Mark Schoneman
John Skuban
Mark Smith
Mike Wiedower sat behind me.
Pat Wise played on the basketball team. His dad was the coach.

I had virtually no interactions with the girls who sat on the other side of the room. Here are the ones that I can remember

Pat Clooney was, I think, the girl who read the dictionary.
Linda Ernie
Mary Ann Furst
Mary Ann Gallagher
Antoinette Garcia moved before 8th grade. For some reason she was considered to have cooties.
Ann Grady
Anita Habiger
Patty Lally was my foe in the spelling bee in seventh grade. She must have been in the other class.
Christine Lutz
Mary Pat Maher
Mary Margaret Martin was big.
Barbara Miller was a very good singer.
Nancy Miller
Vicki Morris was very tall.
Mary Mulcahy worked on the News and Views. She called me at home once. I don’t remember why.
Kathy O’Connor
Gloria Shorten was the shortest person and the first girl to begin to fill out her sweaty.
Sally Shawberger
Barbara Yeado.

Of all these people, I have only had subsequent contact with three: Gary Garrison, Gary Renner, and John Rubin, who all went to Rockhurst High School, as I did. I also saw Barbara Yeado perform in a musical put on by her high school and Rockhurst. I think that my cousin Terry Cernech was also involved in it.

I partook in almost every available extracurricular activity.

I often served at mass (i.e., was an altar boy), sometimes at the mandatory 8 am mass, sometimes at 6 am. The best duty was a funeral or wedding; sometimes there were tips.
I was “editor” of the school newspaper, News and Views. Sr. Kevin actually did most of the work, but I did write a poem and an editorial. I also remember interviewing some guys who were trying to involve the school in some sort of scheme. I also learned the five W’s plus How with a Wow in the lead.
I played alto saxophone in the school band, which was led by Rocco DeMart. The only other band member whom I remember was Sammy Caccioppo on trombone.

The easiest safety patrol job was the crosswalk on 71st St. Hank Bauer, the baseball player, lived in one of those houses right across the street from the school. — The easiest safety patrol job was the crosswalk on 71st St. Hank Bauer, the baseball player lived in one of those houses right across the street from the school.

I was a captain of the safety patrol. Before and after school we would stop traffic on Metcalf and 71st St. to let pedestrians cross. Many kids walked to school. Metcalf was a very busy four-lane state highway. We wore white belts and carried sticks with flags of yellow and green, not stop signs. My mother did not like the idea of children being used to direct traffic, but no one was ever injured on my watch.
I played football and basketball. There are separate blog posts for these adventures.
I was in a choir that gave a concert for parents. I was not allowed to whistle. I just pretended. We sang, among other things, “Donkey Serenade” from the movie Firefly. It has remained one of my favorites. Jack Jones’s fabulous rendition is here:
I was also in the boys’ choir that sang “O Holy Night” on Christmas Eve. It was led by Fr. Finnerty. I was astounded that they let me participate in either of these choirs. My worst grades were always in music and art.
I was a patrol leader in the Boy Scouts. Our group was named the White Buffalo patrol after the Indian legend featured on an episode of Rin Tin Tin. Mary Ann Gallagher’s younger brother was in this patrol.
I was in a Great Books Club that met occasionally. I don’t remember any specifics at all.

I took the bus to school. When I had to arrive early or stay late I rode my bike or walked unless it was bad weather. If I had to serve the 6:00 mass, my mom drove me and picked me up. I doubt that I ever expressed my appreciation for this.

We had an election for the meaningless title of president of the class. QHRS did not in any way resemble a democracy. It was a monarchy; the queen was Sr. Dominica, the principal.

As usual, I was nominated by the boys’ party. I don’t remember which girl defeated me. I don’t blame the dozens of girls who voted against me. I was definitely “stuck up.” I had little use for them, and I did not care much what any of them thought of me.

We put on a panel discussion of the United Nations. I remember that someone in the audience asked why the US contributed so much more than other nations to it. I suggested that it might be because we were the richest country. My answer got a round of applause.

Everyone got to participate in one debate that was judged by the class. The topic for our match was whether to eliminate homework. My teammates were Linda Ernie and Joe Hrzenak. We each gave one speech. Joe went first, then the negative, then Linda, then the negative, then me, then the negative. Our plan was to replace homework with more time at school. Our argument was that help from teachers was better than help from parents and siblings. I can think of several good arguments against this approach, but the negative did not present any. They just read their prepared statements that praised the value work done after classes. Nevertheless, we lost the vote of the students. Despite the result, this activity sparked my interest.

I started listening to pop radio at some point. The stations were WHB (710), which produced a Top 40 list that was available at record stores, and KUDL (1380), which produced the Great 38.

Field Day was always the highlight of the year for me. We stayed outside all day! One year I was playing left field in a softball game. For some reason I did not have my baseball glove, which I ordinarily brought to school every day in the spring. Someone hit a popup down the third base line. I took off for it at full speed. At the last second I pulled off my cap and caught the ball in it on a dead run. They should not have allowed this, but, after a big confab, they did.

My most ignominious defeat came on the 8th grade field day. In the broad jump competition I won the boys’ half; Ann Grady won the girls’ half. I then had to jump against her, and I came up a fraction of an inch short. I should have congratulated her, but I did not. At the time I did NOT blame my shoes, which were orange (?) and leather. I don’t know why I wore them. Maybe I had no sneakers, which were called “tennis shoes” in KC in the sixties.

De La Salle High School tried to recruit 8th grade boys by sponsoring a math competition. QHRS always participated. Ms. Jancey one day made an off-the-cuff list of boys in our class who she thought should participate. She named everyone except for Joe Hrzenak, the universally acknowledged worst student, and me. I was going to go anyway, but the contest was canceled because of snow.

Rockhurst High School did not need to recruit. Instead they gave a test to determine whom they would accept. At least twenty boys from QHRS took the test, but only four of us were accepted. Rockhurst gave ten scholarships based on test scores. None of us got one, but three of us (Rubin, Garrison, and I) placed in the top (of six) classes.

QHRS also gave a scholarship. We had to write an essay on why we should get it. Mine argued that the prize should go to Joe Fox, whose father had recently died. The winner was John Rubin, who essentially said that if he won, he would chain himself to his desk and avoid all human contact for four years. It made me gag.

If I had been there, she would not have even gotten one.

Co-ed parties were strictly prohibited before 8th grade graduation. Somehow John Rubin got a papal dispensation for a Halloween party for six of us. I discovered there that my big mouth was a tremendous advantage when dunking for apples. No one else could grasp an apple in their teeth. I captured all the apples and won by acclimation.

Sally Shawberger threw a party soon after graduation. I was invited. Since I had my last cosmetic surgery on my lip scheduled for the same day, I was rescued from this prospective nightmare. I think that this fortuitous scheduling might have been recompense from God for attending church at least six times a week for eight years.

I played some golf and mowed some lawns over the summer. In 1962 the family moved from 7717 Maple in Prairie Village to 8800 Fairway in Leawood. The new house had a MUCH bigger lawn, and it was within easy walking distance of both the Ward Parkway Mall and Rockhurst High School’s new building on State Line.

The red rectangle is the mall. The blue rectangle is Rockhurst.

The event that I most remember was when I was minding my sister Jamie, who was six years old at the time. Suddenly I started gagging. Eventually I was able to pull a strip of gauze that was three or four feet long out of my throat. I had no idea what it was, but I felt OK when it was over. Jamie was horrified.

On her arrival my mother told me that this was padding that they put in my nose when they operated. She said that the doctor had told her that this would happen. I don’t know why she did not warn me.

The chicks really go for a guy with an OA sash.

I went with Troop 295 to Camp Nash for a week, as I had the previous summers. This one was memorable because I was chosen to join the Order of the Arrow. It was fairly dramatic. The whole troop was gathered in a big circle around a campfire one night. The scoutmasters walked around the circle and stopped behind one of the scouts. They then slapped him hard on the right shoulder three times.

All of those selected were then brought to another campfire where they were told the Order’s password, which is called “the admonition”, and apprised of the initiation ceremony. Each selected scout was escorted in the dark to a separate place in the woods and given a blanket, an egg, two matches, and a canteen of water. They were told to make a camp, sleep, cook the egg, and eat it. In the morning each had to find his way back to his troop.

I thought that this was very cool, and I was proud to be able to bring the extra match back to my to our camp. Thank goodness that it did not rain. It seldom did in Kansas in the summer in those days.

If you want to know the secrets of the society, you can learn them on the Internet. However, you must know the admonition, AND be able to key it in with all lower-case letters and no spaces or hyphens. I remember the admonition, but no one told me how to spell it, and it is not a bit obvious.

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1961-1962 QHRS 8th Grade